#Lower Gnat Lake

[rabbitcruiser]

Lower Gnat Lake, BC

A gnat is any of many species of tiny flyinginsects in the dipterid suborder Nematocera, especially those in the families Mycetophilidae, Anisopodidae and Sciaridae. They can be both biting and non-biting. Most often they fly in large numbers, called clouds. "Gnat" is a loose descriptive category rather than a phylogenetic or other technical term, so there is no scientific consensus on what constitutes a gnat. Some entomologists consider only non-biting flies to be gnats. Certain universities and institutes also distinguish eye gnats: the Smithsonian Institution describes them as "non-biting flies, no bigger than a few grains of salt, ... attracted to fluids secreted by your eyes".

Source: Wikipedia

#Lower Gnat Lake #Three Sisters Range #Dease Lake Highway #Stikine Ranges #original photography #travel #vacation #tourist attraction #landmark #landscape #countryside #nature #Canada #summer 2023 #fir #the North #cityscape #forest #woods #flora #food #British Columbia #wildflower #Stikine Highway #mountains #Stikine Country #clouds #meadow #island #wetland

[aplaceforyourhearttorest]

Counterproductive Tendencies ✩ James Hetfield

⭒ introductory, part one, part two, part three ⭒ (wordcount: 7.8k )

Part four of multiple: Lakeside Views and Imminent Goodbyes (Part Two) (18+)

Mentions/Warnings: cliff jumping, partial skinny dipping, explicit sexual content, oral sex (both receiving)

Yellow-tinged sunlight beams itself upon your mostly bare thighs as you slump backwards and rest your head against solid and warm, large palms. Thick and calloused, ring-clad fingers, run their way through your baby hairs, as Cliff and Jason haphazardly argue and banter back and forth over the soft onslaught of metal music melodizing through the car's aged speakers- the warming up air traveling through the partially rolled down windows barely being enough to keep the confined space of the car from becoming too condensed and unbearable, from the heat radiating off and through the front windshield's window alone. Empty beer bottles rattle and collide together near James and Jason's feet, the sound emanating from them sounding like windchimes, a peaceful juxtaposition to their raising voices and the line of traffic multiplying and growing behind your guys' car.

"How much longer do you think we've got left, if you estimate it?" Jason asks again, his last few words sounding muffled as he slides his bottom lip in between his front teeth to hold back his already poorly hidden bout of laughter. You rush to raise a hand up to your own mouth to conceal your wide and amused grin, the small burst of laughter residing in your throat just barely being kept inside as Cliff tosses an incredulous look over his right shoulder. "Because not only was I not allowed to ride shotgun, but I was also lied to about how long it'd take for us to get down to the lake."

"We've barely even been in the car for more than twenty minutes, you not-so-little shit," Cliff snips back as an answer, even as the side of his mouth involuntarily quirks up to show his true reaction to his newest bandmate's playful complaints and questioning. "Keep on bitching, and I'll strap you to the front and let you sunbathe with the gnats." James leans forward and presses his own mirthful smile against the back of your head, his hands and arms sliding down to wrap and encircle themselves around your front to bring you in even closer. You lower your head to place a kiss on his nearest wrist, your eyes almost closing in bliss as you're squeezed back in a nonverbal answer and reassurance, and fully embraced.

You jolt forward instead and widen your eyes as the car harshly brakes, and disbelieving laughter fills the sudden silence in the shocked space. Kirk tosses a rushed and apologetic arm out the driver's side window of Jason's car as they fully emerge themselves in front of Cliff's and continuously speed forward, Lars' uninhabitable and unhidden screech of adrenaline filled merriment still coherent and audible as they hurriedly pass by. James' embrace turns into a secured and protective grip as Cliff curses out loud and barrels his foot into the accelerator, perspiration accumulating on your chest and lower back as you force yourself to calm down and suck in a deep breath.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" James asks you in a worried murmur, his tone soft and placating, while his arms continue to hold you in a near, vicelike manner. You nod dazedly and extend your hands to hold onto his forearms, slow grins growing on the guys' faces as your deep inhalations turn into dumbfounded and astounded chortles. The tense air in the car quickly tethers and breaks at the sound, and James coerces himself into slowly relaxing his hold around you. You lean back in the front seat and prop your head up against his left shoulder, as Cliff manages to pass Kirk and Lars and waves a blind middle finger in their direction.

"Five dollars Lars had his foot on the pedal." Jason bets, his attention now on the comic book splayed open on his lap, his words coming out lazily as warm, pillowed puffs of air loosen the hold the elastic has around his hair. James purses his lips and finds Cliff's eyes in the rearview mirror, only airing out his side of the bet once Cliff shakes his head. "Ten they were trying to open cans of Coors, and Kirk forgot he was the one driving." You shake your head in amusement and sigh in relief as the tendrils of hair once sticking to your cloying neck, blow free over the tops and expanse of James' biceps. Cliff meets you halfway with an exasperated look, as Jason ups the amount and James lets out a scoff, before doubling it.

"You already regretting crossing the street and knocking on our door?" He kiddingly asks you, the drawl in his voice amused and low as he leaves Jason's car behind and intercepts his way into another lane on the highway. Hard blasts of stale, spring air whip against the sides of his car as you send him a large grin, and delicately graze your thumb against the beauty mark situated on James' left elbow. Soft, hushed murmurs of folk music cascade through the small gaps of the car's windows from another nearby, as you easily and readily divulge your response, the answer being automatic.

"Never."

⭒

The guy's gradually quiet down as the lake comes into view, and you slowly raise your head from James' shoulder to look around in silent, stunned awe. Sun ladened diamonds shine and dance their way across the acres-long expanse of water, as lilies and pickerelweed plants and flowers brightly and colorfully stand tall at the precipice of the waterline, while simultaneously making their way across the entirety of the water's edge. Cicadas chirp from the surrounding trees, and birds expressively speak to each other as Cliff brings the car to a stop. Your hand is wrapped around the passenger side's door handle before it's even placed in park, your awe turning into excitement with every second that passes by as you take everything in.

James is barely able to disconnect from you, before you're rushing out of the car and glancing around with a wide smile, his soon matching your own as he takes in your giddy expression and enlarged eyes. Jason places his comic book to the side, before sliding off and out the backseat, and unevenly stepping onto the sun-marked and stained pebbles and rocks. He makes his way over to the back of the car and leans against the trunk next to Cliff, them sharing a knowing and content glance as James walks over to you.

"James has had a box in his room for the past few days, and I'm pretty sure he brought it here with him today." Cliff says in a quiet tone, his eyes only gliding away to look at a bee landing on top of a lotus-covered, lily pad. Jason peers forward as Kirk and Lars skid to a halt only a few feet away from them, his eyebrows sarcastically raising as they both shout out a muffled sorry over the car's still running engine.

"I came down earlier, after I saw him holding onto it. That's why I called her upstairs. I was hoping he'd give it to her already. Even though I don't know what the hell's inside." Cliff grins to himself as Jason loudly whispers, the few beers he had earlier becoming apparent in the way he wasn't able to keep his voice down. Luckily, Kirk slammed his door shut at the same time, and Cliff pushes himself off the bumper to make his way over to his sheepish looking best friend.

"I almost totaled my car because of you." He teases, purposefully making his tone hard, and bites back a laugh as the other immediately begins to stutter out an apology. "I swear, it wasn't my fault. At least, not all the way. Lars almost spewed, and he thought drinking was the only way to curb his hangover, so he reached down by the gear shift to grab a can of beer," Kirk rubs at the back of his neck and looks away as Lars stumbles his way out of the passenger's side, drunkenly raising a thumb after he manages to land on his feet and shut the door on his own. Jason lets out a groan, before begrudgingly making his way over to help steady the Dane. "I may have also forgotten I was the one driving, but only for a second." Cliff softens his expression as Kirk looks up at him worriedly, raising a hand to pat him on the back as his friend attempts to begin to apologize again.

"I'll call us even, but only if you help me get this shit out of the trunk, and help me get all of these tents built," Cliff offers, watching with an amused grimace as Jason bends over to turn the key in his car's ignition to off, letting out a string of curses as Lars tries to jump on his back at the same time. "I don't think the rest of the guys are going to be much help. Not until they sober up, at least." Kirk gloomily looks over at the boot of the car, before nodding. He soon lets out a groan once he opens the trunk and the contents nearly pop out all at once and tumble over.

"What about James?" Kirk asks petulantly, the tone in his voice bordering on a whined out exhale. Cliff silently nods his head towards the couple making their way down the stone path, near the entrance of the woods. "They've only got so many days left together, before we hit the road again," Cliff begins, reaching forward to heave a large, still boxed and unassembled, tent kit out of his car. Kirk winces at the echo the box leaves behind, as it makes contact with the rough grounding now underneath it. "We should let them have an easy time, before things become less easy and harder on the road. You know how things can get, have gotten." Dark curls tickle his shoulders as Kirk bends down to lift the cooler and store bags instead of verbally answering, only sending his friend and bandmate a dismissive look over the condensate-covered container once he's fully stood back up.

"Things will be better for him this time, for all of us," Kirk affirms, closing the trunk with finality once everything is piled up outside of the car and its earlier compartment. All except for one bag. "If he's doing this well, while already knowing how much little time they've got left together, he'll be fine once they're separated and doing their own shit." Kirk tilts his head to the side, watching as you two share a smile and walk your way into the wooded area. The usual weight he has on his chest while thinking of James alone on tour, suddenly feels light. Cliff looks away as Jason and Lars clumsily make their way on over, him sending them a grateful smile, as they cautiously bend over and seemingly pick up the lightest and easiest things left to carry.

Cliff nods in the direction of the flattest looking grassy area, and drops down in a squat, allowing a laughter lined smile to temporarily push his worries away, as the guys playfully gasp at the sight of him taking out his switchblade. He digs it into the side of the box, and then turns around to face them once again, his smile turning cheeky as he watches two out of three of his best friends let out a groan at the thought of having to move around anymore than they already have.

"Alright. Let's get even."

⭒

Small and uneven pieces of stone and gravel scatter beneath yours and James' boots as you two make your way even farther down the path and fully into the woods, the hot and incessant sun and its following heat temporarily being blocked by the tall trees' branches and leaves now covering you two. James grins widely as you playfully shove him to the side, before readjusting the already too large, self-cut off sleeves of his shirt back onto your shoulders. You unsuccessfully hide your own as his fingers find purchase on your shoulder blades once again, the pads of his warm fingertips dipping underneath the fabric of his t-shirt to lightly dance across your heated up and already tanning skin.

"I'm just trying to make sure you aren't hurt, baby. That's all." James playfully insists, his grin turning into a smirk as he feels the chill that runs its way down your spine from his simple touch alone. You hum noncommittedly, trying to coax yourself into coming off as relaxed. Your breath gets caught in your chest as the trees eventually disappear, and an even more beautiful sight than before comes into view. You two stand only a few feet away from the edge of a much taller drop into the lake, a rosebush on each side of the precipice a beautiful arrangement of pink and purple. You extend your arm, and only move forward once you feel James' long fingers intertwine with your own. You allow yourself to be gently tugged and tucked into his side, your joined hands being held behind your back as he places a kiss on your dampened temple.

"I can't believe you just randomly found a place like this on your own." You breathe out, your tone incredulous and heavy with wonder. James' next words make your cheeks wildly color, and you cant your head back to look into his eyes. "I only found this part of the path after I met you, actually." Your eyebrows furrow as you watch him get lost in thought, and as his smirk falls down into a slightly downtrodden expression. You lift your free hand and use your open palm to rest it upon his jawline, holding onto him as he peers down at you, suddenly looking tired.

"Hey, what's going on up in there?" You ask quietly, not wanting to interrupt the moment by accidentally raising your voice or talking too loudly. James shakes his head, and then hesitates, the hand holding your own coming loose enough to reach forward and grip onto the fabric of his shirt around you instead. "I thought I was alright with the idea of going back on tour and us doing long-distance, but I don't think I am," he confesses, bringing his other hand up to encapsulate it with the one currently cradling the side of his face. "The last few days without seeing you have been terrible enough on their own as is, I can't imagine a few days turning into a few months."

Realization dawns on you, and you can't help the soft coo that finds its way out of you. You gently turn your hand around in James' own and wrap your smaller palm around his, before beckoning him towards a higher leveled rock. Watery, blue irises meet yours as you sit him down and make your way onto his lap, his free arm instinctively wrapping itself around your middle to bring you flush against his front. "I'm not going anywhere." You start, your tone coming out as matter of fact. You place a delicate kiss on the side of his mouth before he can rebut, wanting more than anything for your physical touch to be more than enough reassurance that you're still here, and that you always will be.

"Where am I now?" You ask him, his lips twitching upward as the question reminds him of the ones he had asked you earlier this morning. "You're right here, with me." He answers throughout a small and gentle, growing smile.

"And where will I be when I'm not able to be there with you physically?" You whisper, your lips brushing against his as you press your palm on his bare chest, resting it against the skin covering his fast-beating heart. "Right here, a phone call away, a letter away, maybe even a ticket if we're lucky," you lift yourself up on your knees to rest your forehead against his, before continuing. "It's not like I won't miss you, won't want you close, but we can still make this work. I'm here with you, whether you're across the street, or across the country. So, please, be here with me. While I still have the opportunity to have you in my arms. While we still have the opportunity to experience new things together." James swallows thickly and murmurs his own agreeance, before tilting your head down with his thumb, and lowering you into a devouring, passionate kiss.

Your lips audibly shift against his with every slick and breathed out moan, your fingers molding themselves into his sweat clad skin, while his own reach down to caress small circles around the fingerprint marks he left behind only a few hours ago. Warmth awakens within your gut as you feel James subconsciously buck his hips forward, and as the soft fabric of his swimming trunks brush against the rough texture of your denim covered zipper. As you hungrily swallow down his gasped out exhale, an aborted exclamation tears itself out of your chest as a cheeky sounding throat clears itself from behind you, only a few feet away.

You squeeze your eyes shut as a drunken laugh reverberates and echoes over to you two, the sound of a bag being placed on the ground following soon after. You groan in mortification as Lars speaks up, the amusement in his voice making his accent thicker and richer with every word he forces out through choked back titters. "Kirk made me walk this out and over to you nasty fuckers, since I'm apparently still too out of it to help them build the tents," you brave a look over your shoulder and immediately blaze red as you two make eye contact, your shoulders dropping and hunching forward as you twist back around to bury your face into James' neck. James sends his best friend a glare, before nodding his head towards the path's walkway. Lars raises his hands in faux surrender, beginning to stumble as he starts to walk backwards. "Don't know if there's any condoms in your girl's bag, but I do know that she at least brought a yellow towel." Lars holds back a grin as he hears you let out a muffled and embarrassed sound, tilting his head down towards your bag once he's sure you aren't looking, and mouths bikini to James, before fully turning around.

"Fuck off." James spits, hiding his own amusement at being caught behind his urge to get Lars away to make you feel more comfortable. The Dane's laughter is still audible after the sound of his footsteps subside, and you only raise your head once James begins to fully sit back up again and gently taps at your backside.

"I'm never going back out there again," you declare, running a hand through your hair as you shift yourself back to sit on the heels of your booted feet. "I'll just swim home, I brought a bikini for a reason." James can't help the loud burst of laughter that fights its way out of him at your defeated tone and Lars' earlier mention, and you can't help but to dissolve into giggles at the hilarity of the situation. Tears spring to your eyes as you struggle to catch your breath, it hitching in your chest once you blink them away and catch onto the look James sends your way. Oceanic colored joy shines around his dilated pupils as he watches you finish up your bout of laughter, and heartfelt warmth fills the entirety of your chest as you finally make sense of the look you're being gifted with. Love.

You glance down at your bag, feeling overwhelmed. Your hands shake at your sides as you try to come to terms with everything coincidingly happening at once. You and James making things official, Cliff approving of you, you seeing James with a small, jewelry box. James, your now boyfriend, looking at you with so much love. You force yourself not to run, to not backtrack, and you send him a small smile, before rising to your feet.

"You agreed to experience new things with me while we have the time, chance and the opportunity to, right?" You ask, relief flooding through you as James looks up at you openly, albeit a bit confused, before nodding. Your smile widens as he immediately takes your hand once you outstretch it towards him, and he quickly chokes out your name as his shirt is tossed over your head and onto the now newly abandoned rock.

You take a step aside as you reach back to unlatch the clasps holding your bra together, your smile turning shy as you watch your boyfriend's jaw slacken and lower at the sight of you. "Go swimming with me?" Your bra straps just barely graze your forearms before he's vehemently nodding his head yes, his cheeks burning a bright red.

⭒

Heated stone burns the backs of your upper thighs as you dangle your feet over and off the edge of the large rock and its cliff, hiding your doubt and hesitation as James tosses your bag down to the side of the lower level of foundation, the eventual landing of the carrier sounding long and far away. Your bikini straps lightly dance around your upper back as you graze your calves against the smooth moss collecting around a part of the overhang, sending James a nervous glance once he straightens up, his own expression now bright and excited.

"When I offered to go swimming, I didn't mean cliff diving." You murmur, sucking in a deep breath as you peer down to see how far your feet are from the actual body of water. James hides his grin behind his hair, before squatting and sitting down next to you, his bare shoulder caressing your own as he does so. "And if you're nervous, you can just say so." He rebuts, his tone teasing. His eyes rake over your form as you begin to tense up, his amused smile turning gentle as he watches you stutter in an uneven exhale. Your breath evens out as his warm palm raises and steadily runs itself down the middle of your spine, the cool temperature of his rings making you feel familiarized, as you slowly peel your eyes away from the main source of your anxiety.

"We don't have to do this if you aren't ready or comfortable, babe," he reassures you, his thumb delicately dipping into the natural curve of your back as you lean and arch into his touch. "We can just walk back down the path and past the boys. There's a lower level down there, and I'm sure one of the guys can join us, if that'll make you feel more safe and secure about it." Your lips shakily lift at his caring proposal, before immediately shaking your head no and dragging your now bare heels across the solid surface beneath you.

"Lars has probably told everyone that he walked in on us having sex on top of the first solid surface we saw already." You respond around a small huff of laughter. James can't hold back his own sound of amusement, and you both fall into a small moment of silence, before he slowly extracts his touch and inches his way forward. You follow after him, reaching down to tightly grasp onto his right hand as your backside makes contact with the slippery ridge. James turns his hand around, palm facing the sky, and intertwines your damp digits with his, before twisting to the side to place a kiss on the middle of your neck placatingly.

"Don't look down, look at me," He instructs you, squeezing your hand in his and sending you a proud smile as you do so. He tilts his head toward the water. "The water's only fifteen feet deep, and the jump is even less than that. I know it seems scary now, but I promise you, I'll be right next to you the entire time. And if it at any point feels like too much, just hold onto me, and I'll keep you from going in too deep." You nod along with his words, your heartbeat regulating in your chest and your fingers relaxing in his hold as you look up into his affirming gaze.

"I won't ever let you fall on your own or stray too far away from me." He promises, his words sounding heavier than intended, like a double meaning commitment. You ease back and then straighten up, your eyes momentarily leaving his to glance back down at the lake, no longer feeling overwhelmed, as a gentle ripple accumulates itself into a small wave just a few yards away from you two. "I trust you." You hearten, looking back at your boyfriend just in time to see the way in which your words affect him. James' smile widens and he takes in an enlarged, heavy breath, his pulse skittering underneath his wrist, which is directly pressed up against your own.

"And I trust you." He echoes back, his tone the most gentle and vulnerable thing. You elongate your thumb to brush it against his index finger's second knuckle, before nodding and bending your ankles back to brace yourself for the quick jump and drop. "Let's do this." You grin, your anxiety now long gone, as adrenaline and security run through you instead.

Your thighs touch as you two prepare yourselves at the precipice, and you two share an excited smile, before using your free hands as leverage to lift and push yourselves off the mount and edge of the rock. James' bright laughter is the last sound you coherently hear, before you stretch out and make contact with the lake's water.

Your feet kick underneath you as you fully submerge, the cold water awakening goosebumps on your skin as you relax your body and allow yourself to naturally float back up. Ripples of crystallized sunlight greet you as you reopen your eyes right before your head reaches the top, and you gasp in a delighted breath of fresh air as you resurface. Joyous titters bubble themselves out of you before you can help it, and you whip your head around to find James, only to have the sounds muting and freezing in your throat as you seemingly find yourself alone. Before you can even call out for him, a hand encircles itself around your left ankle, and yanks you back under.

You panic and thrash, only to huff as your eyes find his underwater, the first few feet of water illuminated enough by the sun to see his grin a few inches away from you. You reach a hand out to shove at his shoulder, before wiggling your leg free and swimming back up to the top. Droplets make their way down your forehead and temples as James cackles next to you, his hair clinging to the sides of his face and making him look even more youthful as he laughs. You forcefully whip your hand underneath a wave in his direction and bellow out a laugh as a sizeable splash of water directly smacks him in the face.

"Oh, you're gonna get it." He playfully gravels, his smile jubilant and euphoric as he reaches his arms and hands out to grab onto you. You shriek and halfheartedly attempt to break free, fully relaxing in his grasp as his hands slide down to rest upon your hips instead of assumingly pulling you back under or tickling you. Your arms encircle themselves around his shoulders, and you hold back a shiver as you're lifted out of the water and placed onto the cornerstone next to your bag. James slides himself between your legs and rests a forearm on each of your knees, a nervous laugh of yours echoing in the air as he places a brush of a kiss against your wet, bare stomach.

"Thank you for trusting me," he whispers against you, his bottom lip caressing the skin beneath your bellybutton as he speaks. Your thighs begin to tremble as his arms slide back down into the water, and his large palms hold your legs wide open instead. A whine tears itself from your chest as his tongue travels down to the beginning of your bikini bottom, the whine turning into a moan as he turns his head to the side to bite the tied knot free on the side of your striped material. Once blue turned onyx irises peer up at you as you push the hair from clinging to the side of his face back past his shoulders, the sun barreling heat down on your reddening face as one of his hands slide up to rest upon your upper thigh. "Still trust me?" He asks, his tone turning husky as he watches the now free material bare another inch of your skin to him, and as your nipples harden and petal from your newly, onset arousal.

You needily nod, your clit beginning to pulsate behind the nylon as his right hand reaches up to push it to the side, your breath halting as he lets out a curse as soon as your sex is finally visible. "Even prettier than I thought it'd be." He nearly moans out, sounding drunk. You can barely blink, before he's descending down upon you, and running the entirety of his thick and hot tongue through your folds. Your fingertips press into his skull as he skillfully takes you apart, your stomach muscles tightening and convulsing as you fight back the urge to scream his name. Thick rings press themselves in your skin to hold you in place as you writhe, and your head falls back to rest upon your partially open bag as the tip of his tongue slides up to lap at your clit.

"James," you sob, your pussy beginning to throb and become hypersensitive as his free hand comes up to rub its fingertips against your sopping wet entrance. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as he slowly pushes and curves a finger into your tight heat, a strangled and wet sound clawing its way out of your chest as he finds your g-spot on his first attempt. Overstimulated tears lie on the edge of your lash lines as he lifts his head from you, your wetness leaving a thick glaze on his chin as he looks up at you, a second finger entering you as he watches you fall apart right in front of him. "Please."

"What do you need, sweetheart?" He coos, his voice sounding unaffected, while his chest heaves and his tongue peeks out like a man starving to lick at whatever it can reach beneath his bottom lip. James moans as he feels your walls constrict against his middle and ring fingers, his swollen lips lifting as your hips raise from the rock to try and ride them. "Need me to finger fuck you a little bit faster, don't you? So fucking needy for me. I knew you'd taste and look like a dream once I finally got the chance to be alone with you. Look at you now, doing and being so good for me." Your eyes roll back in your head as he crooks his digits upward, your heels you've been using to help you thrust sliding down and weakening as his second knuckles nudge against your sponge-like spot relentlessly.

"I just need you, always just need you." You answer through unadulterated and hiccupped mewls, no longer caring about if the other boys could hear you as you get closer to orgasming. James lowers himself back down onto you before he can mutter the few words dying to make their way out of his mouth, making his appendage useful as he sucks at your clit and flattens it against your weeping pulse point. Your knees lock around his shoulders as your hips raise from the ground once again, before dropping back down with a soaking wet sound, a wail of your boyfriend's name being wedged out of your gaping mouth as you release all over his face and over welcoming tongue.

Yesyesyesyes repeatedly makes its way out of your jaw slack mouth as he continues to lick and lap and suck, his fingers only slowing down and halting once you begin to whine and push his head and wrist away. Ripples of shivers wrack and shake their way through your entire being as you fight to bring in air, eyesight blurred from the force of your orgasm, and your legs only being stopped from spasming by James holding them in place. Morning stubble tickles the tops of the front of your thighs as James kisses the expanse of them while you calm down, his own eyes fluttering as you loosen your hold against his scalp and grip onto his shoulders instead.

"Come up here." You invite once you catch your breath, your hunger becoming insatiable as James shakily lifts himself from inside of the lake and makes his way over to mount himself on top of you. Your taste is being licked into your mouth before your head can even touch the top of your bag again, and you obediently follow his tongues movement with your own while he feeds you your own essence. James' heart leaps in his chest as you flip the two of you over and you slowly sit yourself on his lap, the exhaled sigh of relief he lets out from the pressure of you on his dick enough to have you bending down to place and lick kisses on the flesh of his flushed neck.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to." James tries to reassure you, even as his hips buck up to thrust and press themselves against your bare pussy. You smile against his skin, damn near eating the sounds he lets out as you suck red hued marks into his tanning skin, the drawn out moans and shocked inhales being more than enough confirmation for you to keep going.

"You think you're the only one who's been wanting to see the other naked, to want to have the other one's taste in their mouth?" You ask him, grounding your sex into the thin material of his swimming trunks and smiling triumphantly as you feel his cockhead jump against your swollen clit with every movement you make. James mutely opens his mouth, slamming it closed to grit out a heaved out grunt as you lift yourself up to lick your way down to his hipbone like he had done to you earlier, the combined taste of the natural salted water and the heady taste of his sweat making your head spin. Your mouth salivates as you slide the material of his shorts down and finally see his dick, the swollen and blood red tip weeping beaded and nearly translucent drops of pre-ejaculate as you readily lick your lips and slide down to lie on your stomach in between his legs. "As if I haven't been wanting to taste you since the night we first kissed. It took everything in me to not turn around and beg you to take me to your room."

Your boyfriend squeezes his eyes shut and reaches down to run a hand through your still damp and unruly locks as you attempt to wrap a hand around his pulsating shaft, a slim rope of spit keeping your lips together as your fingertips barely touch the underside of your palm. "Going to make you feel so good for treating me so well." You promise, your other hand sliding up to hold him in place as you peek your tongue out and lightly run it across the tip of his soaked head. James' fingers lightly twist and become a small fist in your mane as you slowly encase your swollen lips around him, a cry of your name pouring out of his mouth as you make your way down to mid shaft, your saliva coming out of the sides of your mouth, only to travel down and messily rest and pool on and around his raising and jolting ballsack.

"So good," James nearly breathes out in a carnal sound, the wet heat of your mouth and the tip of his cock lightly tapping against the back of your throat enough to make him already feel close to the edge. "So perfect for me." The praise makes you moan, the reverberations causing James' balls to spasm and for his legs to jolt up. You close your eyes and take in a deep breath before attempting to deepthroat, the way his knees bracket you in as he shudders beneath you making you feel stable as you push your head forward. You weakly gag as you feel your throat constrict and fight against the unusual stretch, before relaxing as his spurts of tangy precum soothe and coat your soon to be sore throat. You unlatch and relax your hand from around his shaft, bringing it up to encircle it around the hand attached to your head, to signal to him it was okay for him to start moving his hips.

Light, dirty blonde hairs tickle the bottom of your nose as he slowly thrusts his hips upward and pushes your head flush against his abdomen, his muscles feeling painfully taut as he forces himself to breathe through the overwhelming pleasure. You bring yourself up to your knees and hold back a wince as your skin rubs against the hard slab underneath you, before sliding a hand down in between your legs to rub at your incessant and still throbbing clit. Tears stream down your face as you easily bring yourself to your second orgasm, already so close from the lack of oxygen from James' solid thrusts into your mouth and throat, and from the taste of him alone. You raise your hand covered in your own slick to nudge it against and massage his ballsack, hiccupped moans coming from your throat along with barely suppressed gags, as James uses you with rough and reckless abandon.

"I'm close baby, can I?" He asks you, his voice barely audible and scratchy from all of his moaning and pants. You tap twice against his wrist once again and shakily breathe in as often as you can, the force and strength behind his thrusts as he fucks your mouth enough to pulse and move your head backwards. James twists his hand through your hair and yanks as he cums down your throat with a low and punched out moan, the seed so warm and large it makes you push against his stomach and tug your head free. You gasp for breath and swallow as much as you can before beginning to cough, the rest of his release sliding down from your chin and landing on the mounds of your breasts as you roll back onto the heels of your feet. A satisfied and satiated smile lifts your spit and cum clad lips as you look at how fucked out and debauched your boyfriend looks underneath you, his chest heaving for breath and his eyes wildly large. You teasingly tap on his thigh and let out a chortle as you're yanked down and rested on his middle, your hands sliding down to rest upon his as you both take a moment for yourselves while holding onto each other.

"Please don't tell me that was a dream." James breathes out, his still panting lips shaping into a grin as you let out a loud laugh and toss your head back. "Not a dream, baby. But it would be a great one anyway." You reassure him, leaning forward and resting a hand near his head to grab ahold of the aforementioned and infamous yellow towel. James laughs as soon as it comes into view, and you smile to yourself, before using the dry and rough fabric to clean yourself off as best as you can.

Your boyfriend lowers his hands to use them as leverage to sit himself up, his elbows unsteady underneath him even minutes after his orgasm. You scoot back to lightly dab at the mess you left behind on his thighs and where you sat on his stomach, a blush rising to your cheeks as you notice the amount of your slick stuck on his fingers and still clinging to both of your guys' skin. "I don't think the towel's going to be enough to clean us off." You coarsely whisper, your throat beginning to sore and feel rough. James feigns contemplation, before gently tugging the fabric out of your hands, and throwing it over his shoulder. Before you can even laugh at the fact that it landed perfectly on a tree branch, you're being lifted and tossed back into the lake.

Laughter fills your water covered ears, and you hastily swim back with barely enough time before James is jumping into the water alongside you, his swimming trunks being left behind to dangle haphazardly on a sharp edge of the rock's ending. You decidedly unknot the top already loosely hanging from the back of your neck, and then toss it towards his shorts, a hoarse laugh making its way out of you as it lands near the towel instead. James swims toward you and tugs you back flush against him, the smirk on his lips apparent as he tantalizingly rubs your breasts clean and trails a hand down in between your legs.

"You were amazing." He praises you, his voice gentle, despite his sexual touches and his wide amusement being pressed into the side of your neck. "And you were perfect." You respond, your eyes closing in bliss as his thumb flicks over your clit and his other fingers run their way through your oversensitive lips. Your head rests upon his shoulder like it did earlier in the car, and your eyes snap back open once you acknowledge how loud you two had been. "Oh God, the guys." You groan, slumping forward as James lets out a hysterical laugh from behind you.

"If you thought Lars was the only one to worry about, just you wait." He cryptically teases, leaning back and away from your arm's length as you blindly swat for him. An amused expression cascades itself upon James' features as you turn around and point a finger at him, the soaking wet version of you extremely adorable and as nonthreatening as humanly possible.

"Don't tempt me, I will swim home," you threaten, your laughter melodizing with his after you finish up your sentence. "I just have to put my bikini back on first."

⭒

Howling laughter and low whistles greet you two as you two make your way off the path and towards where the guys have everything unpacked and set up, a grimace set on your features as your feet uncomfortably shift in the confines of your now damp on the inside boots. You lower your head as James wraps an arm around your shoulders and playfully waves everyone off. "Fuck off, you've all done worse."

"Our girl's first walk of shame with us, and it isn't even at our home." Lars whispers out brokenly, wiping a fake tear from the side of his eye as he cradles a beer to his chest with his other hand. Kirk looks up from Jason's comic book from the softened ground and sends you two an amused smirk, before going back to reading. Cliff unzips the largest tent and points at the inside, an unimpressed yet highly mirthful look on his face as he does so.

"Fucking is for the inside of tents, not in the lake, while you scare off and interrupt wildlife." Jason chokes on his drink and bends in half while Lars unhelpfully beats on the middle of his back with a half-closed fist, laughter bubbling out of him as he tries to keep their newest best friend and bandmate upright. You turn your head to the side to hide your own grin, and to look at the lakeview instead, only to have your head guided back in the opposite direction. James cups your chin and brings you into a chaste, meaningful and long-lasting kiss, the reverberation of his laugh tickling your cupid's bow as the guys groan out loud in unison and complain from a few feet away.

"Disgusting behavior." Lars snips, the small and genuine smile on his face the opposite of his tone and words. Jason nods toward the car and sends you a secretive smile once he stops coughing and finds his breath, before walking over to you two and attempting to snag James away.

"There's another bag or two still left in the car, would you mind grabbing them for me while I talk with your guy?" Jason asks, the side of his mouth upturning as he shares a small, yet full glance with Cliff. You nod and remove yourself from under James' arm, sending your boyfriend a comforting smile as he begins to look nervous. Hushed murmurs erupt from behind you as you make your way over to Cliff's trunk, and you force yourself to not look back at them as it opens underneath your hand. You peer in look around confusedly, before realizing James' bag is the only one left in the truck. You take in a deep breath, before wrapping your hand around one of the bag's large handles.

As you tug the bag forward, a small and red, velvet box falls out from the confines of its side pocket. Picking it up, you glance over your shoulder and latch onto James' eyes with your own. He freezes at Jason's side, yet doesn't stop you from slowly inching it open. As you look away from his hesitant expression and look back down instead, your stomach drops and tears spring to your eyes as you take in what's been in the box, and in the trunk, all day and for however long James has had it.

"Holy shit." You whisper, unaware of James making his way over to you, his hair as damp as the palms he's wiping against his swimming trunks. James stops just a few feet away from you, his hands anxiously wringing themselves in front of his stomach. You take in a deep breath and force yourself to stay in place as he sends you a nervous smile, before opening his mouth.

"I can explain."

I'll never forget the first day we spent together, and with the guys, at the lake. I still have your gift, and I still wear it every day. It still reminds me of you, still makes everything feel like home while you're out and gone on the road. Still reminds me that I belong to you, and that I always will.

#metallica #james hetfield #james hetfield x reader #james hetfield smut #james hetfield fluff #jason newsted #cliff burton #kirk hammett #lars ulrich #metallica smut #metallica x reader #metallica imagines #metallica fanfiction

[kudzuoath]

Wretched Things

Nothing lives in the shadow cursed lands. Even the trees are undead. This is a problem when you need to drink blood to survive.  Thankfully, Caspian is a giving sort.

–

Try as he might, Astarion’s focus kept sliding away from his book. The wretched burning in his throat, the sandpaper feel of his tongue, the emptiness of his stomach. All served to sever what little attention he had. 

He grit his teeth and stared holes into the page of diagrams. One of several books regarding undead that they’d recovered since finding Moonrise. Caspian seemed to be collecting the things for him. 

The gesture flayed him. 

“Horrid, pink thing,” he grumbled under his breath. “Wretchedly pastel tiefling.”

Maybe he’d be flattered if she didn’t also help just about everyone they came across. Oh she never made any promises – but nevertheless they always ended up in a bloody hag’s lair, or fetching a bard from a cage. 

Actually… 

Astarion’s gaze drifted over to Volo, who was scribbling away, not a care in the world. Surely no one would mind if he indulged in a little snack...

If nothing else with Volo as a victim, he could talk the rest of the party around when they found his corpse. 

Though it wouldn’t be that hard to hide the body. All he had to do was toss it into the lake. With the shadow curse no one would even question it. They all knew the little idiot had the self preservation of a gnat. 

His mouth was watering over Volo. Terrible. 

“Astarion?”

His gaze slid over to the wretchedly pastel tiefling herself. She’d apparently found somewhere to bathe – probably at the inn – because her hair was pale lavender again, rather than the sort of muddy brownish black it had turned from all the blood. 

Not, mind you, living blood. Of course not. The black, congealed jelly-like substance of the dead held by the shadow curse. 

“Well don’t you look a treat this evening,” he said. “Unfortunately I’m rather busy at the moment –”

She ignored his attempt to brush her off. 

“There aren’t any animals here.”

“Really?” he said, looking around in feigned shock. “I hardly noticed. Perhaps next you might tell me what color the sky is?”

Again she ignored his goading. Though those black and indigo eyes narrowed. A laser focus. “And the only people we’ve fought in days are dead already.”

“Your skills of observation are truly something to behold,” he said, fighting not to bristle. What, was she going to start making threats? He was still going to eat Volo. 

“When was the last time you fed?”

“Why?” he asked, lowering his voice into a pur that usually made her blush. “Thinking of inviting me to dine with you?” 

Caspian put her hands on her hips and tilted her head. He was too aware of the bared expanse of her throat. The way her pulse jumped. 

“Yes.”

For a split second he was confused. Why? What did she get out of it? Then he realized he didn’t care. He would take what she gave him. And then take still more. 

“You have such a generous soul,” he said, slipping closer so he could coil a lock of her hair around one of his fingers. This time she blushed. Far more appealing than Volo, really. He still remembered the hot, honeyed taste of her blood sliding down his throat all those nights ago. Did all tieflings burn like that? “I’ll see you tonight, my sweet.”

Even redder, Caspian shook her head. 

“It’s been at least a week, hasn’t it? Just – drink, Astarion.”

“How kind of you to notice…”

He was hardly going to turn her down. The thirst strangled him. He’d been much, much worse off over the centuries. But after so many weeks of being truly sated, starvation sawed at him like a stranger rather than the old friend it was. 

“--  for not thinking of it sooner,” she said. Had she still been talking?

Astarion slid his hand into her hair and tilted her head. Caspian allowed it, still practically glowing from the amount of blood in her face.

Cute. You would think she’d fluster less after the times they’d slept together. 

“Sit, dear,” he said. “I would hate for you to fall.”

Caspian did so. And the moment she was settled he leaned in close, and bit her. 

Her gasp was drowned out by the sudden rush of relief that poured into him. Blood touched his tongue, slid down his throat, and it was like waking. Hot, spiced, honeyed – and none of those things. Her blood – like the last time – burned all the way down. But pleasantly. Like expensive alcohol. 

Astarion tightened his grip in her hair, and drank deeply. Drowning that starving feeling. Luxuriating in the sensation of satiation. The creeping numbness in his fingers faded. The weakened woozy feeling in the center of his chest shriveled. 

“Astarion…”

More. He needed more. 

“If you don’t… stop… you’re going to have… a very awkward conversation… with Shadowheart.”

Caspian’s hand, on the back of his head. Fingers twining through his hair. 

Her heart beat stuttered. 

With a gasp of his own he forced himself to let go, to draw back. Though not too far this time because as soon as he stopped drinking, Caspian half collapsed against him. She was breathing hard, as if she’d been running for hours.

There was an ashen quality to her skin, her lips were pale and her eyes heavy lidded. 

“Shit,” he swore. 

“Shouldn’t have… left it so long,” she mumbled, head nodding forward. A long sigh. Then, she started to hum. 

From anyone else he would assume this was related to the blood loss. But Caspian drew magic from music. Sometimes from rhymes. Too still, he held her up as she hummed and coaxed the weave around them. He felt the spell gathering around her – and then felt it take. 

She sat up, looking marginally better. There was some color in her lips, at least. 

“Well,” he said. Awkwardness clawed at him. Though not as hard as it might have. For the first time in days he felt himself. “No need to talk to our resident Sharran.”

Caspian laughed. “I think she’d be more annoyed at me than you. Feel better?”

He did. 

“I’m positively brimming with energy, darling.”

“And you’re in a much better mood,” she pointed out. There was a flash of fang in her smile. Maybe he had been rather… prickly of late. But no one was happy here anyway, so it shouldn’t have been all that noticeable. 

He sniffed. “I miss the sun. This whole cursed place smells like a tomb. And –”

“You were hungry,” she said. Her smile faded, replaced by a knit brow as she looked up at him. He realized he was still supporting most of her weight and – when had he put his arm around her? The warmth and presence of her body was… nice. 

“Did you drink enough?” 

“I nearly drain you and you ask if i’ve drank enough, Cas?” An eyebrow lifted. “I did hope you had better self preservation instincts. Not too much better, of course…”

“I doubt the others are going to invite you to dinner,” she deadpanned. “Our options out here are bloody limited. And I don’t know how much longer it's going to take to get to Ketheric. You need to eat and…” she sighed. “And I don’t think I can give like this every night. I’ll get someone killed out there if I’m too weak to swing a sword or too slow to react with a spell.”

A terrible sticky warmth was building in his chest. It was foreign and insidiously… pleasant.

She was concerned. About him.

His eyes drifted to where one of her hands was gripping the front of his shirt. Caspian would have been so easy to lure to Cazador. The sympathetic always were. And she was nothing if not that. He could have stumbled into her on the streets, playing at a more mortal starvation. 

Help me, he imagined saying. And she would. All the way to Cazador’s teeth. 

Idiot. 

“Should we dine again tomorrow, I won't need as much.” All she had to give, and more. It was his for the taking.

Caspian’s head dropped against his chest and she let out a longer sigh. Relief? Perhaps? 

“Okay. Okay. This is doable.” 

He waited for her hands to drift lower, or her lips to touch his skin. He was resigned to it. It was the most natural sort of payment in the world. And he knew she enjoyed his touch.

But instead Caspian sat up and yawned. “Right. I need to sleep. And probably eat something. In the reverse order.”

“What, no desert?” he whined.

“Ha! If by desert you mean sex, I’d fall asleep before you got your shirt off. I’m afraid I can’t feed both hungers tonight.”

“Pity,” he said, stretching. The way her eyes tracked his movements softened the blow of rejection. “I’m certainly feeling invigorated.”

“Alas,” she deadpanned. There was a spark in her eye and a slight curl to her lips. “You'll just have to invite you hands into bed tonight instead.”

Caspian stood, sketched a theatrical little curtsy, and sauntered off toward the campfire. Almost immediately she fell on the bowl of stew Gale handed her like a ravening wolf. The wizard laughed at her and said something that earned him a smack with her tail. Shadowheart made a dry comment about the puncture wounds on her neck. Caspian fired back, but made no move to hide them. 

And Astation watched her with a faint smile. 

“Wretched thing.”

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #bg3 #astarion/tav #tav #named tav #tiefling tav #is this self indulgent? #why yes it is #not sure i have the hang of him yet but i'm working on it #my writing

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

Why Should a Star, a Star Ever Be Afraid of the Dark

First posted: May 17, 2019

Focuses on: Peter Parker and Morgan Stark (MCU)

Tier: Low, so low, so unappreciated

This is my “behind the scenes” series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Thoughts below the cut.

Ah, another unexpected MCU fic that burst out of my chest through the force of my post-Endgame emotions. Since it's not my primary fandom and I posted in a time where much much larger writers were also saying things, it got next to no attention, then or now. That's okay. I'm still glad I wrote it.

Peter bit his bottom lip as he traced the metal leg of the Imperial Walker, extending the line of grey from the box shape of the body down to where the snow would be. Maybe he shouldn’t have picked the Battle of Hoth as his muse. A snow battle on white paper was boring. He paused, frowned, and set the paper aside.

It's funny, writing fic with well-known characters, because you want to get them right. But there are so many ways to perceive a character, especially one that's been portrayed and analyzed so many different ways, so it often comes down less to what makes logical, concrete sense and more about what just feels right. Even this opening was a lot of mentally flipping through a bunch of different options until I found one that felt right for Peter. I also think Calvin and Hobbes did a similar joke with a drawing of a tiger hiding in snow or something. Call it an homage.

Peter was still getting used to Morgan, to everything like her that proved that life had gone on while he had been… away. One minute, he’d been a regular kid punching aliens in space, and the next, it was five years later. Five whole years. And there were people like Morgan who hadn’t existed when he’d closed his eyes but were suddenly here, sparkly princess tiara on her head and a tiny Ready to Rock t-shirt stained with what looked like a smear of goldfish crackers.

MCU really really failed when it came to the ramifications of the Snap. Such a travesty.

“See?” she had said, swinging her bare toes over the surface of the lake. “It’s better with your shoes off.” Peter had taken off his shoes, and they had sat there together, watching the air slowly thicken with gnats and then mosquitoes as the sun dipped lower and lower and turned the lake golden. She had been right about the shoes.

I forgot how much I liked this fic.

“Cheering,” Morgan said matter-of-factly. “That’s Mommy and Happy and Uncle Rhodey and you and Amanda and Maddox and Mr. Lu and Mrs. Iye and—“

It's fun naming incidental characters. Sometimes you get to slip friends in. Just for fun.

For every happy story about a family reunited, there was another about people returning only to find out that their loved ones had moved on or died. Weddings were still a thing after the Snap. So were babies. And car accidents and relocations and cancer and birthdays. Life went on. Death went on, too.

MCU BIT IT. JUST UTTERLY TANKED IT.

The crayon snapped in Peter’s hand, a tiny crack of Fern.

I had to google green crayon colors.

This was a good little fic. Next to no attention, but again, that's okay. I think I wrote a good kid Morgan who isn't too cutesy, a decent Peter, and a tolerable little look at grief. Yay me.

#fanfic bts brain dump #peter parker #morgan stark #mcu #fanfic

[katsukikitten]

Just some general warnings and disclaimers, this is an aged up Victorian era AU that I did a sort of collab with @bakugotrashpanda, so please check out BTP’s work as well. We had so much fun discussing this idea and breathing life into it, we would love to hear how these stories made you feel. Please also note that the woman in the banner is NOT the set skin tone for reader so please feel free to have that match your own skin tone! Also this is one of my bigger works coming in at a little over 14,000 words! (maybe a part two idk) but enjoy~

The room ebbs in the low light of flickering candles, people gather in clusters like lost geese as they honk their gossip at one another causing you to sigh. It would be another long night of mental games as your cold eyes fail to warm from the eccentric sights. Silk dresses, long gloves, shimmering gems, and endless drink and food. 

Yet you hated how little power you had over your choice of being here or not. 

Countless eyes rake over your long dress, always choosing a color so deep in hue it is often mistaken for black. They often murmur curiosities as they ponder over what exactly you are mourning.

Little do they know it is your freedom. 

Tonight you are in blood red with matching gloves to your elbows, diamonds, garnets and rubies drip from your throat and ears. A sight to be seen in your bold dark colors that are often frowned upon during the bright season of spring and summer. 

A bold male approaches and yet the closer he gets to your stunning form the more meek he becomes. He nods his head and reaches for your hand, pressing his lips to your gloved knuckles. 

"May I have your first dance?" He peers up at you as you stare down with an icy glare. Removing your hand with deadly precision from a man you know of but could not care less about. 

"You may not." You say simply and all he can do is stew in his rejection, affirming your wishes with a small nod. Another male in a smooth storm grey suit approaches. His large hand grasping onto your fingers, bringing your knuckles to his lips. 

"You look exquisite my dear. Would you honor me with your first dance?" 

"I shall not." Another subtle yet swift removal of your hand from his, wishing you had worn two pairs of gloves for this sniveling little asshole. Not everyone knew his secret love for abusing women but you did. He would never get the pleasure of dancing with you and in the two years since your introduction into the market you've made sure he had no one to wed. Using the power and respect people had towards your Father's name, towards you for guidance, ultimately steering them away from this pathetic sack of bones. 

And with your power you were dubbed the icy hot debutante of Alryne, fierce as a flame so hot, it felt cold. 

You wear a neutral face, but you do not smile, making yourself a touch unapproachable. This already weeds out the weak men who want nothing more than to suck the blood and money from your father's estate. 

But it wasn't as if the neutral face was easy to achieve, oftentimes you had to fight a scowl. For two years you've hated every second of every ball, party, or soiree since the Queen smiled in your favor during your first debut. She often praised, as did your mother, your cold precision, quick wit, and intelligent political decisions that were so well disguised that men just thought you modest. 

When in actuality you were playing the game, and since you were being forced to play by your father then by Hell's flames you would win it all. 

The first half of the ball drags in stupor of tedious repetition as you idly chat with women of various titles to gather any information you could without revealing your own hand. 

Besides all of the pestering gnats, everyone knows that your first dance is always reserved for important males, to never approach until after the two of your six stamps have already been taken. Even then there was a high chance of rejection, as there were no men of value to be seen. 

At least not yet. For as long as you could remember the higher ranked males arrived a touch late, "fashionably late" they claim. Abhorrently annoying is what you call it.  

Fashionably late men such as Lord Bakugou, son to the Duke of Summer or his distant cousin Lord Kirishima, son to the Duke of Spring. 

Bakugou arrives first, his grin wolfish as he scans the crowd, women flock to his arrogance in troves, although he ignores them. He has one woman in his sights yet it is not the woman he stands before. You give a small courtesy as you speak. 

"My Lord." Offering your hand gently. 

"My Starlight." He presses his lips to your silky glove for a long moment unable to keep his cocky smirk off of his face, "May I take your first dance?" 

Fighting to keep the delighted smile off of your face you offer a flutter of your lashes. He kisses your knuckles once more as if you needed convincing but the two of you know what you are doing. 

"You may." And with that his wolfish grin returns as he sweeps you onto the dance floor, showcasing your abilities as he shows off his own. Not to mention the dance floor is a great place to talk in private. His hand lingers just above your lower back, firm in his grip as his other hand holds yours almost delicately. 

"We match tonight, my Starlight. A brilliant touch." He guides you along the floor with ease, his eyes gesturing towards his vest and tie. 

"I only took an educated guess as to what you would wear, my Lord." 

"Do not sell yourself short. I know how sharp that mind is." Another wolfish grin, his eyes never leaving yours while feeling the court gaze upon the two of you. You give him a knowing smile before asking. 

"Any luck with her majesty, the prized diamond?" You ask, eyes blazing with curiosity. He smirks again, only his eyes revealing his true scoff as he twirls you in your jeweled slippers. 

"I did as you instructed and went with my father to that dreaded stay at the countryside Manor, how did you know her Majesty and Princess Amila would be close by." 

"I took an educated guess." A blatant lie that has him grinning from ear to ear. He leans closer, pulling the attention of the ladies especially as his ember eyes burn into you. 

"Far more than an educated guess." He spins you again and you fight the tightness in your gut. Enjoying the dance as he parades you around the room as if to say look at what I have that you could never. 

Even if the two of you agreed you would never be his. The two of you having struck up an arrangement of sorts on your first dance. He was forced by his Grace to ask at least one woman to dance and he had only chosen you with hopes that you would say no. 

But you loved the honest, irritated look that lingered in his eyes and on his lips. So of course you said yes as misery loves company. It was then he told you not to fall for him as he had his eyes set on the Crown, you laughed loudly and said "As if I would ever fall for an arrogant pig such as yourself, my Lord." His smile was wild as he enjoyed your insult, it was then you told him you would help him with the Crown, only if he made you his first and last dance of the evening at every event. 

Back then he had hesitantly agreed, now he can see how far your scheming mind went. Saw the numerous callers and suitors who loitered in your parlor, the extravagant flowers that they sent in excess. The rings they bestowed to you as they dropped to one knee, bold enough to peacock the large diamonds in front of other callers. 

And all after Bakugou had done as you asked for only three parties. He got a front row seat to rejection every single time, which in turn started the talk, the gossip, that this city loved.  You were desired because of how you painted yourself and in turn made Lord Bakugou desired as well. Talked about, all because he was the only male who had your approval. 

He loved your scheming mind so much he could kiss you, but alas you did not wear a crown. Although you often had a braid of jewels atop your head, sadly you were not kin to royalty, only a Baron's daughter after all. 

Bakugou wonders what you could have done as a queen. He would think you an empress.

"Is that all the detail I get? Just a confirmation that I was correct about their holiday?" He spins the two of you in step, hand guiding you although you did not need it. Having memorized every step to every dance there was since before your debut. 

"She saw me." 

"And?!" You can hardly keep up the façade of calm collection as you wait. 

"And she flushed. Her cheeks were as red as any rose, Starlight, she was a rare red diamond sparkling by the lake. She must already be in love with me."  You snort, unable to stop the smile on your lips. 

"I've never heard you so poetic before. Normally you leave that to Lord Kirishima. How many times did you run into her? Not more than three I hope."

"Oi, I am a well versed student and I listened to my teacher. I made her wait for the fourth and denied it. Left her in wonder and hope as you said." He rolls his eyes, fingers sliding up to your dress line touching your bare skin with his beneath your guise of hair. The sensation of his warm fingers against your cool skin does not go unnoticed. 

"Are you practicing for your dance with the 'rare red diamond' now?" You taunt, earning that chest tightening wolf grin. 

"I'm only doing as my teacher has instructed." 

"Well the Princess will fall for you the moment you kiss her hand." 

"One can only hope. Her official debut is less than a month away. I want it to be perfect." His eyes shimmer with plotting mischief as does yours. 

"So it shall." 

The music flows and ebbs to the end of the song as Bakugou deposits you right back where he got you. Bringing your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles as he holds your gaze once more. 

"My Starlight." When he straightens you curtsy.

"My Grace." With that he leaves, heading towards the table of sweets and beverages, you were sure he would be ordering bourbon. Your mother clears her throat from her chair, the out of season silk blanket over her thick skirts pulls at your heart. She sits on that plush chair as if it were her throne. 

"You dance with Lord Bakugou often." An observation. 

"Indeed." A dry retort. 

"I am sure Lord Kirishima will be your next dance, correct?" 

"One can only hope." 

"So you have an eye for a Duke's son?" 

"I am happy to dance with those deserving, Mother." Your mother keeps her eyes on the turning bodies on the hardwood floor, Kirishima makes his way through the crowd once he spies you. Your mother turns to face you as she says 

"Is the Duke of Winter's son deserving?" 

"Hmm, he has three sons, mother." You keep your eyes away from her until she finally looks back into the crowd. 

"Ah yes but only one is ever at these events." You follow your mother's gaze and they fall upon the Lord, he is the third son, he opted to chase after the world of medicine rather than women. Earning his doctorate much faster than his peers, he only just returned to conduct his practice in Alryne. 

Pity he returned at all. 

He catches your eye and you make a point to turn your cheek, unable to stomach his heterochromatic, condensing gaze. Your turned cheek was as close to fuck you as you could ever say to the high and mighty Lord. Still the words burned on your tongue as if you swallowed acid. 

"It is not as if he ever dances mother. Therefore, how can I give him my attention? As you taught me a woman must wait to be asked as it is every woman's dream to be wed to a handsome, skilled dancer." Out of the corner of your eye you can feel her displeased look before she straightens. 

"At least do not string along Lord Kirishima, that boy is not as zealous as his cousin." She says just as the large man slips through the last throng of the crowd. 

"My shining gem." He smiles with sharp teeth before he places a chaste kiss atop your hand. 

"My Lord." A curtsy before he asks. 

"May I have this dance?" His smile is plastered on his face as he knows your answer. 

"You may." Kirishima sweeps you across the floor in a different manner than Bakugou. Lord Kirishima is more flirtatious in the way that he guides you. Always choosing more of the upbeat dances as opposed to his cousin's serious selection. You do not hesitate to go in for the kill. 

"So when do you plan to ask Lady Mina for her hand?" He blushes at your words. Biting the inside of his lip subtly, a habit you could only notice from being up close. 

"Have you even attempted to court her? What fear plagues you, Lord?" Confusion dots your features as a sad smile paints his soft lips. 

"I am not sure she would- That we would be an ideal fit." Kirishima admits, turning you gracefully, pulling you close to his body. Scandalous some would say had the two of you been an inch closer. 

"Well my Lord, I believe, had you actually talked to her while the two of you danced, as I suggested, then you would come to find out that she is lovely. Pure hearted as she is honest in this game seeking love. Most women here are making attempts to move up in position, my Lord. As a Duke's first son the title of Grace is yours to master. She is a delight and air is not the only thing between her ears as some of these…"You survey the room as everyone watches with greedy eyes, "Vultures." 

He laughs never used to your own unwavering honesty. He knows you are not participating by your own free will, he knows because you are helping himself and his cousin when he was sure you could have had anyone in this room.

If the Majesty's nephew, Prince of the Yarrow were to attend even one ball this season, Kirishima was sure you would have his attention too.  

He twirls your body away from his and brings you back to the safety of his sturdy form. Your eyes are molten determination as you all but hiss 

"Ask her to dance next. You know the host prefers the set to be serious, flirtatious, and then a slow dance. It will be the perfect time to talk." 

Lord Kirishima sighs, squeezing your hand as he guides the two of you closer to your mother so he can leave you in her company. 

"You could turn any dull man into something more. Whoever wins your hand is getting a precious gem indeed." He kisses your hand as the music begins to change into something slower as you had predicted. 

"One shall only hope." You curtsy as he takes his flushed neck towards a certain Countess. Your mother gives you a knowing look and you offer her a cat smirk. She shakes her head but even she cannot hide her own satisfied smile.

A blonde male approaches, as he does every third ball after he ensures your first two dances have been taken. The flamboyant male has not once asked for a dance first, trying to be just as calculating as you. Although he is much more obvious. 

You suppose it was not half bad for a male. 

"My lady." He bends lower than he should for his station in life, but he is obviously copying the cousins before him having seen how it makes you smile. 

Lavender eyes shine up at you as the Viscount brings his lips to your gloved hand. You debate if you should say yes tonight. Having left him in the dark as your desire to dance with him solely depended on your mood. 

"May I show the room the grace in which steals the breath from my lungs?" Your eyes smirk as your lips form a small smile. It seems flattery would earn him a dance tonight. 

"You may." 

The Viscount smiles with delight as he gently takes you to the dance floor, holding you to him as he takes you across the hardwood. The candle lights play along your features as Monoma's face grows soft. Had he been anyone else his gaze might have brought a flush about you. The two of you shared a few dances before, he has sat in your parlor in the time he has attempted to court you and the flowers he sends are always the most expensive. 

He has even brought you chocolate from a month's long trip. Even you had to admit that was thoughtful, not too many people knew of your Achilles heel. A small part of you thought that if no one else would do, at least this man would bring you luxurious chocolates. 

"No trips this season?" You smile politely, he blinks as he seems to come to. 

"Only if I can take you with me." He smiles, a hint. You pretend yourself modest and look away to fight the roll of your eyes. 

Maybe chocolate would not be enough to sate you. 

His eyes flicker to your mother as a question forms on his lips. 

"Neither your brothers nor the Baron attended tonight?" 

"Ah unfortunately no. My mother is my chaperone tonight." You say tilting your head, he turns so you can face her, stepping slowly as the song lulls on. 

"I am elated she is well enough to attend." He smiles, you cannot tell if it reaches his eyes so instead you offer 

"As am I." 

The rest of the night is filled with rejection tumbling from your rouged lips as champagne flutes seem to find their way into your hand. 

"Not too much of that dear or you will not be able to enjoy the company of your suitors." 

"Truly a pity." You say taking another from a passing waiter. Eyes trained on Lord Iida and the lovely dancer in his hands, a blue dress sweeping across the floor and a white carnation nestled in her hair. 

A beautiful touch and it pays homage to their first dance before they were even wed. 

The love that embraced the couple could turn anyone in the room green with envy. 

You down your flute as you reach for another. 

Night brightens into morning much too soon as curtains are ripped open in your room. 

"My lady callers will be here soon." Rose, your handmaiden says softly, "I have a bath waiting for you."

You groan in response having not had enough sleep after pouring over your drafts for your book until your candle snuffed itself out. 

"Turn them all away Rose." You growl turning away from the irritating light, could it not have rained this morning to delay the suitors as it always did in this forsaken town?

"She will do no such thing." Your mother says as she walks into your room with her cane, her hand gripping onto the golden beak of a bird. 

"Mother, why not marry off Hendrix or  Hideki?" 

"Hendrix must apprentice under your Father for a period of time while Hideki can do as he pleases for now. He is only 20, besides he makes an excellent chaperone does he not? He isn't too nosy nor does he neglect his duties to intimidate pushy men." She pushes some of your hair back as she sighs, "Although I doubt you need help in that manor." 

"I deserve a strong bloodline, so I will do what I must to ensure that. Even if my face has to be scary at times." You and your mother share a laugh before she adds. 

"Your face is far from scary my dear." She touches your cheek softly rising from the bed to allow you to get ready, "The suitors shall arrive within the hour. Make haste." 

"Yes mother." You half groan rising to wash. Enjoying the warm water that Rose has so kindly added aromatic flora and citrus to. Once you enter your bedroom Rose has a dress picked out for you, waiting for your final approval. You nod allowing Rose to assist you with your corset and strings of your dress before you pick out jewelry to match your silver finery. You choose a silver bracelet with little diamonds as stars that Lord Bakugou had given you for your birthday this past year, smiling down at the small thing before assessing yourself in the mirror. 

"What do you think Rose, should I add some rouge to my lips?" She gives you a smile of delight. 

"And your cheeks too, my Lady." 

Breakfast is served in the parlor as it consists mostly of fruits and finger pastries that will be served to the other guests. Hideki comes down in a fine and deep sapphire suit. 

“Sister.” He gives a smirk to which you nod.

“Brother.”

“And what trouble will you get into today?” He stage whispers, causing you to cut him a glare as your father comes around to loom in the arch way of the parlor. 

“Remember, you need to pick a husband this season or I will pick for you. It is disgraceful to have gone through two seasons at your age.”

“I am only twenty four, dearest Father..”

“That just proves my point. You have a month before I extend an offer to the Duke's-.” He takes in a sharp breath to chide you further only for his Grace to swoop in and save the day.

“Baron.” Bakugou says, his eyes challenging as your father bows his head. As Bakugou makes his way towards the delicate foods. Father cuts you a knowing glare. As if to say I know your games child.

You offer a sweet smile as you make your way towards your small writing desk, fighting off the urge to groan outwardly. You just wanted to work on your manuscript or read for that matter. Instead you would have to entertain men who cared not what you thought only what your pretty mouth would not say. They would swarm you, demanding attention as you waved them off gently, half you had never even spoken too.  Bakugou gives you a wicked smile from beside you as if he could read your thoughts. At least he always sat closest to you, saving you in a way although you never instructed him to sit close. 

He just always had. 

"Do you not want to play the piano today, my shining Gem?" Kirishima asks from the door. 

"Ah I am not sure I am in the mood for it, my Lord." 

"Easier to avoid people as the bench is only meant for one." Bakugou gives a devilish smirk, Kirishima almost pouts, his sullen expression does not go unnoticed by his cousin. 

"It has been an eon since you last played for us." Bakugou adds. 

"Am I to be your song bird today?" You cut a glare at him. 

"Yes, Starlight I believe you are." It seems it had no effect. Sighing you stand, collecting your skirts as your wrist twinkles in the morning sun. Garnet eyes bore into the delicate wristlet. Your fingers pluck a key here or there until you begin to play. Losing yourself in the music as you sing ballads from ages ago, melding them into songs you've written until it all sounds like a cohesive piece. Each old song is lost in transition to the new one, time ticks on but you do not notice the string of men who come and go from your parlor. Resting your voice for the time being as your fingers fly across the keys to something you composed while thinking of your father and his ever pushing hand towards a Duke's son you had great distaste for. The notes are sharp, almost jarring at times yet still the piece is stunning.  In that time you had not noticed the lavender eyed man who sat closest to you, right in front of the piano in the corner of the couch. The finger cramping song ends on a somber, harsh note. 

"What a beautifully charged song." Monoma says breathlessly. 

“Well I was thinking of my enemies when I composed it.” You smile at the sunshine blonde with a devilish grin, he feels unsettled by it but says nothing nonetheless. His lavender eyes glance over to the wolves at the back of your den. Hideki gives him a small nod, Kirishima a soft smile but Bakugou gives him a glare that feels like Monoma is gripping needles. 

He swallows thickly, adjusting himself on the plushed silk of the couch before your small piano. 

“Ah before I forget.” He smiles pulling out a box setting it atop the polished wood. Gifts were a natural part of courtship or so your mother said. You offer a smile, grabbing for the box with poised eagerness and yet not overly so. 

Not that you were excited but you had to pretend to be. You unbox the obvious jewelry and fight back the distaste as you stare down at a gaudy, overly large necklace. The colors are a soft green and yellow, colors you avoid for many reasons. 

“Thank you.” You think to add a chord or two to your unnamed song in honor of Monoma. Bakugou laughs loudly from the back of the room, feeling how much you hate the gift, you look over your shoulder to send him a glare that he can only smile at. 

After hours of trepid and boring conversation Monoma takes his leave. 

“Another evening my Lady.” He smiles softly and you return it half heartedly.

“Another evening.” Lavender looks over your shoulder before Monoma clears his throat

“Your Grace and your Grace.” He bows his head, the ash blonde and redhead nod in unison. 

"Shall we go and drink my high friends?" Hideki asks, hoping for an excuse to leave the stuff house. He was more than over bearing witness to  gag worthy stares and compliments some of these men gave you. 

"An excellent idea!" Kirishima exclaims, standing before stopping by you. He takes your gloveless hand with a sharp, flirtatious smile. 

"My shining gem." He presses his lips to your skin and you return his smile. 

"My Lord." He nods and takes his leave, Hideki at his heels as Bakugou approaches. He does an exaggerated sigh unable to hide his smirk. 

"Little songbird how will I ever get through the night without my Starlight?" He holds your hand, lowering his upper half as did his cousin before him. 

"I suppose you will fumble in the dark."

"If only I had the pleasure." He purrs as he presses his lips to your bare skin. Suddenly his fingers are too warm as he holds your gaze, he looks as if he could devour you. 

Lest he forget he is staring down a panther himself. 

"Have fun fumbling in the dark by yourself, my Lord." You remove your hand and look out of the corner of your eye at him. He backs towards the door of the room. 

"I should hope to have thoughts of Starlight." He calls before he disappears into the hall. You tap a key as your mind wanders before you rise, famished and ready for dinner before you would take a long night of writing. 

A month passes by faster than you'd like and you find yourself outside of the ballroom in the grand hall of the castle. Soft music filters in through the doors as your Father insisted the family be a bit late this evening. 

For he wanted to make a statement and one at your expense. 

"If Duke Enji's son asks you for a dance you will oblige." Your father hisses, his large hand curling around your bicep. You bare your teeth, stepping out of his grip as you collect yourself. 

"He has three." Acid drips from your tongue as sure as morning dew. 

"The doctor. Not the failure first born and not the inadequate second. The third. Shoto. Think of your ailing mother...would you abandon her for such vile, pointless ambitions?"

"I think you will not weaponize her. So do as I please and decline." You hold his burning glare as you add, "If the Duke's family is as bad off as you make it seem." 

"Oh I think you shall accept his dance. Or so help me God I will burn every book your ill, grief stricken mother ever shoved into your scrubby little hands." He leans closer, a nasty smile forming as his lips, "And if that is not enough I will throw your manuscript into the fire for fodder." 

Your eyes blaze with a rage that ignites beneath your skin, burning your blood as your eyes make unspoken promises. When I am through with you 

You part your lips to retort but your eye catches Hendrix and Hideki, their eyes filled with pity before your mother slowly approaches. 

Father chose his battleground well, knowing you would be unable to react as you pleased and with Bakugou already at the party there was no other male to save you. You bite your tongue until you taste blood. 

"Is everything alright?" Mother asks tentatively, fussing with your hair, "Darling you must mind your face, my love." 

You swat her away, breathing through your nose as if you were a dragon. Heat still dancing in your veins as you allow your feet to move on their own. 

"Announce me. Only me. And do not announce another soul until I am beyond the last step." You hiss to the harbinger whose eyes grow wide before he nods. His voice booms over the murmurers of the crowd and once eyes begin to land on you they are silenced. 

Your eyes are set hard and as cold as stone as you look over the crowd, slowly descending the steps in your deep ombre gown. Starless night black from the bodice before it lightens gradually into a charcoal grey, glittering crystals sewn into the material shine in the candle light like miniature stars. Your gloves followed the same gradual pattern except it seemed as if each finger was dipped in glittering silver and atop your wrist was your favorite piece, diamonds winking in the low light set into silver pointed stars. Woven in your hair were diamonds and pale citrine alike forming a crown in its own nature. 

Had Her Royal Highness not have already been announced and seated it would be easy to mistake you for the Crown. Considering how you commanded attention and held yourself, eyes looking at no one but seeing all. 

The envy, the awe, the lust. 

A pivotal moment was coming, the last three stairs is where a woman would normally hold out their hand, expecting their favorite suitor to take action but you did not hold out your hand. Keeping one firmly on the dark wood of the banister while the other was eloquently posed beside you. Even if you had held out your hand the men in the room were too stunned to step up to help you. This allowed a soft, devilish smile to form on your painted lips as they performed exactly as you had planned. Finally your gem encrusted slipper touched the hardwood, parting the crowd before the spell was broken by the announcement of the rest of your family. The room let out a collective breath and instantly erupted in hot gossip. All of it falling on deaf ears as you grabbed onto a flute of trusted champaign. 

From across the room you felt burning garnet eyes on you, you met them briefly before sipping at your bubbly beverage. He begins to cross the sea of bodies when a large man steps into your view. 

His eyes are cold as they bore into you, a shining sapphire paired with a smokey quartz. Distaste curdles your stomach as you fight to keep your face neutral and your eyes trained on him. Fans block painted lips as they spread more gossip about the man before you. 

"Is she ensnaring another Duke's son?" 

"She is becoming too haughty for a Baron's daughter." 

"Do you think she insulted the Crown with her entrance?" 

"Would you allow me your first dance?" His deep voice cuts through the vultures' cries pulling you back to him. He has your glittering left hand in his. Brining the dazzling glove to his lips in greeting, there is no joy in his gemstone gaze. 

The hot rage bears its teeth again as it surges through your blood like liquid fire, burning so hot it felt cold as it licked at your bones. Your lip barely twitches, No poised on your tongue as your father's grating voice echoes in your head. 

"Think of your ailing mother...would you abandon her for such vile, pointless ambitions?" 

And so your mouth finally forms the words. 

"You may."  He looks surprised, surrounding faces mirror his own before he fully takes your hand. Guiding you to the floor during one of your favorite songs that you always sat out as no dance partner ever dared the secret, advanced steps. You were steeling yourself for disappointment 

Shoto's grip on your body is tight but not uncomfortable as he sweeps you across the dance floor, twirling you, guiding you as he holds your gaze. His stare is heavy and intense in a different manner from Bakugou's with a hint of something that could be mistaken as flirtatious. But you saw it for what it was, discontent. 

As the song pushed on the discontent seemed to change into something new entirely as he showcased your skill while hiding his own. Allowing you to twirl away from him in several rotations that would make even the most skillful dancer fearful of misstep and yet you breathed in the music as if it were precious air. Neither of you notice how the other dancers give you room, allowing for more twirls and advanced steps as the two of you are becoming lost to the music. His fingers brush your bare skin as he pulls you back to him for  guided, sharp steps as the music heightens. His skin brushes yours again, electricity thrums beneath the pads of his fingers before he sends you into another dizzying rotation but to you it was nothing. Briefly you wonder if this were a test until you see the soft smile on his lips when you return to his arms safely for the final set of guided steps before the music were to abruptly end, just as the dance was intended. His eyes were glued to yours the entirety of the dance, softening with each step. 

Both of you stop in beat with the last soaring note panting as the movement seems to catch up with the two of you. Neither of you realize how quiet the room is until clapping comes from the royal dais high above the room, the rest of the crowd follows suit. Shock melts into a smile as your eyes return to his. A sharp pain rings out in his chest. 

"Not bad for a Baron's daughter." Disgust settles on your face faster than you can stop it spewing from your lips. 

"Not bad for a recluse of a Duke's son." You tilt your head up, fighting the snarl of your lip as his face becomes so mind numbingly neutral while his eyes darken. Shoto drops you off by your mother only for Bakugou to approach, swiftly bringing you to the floor for a slow song. 

"Starlight. How did I not know you could dance like that?" He is astonished by your skill, "I've never seen you so happy. Maybe the Duke of Winter's third son will do you justice yet." 

You scoff but all Bakugou can do is offer you a deadly smile. 

"Enough about my dead end dancing." Your eyes glance towards the dias, the Princess cannot look away from the two of you, "This should be enough for the Princess to want to dance soon." 

It is Bakugou's turn to scoff. 

"Are you sure she is even going to have the opportunity to dance? No one is even allowed on the stairs to their enclave." 

"Ah but this is her debut. The Queen will allow it, besides the princess cannot keep her gaze off of a certain ash blonde." 

"How could she ever?" Your laugh rings out, it warms even the coldest hearts as Bakugou pulls you closer to him. Heat radiates from his body in a calming manner, your fingers squeeze his. 

"Arrogant as ever." You smile, thinking how you will miss dancing with him or even having him at the back of your parlor to laugh with over sad attempts at your hand, "Remember once you take her one dance for the night, she must be your first and last dance of the night in the future, if not your only." 

Bakugou cannot hide the dejection in his eyes even as he feigns cockiness. 

"I am a well versed student, remember?" His fingers brush over your skin, his middle finger tracing a small circle. 

"The best student I could ask for." The music comes to a close on more than just the song as Bakugou returns you to your family. He presses a long kiss to your glittering glove. 

"Until we meet again, my Starlight." He holds your stare. 

"Until then my Grace." With that the night sets into motion as you turn down dances left and right. Eyeing a ruby haired man who twirls a certain countess in his hands. As the music ends the Queen stands earning a hushed crowd. 

"My daughter, the Royal Princess shall take the dance floor, she will only allow one dance on the night of her debut." It is not a shock that she is allowed so little but there is no worry on Bakugou's face. The princess straightens at the top of the stairs, trying to exude the same commanding energy you did. She falls short in power but outshines you in other wordly innocence and grace. As if she were a lily that only bloomed for the moon, her beauty unmatched in her pale pink dress. Carefully she guides the layers of it down the steps as diamonds and pearls drip from her hair and throat. She tries to keep her eyes from sticking to a broad shouldered man and yet at the same time from wandering, as she stares at the back wall of the room. 

As she nears the third step Bakugou struts towards his prize with the ease of a relaxed swagger, glaring at men as he passes before he reaches the bottom of the steps. Extending his hand to the Princess just as she hits the third step from the bottom. She cannot keep the smile off of her face as her gloved hand claps onto his bare fingers. He bows deeply, raising her hand above him to look from beneath long lashes before he brings his lips to the silk. 

"Your Royal Highness, my shining diamond. You are truly the envy of the night." A flush gives the Princess' lack of experience away, "May I have this dance?" 

"You may." It is a breathy answer before Bakugou sweeps her off of her feet. Charming her with each calculated step and  arrogant quip. The princess smiles wide and almost pouts once the music begins to ebb. Bakugou returns her to the stairs, supporting her hand as long as he can before she rises out of reach.

But to Bakugou she never was and never will be unattainable. 

Before the night is over an envelope is pressed into your hands with the Crown's seal pressed into the wax. You quirk your brow, tucking it away to be read at home. 

"I am so elated you came." Her voice is like honey as the butler opens the doors to a parlor so large it could hold your entire home. She guides you towards a small table and fights with the layers of her silk dress before sitting.

"How could I reject a personal invitation from her majesty?" You sit across from her, eyes going over the deck of cards and a set of tea. 

"Well, believe it or not, I do not have the pleasure of friends, so please call me Amila." 

"Everyone would desire to be a friend of the Crown, your Royal Highness." You counter, quickly she points her fan towards you, tapping your side of the small ornate card table. 

"Ah but you do not have the desire to befriend the Crown, so I have high hopes that you will befriend me for me." She smiles, a certain gleam to her eye before she says, "Now let's talk about handsome Bakugou and how well you played me." 

Your face gives nothing away as you look up from the cards you've been dealt. Your mind rushes down all possible avenues but you know to avoid the one of playing dumb. It is obvious that the Princess has a keen eye. 

"Surely you'll reveal to me what gave us away." 

"After that dance Bakugou had with me, had I been anyone else he would have returned to you. He either has his only dance with you or his last dance with you. I figured him or Lord Kirishima to be heavily interested in you. You are a sparkling gem amongst the coal down there so I know you have many callers and suitors. But the last to leave are always Lord Bakugou and Lord Kirishima. That is what has thrown me off the scent."  You laugh at her honesty of the knowledge she has obviously collected about you or was tactful enough to guess. 

"This is what we do, your Royal Highness." Your gloved hand gestures to the table, "I take them for all that they are worth." An honest giggle leaves Amilia's lips.

"For that I am grateful and some would dare say I am in your debt." 

"A brazen statement." Your eyes return to your cards, "I would not state it as a debt although I am happy to receive your gratitude. Especially since it is in the form of cards and cake." 

A laugh falls from her lips as a smile settles on yours. The round of cards continues. You win the first few rounds and then Amelia has a lucky hand. Winning the last white tea macaron. 

"Did you allow me to best you?" 

"Lady Luck just happened to take favor of the Crown." 

"Or maybe she took pity. " She smiles, fingers fidgeting nervously, "Would you care to admire the art? Mother allows me to have this as my own personal parlor so I decorate it as I wish." 

"I would love to admire some of these lovely paintings. Starting with the one behind you." You stand, heading to the large piece you had been eyeing for some time during the games. You could tell by the stroke of the brush that the artist was newer to painting but they were quite talented, the strokes almost went unnoticed even by your sharp eye. 

Most importantly were the emotions the work of art evoked from the viewer. 

Silently the two of you drank in the large oil painting. The canvas colored in deep pinks, reds and oranges as the sun laid to rest to allow its lover the full scope of the sky. Shadows stretched far and towards the viewer and if one paid close attention they would notice the black cat in the corner with two large moon eyes. 

You especially liked this painting, the ease it made you feel even earning a small smile. 

"I can already tell this one is by far my favorite, your Royal Highness you have a fine eye for art." She blushes at your compliment, twisting some of her low hanging hair. You keep your amusement of her flustering to yourself, eyes trained on the swirling colors of the rippling blue mirror of the sky, looking for a signature. 

Odd, there isn't a looping set of initials in the corner like most have. As if reading it on your face she speaks. 

"I- I am the artist…" It is shy and soft, unlike the Princess and you realize the weight of the truth. That she had not heard one genuine compliment of anything that she had ever done. 

All she would ever receive is flattery and only for the hopes of kindness from the Crown. Finally time swallows up her sudden meekness as she blurts out.  

"Are you sure Lord Bakugou is not in love with you? I know you fancy Lord Todoroki, Doctor Shoto." 

"I do not fancy the Doctor, he simply is the most logical option I have currently, he would make a fine partner and husband. The seasons have not brought anyone new and my days of spring are limited." You idly move to the next painting as you speak, "As far as Lord Bakugou, he and I are too much alike. Too ambitious for our own good, we'd either explode or implode I'm afraid. Like some tragic star in the vast galaxy." 

"You would not marry for love?"  

"It is best to marry for a strong partnership, love is a possible byproduct, however it proves to be a rarity. Love comes with time, your Royal  Highness, a luxury us women do not have." You glance her way, "Not even a Princess is immune to this unfortunate condition from which all women suffer." 

"But he looks at you with intense burning, with...love." 

A quiet moment passes between the two of you before you offer your honesty. 

"He would learn to look at you that way, more than he would see the Crown. Especially with your mind and artistic skill. He would be a fool not to fall for you." Her eyes water at your response, "Come, let me teach you how to best Bakugou at his favorite card game, Amelia."  

When you return home later that afternoon Bakugou is fidgeting outside of the manor causing your brow to furrow. Then it dawns on you that one of your brother's has a big mouth and told his Grace where you would be. 

"My Lord." 

"Starlight." He offers you a strong arm and you take it as he guides you up the stairs and into the parlor just off the foyer. 

"Are you here to gossip?" You trust Bakugou enough to go without a chaperone, besides the doors to the parlor are wide open. You sink into your writing chair as he takes his normal seat by your side. The plush cushions do not ease his twitching fingers before you give him a playful shove. 

"Out with it then!" You giggle, the sound pulls a devilish smirk from the blonde seemingly easing whatever troubled his mind. He leans back into the cushions. 

"So, how much did her Highness speak of me? Endless compliments no doubt." His teeth flash white as you roll your eyes. 

"And here I thought you had a pressing matter." You move to turn away from him to focus on writing but he grabs onto your knee. Giving it a gentle squeeze as his face gives him away. The tips of his ears burn before he clears his throat. 

"I have to show you something and I need your honest opinion." Silence is his answer as you patiently wait for him to produce the mystery item. Slowly he reaches into his pocket, a black velvet box is in his hands. A smile blooms on your lips as you anticipate the ring he must have picked for the princess. He opens the box and your heart free falls into your stomach. 

It is a pear shaped black diamond flanked by silvery diamonds that wink in the afternoon sun. At the top of the circle of diamonds was a deep red garnet that looked like a drop of blood. The ring felt powerful if it could make one feel such a thing. You fist your skirts as you collect yourself.  He watches your face contort as you look over the ring, his jaw ticking with worry as you assess what is essentially both his ego and pride. 

But the ring is breathtaking, perfect really. 

"Katsuki, it is a gorgeous ring…" Your voice trails as you admire it, "But I believe the princess to have less...moody tastes. She does not normally wear dark colors." 

A small silence stretches between the two of you, almost as if he expects something else, quickly he snaps the box shut. 

"This is why I ask you things, my stunning Starlight." He pulls out a red velvet box popping it open. This ring is beautiful as well but does not have your heart as much as the first. 

It is a stunning and giant marquise cut white diamond. Blinding in the light with a halo of pale pink diamonds. It is vibrant, radiant like the princess. Katsuki always did pick out the perfect jewelry to match a woman's tastes. Bakugou watches your face carefully, the sad smile that pulls your lips upward causes a deep ache in his chest. His jaw ticks again but you answer before he can even think to lash out. 

"Your Grace, this will surely win her heart." He looks you in your eyes, a flash of an emotion you cannot quite catch before his arrogance returns. 

"Indeed it shall. We can discuss the best date to ask another time." He closes the box and tucks them both away, he grabs your left hand, fingers ghosting over the bracelet he gave you, "You seem tired, you should get some rest." 

"I believe that to be a grand idea." You say softly as he kisses each knuckle. He squeezes your fingers. 

"My life would be dark without you my Starlight." You fight to keep the bitterness out of your voice as you reply. 

"Soon you will have a shining diamond to light up your life." 

"Only thanks to you." With that he takes his leave. 

With burning eyes you add to your manuscript, foolishly writing a love story as your other novels have been completed. The candle dwindles as the hours pass before your hunched shoulders ache from the poor posture and lack of movement. You stretch, yawning as you do before you decide to head to bed. 

Expecting an empty foyer you are surprised to see your father looming in the hall, your mother standing solemn by his side. Her fingers clutch at her pearls as your eyes catch sight of bags at their feet. It is not unusual for them to leave in the middle of the night in order to keep the severity of your mother's health from the limelight. 

"Is there troubling news?" Anxiety twitches in your fingers as you clasp them together. Although your father's next words make your fingers want to wrap around his thick neck. 

"We have been invited for an extended stay at Duke Enji's manner in the countryside in hopes the two of you will court one another." 

"Father that is scandalous in itself." 

"Not if an engagement comes of it. Which one will, whether you fall for him or not, young lady. The matter has been decided among the men." His words sting like a slap in the face. Where most would cry you lash out. 

"Oh, I get it. Per usual the men can think with nothing more than what hangs between their legs, fearful that theirs is not long enough. So the men do all that they can to control everything but their own fragility." You step towards your father and he takes a step back, "Or is it more gruesome than that? One blackmailing the other? I just cannot imagine the ambitious Duke wanting a Baron's daughter for his son. Unless his family is so far in decline he must place the weight on his new heir and bride." 

His eyes widen unnaturally before he is frothing at the mouth. 

"YOU WILL NOT SPEAK OUT OF TURN. YOU WILL LEARN YOUR DAMN PLACE. " He slaps you, causing a hush to fall over your family. Your eyes are wide with animalistic rage as you lunge only for Hendrix and Hideki to hold you back. Both strong men begin dragging you away.

"Forgive her, Father." Hendrix starts before Hideki finishes, "You know how the heat gives women a touch of hysteria."

"We will help her pack her bags." 

All the while your mother looks at her husband in horror.  The sight falls beneath the stairs before you are shoved onto your bed. 

"Sister!" Hendrix roars while the youngest brother looks flustered, worried, "What were you thinking? You know how closed minded father is." 

Hideki cuts the eldest a look before he adds. 

"We are just worried. Normally you keep your wrath at bay." 

"As much as it may come as a surprise. I am only human." You rise from the bed asking Rose to prepare you a trunk. To pack anything, that you did not care as you sat at your desk furiously writing. Your bothers watch you with curious eyes as the tension seems to subside before they take their leave.

Minutes tick by before you're standing in the foyer. Father and mother were already sitting in the carriage that waited outside under the cover of misty rain. Hendrix and Hideki stand awkwardly by the round table in the middle of the foyer. Pretending to fuss over lavish flowers Lord Bakugou had sent that morning. A beautiful arrangement of roses and hydrangeas, two of your favorites, the Lord knew of them through observation alone. You wait patiently until one brother makes eye contact with you. Hideki breaks first, guilt shining in his eyes as it threatens to spill over. It is obvious he does not want you to leave the house, his normally crooked smile falters. You cup his cheek, smiling up at your sentimental younger brother, he acts as if you will never come back. 

Maybe there is some truth in that. 

"Cry not, for I have an iron will while father's is but made of glass." You swipe the tear, before pressing two letters into his chest, "Besides I have an important task for you." 

"Is it your scheming?" Hendrix chides and you laugh in answer before continuing. 

"These are for Lord Bakugou and Lord Kirishima, it is imperative you deliver these letters." The paper contained important instructions for not only a successful proposal but a marriage as well. 

You'd be damned if all three of you would turn out miserable. 

"I'll put them in the post." 

"No hand deliver them." Your eyes turn icy causing both brothers to go rigid, "And should I find out the seal has been broken before their arrival I shall take the family jewels from between your legs."

"Is that any way for a lady to talk, my dearest sister?" A jest in an attempt to lighten your souring mood. 

"Yes, it is."

"They will be in their hands by this evening. We are wagering on a fight tonight. Enjoy your stay." Hideki leans in close with a tease but his voice almost cracks, "Make sure the rock is huge." 

"Indeed." Hendrix agrees with an almost sad look in his eye, leaving you to wonder what it is that they know and you do not. 

Well, you do know why they have such long faces, you just do not care to admit. You wave to them and their eyes catch on the silvery reflection of diamonds on your wrist. 

The manner is stifling to say the least. The large, grand thing is as your trunk is set in your room that overlooks a small garden and the long sweeping hill that leads home. You pace your room before a knock comes at your door. 

Hoping to ignore it, having not the desire to speak to a soul, your feet quiet. You listen for them to retreat but instead a louder knock sounds out. Before his grating voice floats from beneath the door and through the keyhole. 

"I know you are in there, my lady." 

Ugh, that stupid doctor stood on the other side of the door. Still you ignore him. 

"It is rude to ignore your host."  It ignites something in your stomach before you rip the door open. Eyes ablaze as Todoroki stands perfectly still in his onyx black suit sans jacket. White sleeves rolled up showcasing his strong forearms. 

"Surely, a good host would not force his guests to his estate?" 

"A good host would not mention how unwanted their guest is." His smile is sickeningly polite, eyes as cold as yours. It is hard to keep your composure as you breathe in deeply through your nose, eyes widening before you slam the door in his face. 

Only once you hear his footfalls retreat and the moon shines long on your floor boards do you finally make your way towards the door. A woman on a mission as you yank the door open, uncaring that you were not in much but a thick white nightgown that could be mistaken for a dress.  You rush for the stairs and through the door just off their back parlor, having memorized it from the long winded tour both your father and his Grace Enji insisted the small party take of the grounds. 

A cool summer breeze whips your hair this way and that as it dries the sweat that sits at your nape. Normally people would describe this feeling as miserable, that even the breeze had a bit of heat to it, but you. 

You lived for it. Twirling in the moonlight you allow yourself a moment for vulnerability you often cannot afford before you go deeper on the grounds, closer to the woods that lie just beyond the manor. 

Once you are at the edge you give the grand home a glare with your back towards the woods. The creatures of the night sing their symphonies well into the late hour. A twig snaps behind you cause you to turn about face, your eyes meet with lavender framed beneath light lashes. 

Ice runs through your blood as you faintly recall him speaking of these trees by his own countryside manor. He often went to these grounds to hunt. 

So why was he standing on the Todoroki grounds? 

"So it is true?" Monoma chokes out an ugly sound. It is between defeat and a snarl. He takes a step closer, "Whisked away in the night. Did Todoroki steal your maiden head from me?" 

Your eyes widen at his scandalous accusation and it is then you see how truly disheveled he is. Hair plastered to his forehead, his canary suit stained green from foliage. The fabric even darkening beneath his armpits and at his collar, it sends a sort of frantic look to his eye. He steps forward and for once in your life you yield, stepping back. 

"That is a damning accusation." You fight to keep the cracking rage from your voice, the small fear that blooms in your belly like poison nightshade. Swallowing thickly he steps forward. 

"He, he can't take what's mine. I- I was going to propose today. But that damn Bakugou is always lingering around like toxic gas. Poisoning your mind with his….ambitions." It is then you see red. 

How dare anyone thing you were so fucking fragile and innocent some young blonde could corrupt you. Your palm strikes his cheek with enough force that he is facing away from you. You strike again and then as you rear up your fist he pulls you to him. Pressing his whisky soaked lips to yours as he swallows you whole. Mouth extended over your lips, sloppily engulfing you as he makes sounds that make you want to retch. His tongue slides past your lips and you bite.

Not enough that he loses it, although you wish you could afford to do such a thing. But you still lived in a society where a man's word was far more valuable than that of a "whore." Shaking you pull back, so much rage that you do not see the flash of light until it is too late. 

"Fucking bitch!" He slashes at your nightgown, cutting the fabric away as you think you've doged, he goes to slash again, "God damn whore!" 

His voice echoes through the trees and that scares you more than the knife in his hand, his sloppy demnor creates an opening as you kick him so hard between his legs he falls to the ground, puking up his belly full of liquor onto the moss floor. 

Suddenly the summer night is too hot, the frogs and crickets too loud as an owl calls deep within the wood. Thunder roars overhead before the clouds become too heavy. Panic slicks your skin before the pounding rain as you turn to run, hopping you kicked hard enough to rupture something in this cowardly man. 

If you lived in any other world, you would have tried your best to seize that knife and plunge it into his chest. 

But you didn't, so you ran. Vision blurring as the pain finally catches up to you. Hand instinctively flying to your stomach only to come up wet. 

"It's the rain, it's just the rain." You gasp out rushing into the house and shutting the glass paned door as quickly and quietly as you can. Fumbling for a lock before you give up all together, arms outstretched in the dim room looking for a candle or a mirror. Shaking fingers find a match that you light using the wallpaper, uncaring of the risks as you frantically look for a stick of wax. Lighting the wick once you've found one and taking it to the mirror above a small runner table. You set the wax down, close to the glass, thunder shakes the windows and the house as you pull the fabric from your torso. It reveals an angry red slash that weeps crimson, a choked gasp leaves your lips as lightning flashes illuminating the whole room. Still you do not see the reflection of the man in the mirror. 

"What happened?" It sounds animalistic as it comes from the corner. Your whirl to face him, pulling the cloth back down to cover your decency. A lie falls from your lips as easy as breath. 

"Nothing." Your rasp, feigning embarrassment, "My-my courses have come early. Your Grace this is not something you should witness." 

"Do you take me for a fool?" He steps closer, eyes burning in the candle light, "I may not be an expert of female anatomy but I know the basics." 

You swallow thickly, trying to jest. 

"Then my Lord you are far more experienced than myself. I am bashful to be in the presence of a skilled womanizer. This truly is nothing." He closes the distance, wrapping his deadly hand around your small wrist. Pulling it away from your body.

"That laceration does not look like 'nothing'." He mocks, "I will not ask again." 

Silence engulfs you as the storm rages on, it competes with the roaring in your head. Your knees slowly buckle as Shoto keeps you up right. His winter's night by the hearth scent floods your senses. 

"I feel a bit faint." Your voice sounds so small, so far away that it stirs something in Todoroki. In the year that he has watched you, he has not once seen your falter or become meek. He makes way to scoop you into your arms and is a mixed of relieved and agitated as you swat him away. 

"I-I can walk." You straighten your back, smoothing the reddening fabric over your bodess and for once you're thankful the blasted nightgown is so thick. He gently guides you to your room. 

Once there he prepares a basin as you try to sit on the plush bed. 

"Aht!" He whispers harshly, "Change." 

You relax into the foot of the bed anyway, unable to hold yourself up right any longer. He sucks his teeth, bringing the supplies to the bedside table before searching through your trunk. 

"A Lady's things should not just be rummaged through." 

"Hmm is that so?" He finds another night gown before he hovers over you, face pinched as he asks, "Can you undress yourself, truthfully?"

Moments pass before you admit that you are not sure that you can with a shake of your head. Slowly he eases you out of the damp fabric, dabbing at your wet skin with a towel. He avoids looking at your breasts and as much as he would love to stare a weeping wound commands his attention. He places the gown just enough to hide your breasts before he lies you down on your back. 

"From beginning to end, tell me what happened." When you do not answer he forces your chin to face him, "Tell me, now." 

And your name slips off his lips like poisoned honey, a truth serum you swallow whole. You retell the quick exchange, including the damning kiss as you watch rage blister across Shoto's handsome features as he silently begins to work. 

"We must  prosecute him."

"We must not!" You exclaim as he dabs antiseptic at your wound. He gives your an exasperated

"What would have happened if he had nicked an internal organ?"

"I suppose I would be free of this wretched world." A nonchalant shrug as best as you can manage.a glare cuts your way as his roar turns soft.   

"Why would you say such a thing? Do you think no one would mourn the loss of you? Do you think he would not weep at your service?" Shoto touches the bracelet of dancing stars and you pull your wrist back. Tears burning your eyes, you do not allow them to fall. 

"He is not up for discussion!" It's a loud whisper before you grip Shoto's jaw with enough force it grinds, "I am more than capable of taking care of myself, Lord. You can take your leave as I do not need a soul."

He melts as he watches the pain flutter in your eyes, a long sigh escapes him as he melts into your touch. His fingers feathering over your forearm.

"Pride is a deadly sin. Allow me to help. I will be quick." Slowly you drop your arm away from him. He digs around in his bag before you change your mind. He disinfects the sutures before he sends the needle through tender flesh, your tears dry as you allow your mind to retreat. Shoto takes quick notice. 

"You do that a lot…" He comments softly, pulling the suture through your skin, you glance his way, "You seem to disassociate." 

"Well, feelings hurt so it is better to not feel at all." You grind your teeth as he pulls the widest part of your wound together. 

"Is that why you push him away so often?" He holds your gaze before returning to his work.

"Did I not tell you that he is not up for discussion. No matter, I do not have feelings for Lord Bakugou." He scoffs at your lie. 

"Ah so then it was not you who suggested the Princess in the form of flattery? Lord Bakugou is a smart man but you played into his blind spot, stroking his ego and enticing his ambition." Your gritted teeth say it all. 

"And how pray tell would you even guess at such grandor things when you are not in attendance at even half of these events?"

"I am privy to this knowledge because I too keep everyone and everything at arm's length. It is much easier to see the moves when one is far enough away from the board." He dabs at your abdomen, "And you my Lady are by far the best player." 

"Flattery does not go far with me." You sigh softly,  fingers idly playing with the wrinkles in the sheets,  "Father wants me to set a final round."

"Mine wishes for me to begin and end in the same turn." He slowly places your nightgown down, "Which is why we should make an effort to at least get to know one another. With your wound I suggest staying an extra week or two to ensure it closes properly. I can convince our Wardens that the extension is for an attempt to win your hand."

He leans back in his chair, sweat on his brow from fusing with your wound, from worry as it furrows. Your chest tightens and suddenly the urge to be in control sinks its teeth into your skin. Quickly you unclasp the birthday present Lord Katsuki had given you, setting it on the nightstand beside Shoto with dramatic flare. His eyes widen as he reads between the lines, the silent vow of "I will make an effort...for now". The promise seems to pierce his heart. 

"Fine. I enjoy picnics, I suggest we do that on the grounds so that we may be chaperoned from afar and yet have privacy. My expectation is unbashful honesty from both parties." You turn over to give him your back as you pull the fine blankets to your shoulders, "Furthermore you must come up with some sort  of endearment for me. Anyone who has ever tried to seriously court me has. I have come quite fond of them as titles bore me. Something lovely so give it thought."

Shoto is stunned into silence for a moment before he lets out a dark laugh. 

"I see, this is still your game"

"Precisely." You say, he stands, lingering in the doorway before shutting the heavy oak. 

It was difficult to sleep to say the least. Still you were grateful to have risen before Rose. Dressing yourself before she could see your wound. More grateful still when Rose set down some tea claiming Lord Shoto sent it.  

You downed the scalding liquid in three swallows, surprising Rose, before she passes you a folded note. 

Meet me in the back garden for lunch. 

-Shoto 

A muscle ticks in your jaw as pain blooms across your stomach as you stare at his lovely script. 

Shoto hates to admit that the first thing he looks for is that bracelet on your wrist, when he does not see it he lets out his held breath. Drinking in your deep, sapphire dress. It sparkles as if covered in stardust, his heart clenches. He looks towards your stomach, worry etched on his features. 

"How are your stitches? No corset right?" He asks, gently guiding you to the plush pillows on the ground. Maybe he should have asked the butler to bring out chairs instead. 

"I feel naked without it." You admit, he sees a bit of nervousness you have normally schooled away. 

"You look lovely." His eyes are gentle, lips formed in a soft, genuine smile. Your heart tried to skip a beat. It's the heat you tell yourself. 

"Flattery will not get you far remember?"

"I'm only being honest, my sweet petunia." You give him a puzzled look, was this going to be his nickname for you? You were not a delicate thing. 

"A flower?" You give him a look but his smile does not falter. 

"Ah would you rather I say my dew kissed rose? My begonia?"

You both laugh at his last suggestion. 

"My sunflower." Your heart stutters, you glance away for just a moment and he takes notice. 

"Ah so you approve," He collects a strand of your hair between his fingertips, "Sunflower?" 

Heat rushes your cheeks as you fight the smile on your lips. You lose as he kisses your hair. Maybe you could be a delicate thing. 

"Did you know sunflowers can remediate soil? It is why they are planted after tobacco is harvested in hopes to use the fields once more." He is quiet as he waits for your admission. 

"It is my favorite flower, it is in season now. Alas not one suitor has sent them. Roses and hydrangeas are my favorites too but nothing quite says summer like a sunflower." You sigh, looking over the manicured bushes and flowers in the garden. 

"Is that your favorite season?" He is perceptive, you take  a moment to breathe in the sweltering breeze with closed eyes. Humming your answer. 

"Indeed." You kick off your shoes and place your feet into the grass, leaning back to allow your face in the sun. Not many women would be so open to sitting on only a blanket and with no umbrella or covering. And yet here you were soaking up the sun like a lazy cat. Heat rushes Shoto's cheeks as he realizes just how perfect his name for you is. 

"Have you ever had intercourse with a woman?" You ask, eyes still closed as Shoto flushes further. His cheeks are as red as part of his hair. 

"Sunflower." He gasps but you giggle. 

"Unbashful honesty, remember?" He lets small silence stretch between the two of you before he answers. 

"I have. My brother convinced me it was a good idea." His eyes look sad, it makes your gut clench as you look away for a moment. Question burning on your tongue. 

"What if I were to say my maiden head was taken?" 

"Who am I to judge after I have slept with another. Sadly I know some are stolen." He answers without hesitation. 

"This is true. Mine is still intact, I am grateful Monoma had only stolen a kiss." You sigh.

"You'd never kissed anyone?" His tone is curious although his eyes are dark with anger for you. 

"I tried to be a proper lady. More so because I do not like to touch people or feel their skin. Touching them makes them real, you know? And when someone is real they can have power over your heart." Shoto mulls over your words and realizes how much he relates. He places his hands near your fingers but does not touch them. You notice the gesture and scoff without the pretension you skillfully lace his fingers with his. Delighted to see the burning blush on his cheeks. 

Maybe life with Shoto would not be half bad, if only he gave you more moments like this. 

Moments like this last over the two weeks that drag into three. Days are spent  beneath the summer sun with exchanged and often heated, intellectual debates. Both of you feeling mentally stimulated for the first time as each of you allowed a few walls to come down, pulling each other closer than arm's length. While a few hours of the night are spent beneath the moon. His gem stone eyes raking over your abdomen in worry but nothing more than his checking on your wound as he was ever the gentlemen.

On Monday of the second week Shoto has come fond of his summer sunflower, so much so he brings a large black box to the next picnic, tucked away in his pocket is a matching, much smaller box. He presents to you the medium sized box as you giggle in delight. 

"My Lord, my shining Shoto. What could this be?" Your cheeks hurt from the width of your smile as he opens the box for you to see. Your face flutters into shock before joy returns as you hold out your wrist. Shoto takes the delicate golden bracelet that has several round onyx surrounded by citrine in the shape of petals. Sunflowers dance on your wrist as you twist it this way and that, unable to school your features into your normal distaste for guadry gifts from suitors. But this gift was far from gaudy, only one man before Shoto had earned this reaction. You bring your parasol to hide your face and his from the prying eyes of the manor as you gently press your lips to Shoto's cheeks. 

"I love it." You admit. It gives him enough courage to commit to ask you on Friday, the bigger question. 

Having you walk for "therapy" through the grounds, pointing over your shoulder to point out phantom ducks on the lake as he nervously sinks to one knee. 

"Shoto, love I do not see-" You turn to face him and see his loving eyes, wavering smile and shaking fingers holding open the box that reveals a giant oval ruby surrounded by diamonds.  He clears his throat. 

"My sunflower," You fling your arms around him, making him fall off balance as you land on top of him. Peppering his face with uncharacteristic kisses as excitement, for once, rushes through your veins like a second blood. He laughs lifting you by your ribs, careful of your slowly closing wound as he spins you before setting you on your feet. He fumbles for the momentarily forgotten ring before he slips it onto your ring finger. He presses a kiss to your cheek, smiling warmly. It reaches his eyes in such a way your gut clenches. 

And for a moment you forgot you were ever anyone's starlight. 

For one returning to the manor seems almost dreadful and not because of waiting suitors but because you would be without your own. He insisted the two of you be seperate as your mother and his, prepared to arrange the wedding, as you demanded the ceremony to be small. Despite your desire for to keep the engagement quiet for just a week or so, your mother and father took it upon themselves to spread word back home before you could even arrive. 

You exit the carriage as the house looks quiet, earning a soft smile. Your ring catches your eye and you remind yourself that this truly was the best possible outcome. 

The foyer is covered in flowers, from congratulations to a giant trove of sunflowers on the center table. 

You smile at the flowers Shoto must have sent this morning, they sit in a glass globe of a vase, their usually tall stems cut short. Their flower heads are large and vibrant even in the ambient candle light. You finger a petal as you reminisce over the past few weeks, your stomach hardly protesting as you stand on tip toe to look at them all. Relishing the moment of silence before you realize you are most likely home alone. Your brothers lost in some fighting match while your parents took their leave from the Todoroki manor to busy themselves with venues. You figured a change of clothes would do you nicely before you settled down over your much neglected work. 

A black nightgown and almost sheer robe clung to your frame as you stepped down the grand staircase, smiling once more at the flowers before slipping into your parlor. Lighting only one other candle by the door before taking yours to your desk. With deft hands you pull out one of your manuscripts and tap along the top with a manicured nail. A sigh leaves your lips, you finger with your bracelet, with the ring on your finger before a fresh page is found on your desk. You write furiously. 

About something as trivial as love. 

Still the quil seems to move on its own as if enchanted as words dot the parchment in ink. Suddenly your work is disturbed by someone entering your parlor. You assume it is a brother who has come home, glancing up you see locks of ash blonde causing you to grip at your robe to close it tighter. The moment you realize it is just Bakugou your grip on the fabric loosens.

"I wasn't expecting you at this hour." Fear of needing a chaperone barely crosses your mind since it was Lord Bakugou who was your company. You relax into your seat as he crosses the room to sit in his normal seat, on the corner of the couch, closest to you. His posture is poor as he leans his forearms on thick thighs, garnet eyes cast downward, he grips at his own hands as his knuckles turn white. You wonder if he did not heed your letter. 

"How did the proposal go with Princess Amelia?" Your voice sounds out over the silence of the room, still he remains quiet. It is unnerving how solemn and silent the normally wolfish man is. Something pulls at the strings of your heart. His eyes seem misty. He keeps them to the ground or so you think, as they rake over the ring on your finger, on the bracelet on your wrist. The onyx and citrine dance in the low light of your burning candle. Bakugou feels a sheen of sweat coat his hands, bile rising in his throat that he has to swallow down. 

You think the worst, you think the Princess rejected him but that didn't make sense either. She was so obviously in love with the ambitious man, you heard while away that she even turned down a dance with a forgein prince. 

"What's wrong, Katsuki?" The way your voice forms around his name, the way your eyes look with unbiased worry causes Katsuki's limbs to act on their own. In one swift motion he cups your face in his broad hands, bringing his lips to yours so softly. Once the plush of your lips touch his he cannot stop as his hunger for you comes to the forefront. He kisses you with a fervor unmatched as his lips move yours, his hand moves to the back of your neck. Tilting your head so he may deepen the kiss, tongue sliding over yours as the world falls from beneath your feet.  

But as quickly as it fell it returns, pushing him away while turning to face away from him. You keep your head held high as he pants on the couch beside you. He grabs your thigh, desperate for touch, for anything but rejection. 

"Starlight." His voice is deep, rough from what might be disuse as it cracks on the second syllable. A question runs rampid in your mind.  How long had he felt like this? 

"Please, my starlight." He squeezes your smooth thigh and you look towards him. Watch his force contort with pain, as if you held his beating heart in his hands and crushed it.  

Really it is what he had done to you, as you look down at him with hot tears. 

He is the first and only soul to see you cry in decades. It seemingly tears him about but he brought this among himself. 

The kiss is answer enough as to why he is here. 

It should not be this tempting to throw it all away. 

"Get. Out." You seethe, fat droplets catching on your sheer robe, falling down your cheeks as if you were an actress going through a tragic scene. He does not move, does not breathe as he hopes your temper will cool. 

Instead it heats. 

"Get out, Get OUT. GET OUT GET OUT!!" More composure lost with each increase of volume before you completely lose it, "FUCKING GET OUT!" 

He hardly moves and the ruckus calls alarm for your brothers who were home, who let Bakugou in at such a late hour. They come from the office across the hall in hurried steps, expecting to see an assailant, hoping that Bakugou could fight them off. 

They silently determine what they see is far worse. Bakugou gripping at your thighs with this pleading look while your face is now firmly buried in your hands. A sob racks through your body setting your brothers ablaze. 

Hendrix speaks first. 

"What did you do?!" His eyes are flaming as he sets them on Bakugou, who ignores the two men. Hideki begins to close the distance and his eldest brother follows suit. 

"What have you done to make my lovely sister cry?" Hideki's voice is full of hurt, disappointment and when they receive no answer they decide it is time to remove your true assailant. 

Both grab at Bakugou, pulling him away from the couch as you wet your palms with years worth of tears. 

Everything in your life, no matter how hard you tried to conduct it, was truly wrong wasn't it? 

The fresh swirling ink on the pages answered you enough, the love story you did not know you needed with a protagonist with soft ash blonde hair. 

"Please. Do not make me BEG!" He yells as your brothers' sad attempt at forcing him from the room topples furniture and the like. 

Still you weep your self pity away. 

His next words are deafening  as your heart finally cleaves apart, the pieces falling to the floor before shattering like glass at your feet. He brandishes the black velvet box with the black diamond ring tucked inside as you finally look up to him. 

"IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN YOU, STARLIGHT!"

#bakugou x reader #todoroki x reader #bnha historical au #bnha imagine #bnha x reader

[monofpoke4life]

What Goes Around...

The discord I’m a part of had a Secret Santa, so here’s the zagr fluff I wrote. Please Enjoy.

"Stupid Zim! Stupid Dib! Stupid stupid field trip," Gaz growled as she hastily wiped away her silent tears. Her words echoing off the empty bathroom walls.

She shivered as she wrapped her arms around herself tighter, providing what little warmth she could for her bare upper half. Her cheeks flaming with what had happened earlier. 

Her eyes closed as what transpired just five minutes ago replayed in her head. 

She waded out into waist deep water to cool off, and to give her Game Slave a break. She was enjoying the contrast of the sun on her face and shoulders and the cool water at her waist when she heard it.

The fucking insane screaming of her brother and Zim, as they fought about who knew whatever it was they were fighting about. Rolling her eyes, she dove under, and resurfaced a moment later, content to ignore them and resign their blathering to the background as always. 

That had been her first mistake as she took the chance to subtly adjust her bikini top, frustrated that she tied it a tad too tight. She should've paid more attention, and then maybe she wouldn't be in this damn mess that she now found herself in.

Suddenly, she made her second mistake as she heard Dib's annoying screams rapidly growing closer, and turned around just in time to see Dib flying at her.

Her wide eyes narrowed as she regained her composure to briefly glare at the proud green bean, on the beach, who had just yeeted her brother in her direction.

With a sigh, she had stepped back to avoid getting crushed by Dib's average-but-fun-to-tease large head, and that's when she stepped into her third mistake. She should've taken more than one step. She should've gotten the hell out of there! But no. She calmly waited so she could taunt him about it.

However, whatever clever remark on the tip of her tongue was lost as a flailing Dib made contact with the water with a sickening slap of skin, and his hand desperately reached out to catch himself on anything he could use to pull himself up with. 

A gasp escaped her lips as she was suddenly jerked forward by her bikini top. A millisecond later, as Dib disappeared beneath the murky lake water, there was a tug, the tearing of fabric, and then weightlessness. The unsettling kind that let her know that her brother wasn't hanging on her anymore...because there wasn't something to hang onto anymore.

Her eyes squeezed shut at the part of the memory. Her cheeks burned, her throat grew tight, and her teeth ground together at the memory of her practically punching herself in the chest in her attempt to cover herself. She didn't have time to punish her brother as she took off to the closest building, the bathrooms, where she now found herself locked within.

"Fucking bullshit," Gaz snarled and slammed a fist into the side of the stall. She hated to act dramatic like one of her ditzy classmates that this was, "the end of the world," but it was! Oh it absolutely was! At least, it was to her reputation.

  Now, after this horrible incident, even if they were still scared of her, they would still snicker at the memory of the girl who flashed the lake. No matter how many beatings she gave or threats she made, her reputation would forever remain tarnished for the rest of her time at school.

"When I get out of here those idiots will pay! Not even gnats will find their entrails when I-"

Her rant was cut short as she heard the restroom door open. 

With a frown she quietly pulled her legs up to rest her feet upon the seat as she didn't want anyone to know she was still here. She just wanted to hide or evaporate into the ether. Just anywhere but there, and just forget about that day.

As the women did their business and gossiped afterwards in front of the mirrors as they primped their hair and reapplied makeup, Gaz quietly sighed and buried her face into her knees.

This was the worst day of her life, and it couldn't get any worse.

"LITTLE GAZ WHERE ARE YOU?"

"AHHH!"

"A boy!"

"This is the girl's room!"

"Get the fuck out!"

"You filthy, flabby skinned hyoomans cannot tell the mighty ZIM what to do! I shall leave when my business is done!!!"

As chaos graced her ears, Gaz groaned and gently hit her head against her knees repeatedly. Apparently things could get worse, and the dookie was going to hit the fan.

"We're getting security!"

"Begone MOPS!"

Gaz couldn't stop the snicker from escaping her lips at the misspoken meme as the door banged shut behind the pack of screeching harpies. 

As the door bounced open, and slowly drifted shut, Gaz became hyper aware that she and Zim, who was apparently looking for her, were the only ones left alone inside.

Wanting to get this done sooner rather than later, Gaz lowered her feet, straightened her back, and crossed her arms over her chest, as she growled, "What do you want, Zim?" 

At the sound of her voice, Zim pivoted on his heel, boots scratching against cement, and strutting towards her stall. 

"My reasons, Little Gaz, are my own," he sneered, as she watched his boots stop in front of her stall and turn around. Not daring to take a chance at looking at her. Smart guy. For once.

Gaz opened her mouth to say something back, but stopped as a breeze from the open window sent a chill down her spine. 

Shuddering, Gaz barely heard the sound of ruffling clothing, but she did hear the slight jostle of the stall door. Her head snapped up, and her eyes widened. There, hung over the door and held in place, was Zim's outer, magenta tunic.

"What's that for?" She growled impatiently. She couldn't believe what she was seeing, especially seeing it without an ulterior motive. Not that she didn't try to see one. However, she couldn't think of one. It's not like he planned this. He wasn't smart enough for that, especially with how hard he tried to get out of this field trip. Not to mention to have the brains to understand she'd be vulnerable in a moment like this.

It was silent for a moment, before Zim awkwardly cleared his throat.

"A soldier should not be caught without armor."

Okay...maybe he understood more than she thought.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously before she stood up, gently yet quickly, plucking it out of his grasp.

The material wasn't so bad. This would do to fetch her things so she could properly change. Maybe she'll just maim him a bit.

However, as she began to pull it over her head, she froze at what he said next.

"I-I...Zim is sorry."

"What?"

"I threw the Dib-weasle at you on purpose in the hope that you would doom him. I did not anticipate the loss of your chest thingy."

Her fists clenched the alien material, pulling it down and into place, as she slowly inquired, "If you knowingly messed up, then why are you here? Shouldn't you be running and screaming?"

"Hmph, Irken Invaders never run."

"Then what was last Thursday?"

"...A strategic retreat."

"A very loud strategic retreat."

At that, Zim grew silent. Clearly throwing a silent fit that she had a point, Zim refused to acknowledge her statement, for that would mean admitting she, a "stinky human" was right.

She merely smoothed out the wrinkles of the sleeveless tunic, and quietly basked with a smirk upon her lips. At least something got a predictable response from him. But, seriously, what was up with him? First the tunic and now an apology? What was next?

Gaz opened the stall and Zim immediately jumped back. His back brushing against the adjacent sink. He looked back and tugged at his light-pink, long sleeved shirt to make sure it didn't come into contact with any sink water. Finding none, he instinctively wiped his gloved hands against his black leggings.

"You never answered my question, Zim."

"Eh? What question?"

Gaz took a deep breath, one arm still crossed over her chest, as the tunic, which made a nice coverup, was still quite thin.

She took a threatening step forward. Zim gulped at this, as she elaborated, "Why aren't you 'strategically retreating from me?"

At this, Zim straightened his back and shoulders, arms clenched at his sides, and eyes closed. He looked like he was ready to face a firing squad, and with the wrath she's inflicted upon him in the past, that comparison was highly accurate.

He raised his chin up high, sweating bullets, as he finally answered. "To run from you is pointless. I know no matter where I go, no matter where I hid- retreat to, you, Little Gaz, would find me despite my far superior Irken training. I came to you, sparing your pitiful human time and effort, in hopes that you may hurt me less than you normally would."

Ah. That made sense. Zim would do anything to save his own skin. 

"Turning yourself in? That's all?" She inquired with suspicious eyes and incredulous brows raised. Shouldn't he be bragging and begging for extra mercy for the "peace offering" he provided as well?

At this, Zim's eyes opened, suddenly relaxed, as he shrugged.

"Erm eh, yeah that's about it."

"Nothing else you did to escape a nightmare world of pain?"

"Nope. Nothing."

Gaz glared at him, and watched his every movement, watching for his body language to give himself away as usual. However, he just stood there, blinking owlishly at her.

Her cheeks started to feel warm, but she easily fought it down as she quickly closed the short distance between them. 

"Ow!!!" Zim yelled in pain as his hand flew up to his throbbing shoulder. Despite, "surrendering" himself to her punishment, he glared indignantly at her as she pulled her fist away.

"That, whiner, is for throwing Dib at me and causing all of this!"

Her free hand pulled back again, and Zim froze with his eyes clenched shut, expecting another hit. However, the pain never came even as he felt an arm wrap around his shoulders. He squeezed his eyes tighter as he was jerked sideways, probably to be kneed or something, and yet nothing happened except his side bumping into hers.

Zim's eyes flew open just in time to see her release him from her one-armed hug. 

He didn't get a chance to fully process it, as Gaz softly said, "And that's for lending me this. I can actually get my stuff from the buses now and change. Thanks."

"Oh, heh heh, of course. Totally did that on purpose. You may praise Zim more, Gus."

As Gaz opened the door, she frowned and rolled her eyes before she asked, "Hey, where is my brother anyway?"

"The Dib-feet? He ran into the forest when you ran in here."

She huffed. Of course he did.

However, this information made her smirk to herself, and when she opened the door, the sight beyond her made her smirk widen.

"Ya know, maybe when I find Dib, maybe I'll doom him a little extra. Just for you."

Out of the corner she watched him punch the ai as he exclaimed, "Yes! Just as I planned! Victory for ZIM!"

She rolled her eyes with a small smile at that, before she began to the long treck to the parking lot. 

Zim came to the doorway and stood, watching her go with his chest puffed in pride. 

She gave a wave as she, not even looking back, called, "Thanks again, Zimothy."

At the use of her demeaning, non-Zim name, Zim began to throw a small gremlin fit. However, he didn't get very far, didn't even get to scream or yell, as the women from before, with park rangers, swiftly approached him.

"There he is, officer! That's the little pervert who went inside the girl's restroom."

Meanwhile, as Gaz kicked a pinecone along the asphalt, she snickered as Zim's screams could be heard from off in the distance. Maybe she'd make it up to him some day, but for now, she'd bask in the karma freebie the universe gifted to her.

#Invader zim #gaz membrane #gazlene membrane #zagf #zagr #dib membrane #dib #discord secret santa #what goes around comes around

[limitededitionsanderssidesblog]

The Snake and The Frog

Pairings: Romantic Moceit, platonic moxiety

"The sins of the father are to be laid upon the children." William Shakespeare.

Janus had once told him that balance rested in karma, a life for a life, but Patton didn’t believe in such a thing. If nature dictates that the child shall pay for the sins of the father, then he will reshape the natural order and refuse to take revenge so that the next generation can be spared.

Or

Patton, cursed by an unknown sorcerer, is now forced to live his life as a frog, alone in the forest. That is until he meets a snake named Janus, a fellow cursed being.

AO3 - Here

-

Having only four, webbed fingers was something Patton wasn’t sure he’d ever truly get used to, not to mention being one-tenth his size. The long tongue was odd too, and many nights he went hungry because he still wasn’t quite sure how to catch his food. Not to say he wanted to eat disgusting things like crickets or flies, but Patton wasn’t too sure that he could walk up to the local baker and ask for a cookie without being squashed.

Overall, life as a cursed one was something he never believed he could get the hang of completely.

Only two weeks ago, Patton had been an ordinary twenty-three-year-old man, enjoying his life as the son of a wealthy tenet master who owned most of the land the local farmers worked. Every day was spent with games and fun, he never had a care in the world. He and his best friend, a sorcerer named Virgil, would hang out at his father’s estate, doing whatever they wanted.

That is, until a strange young man, about his age, appeared at their doorstep. He didn’t see it coming, but without any warning or caution, Patton felt the world fall away from him and turn black. When he woke up, the man was gone, and he had been turned into a frog.

Distraught, his father hadn’t recognized his own son in that amphibian’s body and cast him out of the estate, dumping him in the forest that surrounded his home.

Patton had tried to return home several times within the last few weeks, but he had always been attacked and chased away by the guards that once protected him. 

He hadn’t given up, however, and continuously made plans to sneak his back into his home and show his father that he was, in fact, his son.

But first, he would try to catch the firefly floating over the lake.

Hopping over the lily pads, a bit clumsily as he still wasn’t used two his new body even after a fortnight, he chased after the firefly, aiming his tongue unskillfully and missing the bug each time. Patton whined and whimpered to himself, feeling pity for the little fly that was just trying to go about its day, but the growling in his stomach reminded him that he couldn’t give up, and he continued to chase after the firefly. However, while he was so engrossed with his own bit of hunting, Patton failed to notice that he, himself, was being hunted as well. As quick as a flick, right as Patton was finally about to nab the little fly, a yellow head popped out of a nearby bush and struck him, capturing Patton in its wide jaws. 

“Ah! Please don’t eat me!” He shrieked, flailing wildly as he was pulled off of his lilypad and back onto shore.

However, as soon as he was back over the ground, away from the lake where he had been hunting, he was quickly let go and dropped. Still too stunned by the attack to flee, and much too scared to try and fight, Patton huddled on the ground, covering his eyes with his little webbed hands, waiting for the final strike to come.

“You… talked?” A cool and elegant voice said in surprise.

Confused as to who had just spoken to him, Patton looked up and around for a human but found only a yellow corn snake.

“You… did too?” Patton answered in wonder. Since he had been turned into a frog, Patton had tried over and over to communicate with the other animals of the forest, but to no avail. None of the animals could understand or speak with him—except this one. “Are you like me?”

“Cursed? Yes. I’ve been trying for the past week to undo the spell myself, but my magic isn’t strong enough in this form.” The snake grimaced, curling his body around in a loop to rest himself on like a bench.

“Wow! You know magic?” Patton gasped in excitement, forgetting completely that the snake had tried to eat him only a minute before.

“I just said that didn’t I?” 

Ignoring his rude tone, Patton began to hop around in excitement. He couldn’t believe it, not only did he meet another cursed one, but he met one who knew magic. If he was lucky, perhaps the snake would help him find a way to gain his father’s attention or even turn him into a human.

“That’s so cool! Can you do any cool tricks? My best friend is a sorcerer and he can fly. Can you do anything like that?” Patton asked, speaking fast and fumbling over his words, as he was too ecstatic to pause to properly breathe.

“Well normally I can shapeshift, but as I said before, this small body has weakened my magic. I can barely do anything now.” The snake hissed sourly, dropping his small head down on himself, obviously annoyed and wanting to drop the topic of conversation. 

Realizing that he had upset him, Patton gingerly hopped over to him and reached out a hand to him but froze when he hissed at him and turned away. Sighing, Patton lowered his hand and laid down on his stomach next to him.

He knew the feeling, not being able to do anything like he used to. He still had trouble walking, or rather hopping, not to mention the fact that he struggled to catch anything to eat. It felt weird and wrong to be in another body. Their lives had been stolen from them, Patton had lost his father and best friend, and he couldn’t even imagine what the snake had lost. Life as a cursed one was not pleasant or kind, as the name suggested, it was a cursed existence to live.

But at least it didn’t have to be a lonely one now.

“Do you want to be friends?” Patton asked, looking over at the curled up snake.

His question went unanswered for a heartbeat until he was met with a gruff and snarky chuckle as the snake turned his head a little to peer at him.

“You aren’t too bright, are you?” The snake ridiculed him, “I just tried to eat you, and now you want to be friends with me?”

“Well, there’s no one else to be friends with, here,” Patton replied softly, looking down at his webbed toes.

The snake continued to watch him as though he were analyzing him to his core, trying to reach inside his mind and understand his thoughts. Perhaps, with the help of his magic, he was doing just that. 

With a long and tired sigh, the snake replied and said, “Janus.” Patton raised his head and looked over at him in confusion, waiting for the snake to follow up and explain himself. Once the snake realized that he was waiting for an explanation, he groaned in exasperation and continued. “That’s my name, friends call each other by name, right?”

Smiling wide, Patton hopped up and landed on the snake, pulling him into a hug. “I’m Patton!”

Hissing at him, Janus tried to shake him off but was able to get him off. Eventually, he gave up and accepted his fate of being hugged by the overly affectionate frog.

“I already regret this.”

“Too late!”

...

Growing up the son of a wealthy Lord, Patton had never had to worry about things such as his daily meals and shelter, but both proved to be difficult to come by as a small frog in the forest; especially before he met Janus. 

His first night in the forest was spent underneath a bramble bush as the rain around him threatened to flood his newfound home away. After that he found a little hollowed out log and stayed there for a few days until he was chased away by a badger. The next day Patton found a little hole under a tree and made it his new home.

His meals were also hard found and almost always came in a meager amount. He was surprised by how much he needed to eat despite his small body. However, once Janus came into the picture, finding food became just a little bit easier.

“You closed your eyes again.” A sardonic voice said, interrupting Patton in the middle of his attempt to catch a dragonfly. “Are you expecting the bug to fly its way into your mouth?”

Without being asked, Janus took it upon himself to teach Patton how to properly catch his own food, mostly by criticizing and correcting his every move. It never took the snake long to find his own meal, so he would often spend his time watching Patton try to fill his empty and sad belly while he was happy and full. And while Patton did appreciate the help, he did wish sometimes that his friend would be a little nicer about it.

“But it’s so pretty! And it’s just going about its day. I don’t want to hurt it.” Patton complains childishly, watching the dragonfly flutter away high above his head.

Sighing loudly, Janus slithered his way over to Patton and circled his way around him, draping his long body around him in an almost intimate embrace. With his head, Janus directed Patton’s gaze over the lake.

“Dragonflies eat the gnats that hover over the lake, fish eat the dragonflies that go for the gnats, and humans capture the fish that swim too close to the surface. It’s a perfect cycle that has existed for eons, natural order, and balance.” He murmured into his ear, his voice smooth and sweet, but precise and cold. Patton gulped and shivered uncontrollably. “The magic that you are so fond of is no different. When a being takes a life, another will take it back, that is the karma and balance that maintains order.”

“Even so, does life have to be taken? Can’t someone break the cycle so no more life needs to be lost?”

Janus went quiet, pondering that notion as if it hadn’t occurred to him before. There was a haunting pain in his eyes, old yet fresh, as though a past wound had been agitated by his innocently intended words.

“Hm, perhaps.” He murmured, winding himself around the frog. Patton relaxed once he was let go, yet his body subconsciously followed after the snake to maintain their embrace before he was able to catch himself and remain in place. “You’re an odd one, Patton.”

“Thank you?” The frog said in confused gratefulness, unsure whether he was just complimented or insulted.

Janus gave no further explanation either and only directed him to follow after.

“Come along, I caught enough for both of us to eat, just in case you came up empty-handed again.”

A wide grin spread across his face and he quickly hopped after the retreating serpent. His stomach growled loudly again, almost as if it knew it was about to be filled.

After that, food had become much easier to find, as Patton simply made a daily habit of going to Janus’s den and eating whatever he brought back. The fellow cursed one commonly voiced his complaints about his doing so, but he never failed to bring back enough for both of them.

…

There was something Patton had been wondering about for a while now. The thought came to him fleetingly as a secondary thought as he watched how Janus caught his food.

After his mornings became lonely from waiting alone for Janus to return from his hunts, Patton decided to join him. He promised to stay a ways away to not scare away the prey and he was able to peacefully observe the snake from a distance. It was then that Patton was able to see Janus use magic for the first time.

Sneaking up on whatever creature he was hunting, whether it be a mouse or shrew for him or cricket or grasshopper for Patton, he got just close enough before he would shoot out, yellow light and haze surrounding him, and his prey would be rendered motionless and free for the taking.

It seemed to be a simple spell as Janus was able to use it multiple times in a single day without tiring himself out. Patton recalled his best friend, Virgil, learning a similar spell when they were younger. After two casts he would become faint and would need to rest. Eventually, as years passed and he received training, Virgil learned to cast the freeze spell with ease. Even so, he still had his limit on how many spells he could cast in a single day. Yet Janus never showed any signs of fatigue.

Surely that meant that either the spell was simple and didn’t require a lot of energy, or that Janus was an extremely powerful and talented sorcerer. Which then begged the question as to why he still remained a snake.

“Hey, Janus?” Patton asked unprompted,

“Yes, Patton?” The snake replied, stopping in the middle of a long sip of water he had been taking from the lake.

“If you’re a wizard-

“Sorcerer.”

“Then how did you get turned into a snake? Did you mess up a spell or something?”

Janus paused and sat quietly for a moment, turning his eyes down at his reflection in the rippling water, gazing into it as though it were a Jin Mirror that would tell him all he wished to know. Patton looked down into the water as well but saw nothing besides a snake and a frog.

“I went to a sorcerer more proficient than I and asked to use his advanced spellbook. He agreed, but once he learned what spell I was tampering with, he turned me into a snake and threw me into the woods.” He explained, his voice full of bitterness and loathing. His eyes burned with something harsh and fierce, but it oddly seemed to bear a close resemblance to regret.

“But aren’t you a shapeshifter? Can’t you just shift back?” Patton asked.

“I wish I could, but spells and curses are different. If it had been a simple transformation spell I would have changed back weeks ago. But a curse is much more powerful and can only be undone by the one who caster.” He explained, hanging his head low in despair. “And I doubt that man will change me back anytime soon.”

Remorse was not a good look for the snake. Patton was so used to his usual sardonic smirks and sarcastic grins that it appeared wrong for him to look any other way. What was more, the pain in Janus’s eyes was too raw and made Patton’s heart ached for him.

“Well, that isn’t right!” He declared loudly.

Janus pulled his head up off the ground and looked at him in astonishment, gazing at him as if he couldn’t believe he had just heard what the frog said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“It isn’t right!” Patton repeated, hopping over to his friend and reaching out to hold the snake’s head in his webbed hands. “Just because you wanted to learn a spell isn’t a good reason to be cursed! If I knew this sorcerer, I would march right up and command him to change you back!”

Janus stared at him with wide eyes, lifting his head up further slowly as if to try and confirm that he wasn’t dreaming and that he had actually heard Patton’s silly declaration correctly. After a moment passed between them, the wind and chirps of the forest the only audiable noise between them, Janus erupted in laughter, but Patton didn’t join in with him because it sounded almost sad.

“You're too kind, Patton.” Janus breathed, catching his breath between laughs. “Too kind for your own good.”

“What do you mean?” Patton asked, confused by his odd choice of words.

“Nothing, forget what I said.”

…

Life was, oddly enough, boring as an amphibian. Despite having a human mind and consciousness, he was still in fact a frog. Sleep had come to him more often, so by the time he woke up, half the day was already spent and gone. But, once he was awake, he had almost nothing to do.

Like a snake, Janus slept much more frequently than Patton, around sixteen hours in fact, although he’d never be able to tell since he can’t close his eyes. This meant that, despite their shared meals, the two of them had pretty much nothing to do except sleep. It wasn’t as though there were many options for leisure activities when you were cursed into a small body with tiny, webbed hands, or with no hands at all.

Usually, when he wasn’t with Janus, mostly because he was busy napping, Patton would go to the lake and swim. One small perk of being a frog was the fact that he could go under for hours on end and still be fine. He liked wandering down at the bottom of the lake, looking around and exploring the depths of six feet.

Patton learned very quickly not to venture in too deep, as one sour meeting with a bass taught him that one wrong move could end him up as a tasty snack in a predator’s belly.

Still, the thrill of swimming only lasted so long, and Patton would eventually become bored again. Without Janus, Patton had very little to do, and it became a lonely stretch of hours while he waited for Janus to wake up again.

In spite of his appearance, Patton could not communicate with any of the other kinds of frogs in the forest. It was possible that they themselves knew what Patton was, as all of them stayed clear away from him and never came near him. The fairy tale books were all a lie, he didn’t get any friendly forest animals to befriend.

Although he hadn’t asked, Patton had the hunch that it was the same for Janus, or else he probably wouldn’t have proper cause to remain with Patton. He knew he didn’t have much to offer the snake, he couldn’t help hunt, and he lacked any skill in magic to help him try to find a solution to the curse. Even so, Janus continued to spend his days idly with Patton, chatting and sharing meals, doing nothing of great importance.

Cursed ones were damned in more ways than one, the transformation into lesser creatures was one thing, but then they were sentenced to live life alone in isolation, understood neither by man nor beast. They had no one but each other in their large, forest world. Life as a cursed one was meant to be a life of torment, but at least with each other, it was more tolerable.

Patton sat in a hollow log, not too far away from the entrance to Janus’s den, nodding off as he waited for Janus to wake up. He was determined to stay awake until his friend resurfaced so they could spend the rest of the daylight together. However, the calm strings of the gentle, summer breeze, the chimes of a distant brook, and a choir of birds all sang a soothing lullaby that pulled at him sweetly, weakening his resolve. 

Before he knew it, he was being roused awake by the yellow snake, looming over him with an amused glint in his eyes. Patton smiled up at him and sat up, stretching in a way that was most likely more proper for humans than frogs.

“Afternoon sleepyhead.” Janus teased, backing up as Patton sleepily made his way out of the log.

“I should be saying that to you.” Patton giggled, “Are you all rested up, beauty queen?”

“Trust me, if it were up to me, I wouldn’t spend more than half the day asleep. I can hardly get anything done in just eight hours.” The snake grimaced, slithering away from and around the log.

“I, for one, would love to sleep the day away.” Patton sighed, subconsciously following after him. “I barely got any sleep when I was human, what with all the tutors my father hired to teach me. I still remember the time my Math tutor refused to let me leave for over three hours until I got all the questions on my trigonometry worksheet correct. Mister Nelson was really strict like that all the time, but my Literature teacher was probably worse. She-” 

He went on and on continuously, sprouting random stories from his years of education, which would then inspire more stories from his childhood and teen years. He chased after bunny trails, telling Janus about random things, unsure if the snake was actually listening.

Patton was so focused on talking that he failed to focus on where they were going, only making sure that he remained at the snake’s side so he could keep telling him more stories. It was only when Janus came to a sudden stop that Patton paused to look around at where they had been going the entire time.

In front of him expanded a wide and vast meadow, filled to the brim with tall grass, and a brook that ran through the center, heading back towards the lake. Patton gasped and gawked at the scenery, edging closer to the beautiful field.

“It’s gorgeous,” Patton said,

“Indeed it is.” Janus agreed, his voice soft and tender.

Patton turned around to say something but was caught off guard by the gentle expression Janus was directing at him. Patton could not physically blush, but his heart certainly skipped a beat.

“I want to show you something,” Janus said, slithering on ahead once more. 

Patton remained where he was, watching his every move intently, almost fearful that if he looked away, Janus would disappear like a sweet dream, leaving him alone.

The snake slithered a few paced ahead to where a large rock rested on its side. Climbing up, he settled himself down on the highest point and stretched his body out as far as he could. He closed his eyes, stilled himself, and began to glow a beautiful gold, shimmering in the sunlight. Patton held his breath and time seemed to slow down around them.

Then, almost out of thin air, golden specters were lifted into the sky and took on the form of a snake and a frog. They took to the air and began to chase each other and play, frolicking through the clouds. They ran back down to the ground but continued to hover just above the earth. The specters turned into balls of pure light and circled around Patton in a spiral, sprinkling glitter upon him. Patton giggled and began to chase after the lights, trying to catch one of his hands.

The lights suddenly took to the sky once more and began to take on new forms, but this time they took the appearance of two men, one he recognized as himself, while the other he did not know. The man had a rigid and sharp face and was impeccably handsome. Patton looked over at Janus, still stretched out on the rock, and wondered if the man was him.

The two men joined hands and began to waltz, dancing elegantly across the heavens as though it were a ballroom. Their movements were smooth and graceful, hypnotizing Patton with their dance. Eventually, the two men began to float down together, returned to pure light, and faded away into glitter. Janus ceased his glow and relaxed, resting back and curling his body around.

“That was amazing!” Patton cheered, hopping over to him, “It was so pretty and cool! I can’t believe I just saw that! How’d you do it?”

“It’s a simple light animate spell. I usually prefer to animate shadows, but I thought you’d like the light puppets more.” Janus explained, slightly out of breath.

“I did, I loved them!” Patton grinned and pulled Janus into a hug. The snake stiffened and turned solid, but gradually began to loosen up. “Thank you, Janus.”

“You’re welcome, Patton. It’s the least I could do.”

Patton wanted to ask what he meant by that, but he didn’t. Janus would often say things that he didn’t understand, but every time he asked about it Janus wouldn’t answer.

…

It had been one full month since Patton had met Janus that day he had coincidentally almost been eaten by the said snake. In that time that they had spent together, they had grown close as friends. Their mornings would be spent over breakfast, chatting about random nonsense, and laughing over their mutual love of puns. After that, they would often spend their time around the lake, where Patton would splash around in the shallow end and Janus would sunbathe on the stones along the water’s edge. Once they began to feel famished, Janus would go out and hunt for their next meal and they’d share it again in Janus’s dugout den. As soon as their bellies were full once again they would part ways to go to sleep and start it all over the next day.

It was during one of Janus’s hunts when Patton didn’t join him, that he decided to wander around and explore in search of a new home while he waited for him. As much as he enjoyed his home underneath the tree, it was too small for him to do anything besides sleep, and the wide-open hope in the trunk made it easy for other forest life to find his way into his home. At this point, Patton was tired of chasing away squirrels trying to hide their nuts in his home.

Instead, Patton found a small crevice in the earth, no deeper than four feet. Tall and luscious grass was growing inside the hole, which would make for good bedding; and a large bramble bush grew at the top, overshadowing the hole and offering shelter from the sun, wind, and possible rain.

In blind excitement, Patton rushed down into the crevice to get a better look at what may be his new home. However, a patch this perfect surely had to already be occupied, but Patton was too enthusiastic to think that far ahead.

While pushing around the grass, looking for the best patch for a bed, Patton uncovered a pre-dug hole that had been hidden by the tall grass. Upon seeing it, Patton knew that something else had made that hole and it was not naturally occurring. Even so, Patton had noticed it too little too late, and before he could backtrack his way out of the crevice, a brown and black rat snake shot out of the entrance and aimed its fangs directly at him.

“Janus!” Patton screamed, launching himself into the air and away from the rat snake.

Quick as he could, Patton scurried back up the slope and out of the crevice. However, once glance backward told him that the rat snake was right on his heels chasing him. He tried desperately to shake the predator of his tail, hopping over and underneath rocks and fallen branches, but all his efforts proved futile as the rat snake remained practically glued to him.

“Help me! Janus!” Patton cried again, unsure if his friend could hear him or where he even was.

However, a voice called back in reply to his cry, filling him with relief.

“Patton!” Janus suddenly shot out from the side, tackling his body directly into the rat snake.

Finally free from the chase, Patton was able to escape up a high rock, and subsequently found a vantage point to watch the fight. Janus had plunged his fangs into the backside of the rat snake right underneath its head. The rat snake thrashed and struggled, attempting to wrap itself around Janus to strangle him, but it failed to do so properly, giving Janus leverage to do just that.

The fight lasted several minutes, neither reptile wanting to back down. They twisted and turned over and around each other until the rat snake finally went limp. Once the fight was done and won, Janus let go of his hold on the other snake and slithered over to Patton, who had hopped down from the rock.

“Are you okay?” Janus asked upon reaching the frog.

“Yes, I think I’m all right,” Patton replied and moved to greet him, but once he moved his right leg he winced at a pain he hadn’t realized was there, most likely hidden by the adrenaline rush while escaping.

Janus noticed and commanded him to remain still as he moved closer. Patton complied and remained where he was as the snake slithered up until their faces were resting against each other. At that time, Patton was incredibly grateful that it was physically impossible for frogs to blush, because Patton was sure that if he were still human that he’d be as red as wine from being in such close proximity to his friend.

A moment passed between them in expectant silence, Janus gazed intently into Patton’s eyes, and he looked right back into his, not knowing what else to do. Gradually, a warm, welcoming yellow light began to surround them both, encasing them in a small dome of energy. Slowly, as they remained together in that light, the pain in Patton’s leg began to fade away until it was eventually completely gone, and with it, the light went as well.

“Wow, you’re amazing!” Patton gasped in awe, hopping around in glee that the pain was gone.

Patton had seen a similar spell from his friend Virgil, in fact, he had watched as his friend struggled to learn the healing spell for several weeks until he was able to master it. It was unclear how long Janus had been studying magic, but if he was able to carry out such a spell in the state that he was, he had to be incredibly gifted.

“It’s nothing really,” Janus said sheepishly, turning his head away.

“No, it totally is! You have an incredible gift!” Patton hopped over into the snake’s line of vision and gave him a wide smile. “Thank you, Janus. You saved my life today.”

It had been minuscule, and Patton had almost failed to see it, but he saw the way Janus flinched at his words as if Patton had slapped him with his praise. Patton almost frowned at it, but Janus quickly turned away again and changed the subject.

“It’s nothing. Let’s get you back to your home so you can rest.” He said, leading the way back towards the lake.

His smile fell away at his friend’s aloof behavior, but he gave a shy smile as he chased after and caught up to him, hopping at his side as they went across the forest ground. The ambiance of the singing birds overhead filled their silence and made their walk a little more comfortable, but Patton still couldn’t bear the silence between them, nor could he understand what made his friend act so coldly. After a second of thought, Patton decided to take it upon himself to fill the gap between them.

“This reminds me of when I fell off my horse when I was twelve.” Patton said, laughing lightly as he thought back in his memory, “My dad blew a gasket and confined me to my bed for a week so I could heal. But my friend Virgil, who was apprenticing under the family sorcerer, snuck in and healed me so we could go out and play.”

“Sounds like a strict father,” Janus mumbled, keeping his eyes straight ahead on the forest path.

“I guess. What about your parents?” Patton turned the subject onto the snake, hoping to keep the conversation going. “Did they do things like that too?”

Janus stopped slithering and froze, looking up to the tops of the trees and out beyond to the lake morning sky, which had begun to be overshadowed with gathering clouds. The eerie calm before the coming storm.

“Well… there was this one time I fell sick with a cold. My mother made me hot duck soup and fed me while I laid shivering in bed. My father sat at the fire for the whole night, keeping it lit so that I would be warm.”

“They sound amazing,” Patton said with a warm smile, wondering if his mother had done the same when he was sick. 

“Yeah,” Janus continued on, “They were.”

Now it was Patton’s turn to freeze in place, as he realized he had unknowingly crossed a line and brought up bad memories for the snake. Quickly, he hopped back to the snake's side and tried to apologize for his mistake.

“Oh, Janus I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

“No, it’s alright.” Janus stopped him, letting him off with what would have been a sad smile if he didn’t have the face of a snake. “It was a long time ago.”

One by one, drop by drop, the sky began to cry out and rain fell from the heavens to the earth. The wind picked up and began to beat at the trees, shaking the branches into a wild dance. In the distance, rumbles from the sky began to roar across the land, followed by bright, angry flashes of light and fire.

The two cursed ones rushed their journey to take shelter away from the elements. Then forgoed returning to Patton’s home under the tree, as they risked a lighting strike by doing so. Instead, the snake and the frog went to Janus’s den underground.

Breakfast had not been caught that morning, as Janus had abandoned his hunt once he heard Patton’s panicked call. That meant that their empty stomachs were left to growl and complain at them for the foreseeable future, as it was too dangerous to attempt a hunt during the storm.

The den was dark and cold and damp. The only insulation the hole had was sticks and leaves. Janus, who was now a cold-blooded creature, tucked himself under the small patch of foliage and coiled around himself to keep warm. Once he was comfortable, the snake invited Patton to join him, as frogs were also cold-blooded.

A bit sheepishly, Patton crawled under the leaves and laid down beside the snake. The two rested there quietly, listening to the echo of the rage outside. Slowly, Patton began to tire and grow sleepy, yawning as he let his eyes close.

“Do you ever think about your father?” The snake beside him asked out of the blue, shaking Patton back into wakefulness.

Patton blinked at him in surprise, not expecting Janus to bring up their families again after the last conversation. Janus didn’t look back and kept his face turned away, but Patton still smiled at him.

“All the time.” He answered simply, “I know he didn’t mean to kick me out. He was just so scared that he didn’t recognize me. But eventually, I’ll be able to go back home.” He said confidently, sure to himself that his father was looking everywhere for him, and that Virgil would find a way to turn him back into a human. 

Perhaps Janus could come with him, he was sure that his father would welcome such a powerful sorcerer, and Virgil always loved meeting others in his trade to exchange knowledge and skill with.

“It will be good riddance for me. Then I won’t have to keep hunting for two, freeloader.” Janus huffed, finally looking over at him, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

“Hey!” Patton cried and tackled the snake, landing on his back and wrapping his arms around his long body. Janus let out a squeak and tried to shake him off, cursing him, but laughing nonetheless.

Eventually, the two cursed ones settled down, giggling at each other and panting to catch their breath. Outside, the storm grew stronger, leaving the two stranded together in the den. Tired from the stressful day and their roughhousing, the two fell asleep together, Janus loosely wrapped around Patton like a comforting blanket.

…

Patton woke up sometime later, at what hour he couldn’t know, but the sheer darkness that surrounded him told him that it was late into the night. In that darkness, however, was a pale light casting shadows around him, pulsating instead flicker as a flame would. A tingling sensation covered his body and a warmth settled in his stomach and chest.

It didn’t take long for Patton to direct his gaze up and realize that it was Janus, still wrapped around him, who was giving off the light. The whole of his body glowed a soft yellow color and acted as a sort of lantern. His eyes were glossed over and he appeared to be intensely focused on something.

The frog decided then to remain quiet and simply watch as the snake did whatever he was doing. The intensity of the glow would grow and wane, almost to the point of going out, until it would grow again. Janus looked exhausted and seemed to be struggling greatly, almost as if he had been casting repeatedly without rest for hours on end.

Although Patton wasn’t a sorcerer himself, he did know much about the art from growing up with Virgil. He knew for a fact that casting multiple spells one after another without rest caused severe fatigue and strain on the body. Just as running ten miles with no rest could damage the body, so too could spell casting.

Patton knew it was taboo to interrupt a sorcerer while they were in the middle of casting, as losing focus could cause them to lose control of the spell and harm themselves or the interrupter. But he couldn’t bear to see Janus continue to suffer and endure such pain any longer.

“Janus?” Patton whispered, moving to sit up.

The snake flinched and gasped, breaking focus on the spell and stopped glowing as his eyes snapped down to look at the frog. A force pushed Patton back a bit, drawing a squeak out of him, but Janus’s tight grip around him kept him from falling over.

“Patton, you’re awake.” He noted in surprise, clearing his throat and relaxing his grasp on the frog.

“Couldn’t really sleep with the light flashing.” Patton chuckled sheepishly.

“Right…”

An awkward silence fell on them, heavy with unspoken tension about the spell casting. Patton knew it was rude to try and get Janus to reveal to him what he was doing, and sorcery was a sacred trade, but curiosity remained burning in his gullet to know why and what the snake had been casting. However, instead of intruding on his art any further, he decided to change the topic to his well-being, as Janus was still wheezing ever so slightly.

“Are you feeling alright?” Patton inquired.

“I’m fine.” He answered plainly, laying his head down on the ground.

“Did you want to talk about it?” Patton edged closer.

“I’m okay, Patton, don’t worry. Let’s just go back to sleep.”

The frog pouted but decided to let the topic go and follow Janus’s lead and go back to sleep, but not before he gave one more reassurance.

“Well, alright, but if you ever need it, I’ll be here to listen. Nothing could make me turn away from you, Janus.” Patton told him kindly.

Janus lifted his head sluggishly and peered over at him, his eyes dim and hesitant.

“Are you sure?” He asked softly.

“Of course! We’ll always be together!” Patton grinned.

Janus didn’t smile back but laid his head back down on the dirt floor. Not long after, the steady intake of breaths and light snores told him that Janus had fallen asleep, likely due to exhaustion. 

Patton continued to watch him for a while more, his heart clenched and torn in concern for the other. He wished he had the innate ability to read others’ minds as some sorcerers had, or at the very least could know how the snake was feeling. It was obvious that whatever had caused Janus to act so miserably was somehow linked to whatever spell he had failed to cast.

He worried that Janus might try it again and end up hurt. Especially since it appeared as though Janus was trying to cast it on Patton. The last thing he wanted was for Janus to be hurting because of him.

…

The storm had not yet ended, but merely calmed down to a drizzle. The thunder and lightning had passed over their heads, but could still be heard in the far off distance. However, it was enough for the local wildlife to peek their heads out of their hiding places, drawn out by their hunger from the long night.

Patton was roused awake from the slow dripping water droplets that had seeped down through the earth to reach the den. Shaking his head dry, Patton yawned and stretched, pulling himself out of his little bed nest of leaves and sticks. Behind him, Janus remained asleep, snoring peacefully in a little curled up ball.

He smiled and then frowned; Janus still panted lightly in his sleep and looked sick and pale from overexertion. Patton remembered the look of desperation he had on last night as he struggled in his spell cast. The pain looked torturous and it concerned Patton greatly. He wondered what had caused him to push his body that far, and why he had been trying to spell cast on Patton.

A thought crossed his mind about the possibility that Janus had attempted to break their curse, but he ignored it, as Janus had told Patton himself that only the caster could take away the curse, and Patton didn’t even know who had cursed him.

It had happened all too suddenly for him to completely grasp the situation. He had been out on his daily stroll through the garden, he had heard that a strange man was visiting the manor and was on his way back to the house to greet him when a shadow appeared before him in the center of the walkway. A black puddle, rippling and swaying minisculely like tar, seeped up through the gravel. Patton was about to ignore it, thinking that maybe some ground oil had been pushed to the surface, but then a hand, seeping with the tar-like substance, reached out to him. Panicked, thinking someone was trapped underground, ignorant to the sinister forces at work, he reached out to save them and grabbed hold of the hand.

However, the second that he did, the shadow began to swirl around him and seep into his body through his eyes, mouth, and skin. He had tried to fight it off, but he was helpless to resist the dark magic. Everything went dark, and the next thing he knew, he woke up in the body of a little, green frog.

His father, in grief and anger, refused to believe that the frog was his son and demanded that he be executed. However, Virgil, in defense of Patton, convinced his father to merely banish him, and his father agreed. The guards then took Patton and threw him out over the wall, laughing as they watched him flail around and land harshly on the other side. Patton wandered around, trying to get back to his father to convince him he was indeed his son, but he was never able to make it past the guards. After a week passed, he went and settled in the forest by his home, waiting for the day when he’d finally be able to return.

This was the reason why Patton never learned the identity of who cursed him or their reason for doing so. It had happened all so fast, his cursing and his exile, he wasn’t even sure if his curser had been caught.

However, Janus knew who cursed him, he said so himself, it was another sorcerer who shared different beliefs than him about sorcery and cursed him for it. If he wanted, Janus could have used his magic to find the sorcerer and try to undo his own curse, but he remained with Patton anyways.

Janus had done so many things for Patton in the time that they’ve known each other. He’s fed him his daily meals, saved and healed him from a rat snake attack, and more so just offered his comforting company and ear to listen. Patton wanted to show his gratefulness to the snake for all that he’s done for him but knew he could never fully pay him back for all his kindness.

But he decided to at least start with something small and decided to be the one to provide breakfast that morning so Janus could sleep in just a while longer. 

Leaving the den, Patton went around the rim of the lake and decided to catch some of the flies that usually hovered above the surface. Since Janus usually provided all the meals, Patton still wasn’t that good at catching his food and lacked coordination and timing. However, once he sat in position on a lilypad, floating on top of the water, Patton recalled back to the advice Janus had given him all those weeks ago. 

He kept his eyes trained on the rain-rippled water, searching for any and all prey that may come into view, and once one did, he never took his eyes off of it. Some reservations still nagged at him, but Patton mostly ignored it, knowing that Janus would only get weaker if he did not eat. Once he was locked onto the dragonfly and had a clear shot, Patton shot out his tongue and caught the insect in his snare, yanking it back into his mouth, but making sure he didn’t swallow it.

Happy with his first catch, Paton hopped off of the lilypad and back onto the grass to return to the den to drop off the dragonfly so that he could go and catch more food. The snake usually preferred mice or shrews over crickets and flies, but Patton just had to make do with what he had.

As he returned back to the den, a strange and peculiar light began to shine above his head, creating a dim trail behind it. The light was much too large to have been created by any insect and had an odd purple hue to it. Before Patton could ponder it any further, loud footfall resounded behind him.

Taken off guard, Patton quickly lept into a bush and hid, peering out from behind the leaves to see who had created those footsteps and that light. Out from behind the foliage and trees, walked his best and oldest friend, Virgil. His face was hidden by his favorite black cloak, covered in odd, little purple patches, but Patton still recognized him nonetheless.

Overjoyed to see his childhood friend after so long apart, Patton chased after him as quickly as he could. He almost called out his name to catch his attention, but the words caught inside the back of his throat when he saw him stop directly in front of the den Janus was sleeping in. The purple light he had been following began to fall down slowly and seep into the ground, A light began to shine out of the den’s entrance, signifying that the light was now inside the little hole in the ground. Patton moved again and opened his mouth to say something, but was startled when Virgil suddenly punched his fist through the ground, his hand bursting with magical energy, and ripped a now awake Janus out from the ground.

Janus hissed, screamed, and failed around, but all his efforts were weak and fruitless. He was still too weak from last night, he couldn’t even use magic to defend himself. 

Reaching into the back of his cloak, Virgil pulled out a long, twisted dagger and raised it to strike the snake. But before he could make any sort of move to hurt him, Patton screamed at him, dropping the dragonfly from his mouth, and threw himself at Virgil’s legs.

“Stop it, Virgil, don’t hurt him!” Patton cried and begged, grabbing Virgil’s pants and yanking him as hard as he could, although he knew it didn’t do anything.

Shocked by the sudden intrusion and the familiar voice, Virgil stepped back and looked down at the little frog that was clinging to the cuffs of his trousers. Instantly he recognized who Patton was and his eyes widened in welcomed surprise.

“Patton! You’re okay!” He said in joy and relief, but then a brief look of confusion passed across his features before he switched over to anger and accusation as he asked him, “Why would you defend this bastard?”

“Because he’s my friend!” Patton exclaimed, trying to climb his way up Virgil, clinging to his clothes, in order to get to where Janus was still thrashing around. “Please let him go, Virgil, Janus hasn’t done anything wrong!”

Reaching the top of Virgil’s arm, Patton quickly went to the fist that kept Janus captive and forced it open, causing both he and the snake to fall down. Reacting quickly, Virgil was able to catch Patton before he hit the ground, but he gladly let Janus crash into the dirt. Patton tried to hop away and go to the snake’s side, but Virgil cupped his hands around his small body and forced him to look at him.

“Hasn’t done- Patton, who do you think cursed you?” Virgil questioned him, his dark eyes drilling at him unforgivingly with an unbelievable truth. 

Patton stared back at his oldest friend with wide, incredulous eyes. He hadn’t realized it, but he began to pant heavily as his heart rate spiked and his lungs failed him. His whole body had gone stiff, frozen in terror, and at a loss for what to do or how to react. 

“You’re… you’re lying. Janus wouldn’t… he would never…he...” Patton said aimlessly, unsure whether he was trying to convince Virgil or himself of Janus’s innocence and benevolence. He looked down to Janus for a rebuttal, a shake of the head, a cry of dispute, anything to show that Virgil was wrong. But the snake said nothing, refusing to even look at him, and instead, he hung his head in shame.

After all, they had been through together, the countless hours spent in each other's company, the sweet and tender moments, the silly and nonsensical moments, he is now to believe that Janus had cursed him to live in misery. Janus, kind and caring, snide and cunning, protective and compassionate, had committed such a heinous act against him. Now he was to understand that the cursed snake, who he had been endeared to, who risked his life to save and heal him, was the sorcerer to make him the being that he was, taking him away from his family and friends and everything he had ever loved and known. But Janus was all that he loved and knew in the new life he had built as a cursed one. A false life created after his real one was ripped away.

Patton hopped down from Virgil’s hand and slowly hopped closer, but kept a sharp distance between them. Janus backed away as though the frog’s mere presence had burned him, widening the rift that had been created.

“You… cursed me?” Patton asked, still clinging to the last shred of hope inside of him that it wasn’t true.

“I’m sorry.” Was all that the snake said.

The world crashed around him in that instant and his heart shattered like glass hitting the floor. His breath was stolen away from his lungs like a relentless punch to the stomach. He choked on the sobs that began to spill out of his throat like vomit, the acid of betrayal stung his mouth. He couldn’t cry, however, no matter how much he wanted to, because of the creature he had been turned into. The creature that Janus had turned him into.

“So it’s true?” Patton croaked, “You did this to me?”

Janus looked up at him with sorrow and regret in his reptilian eyes, but Patton refused to see it, no longer able to trust anything the snake did.

“I didn’t mean to, well I did, but that was before I got to know you. At first, I was just trying to get revenge for my parents, but then-” Janus tried to explain himself, but Patton stopped him and cut him off, not wanting to hear his petty excuse for what he had done.

“But then what? How did me becoming this way solve anything?” Patton shouted in a shrill voice, his eyes locked uptight, his body overcome with tremors.

“It didn't solve anything, I know that now. I just wanted to get back at your father and wasn’t thinking about-”

“So even if you didn’t curse me you would have hurt my father to achieve your own selfish goal? No matter what you had done, I would have suffered and you didn’t even care.” Patton accused him, glaring him down with brokenness and unfettered rage, too consumed with grief to concern himself with his own words. “It’s because of people like you that there’s suffering in this world.” He scoffed bitterly.

Janus physically retracted from him, his mouth hung open and eyes wide in surprise and hurt. Patton realized a moment too late that he had gone too far, but he refused to apologize despite the feeling of guilt that gnawed at him. The snake hung his head and breathed slowly to steady his readily increasing pulse.

“Suffering in this world?” Janus repeated in a small, harsh voice, and raised his furious glare back up to meet Patton’s hesitant but firm gaze. “Don’t you dare speak of the world to me, young lord. You’ve lived in a mansion your entire life, having your every need met with the ring of a bell, you’ve always had a full stomach, a warm bed, and a safe home. You don’t know anything about suffering, Patton. You have no idea what I’ve been through.” He yelled,

Patton stared back at him in shock, and regret. After the weeks they had spent together, Patton had believed that he knew Janus very well. Despite not knowing that much about his past, besides him being a sorcerer and without parents, he had thought he was able to understand him. Yet, that notion had been torn away from him that day because he couldn’t understand him at all. He couldn’t see what had brought him to do such harm on those he barely knew, nor did he believe there was a reason that could justify his actions. 

“You’re right, I really don’t know anything about you, do I?” Patton said sadly, his voice quiet and defeated. The anger on Janus’s face immediately fell away and turned to worry and fear. Patton gave him one last smile, forced, and miserable, and then turned away to leave, “Come on Virgil, let’s go home.”

Virgil, who had been silently watching the argument from the sidelines, stepped in and bent down, offering a hand put for Patton to hop on so he could carry him. Patton stepped into his palm and was led away, leaving Janus alone on the cold ground. The light drizzle that had been falling since morning grew heavier and began to pour down more harshly, washing away the earth as the floodwaters began to rise once more. 

“No, Patton, wait!” Janus called out in desperation, “Take me with you! Only the caster can take away the curse. Let me fix this!” 

The small yellow snake tried to chase after them, but Virgil whipped around and hit him with a paralysis spell, stunning Janus and leaving him flopped over on the ground frozen. Patton flinched when he saw Janus get hit and fought the urge to go to his side. Instead, he simply looked away.

“Stay away from Patton! If you even try to go near him again then I will personally end your life.” Virgil threatened him with a deathly serious glower before turning and striding away.

The cursed frog let himself be taken away from his once dear friend in the palms of his oldest, and most trusted friend. He whimpered silently as Janus’s screams resounded through the trees, echoing and crescendoing on the howl of the wind. The tears that he could not physically shed himself, fell from his eyes as the rain ran down his face, allowing him to weep in sorrow as the pain of losing Janus consumed him as his reality.

“Patton! Please, forgive me!” The wind wailed, “Patton! Don’t leave me, please!”

…

The anger of the heavens had died away since last night and had since turned into grieving as the sky wept over the earth and its creatures, flooding the land with tears to wash away the heaviness that had settled in the atmosphere. The earth could not stand the mourning of its beloved friend and reflected those cries with a lament of its own as the earth shook and creaked, land sliding and trees falling, weighed down too much from the shared anguish.

Virgil rode through the rain and the wind on a skittish horse, none too happy about being forced to travel in the terrible weather. Patton sat on his shoulder, taking shelter underneath the brim of his hood. He lied down wordlessly, his eyes low and empty, barely registering the journey away from the forest and back to his father’s estate. His body was cold and soaked, but he didn’t mind too much and welcomed the feeling of icy skin, shivering. 

The sorcerer made a few attempts at light conversation, but Patton only responded with simple noises or grunts, if he answered at all. Eventually, Virgil got the message that he didn’t want to talk and let him be. Although, Patton could feel his anticipation and curiosity eat away at him; and he could understand why. After all, he had at last escaped from the one who cursed him and was to return back to his father and old life, he should be ecstatic and celebrating. That’s how any normal person would be reacting anyway.

After a strenuous period of travel, both physically and emotionally, the two childhood friends arrived at the familiar iron gates. Virgil muttered to Patton to hide further in his hood, and he complied quickly, frightened for what would happen to him if his father’s guards spotted him. Like the last time he saw them in his current form they had tried to kill him and then catapulted him over the wall.

Virgil strode up to the gate and called to be let in. The two men who had been charged with guarding the entrance that afternoon, got up from their bums on the ground, stumbling drunkenly to Virgil to inspect him.

“Sir Virgil? ‘Ere ‘ave you bin all mornin’?” One of the men asked, lazily scratching his ass with one hand and rubbing his bright red nose with the other, a bottle of brandy tight in his grip and spilling out the top. 

“I was searching for the young lord, as per usual.” Virgil responded his head up high and face scrunched up in distaste for the foolish man.

“When’re ya’ goin’ a give up on that?” The second guard asked, equally if not drunker than the first. “We all know he’s dead.”

“Don’t be witless, the boy is not dead but alive. Sober yourselves up and go to the lord of his house and tell him that he will see his son by sunrise tomorrow.”

The two guards, now frightened by what Virgil had said, quickly moved to open the gates, allowing Virgil to enter, before going ahead to the manor to give the message they had been sent with. Patton, who had been listening to the conversation the entire time, peered out from the hood and up at Virgil and asked, 

“What do you mean by ‘sunrise tomorrow’? I doubt my father will welcome me back the way I am.”

“Be patient, I have a plan for that.” Virgil replied as he guided his horse to the stables. Once there he dismounted and handed the reins to the stableboy to unsaddle and care for the animal.

Turning to the house, Virgil went and entered through the servants doors on the far side of the building. The inside was not that much different temperature-wise compared to the outside, and was even darker than it had been out in the rain. Patton looked out at the surroundings over Virgil’s shoulder and instantly recognized it as his old home. The walls and floors were all the same, all the candlesticks sat in their usual places, however they were not lit. Even the curtains, which were normally drawn to let in the sunlight, were pulled shut, allowing the halls to be consumed in darkness. Indeed this was Patton’s home, but it felt more despondent than usual.

Maneuvering his way through the meandering hallways, Virgil arrived at and entered his study, locking the door behind him so that no one could bother him. Stepping to his desk, he lit a single candle with a vocal spell and sat down at his bench and began gathering different ingredients from the many shelves above and beside him. Patton took this opportunity to hop down from his shoulder and onto his desk, choosing to watch his friend work from his seat on an old book. The study was dark and dusty, filled with many odd smells from old spells. The room was in chaos and disarray, books and pamphlets littering every surface. Patton found this peculiar, as he had always known Virgil to be neat and tidy, but he chose not to ask about it at that time.

“So,” Patton began, “You said you had a plan?”

“Oh, yes, I do.” Virgil agreed, getting up in a hurry across the room to rummage around in his aged, wooden chest. He pulled out a filthy looking velvet bag and looked inside, gave it a whiff, and grinned, rushing back to his bench and setting it to the side. “Since you were banished, I’ve been scouring the library for spells powerful enough to undo the curse. After more than a month of searching, I found one that lets you take on a human appearance in the sunlight. So as long as we hide you at night and keep you away from darkly lit places, we should be fine.”

Patton didn’t voice the wave of disappointment that passed over him when he realized that he wasn’t going back to normal forever. He should have suspected as much though, after all, Janus said only the caster can remove a curse. 

Patton shook his head and shooed away any and all thought of the snake.

The bottom line was that he would be human and with his father and best friend again, and that was enough for him to be happy at least for now.

After nearly an hour of preparation had passed with Virgil scurrying around the room, grabbing various ingredients, measuring them into different containers and mixing them in his caldron, Virgil clapped his hands and spoke a vocal spell, igniting the furnace at the far side of the room. The flame had a curious purple tint to it, which symbolized the caster, as most sorcerers preferred to differentiate their magic with a specific color, and Virgil’s was a deep violet. Speaking another spell, Virgil telepathically lifted the small cauldron and set it on top of the flame. It burned and boiled there for about ten minutes until Virgil spoke the same spell and carried the cauldron out of the fiery furnace. He cast another spell to cancel out the fire as well for good measure.

Patton, still sitting atop a stack of books, watched as Virgil took a small cup and dipped it in the caldron to measure out a small portion of whatever concoction he had cooked. Virgil, analyzing the potion, grinned to himself and reached into his pants’ pocket, pulling out a small vial filled with a few drops of a red liquid that looked strangely enough like blood.

“What’s that?” Patton asked,

“Janus’s blood,” Virgil answered plainly, removing the cork from the lid and pouring it carefully into the cup. “a key component to the spell. It’s a good thing that I only cursed him instead of killing him.”

“You were the one who cursed Janus?” Patton questioned, taken aback.

“Of course, there was no way either your father or I would let him get away with what he did without punishment. After you were cast out, I led a hunt for Janus and found him in the city near the orphanage where we lived as children.” He explained, his face turning sour at the mention of the orphanage.

“You knew him?” Patton said, shocked. He never would have guessed that the two had known each other by the way they interacted back in the forest.

Virgil paused in the middle of stirring the cup, setting it down softly and keeping his eyes trained on his own distorted reflection in the liquid. A peculiar air settled around him, Patton wasn’t sure if it was more akin to hatred or fondness.

“It was a long time ago, before the Sage, Thomas, took me in here. Thomas was going to take Janus in too when he saw that he too had the potential to learn magic, but…”

“But what?” Patton pressed further, literally on the edge of his seat as he leaned in to hear more.

“Janus was too angry and wild after his parents’ death, which left him orphaned. Thomas feared that if he was trained that he would use his power for evil.” Virgil scoffed bitterly at that, “Turns out he was right. He may lack proper training, but Janus’s magic is raw and powerful. I was only barely able to win when we fought.”

The frog, and soon to be human, frowned and sat back on his haunches. He knew that Janus had lost his parents, but he hadn’t realized that he had been so young when it happened. Patton had lost his mother when he was young too, but he had been so young that he had almost no memories of her. However, for Janus, he was old enough that he not only could remember them, but young enough to where they were his entire world. 

Sympathy filled Patton for Janus and his experience and he longed to offer him his condolences and comfort. And then he remembered what Janus had done to him, and how he had planned to take away his father, and that feeling of sympathy dwindled down, but didn’t leave entirely.

“Alright, it’s ready, drink.” Virgil directed him, setting the cup down on the table.

Patton looked at the cup, which had become a dark mahogany and was lightly steaming, and hopped down from the stack of books and made his way to the cup and peaked his head over the edge. It smelt both sweet and sour at the same time, which made him flinch away and gag slightly.

Virgil chuckled lightly and helped Patton up with one hand so that he could reach the cup’s contents. Heaving a deep breath, Patton went back and put his lips to the liquid. Part of him hesitated when he realized he’d be drinking Janus’s blood, but he pushed through and took a large gulp.

Again, he ripped himself away and gagged, but this time from the horrible taste. Just then, a numbing sensation took over his body and he flopped over on Virgil’s palm. The sorcerer took him to the center of the room and rested him on the floor and took a step back.

A stinging pain erupted in his veins and boiled throughout his body, the entirety of his flesh broke out in a near unbearable itch, and his bones began to ache and groan in discomfort. A scream tore its way from his throat as he shook and shuddered on the wooden floor. Not even a minute passed before the pain became unbearable and he blacked out.

When he came to, he was lying down in a mock bed on a floor mat with a thin seat cushion under his head. He opened his eyes slowly and took in his surroundings, noticing that he was still in the study. The light of the rising sun shone directly on him from the window, and bathed him in a warm orange glow.

Instantly, Patton could feel the difference in his skin and body. He didn’t feel cold anymore, his back was stretched and straight, and his arms and legs under the blanket felt longer, thicker, and distinctly human. Patton sat up from the bed and reached up to touch his face, and he let out a sob when the soft touch of his cheeks, nose, and forehead was all there.

Virgil, who sat at his side, offered him a kind “welcome back,” as he handed him a mirror. Patton took it from his hands with a “thank you,” and glanced at his reflection, and indeed his old face is what greeted him. Patton sobbed again in joy, relieved and overjoyed that he had at last become human once again.

“I’m human again… I’m…” Then a terrifying realization hit him. “I can’t cry.”

Patton looked at his reflection and realized that no tears had fallen despite his cries, in fact his eyes hadn’t even glossed over. They remained dry and cool, showing no emotional reaction. Patton lifted his hand slowly to his face again and felt around his eyes, but felt a discernible change in them, they weren’t swollen or puffy and held no wetness.

“I can’t cry,” Patton repeated, his voice quiet and empty.

He wasn’t human, after all he had gone through, what he did and who he left behind, he still wasn’t free from the curse. He almost wanted to laugh at the cruel irony.

“I’m sorry Patton, the curse was too powerful, even for me. I could only give you a human appearance.” Virgil apologized, pulling him into a loose hug.

“No, it’s okay.” Patton said, shaking Virgil off and standing up, “Let’s go see my father.”

Virgil followed at his side as Patton walked down the familiar halls and up the stairs to his father’s personal study, where he often spent most of his time. For much of his childhood, his father would work away the day in his study, leaving him to eat alone at the table and play by himself. This meant that if he wanted to be reunited with his father as soon as possible, he would most likely find him in his office.

Once he reached the door, he gave a tentative knock on the door, knowing that his father had a distaste for being interrupted.

“Leave me! I don’t wish to see anyone right now.” His father’s gruff voice called through the other side of the door. 

“Father? It’s me, Patton.” He called back shyly,

A crash and the sound of shattering glass could be heard from inside the room but the door was ripped open swiftly before Patton could worry for his father. A short, wrinkled old man stood before him still wrapped in his nightgown and robes. His eyes were sunken and bloodshot from lack of sleep and his face was grimy and unshaven. Patton briefly wondered who the man before him was, as he had always known his father to be prim and proper, until it dawned on him that in his absence, his father had become a hollow of his former self, shriveled and faded by grief.

However, despite his dismal appearance, in that instant, his father lit up like a bright Christmas candle as he teared up and cried in disbelief and joy. He reached out warily and gently laid his hands on his face, as though Patton would turn to dust before his very eyes and disappear from his life again. However, once he was sure that it was his son standing before him and not an apparition, he pulled him into a bone-crushing hug.

“Patton, my son, you’re finally back!” He wept gladly,

“I’m home,” Patton said weakly, feeling the wetness of his father’s tears soak into his shirt, but nothing from himself.

“Why did you leave me?” His father asked, more to himself than as a legitimate question towards his son.

Because you cast me out. Patton thought but did not say.

...

A week had passed since he had come back to his father’s house, and since then he had not been allowed off the premises. Most days he was confined to his room, with the occasional excursions to the dining room or bathroom, but he was always accompanied by at least two guards from the moment he stepped out of his room. 

The first day his father had thrown a banquet in celebration for his arrival back at the estate and had sent out speedy word to all of his close business partners and people of note from the town to join in the festivities. However, the party had been stiff and awkward, as Patton didn’t know any of the guests well and most of them only spoke to him in congratulations for his return and their interest in their future as partners once Patton took over his family’s wealth and tenant farms.

Since then he saw his father every day at all of his meals, but only then. His father would always speak about the prospect of spending a day together in town, but whenever Patton would ask about it, his father would always say he would have to postpone it for later, as he was far too busy with work. When they finally did go to town, it had been a short, awkward outing, surrounded by four guardsmen, neither of them knowing what to talk about. They went out to lunch and bought Patton a brand new, tailored suit and spoke about his father’s business as the old man showed him around his town office where his employees managed his tenant's harvest quotas and debtors interest and balances. 

Patton only half-listened to the lectures as they walked through the little port town’s streets. Instead, he looked around at the buildings and people, searching for something, but he wasn’t sure what until he spotted it. At the end of once long street was a little half-decayed brick building--the town’s orphanage. Three young boys played jacks together in front of the steps to the building, and, despite his current feelings, Patton couldn’t help but imagine what Janus would have looked like as a young boy playing outside the orphanage, possibly with Virgil.

Once the sun sunk past noon, his father decided it was time to head back to the manor and the two of them loaded into the carriage, while the four guards and the coachman sat on the front and back seats. During the ride, his father continued to talk about his company and his future plans to start Patton as an intern next spring so that he can gain experience before he took over, as his father was planning to retire within the next few years as his old age began to weigh down on him. Again, Patton mostly tuned him out and simply watched the scenery pass by as they left the city and began to enter the countryside.

After a while, they entered the forest that surrounded their house, and Patton immediately perked up. He couldn’t help but scan the trees and bushes for Janus, hoping to at least catch a glance of the snake. He hated to admit it, but ever since he left, Patton often found himself wondering about him and whether he was okay. He had left him while he was weak and tired, and he feared he may have gotten sick in the storm. But then the remainder of what Janus had done to him would always come to his mind soon enough and he would cut his worries short. 

It didn’t take long for Patton to realize that it wasn’t only his inability to cry that had presented itself. Patton still slept at odd hours and could hold his breath underwater for over an hour, which he had tried while he was bathing, and his palette still held the desire for insects, which meant he often had to force his food down unwillingly. Thankfully, those traits were easy to disguise as a human in the few hours he interacted with his father and the staff and no one was none the wiser to his true condition. Except of course Virgil, who had been the one to continuously help Patton navigate the changes to his body.

Every night after the sun had set, Virgil would come to his chambers with different potions and spells, researching and testing ways to undo the lasting effects of the curse--and also to feed Patton insects so he wouldn’t starve from going a day of stomaching very little food. If it had been anyone else, the staff probably would have become suspicious of the constant nightly visits in his personal chambers. However, since it was Virgil, who had been raised alongside Patton and treated like a brother to him, no one batted an eye.

A week had gone by with no progress, but Virgil still came by that night after his outing with a brand new potion for him to try. Unsurprisingly, it bore no fruit when Patton drank it and there had been no physical change to his body. Virgil frowned and groaned when yet another attempt failed to work and opened up his spellbook on transfiguration to look for another solution.

Patton sat in the middle of his bed, munching on a few of the crickets Virgil had caught in the garden. He watched Virgil hover a foot off of the ground as he flipped through his book, which was suspended in the air by a purple glow. It was a little odd to see Virgil use his magic so easily and without much thought. Despite growing up with him and being more than well aware of his affinity for the magical arts, Patton couldn’t help but compare it to Janus’s style of magic, which had always appeared more strenuous and focused. Perhaps it was because of his cursed form hindering his powers, or maybe it was the fact that he was self-taught, but Janus always had to take his time and use all his strength to spell cast. While Virgil on the other hand, cast spell after spell as easily as he breathed air through his lungs.

Then again, the more Patton thought about it the more he realized that Janus had rarely spell cast at all in the time he was with him. He often preferred to use his own physical strength over his magic. The only times Patton ever saw Janus use magic was when he was using it for him, such as well he put on that light show or when he healed him after he was attacked by a rat snake. He never used his magic for himself, he was never selfish or cruel with his power, only thoughtful.

An ineffable emotion settled in Patton at the thought of Janus acting selfless, because that image had been tainted by his selfishness. Even so, Patton couldn’t help the fondness in his heart as he reminisced on the memories he shared with the cursed snake. But the bitterness still lingered in the back of his mind like a dark shadow.

His heart and mind were in conflict with each other and confused about what image he should remember Janus by. As the caring friend who shared in his suffering in their cursed world. Or as the liar and manipulator who had cursed him with ill intent towards his father. Patton couldn’t settle on one and be left to wonder how Janus had become the way he was; what had brought such a kind-hearted man to be filled with such hate. 

He remembered that Virgil had mentioned that Janus was angry and unhinged as a child after he was sent to the orphanage, which meant that whatever had caused him to become the way he was had to do with the reason why he was sent there in the first place: his parents. The only time Janus had ever mentioned his parents it had been with sorrow and longing, accompanied by the mention of their deaths. Now, Patton was no detective, but it didn’t take a genius to connect the dots between Janus’s wrath and the loss of his parents. However, while that explanation certainly filled in pieces of the picture, much of the canvas was still left unpainted. 

“Hey, Virgil?” Patton asked suddenly,

“Yeah, Pat?” Virgil responded without looking away from his spellbook.

“You said you knew Janus when you were in the orphanage. Do you know why he was there?” He asked hesitantly, unsure if Virgil would even answer him. It was more than a little obvious that Virgil had a distaste for the snake, but he was the only one Patton could talk to and possibly answer his questions.

Virgil, startled by the question, immediately snapped him away from the book and over at Patton, his face riddled with shock, dubiety, and bewilderment. The book ceased its magical glow and fell to the floor in a defiant crash as Virgil lost his concentration, ending his own hovering as well and standing to his feet. After a taut, wordless moment passed between them, Virgil sighed and walked over to sit at the edge of the bed. Once he was seated, Patton inched cautiously to rest at his side.

The sorcerer’s face was tight and twisted in discomfort, as though the answer to Patton’s question was not a pleasant topic to speak of and weighed heavily on him. Patton waited patiently next to him until Virgil was okay to reply if he wanted to at all.

“I don’t know the details, but I overheard our house mother speaking with the baker while he was making his delivery the week he arrived. According to her, his parents had been jailed and executed.”

“What, executed?” Patton gasped, taken off guard, “Do you know what for?”

Virgil shook his head slowly. 

“No, Janus never said anything about it either. Although, he did once say that he lived on a debtor’s farm.”

Patton looked up at Virgil in fear and disbelief, and then looked off at nothing as he took in what he had just been told. To lose his parents at such a young age is one thing, but for them to have been executed was something else entirely. Of course, the death of his parents, no matter the cause, would surely be a source of resentment and anguish; but their execution gave Janus a direction to point all of those negative feelings. That revelation made Patton fear whatever reason had brought Janus to point them at his father.

Virgil, noticing Patton’s troubled expression, turned the conversation back towards him, steering away from Janus’s parents’ cause of death.

“Why do you care? He’s the one who cursed you, remember?” Virgil told him,

“I know.” Patton mumbled, turning his head down at the bed, “I just want to know why he did.”

...

Since Patton was no longer allowed to leave the residence without his father’s permission, and Virgil often spent most of his time in search of a cure for his condition, Patton was left with little to do to entertain himself. In order to alleviate his boredom, he would take light strolls through the manor’s gardens daily and tend to the flowers. Of course, the family already had a hired gardener, but the old man never minded the little extra help. His assigned guards would sit under a nearby tree and monitor him, but otherwise never spoke to or bothered him. The old man, on the other hand, Patton soon learned loved to tell stories from his youth. Patton enjoyed the company and would ask him questions to keep him talking.

Yet, there was only so much work that could be done in a day, and Patton would always be left with nothing to busy his hands and mind with to keep his thoughts at bay. After some odd hours passed, the old man would call it a day and head back inside to rest, leaving Patton alone without direction for what to do next.

His family’s property was quite expansive, so not only was there a beautiful garden, but also a shallow pond. Patton would regularly use the pond to swim in as a small child, but he had long since grown too large for the water, so he would simply rest at its edge, dipping his feet in and kicking the water around. By himself, not including the guards' several paces away, he would hum and sing to himself an old tune his mother would sing to him. He didn’t remember her too well, and in fact, this song was the only memory he had left of his mother.

“Upon a hill, under the sky, sat a bakers mill, alone without a wife. Lonely little man, on his own without his true, a flower in his hand, and his knees in the morning dew.” 

Patton’s voice shook and cracked as he held the last note, his throat clenched and closed in the middle of a breath, causing him to lightly choke. He inhaled and exhaled deep breaths to steady and calm himself, but his emotions raged and stirred inside him like a typhoon, scratching at him to be let out.

In an outburst, Patton ripped at the grass beside him and threw it with a scream. Next, he tore the glasses from his face and reached his hands into the pond and splashed the water over his eyes, allowing the tears that could not fall to fall.

It had been ten days since he had learned that Janus had been lying to him, ten days since he had left Janus alone in the forest, and ten days that he’d been longing to see him again. Patton was still so angry and hurt that Janus had cursed him, but more so that he had acted as though wasn’t the one who did it and played innocent. He was resentful that he had to, and still has to, live a cursed life as a frog because of something he had no part in, and that if it hadn’t been him, it would have been his father, who he loved.

And yet, at the same time, Patton felt empathetic towards Janus’s plight. Although he couldn’t comprehend it entirely, he did understand the grief of the loss of a parent to some degree. Patton would give almost anything to have his mother back, and if the disease that took her was a person, he surely would hold hatred towards them.

Besides that, Patton purely just missed the snake. He longed to hear his sarcastic comments and sardonic humor once again. He wanted to be able to rattle on and on and be comforted by his inviting presence. He loved the way Janus would always respond to his puns with an even cornier pun and missed the way they would constantly try to outdo the other, only to be left a giggling mess by the end of it.

He was stuck, unsure of what he should do and how he should feel. He tried to ignore his emotions in hopes that he could simply forget him, but Janus was like a stick of gum trapped in his hair and refused to leave his mind no matter what he did. Worst of all,  the part of him he remembered the most, was the way he had been begging when he left. It was clear he was repentant and wanted to right his wrong and help Patton become human again, but he had been too consumed by his anger to listen.

Patton still held the belief that no act of revenge was ever completely justified. An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind. Even so, he had never even bothered to try and learn Janus’s side of the story and made a judgment based on his own personal experience. That’s why he knew what he had to do, he had to learn the truth of what happened between Janus’s parents and his father, from both sides.

Paying no attention to his guards, Patton placed his shoes back on his feet and stood from the grass and marched back to the house, entering from the back door next to the stables. The halls were dark and dimly lit by odd patches of sunlight from the barely parted curtains. Patton strode through in a flurry, yanking the drapery open as he went and flooding the area with light. The servants and maids watched him go by scrupulously as they worked, muttering amongst themselves in hushed whispers.

He rushed to his father’s office, practically sprinting his way up the stairs, and pounded his fist against the wood once he reached the door. He was sure that he looked like he had gone mad to the staff, but at that moment he was too single-minded to care.

“Who is it?” His father called gruffly from inside, sounding a bit annoyed and offended by the abrupt, loud knocking.

“It’s your son,” Patton responded, pushing his way in through the door, not bothering to wait for his father’s approval to be allowed in. “I need to speak with you.”

“I’m preoccupied at the moment, son. Perhaps later?” His father said without looking up from the letter he was busy writing.

“It can’t wait.” Patton said firmly, standing his ground and refusing to budge or leave.

His father paused in his scribing and looked up at Patton with a raised eyebrow. Patton had always been quiet and submissive, never asserting himself to or refusing his father in anything he did. This time was different though, he stood up taller and more confident, putting his foot down in this matter. His father looked at him, almost impressed and welcoming to his new manner.

“Very well,” He conceded, setting his quill down, “What troubles you?”

Patton faltered slightly at that, unsure what to say now that he finally reached the moment of truth, but he steeled himself, took a breath, and pushed forward, ready to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth.

“Father, did you ever know a man named Janus?” Patton asked bluntly,

“Humph, he’s the wicked sorcerer who cursed you isn’t he?” His father harrumphed, crossing his arms over his chest and leaned back in his armchair.

“Well, yes, he is, but do you happen to know him personally, or his parents?” He pushed further, walking closer to his father’s grand, dark oak desk. 

His father scowled at that and turned his head over to the side, scrunching his eyebrows in what seemed akin to remorse, or perhaps detestation. Whatever the emotion the mention of Janus’s parents brought up in him, it was clear that they were not a pleasant memory for him.

“I never knew the boy myself, but his parents were debtors of mine that owed me more than their weight in gold combined. They were minor nobility, barely even scraping the bottom of the barrel, and in financial ruin. Frederick came to me for a loan, but never paid a cent back and eventually lost all I gave him. They worked one of my plots for a few years, but they were unskilled laborers and struggled to bring in any grain to pay back what they owed. After a while, they had tried to make a run for it, and I had them thrown in a debtors prison and they were eventually executed. I took pity on the boy, however, and had him sent to the orphanage; a mistake I now regret.” His father explained, his voice and expression shadowed with tainted memories of the past.

Patton’s body tensed up and his jaw clenched as his breath caught in his throat and he had to force it down. Deep inside, he had already known the truth but could not bear to accept until now. After all, Patton loved his father and didn’t want that image of him to be blighted.

“You… killed his parents?” Patton murmured, 

“Not me, son, the authorities did. I simply turned them over once they were caught.” He corrected,

“But, you could have shown mercy, couldn’t you? You could have lowered their interest rate or forgave them of their debt!” Patton tried to argue, trying to find a solution or a loophole for a consequence that had already taken place and could not be altered.

“If I forgave every debtor of their account then I would drive myself into financial ruin. It was their actions that brought them to poverty, and their decision to run that led to their demise.” His father expounded in his own defense. Yet, he didn’t try to justify what had happened, only explain the extent of his role. “I admit that I could have gone about it in another way, but what’s done is done. I cannot bring those two back from the dead.” His father sighed and leaned his elbows on his desk, resting his face in his palms, suddenly looking much older and tired. “Learn from my mistakes, son, so that when you become the landlord you will be wise as to where to lend a hand and were to draw a line.”

Patton wanted to retort and argue, but at that point it would only be for the argument's sake and would not serve to bear good fruit. His father was right, what happened in the past could not be changed, choices were made and lives were unfortunately lost, and a boy was left orphaned and alone. No amount of apologies or plans for revenge would ever undo what had been done.

Janus had once told him that balance rested in karma, a life for a life, but Patton didn’t believe in such a thing. If nature dictates that the child shall pay for the sins of the father, then he will reshape the natural order and refuse to take revenge so that the next generation can be spared. He could never speak for Janus, nor could he ever understand what it felt like to lose his only family in such a horrendous way, but the cycle of hate had to be broken, and he will end it with him by choosing to forgive and go back to Janus.

Despite his previous reservations, Patton could deny himself no longer, he had to see Janus. He needed to apologize to him, for everything he had done and what his father did.

So, that evening, as the sun began to kiss the horizon, Patton retreated to his chambers and began to pack his bad in secret. He hoped to sneak out before the light of the sun disappeared and left him to return to his amphibian state. Slipping past the guards wasn’t going to be easy, but he used to do it all the time when he was little. Of course, he had the help of Virgil and his magic, but he was sure he could pull it off on his own.

“Going somewhere?” Virgil asked behind him. 

Patton jolted up and spun around, hand on his chest as his heart threatened to burst from his chest. Virgil, who had been hovering upside-down behind him, laughed and spun around in the air to face right-side-up and settled himself back on the ground.

“What’s all this about?” He inquired, gesturing to the half-packed sack on Patton’s bed.

If not for the side effects of the curse and spell, Patton would have been bright red, but instead he simply smiled sheepishly and turned back to his back around to grab an extra change of clothes and place it in his bag.

“I’m going back to the forest to see Janus.” He stated.

“Why would you do that? Did you forget what he did to you already?” Virgil questioned him, losing the previous light-hearted and mischievous disposition.

“My father is responsible for the death of Janus’s parents.” Patton told him, walking over to his bedside table and reaching into his drawer to pull out a small sack of gold coins. “That’s why he cursed me, to take away the only family my father had, just as he had done to him.”

“And? You're gonna forgive what he did just like that? What your dad did was shit, but that doesn’t change the fact that what Janus did was fucked up too.”

“I know that, and I’m still mad at him!” Patton retorted, raising his voice, “But, now I understand his reasons. It still doesn’t justify it, but it does explain it.” He said, his eyes then softened and his voice went quiet again, “He was just suffering.”

Malicious acts of revenge brought on by suffering only breeds more suffering. The only cure to pain is to move forward and live life well. When his time came to take up his father’s mantle he will be responsible for hired workers and debtors, and it will be his responsibility to be gracious and compassionate towards those under him. He will not be the kind of man his father was, he will show mercy and protect those he’s been charged with. But he will also show restraint and solidity, so that he will not be viewed as weak and taken advantage of.

Patton was willing to forgive Janus and give him a second chance because he showed remorse for his actions and a will to change his ways. Had he not, Patton wasn’t sure he would have allowed himself to go back, no matter how much he wanted to.

“You fell in love with him, didn’t you?” Virgil grinned, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“W-what? Why would you ask that?” Patton spluttered in embarrassment, staring back at Virgil with wide eyes while his friend laughed.

“Come on Pat, it’s kinda obvious.” He said, wiping away a tear from his eye.  Patton kept his mouth shut and crossed his arms away, not wanting to give anything away despite being an open book. Virgil shrugged and reached past him to grab his packed bag and threw it over his shoulder and walked over to the open window, where he had most likely come in from in the first place. “Are you coming?”

“You’re not going to stop me?” Patton question, having expected a bit more resistance from his childhood friend.

“Would you listen if I tried?” Virgil countered, 

Patton chucked and grinned, already knowing the answer and glad to have Virgil’s, perhaps begrudging, support. He went to the window and grabbed Virgil’s outstretched hand, and with one word from the sorcerer, they were out the window and flying away towards the forest. The sunlight shone its last bit of rays over the horizon before disappearing, and by the time they landed back to earth, Patton had once again reverted back into a frog.

…

The twilight forest glittered and glistened as fireflies danced through the trees like flickering candles. The sky above their heads became stained with black ink as the crescent moon began to rise into the sky. Hues of purple and pink remained far off on the edge of the earth, fading away as the night grew long. The crickets chirped and strung their instruments in an orchestra, filling the quiet void with music as the singing birds slept. A new melody then rose up to accompany their strings, a pounding drum of footsteps running across the forest floor, with the occasional clang of a symbol from crunching leaves and snapping sticks.

Virgil sped down the dirt paths to the lake with Patton tucked safely in his hood, peering over his shoulder and directing him where to go since his frog-state granted him night vision. They had flown most of the way there, but they had to land in the open meadow before they reached the den since landing in the trees was too risky to do in the dark. Luckily, Patton recognized their whereabouts and was able to guide them to where they needed to go.

Soon enough, they had arrived at the threshold of the den at the base of an old cedar tree. Virgil slowed down to a stop and lifted his hand to Patton for him to step into and sat him down on the ground.

“I’ll be right here. You go do your thing.” Virgil told him with a tilt of the head, crouching to settle down comfortably in the grass.

Patton nodded and turned to the den entrance and suddenly felt extremely nervous. It had only been a little less than two weeks since he last saw Janus, but it felt like much longer. He didn’t know what to do or say or how Janus would react to seeing him again. It could be that Janus wouldn’t want to see him and cast him away, or perhaps he would be overjoyed and welcome him back readily. Well, no matter what reaction he was met with, Patton decided that he would go and was not about to back down from that decision.

Patton took his first step, and then his second, and continued on until he was on his way down the tunnel into the den. The air was stiff inside and slightly dank, it seems colder than usual as well despite the night air being warm above.

“Janus?” Patton called out cautiously, peering around the den, “Are you here?”

“Patton?” A hoarse and sleepy voice answered.

Patton turned his head to where the voice had come from. At the far side of the den, among the pile of twigs and leaves, Janus stuck his head out and stared at him in disbelief. 

“Janus!” Patton squealed in excitement, hopping over to him swiftly like lightning and pulled him into a tight hug. Janus lurched in surprise from the sudden act of intimacy, and yet he did not pull away. “I am so sorry Janus, I should have let you explain yourself, I should have listened, I was just angry and-” Patton said in rapid-fire succession all in one breath, not pausing to breathe or rest. Janus quickly interrupted him, though and quickly put an end to his long-winded apology.

“Stop, Patton, stop, please don’t apologize to me. I’m the one who should be begging for your forgiveness.” He told him, his voice quiet but earnest, “Why did you come back?”

“Because I’ve missed you, and I know what happened, to your parents I mean.” Patton explained sympathetically.

“Oh,” Janus said, becoming uncomfortable and didn’t say anything more, clearly not waiting to visit or talk on the subject.

Patton didn’t really know what to say either, but still tried to offer his condolences, even if they meant very little to alleviate his pain.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” Janus didn’t openly respond to his solace and let the topic fall, and instead turned the conversation back around and at Patton.

“You’re not angry anymore?” He asked,

“No, I am,” Patton said bluntly, smiling softly, “But that doesn’t change the fact that I still love you.”

Patton could see Janus physically and mentally halt at his words, as though he was still processing what he heard.

“You love me?” He echoed slowly,

“Yeah, I-” Janus then out of nowhere, shocked him by nipping at his leg. Not enough to make him bleed, but enough for it to sting. “Ouch! What was that for?”

“Are you sure you’re not dreaming? You realize who you’re talking to right?” Janus asked for confirmation, still looking unsure and doubtful.

“Yes I do, but now you’re starting to make me rethink-” Again, Janus surprised him, but this time with a, albeit awkward, embrace as the snake did his bed to hug him as a creature with no limbs.

“I love you too.” He whispered back,

Patton gasped a little at the confession, half of him expecting to be rejected, and his heart filled with joy and exuberance. He suddenly felt like he was floating high above in the sky, dancing across the surface of the moon.

“I’m so sorry.” Janus whimpered,

“I know, I am too.” Patton shushed him, petting his scales soothingly.

“I’ve wanted to undo the curse for a long time, but my magic is too weak in this form.”

“I may have a solution to that,” Patton said, pulling with a smile.

He gestured for Janus to follow after him and led the snake out of the den and outside to where Virgil remained seated in the dew-soaked grass. Janus immediately tensed up upon spotting him and hissed, backing away defensively.

“Sup, Janus.” Virgil greeted nonchalantly,

“What are you doing here?” Janus questioned impudently,

“I’m here for Patton, not for you; and let me just say one thing.” Virgil rose to his feet menacingly, “If you hurt him in any way again, then next time I’ll turn you into a flea and squash you myself.”

“Please don’t do that.” Patton chimed in, sighing, “Can you undo his curse?”

Virgil narrowed his eyes at Janus, and Janus narrowed his eyes right back. The two appeared to be having a silent game of wills. It could also be that they were using a spell to speak to each other telepathically as sorcerers because after a few moments passed, the two seemed satisfied as if they had come to a mutual agreement.

“Fine, just hold still, snake,” Virgil commanded, holding his hand out at Janus as both it and his eyes began to glow. Words of an unknown language began to spill from his mouth, and at the same time, Janus began to glow with a purple gleam.

Gradually, Janus’s shape began to alter and change, and as this happened, his power and magic began to be restored to its former strength. So, without waiting to finish his transformation, Janus turned to Patton, stuck halfway between a snake and a human, and started to lift the curse on him as well. A radiant gold surrounded Patton as he began to shift back into his human form. However, unlike all the times before when he had turned once he was touched by daylight, it wasn’t excruciating or painful. Instead, it was soft and comforting and filled him with new life and energy.

After a minute or two, the light around them began to fade, leaving the two cursed ones to be cursed no more and fully human once again. Patton looked down at his hands and feet and saw that they were his own, however, it wasn’t until tears of joy began to prickle at his eyes that he realized that he was indeed back to himself for good. 

“I can cry again.” He sniffled, wiping the tears away from his eyes and staring down at the water in his palms with jubilee.

“And I can finally do this,” Janus said before grabbing Patton by the bicep and pulling him into a kiss.

It was short and not very deep, but it was sweet and passionate, and more than enough to make Patton flush a bright red. The moment passed quickly, however, as Virgil soon stepped between them and pushed them apart.

“Dress first, kiss later, you damn snake.” He said, throwing a set of clothes in his face and handing another pair and glasses to Patton.

It wasn’t until he said that that Patton looked down at himself and realized that he was, in fact, nude. He squeaked and rushed to cover himself, blushing even more furiously and not daring to lift an eye towards Janus.

“You just had to ruin my fun, I actually prefer to do it undressed-”

“Thank you for the clothes, Virgil, but do you mind giving us some privacy so we can talk?” Patton hastily interrupted, stopping Janus before he could say anything too risque.

Virgil looked hesitant to comply, obviously against leaving his friend to be left alone naked with the other man, but eventually gave in to the puppy eyes that Patton gave him.

“Fine, but I’ll be watching,” Virgil said and floated directly upward into the trees to sit on a branch high above their heads, out of earshot, peering down at them like an owl.

Patton watched him as he went, and once he saw that his friend had settled down he looked back to Janus, who was staring at him intently. 

“Um, Janus, you mind turning around?” Patton asked shyly, fidgeting awkwardly on the balls of his feet.

“If you insist, although you are rather beautiful to look at.” Janus complimented with one last look before turning himself around and getting dressed in the spare clothes Patton had brought along in his bag. Patton twirled around as well, keeping his eyes up and not daring to look anywhere south.

The two remained quiet for a moment as they clothed themselves in the dark. Patton missed his ability to see in the dark as a frog for just a moment, as he ended up putting his shirt on backward twice before he was able to get it right. Once they were decent, the two spun back around and looked at each other, both at a loss for words. 

The forest was poorly lit in the night, the crescent moon unable to provide as much light as when it was full. Due to that, despite Janus standing right before him, he could only see his silhouette and couldn’t determine any distinct features. What he did notice, though, was that he was slightly taller than Janus by about an inch or two. 

Janus must have had a similar train of thought because he silently cast a spell to illuminate the area around them, the same light spell he had used in the meadow as a present. All at once, Patton was able to see Janus for the first time as a man and not as a snake. He had sharp, pointed features and medium length, wavy brown hair. Although, what stood out to him the most was his beautiful heterochromatic eyes, with his brown right eye and golden-hazel left. His beauty took his breath away and he was left to stare at him in wonder.

Tenderly, Janus reached out a hand to cup Patton’s cheek and run his thumb across his cheek, wiping away the tears that had begun to fall. Patton sighed and leaned into the touch, placing his hand over the others. They remained like that for a few moments longer, neither wanting to let the feeling of each other pass. However, something left unsaid still remained between them that needed to be voiced.

“So, what now?” Patton murmured,

“I don’t know.” Janus stated, frowning and lowering his hand, “Despite my love for you, I don’t believe I’ll ever be able to forgive your father.”

“I thought so.” Patton said with a sad smile, “But maybe you don’t have to.”

“What do you mean?” The other asked,

“Perhaps we can go away together, travel around until my time comes to be the landlord. I can live among the commoners, so that I may better understand them and their lives. That way I can be a kinder master to the tenants.” He suggested,

Patton still loved his father, and although he was angry with him for what happened in the past, he wasn’t sure he’d ever truly been able to hate him. But that’s because of their familial bond and he can’t, and shouldn’t, expect the same from Janus. He would miss him, but he needed to get away so that he could think and grow on his own. His father has been overly protective and stifling since his mother’s death; he was already twenty-three years old and had never set foot out past the port town. It was a time that he left the nest, even if he didn’t have his father’s permission. As long as he had Janus by his side he knew he'd be okay.

“How would your father feel about your sudden departure?” Janus asked him,

“I will write to him when I can so he will know that I am well.” Patton responded, “So, what do you think?”

Janus brought his fist up to his chin and lightly tapped his skin with a finger, humming in mock thought.

“It sounds like the perfect revenge.” He grinned.

.

.

Taglist: @enragedbees @canvas-the-florist @self-taught-mess

#sanders sides #ts fic #my fic #moceit #patton sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #lilypadton #snake janus #thomas sanders #the snake and the frog #hurt/comfort #angst #angst with happy ending

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

@thecorteztwins

In honor of Fabian’s abrupt and hilarious death, here’s a piece about him being so obnoxious that he gets kicked out of Hell.  Warnings for some descriptions of  torture (not in great detail, but kind of comically gruesome) and a vague reference to rape (NOT committed by Fabian, or any character we know). 

           Fabian Cortez – Spanish royalty, key member of the Upstarts, leader of the Acolytes, right hand of Lord Magneto himself and the chosen heir to carry on his legacy – was certain that there must have been a mistake.  Because his abrupt demise at the laser blast of a Sentinel had deposited him in what he was fairly certain must be Hell.  The screams of agony echoing out of the suffocating darkness certainly seemed to suggest that.

           Obviously, Fabian Cortez did not belong in Hell.  Obviously a mistake had been made.  Except that it was the fourth time this particular mistake had been made, and Fabian was starting to think that some celestial file clerk had it in for him.  Probably just jealous of how truly noble, pious and brave he was, outshining even the angels themselves.

           “Really, this is unacceptable,” Fabian grumbled, crossing his arms in the sweltering heat.  He stood at the end of a line that wrapped back and forth across an enormous cavern, the mass of people stretching out as far as the eye could see (not very far, in the smoke and dim light).  This was new, the last time he had fallen directly into a lake of fire, which had really done a number on his outfit.  And there had been piranhas, somehow.  

           “Of course it’s unacceptable, it’s Hell,” shrugged the woman just ahead of him, well-groomed and dressed in an expensive suit.  “What did you expect?”

           “I don’t deserve to be here!”

           “Sure you don’t,” the woman scoffed.  “No one does, right?”

           “I’m a hero for mutant rights!  My entire life, everything I’ve done has been for the cause!  I’ve never been anything but noble and selfless,” Fabian protested.

           “Oh, me too!”  said a young man who had just appeared behind him, apparently college-aged and oozing “frat bro” out of his pores.  “I’m totally a good person, man.  That accident wasn’t even my fault.  I barely had anything to drink, and what was that minivan doing out at like, 2 AM, anyway? It was just, like, bad timing.”  

           “No, no, you don’t understand,” Fabian said.  “I’m actually a good person, and there has been a terrible mistake!”

           “No, there hasn’t,” said the businesswoman.  She was attractive, despite appearing to be over forty (Fabian had some appreciation for beauties who aged with grace and dignity), with short dark hair and fine features.  “You belong here, just like me.  We chose this life, at least you could be honest enough to own it.”

           “You clearly don’t recognize me, woman.  I’m Fabian Cortez.”  He waited a moment for her memory to kick in, then frowned as the woman just raised an eyebrow at him.

           “The leader of the Acolytes?”

           “Oh, a terrorist, then.  That explains it.”  Clearly the poor woman was just overwhelmed by Fabian’s masculinity, and had become confused.

           “No, a freedom fighter for mutantkind.”

          “One person’s freedom fighter is another person’s terrorist,” the woman countered, giving Fabian a cold stare.  “I’ve read about some of the things the Acolytes did over the years. You’ve murdered people.  Justify that however you want, you’re still in Hell.”

           “You’re obviously too small-minded to understand,” Fabian bristled, deciding that the woman was not terribly attractive after all.  “I don’t belong here, and once the people in charge hear my case, they’ll agree.”  Fabian ducked under one of the metal railings, ignoring the angry shouts as he pushed people out of the way.

           “Hey, put in a good word for me, too, man,” the bro called after him.  “It wasn’t drunk driving, I was just buzzed. I’ve got a high tolerance.  And that thing with Kaitlynn last month was just a misunderstanding, she was totally into me before she passed out. It’s not my fault she changed her mind the next morning.  Mixed signals, right?….”  The young man’s voice faded out as Fabian continued to elbow his way through the crowd, disappearing into the smoke.

           As Fabian fought through the line for hours (or was it days?) the demeanor of the queue gradually changed.  At first the masses reacted angrily when he shoved past them – shouting invectives in various languages, reaching out to hit or claw at him – but their reactions slowly began to dull.  The people that now pressed in against him on all sides began to resemble penned cattle – glassy-eyed and stupid, without a hint of spirit or personality.  They would simply stumble forward or backward when he forced his way past them.

           How long was this line, anyway?  The back of the line had vanished from sight hours ago, and the front seemed no closer. He was lost in a sea of stupid, inferior humanity, holding him back, just as it had always been in his life. Perhaps there was no end to it? Perhaps the line itself was the torture? No doubt Fabian was the first soul in all human history with the insight to discover this trick – because, of course, he wasn’t really supposed to be there.  And he wasn’t going to let it continue.  

Fabian shifted direction, and pushed his way over towards one of the far cavern walls. It was, Fabian discovered, climbable, if one ignored the slime and stinging gnats, and the faces that formed in the stone and whispered surprisingly personal taunts to him.  The faces also bit, but he jammed his fingers into their eyes as he clambered up and over them.  Fabian endured the climb stoically (he definitely did not yelp and swear as the gnats tried to burrow under his clothing), and was rewarded to discover that the cavern wall did not quite meet the ceiling at the very top – there was a crack that he could squeeze through.  

           For a moment, Fabian shut his eyes against the glare that flooded the next room. In the next moment, emerging from the crack, he found himself tumbling down the rocky slope.  This side of the wall appeared to be on fire.  And there were cacti.  At least Hell provided him with some variety.  Landing in a heap at the bottom, he reflected that the screams had gotten louder.  

           “Shut up! I’ll be with you in a minute,” came a voice.  Fabian’s mouth snapped shut, cutting off the noise that he hadn’t been aware he was making.  He blinked away tears, brought on by the smoke and glare of the fiery cavern he had tumbled into.  (Not brought on by pain or fear, obviously.)  Somewhere under the wailing of the damned, there was an insipid pop song playing.  Fabian was certain he had heard it before, he’d know it for certain when the song hit the chorus, but the music seemed to constantly loop around, never quite hitting the most familiar part.  

He slowly climbed to his feet, taking in the sights.  A long assembly line stretched out before him, with demons manning various points.  People were being pushed onto a conveyor belt that carried them through various stations in which they were rolled in broken glass, rolled again in salt, then misted with what smelled like lemon juice.  In another corner, demonic toddlers chased the blind-folded and barefoot damned across a field of Legos.  A massive demon, lizard-like but with patches of mangled fur, stomped over to Fabian.

           “Couldn’t wait your turn, huh?”  It grunted. Fabian just gestured at the conveyor belt.

           “It’s certainly efficient, but don’t you think it’s lacking a personal touch? You always lose some quality when you move into mass-production.”  

           “See, that’s exactly what I said!” exclaimed another demon, absent-mindedly spearing a human that attempted to flee the conveyor belt, and flinging him into the Lego field.  “We need to be more hands-on, and really make the torment fit the individual-“

           “Alastor, we are not having this argument right now,” interrupted the furry lizard.  It grabbed Fabian by the arm.  “C’mon, onto the belt.  I don’t have time for stragglers.”

           Fabian yanked his arm back.  Hands on his hips, he straightened to his full height, tilted his chin up, and called upon the generations of wealth and privilege that had led to his own glorious self.

           “I’d like to speak to your manager.”

             It was days later, or possibly weeks, or maybe centuries.  Time in Hell tended to ooze slowly like a rotting sore. The demons had thrown everything possible at him, and Fabian had endured like a man.  Despite the screaming, and an embarrassing amount of crying that Fabian would never later admit to, he had refused to back down.  And most importantly, he had refused to shut up.

           He had demanded an audience with those in charge, despite being constantly denied.  He had explained to them, sometimes angrily and sometimes with slow, condescending patience, that there had been some kind of mix-up and he absolutely should not be in Hell.  Apparently this was a common ruse for the damned, which was quite irritating, it made it so difficult for the real cases like his to be resolved.  The demons laughed and mocked him, often while sawing off limbs and peeling skin away.  His body reconstituted itself after each round of torture, so it all seemed to flow in an endless loop.  Except….his demonic tormenters keep changing.  Fabian began to suspect he was working his way up the chain of command.

           He’d begun on the conveyor belt, which, he’d pointed out between screams, was really beneath his dignity.  Tossed in with the masses, as if he was no one important!  He’d spent time in the Lego field, and discovered that the demonic toddlers would rip your organs out if you managed to drop-kick one (but it was worth it).  A demon covered in flies had dunked him head-first in filth, ignoring Fabian’s protests that Hell should not lower itself to this juvenile crassness.  A creature that appeared to be made up entirely of sharp edges had jammed massive needles into every orifice Fabian possessed, and made some new orifices that weren’t supposed to exist.  Rather uninspired, Fabian had to inform his tormentor, any idiot could think of sticking something with a pin. A seductive female demon had teased him into frenzy, then transformed his penis into a giant snake that swallowed him whole. She didn’t seem to appreciate his constructive criticism that the symbolism was rather heavy-handed, and that she had completely misunderstood his psychological profile.  

           And so Fabian had been passed from demon to demon, each quickly giving up when they understood his pure and indomitable spirit.  Occasionally they tried removing his tongue, or getting rid of his mouth altogether, but it was always restored when his body reset for the next round.  The most recent fiend had moved Fabian’s eyes to the soles of his feet, and swapped the locations of his mouth and anus.  It was disconcerting, but tremendously childish.

           A sudden burst of hell-fire heralded the arrival of another demon, apparently someone important, as his tormentor dropped to his knees.  Fabian tried to get a good look by lifting one foot up, but grit was obscuring his vision.  

           “Is this one?  The soul that’s been giving everyone trouble?” demanded the newcomer, sharp and authoritative.  

           “I think I can break him, my liege.  Let me re-arrange him a bit more, then we’ll start in with the rotating knives.”

           “Enough, Berith, let me take a good look at him.”  Fabian suddenly found himself restored, blinking the dust from his eyes.  It took a moment for him to recognize the figure standing before him, but the figure was quicker.

           “Oh, by the pit!  It’s this asshole again!”

           “Mephisto!”  Fabian had met him after his previous deaths.  The self-proclaimed king of Hell had been rather unhelpful in sorting out whatever cosmic mishap kept landing Fabian in the wrong afterlife.

           “As you can see, it happened again.  A complete mistake.  Surely there’s some higher authority you can speak to, otherwise we’re just wasting both of our time.”  

           “How are you back here again so soon?  Did you return to the living and immediately step in front of a bus?  No, wait, I want to see.  At least that’ll be good for a laugh.”  Mephisto summoned a glowing sphere, and gazed into it, then burst into harsh, grating laughter.

           “We were under attack.  I heroically went out to help my companions –“

           “Hey, Berith, check this out,” Mephisto interrupted, expanding the sphere so that Fabian’s gruesome demise was projected on a large scale.  Fabian tried to make himself heard over the two demons cackling.

           “Look, Mephisto, obviously some error has been made.  If you’re quite finished, perhaps we can sort this out. I mean, letting this slide really doesn’t reflect well on your position as leader –“  Fabian was cut off, as Mephisto abruptly decapitated him.  This being Hell, of course, it had no major ill effects, besides being extremely painful and inconvenient.  Mephisto lifted the head by the ponytail, his burning eyes starring directly into Fabian’s.

           “Listen to me, you little speck of filth.  You have the gall to fall into my realm, and complain to me about leadership?”

           “Well, yes.”  Speaking was somehow still possible as a severed head, despite the strange sensation of his wind-pipe sucking at the empty air.  “You really need to-“

           “Shut.  Up. Shut up for once in your pathetic, delusional, narcissistic life.  You think you don’t deserve to be here?  You are selfish, arrogant, cowardly, cruel, manipulative and treacherous.  And worst of all, you aren’t even good at it. Every scheme has backfired, every plot has exploded in your face.  You don’t even have the dignity of being one of the worst people down here because you have utterly failed at every attempt at major villainy.  You aren’t even important enough for people to hate your memory.  Your life is an insignificant little blip in the universe.  You are unmourned, and quickly forgotten.”

           There was a moment of shocked silence as the wheels turned in Fabian’s (severed) head.  Something clicked, and he understood the truth at last.  He began to laugh.

           “Of course!  I get it! I understand now!  This is a test!  I am being made to endure these trials in order to prove my goodness and nobility.  Or perhaps my soul is being tempered in this fire, like a sword, to return to Earth in triumph and perform great deeds –“

           Mephisto screamed in frustration, and kicked Fabian’s head across the cavern. It bounced off a stalactite and landed by the genital-smashing station.  Fabian wasn’t particularly bothered, as he currently had no genitals to smash. A moment later, his head rejoined his body as he was restored again.  Mephisto was pulling him roughly to his feet.                        

           “You’re going back up,” the demon declared.  “I’ve had enough of your crap to last a millennium.  You miraculously survived the Sentinel attack,”

           “I’m fairly certain my body was actually disintegrated,” Fabian felt the need to point out.  He just didn’t want any screw-ups when returning to his physical form.  God forbid he wind up with scars.  

           “You miraculously survived,” Mephisto continued through gritted teeth, and suddenly the scene rewound and replayed itself in Fabian’s memory.  The laser hadn’t hit him at all, he’d heroically leapt of the way, heroically ducked behind a nearby tree, and then heroically fled the country in a strategic retreat.  That was, indeed, how it had happened.  The demon yanked Fabian forward by the throat, so the two were practically nose to nose.  Fabian could smell brimstone and rotting meat as the demon growled at him.

           “For Satan’s sake, stay up there a little longer this time, Cortez.  And find some way to get into the Other Side’s good graces before your next ridiculous death.  I do not want to deal with you ever again!”

           The fires of hell faded out before Fabian’s eyes, and suddenly he could feel a cool breeze against his skin.  The sun on his shoulders was pleasantly warm instead of scorching, and he could smell the ocean.  It was heavenly.  He took deep, grateful breaths of the refreshing salt air.  As light and color swam back into his vision, Fabian saw that he was standing in a familiar beach-side bar.  He smiled. This was exactly where he wanted to be. After that ordeal, he’d earned an extended vacation.  

           “Oh, fucking crikey!  Dom, it’s that wanker again,” exclaimed a voice.  Fabian looked up to see Pyro behind the counter with an expression of distaste.  Fabian assumed that Allerdyce was reacting to the presence of an unwelcome bar guest standing somewhere behind him, and was too flustered to give Fabian the friendly and courteous greeting that he deserved.    

           “What’s got you pissed off enough to go full Aussie, Johnny?”  Avalanche emerged from a back room, and scowled. Fabian glanced over his shoulder, trying to locate the customer that was causing such irritation in his two hosts.

           “Cortez?  You were just here!  It hasn’t even been a month.”  

           Fabian grinned at them both.  “Yes, I know you’re delighted that I am gracing you with my presence once again. How about a drink?  I’ve had a rather difficult morning.”

           “You’re not getting any more of our top shelf rum until you pay your bloody tab, Cortez.  We ain’t seen a dime of that supposed family fortune you keep bragging about.”    

           “My very presence must be drawing in all sorts of business for you gentleman, surely that has some value in itself?”  Obviously these two plebes had no idea how to deal with the upper crust of society. Demanding payment, as if Fabian’s word couldn’t be trusted, was so gauche.

           “You’ve been coasting on that for years.  We can’t restock the kitchen with your ‘presence.’  We want some actual cash,” Avalanche demanded.  Fabian patted the pockets of his costume.  It wasn’t as if Hell was well-stocked with ATM’s.  

He surveyed the bar – surely some enthusiastic fan would be willing to spot him a measly few thousand to get back on his feet?  The crowd appeared to be largely a collection of losers and morons (no wonder the co-owners were in such a foul mood), most of whom he could not recognize. He caught a glimpse of unruly dark hair and realized, with a sinking stomach, that Maximus was bent over some complicated mess of wires and circuitry that he had rudely spread across both his own and three adjacent tables.  Maximus could be useful, but he was also a royal pain in the ass, and Fabian did not have the patience to deal with him at the moment.  Luckily, the lunatic was completely engrossed in his work, and had not noticed Fabian’s arrival.  But then, off in the distance, Fabian spotted a likely prospect on the beach. His attention was first drawn by the gorgeous dark-skinned woman, whose flowing garments did not completely hide impressive curves.  But right next to her was a familiar face from the Upstarts – Shinobi Shaw.  Not exactly a friendly face, but close enough, and - more importantly - incredibly wealthy.  He wouldn’t grudge Fabian a couple of drinks on his tab, especially since his attention was taken by the weird bodily contortions that he was performing alongside the woman.  Fabian could only assume it was some kind of odd foreplay.

“Put it on Shinobi Shaw’s tab.  He won’t mind, we’re the best of friends,” Fabian commanded, turning back to the bar with a triumphant grin.  Pyro and Avalanche exchanged a long look between them, then Pyro finally shrugged.

“All right, then.  He probably won’t even notice.”  

“And Shaw actually pays once in a while,” Avalanche added.  “But we’re only gonna let you coast for about a week on Shaw’s account, then we want some actual money.”  

“Fine,” Fabian sighed.  It was not fine, and he would most certainly argue his case with these two crass, ungrateful, unsophisticated, money-grubbing peasants at a later date. But he had just rescued himself from Hell, and he did not need any more aggravation for the rest of the day. Instead, he took his drink and drifted out onto the beach, where Shinobi and the dark-skinned woman were now sitting cross-legged.  Fabian hoped they would have the decency to move to a more secluded area before they began their copulation.  Or perhaps he didn’t.  The woman would be a sight to behold after all the horrors of Hell, perhaps that was worth a glimpse of Shaw’s naked ass.

Shinobi opened his eyes as Fabian walked over to join them, but seemed too blissed-out to react to his presence.  Perhaps the copulation had already happened.  He merely nodded at Fabian.

“Decided to hide, too?  Good choice.”

“Strategic retreat,” Fabian corrected.  He wouldn’t tell Shinobi about jumping onto his tab, no need to bother his dear friend with petty details, especially when he seemed so at peace.  He’d find another time to discuss it, or possibly never. The woman remained perfectly still, but had also opened her eyes.  They were beautiful dark pools that seemed to draw Fabian in.  Her smile was brilliant.   

“Welcome, friend!  We’re just finishing a yoga session, but please feel free to join us in meditation.”

“That would be lovely, dear lady.  Just like you.”  Fabian let himself flop down onto the beach, sinking into the cool sand, hearing the soothing rhythm of the waves.  He was absolutely going to bed the woman, his charm would be irresistible.  But for now….this was nice.                  

 Notes:

Fabian is absolutely not going to bed Haven.  No one at the bar is going to sleep with her, they are all too sleazy.  But after a whole ficlet of Fabian being too annoying to stand, I wanted to end with someone actually being happy to see him.      

#fabian cortez #mephisto #pyro #avalanche #shinobi shaw #haven

[seductresses-temple]

Lightning and Snow

“You’re late,” Draco chided, reaching forward to coil his pale fingers around Harry’s tie, tugging him forward. The corners of his lips quirked upward into a small, satisfied smile at how quickly the other boy’s arms were around his waist, bringing them even closer together.

“Sorry, I-“

“Yes, that’s all well and good, now kiss me before I freeze to death, Scarhead.” Harry didn’t need to be told twice. He dipped his head down, capturing Draco’s lips in a soft, languid kiss. It had been days since the last time they’d kiss. Between classes, homework, and attempting to dodge their friends, they hadn’t had much time for one another. Harry had decided it had to finally end. He had to finally tell Rob and Hermione.

Draco wasn’t some dirty secret to be kept away.

“How was your talk with Granger and the Weasel?” Draco was the one to pull away first, flicking his tongue over Harry’s lower lip teasingly just to watch the blush creep across his boyfriend’s cheeks.

“Wish you wouldn’t call him that,” Harry muttered, his flushed cheeks having nothing to do with the cold. He shoved one hand deep in his pocket and grabbed Draco’s with the other, slowly walking down to the black lake.

“It went horrible,” he admitted, eyes downcast. Draco gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Define horrible.”

“Horrible as in Hermione is convinced you’ve slipped me a love potion and Ron isn’t speaking to me.”

“Love potion?” Draco snorted “We’re not all so desperate as Romilda Vane.” Harry didn’t need to look at him to see his eyes rolling.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

“I’m hilarious, Harry. We both know that between my amazing arse and my superior wit, you’ve fallen hopelessly in love. Now, do continue recounting your travesties of the evening.”

It was Harry’s turn to roll his eyes. It still amazed him at times, how far he and Draco had come. Watching Draco nearly die when he’s cast Sectumsempra...it had brought up so many emotions he’d never knew he had. Or maybe he’d known all along but they’d just gotten switched around. All he knew was that watching blood pour out of the blonde had been one of the scariest moments of his life. Guilt, confusion, worry, it had all crashed down and consumed him until he found himself sneaking down to the infirmary that night...to apologize...to beg for forgiveness.

He had expected Draco to yell at him, or laugh, something, anything. Instead, the blonde just broke down. Holding him had been instinctive for Harry. Comforting him had come as second nature, surprising both of them. It was the beginning of a tentative friendship.

They’d meet up in abandoned classrooms or the Room of Requirement. Harry had gone with Draco when he talked to Dumbledore. Harry had been with Draco when his parents went into hiding. Somewhere along the way...they both realized that friendship wasn’t enough. Their first kiss was soft and gentle, a barely there brushing of the lips in the Potion’s classroom after everyone had left. Draco had smirked at him, that cocky, arrogant Malfoy smirk before rushing off and leaving Harry with so much wanting he felt as though he’d burst.

“Honestly Potter, you’ve the attention span of a gnat.”

Draco’s voice snapped Harry back to realty. He blinked, suddenly realizing that they’d stopped walking. Draco was in front of him, hands on his slender hips as he stared at Harry expectantly.

“It’s snowing,” Harry noted, his head dipping back to stare at the dark, star dusted sky. He smiled, the way Draco looked in the moonlight with small, scattered snowflakes sitting atop his white-blonde hair. Harry knew better than to say it out loud but his boyfriend looked positively beautiful and delicate.

“So it is,” Draco’s hands dropped down to his sides, stepping closer. “You think they’ll come around?” he was playing with the end of Harry’s tie, making an effort not to look up. Even though their relationship was still relatively new, Harry knew Draco well enough to know he was nervous. Did he really care what Rob and Hermione thought of their relationship?

“They’re like family to you,” Draco whispered as if reading his mind, his eyes flicking up for just a moment.

“You’re like family to me too,” Harry hadn’t meant to say it. The words slid out of his mouth before he could even contemplate it being far too soon for such a declaration. But it was out now, settling over them with the snowflakes. Grey eyes pierced into him waiting for him to say something, anything. Whether Draco wanted him to follow up on his comment or laugh it off, Harry couldn’t tell.

“You’re like family to me too,” Harry whispered again and he knew he meant it as he tilted Draco’s chin so he could kiss him, deep and slow. As they kissed, a streak of lightning illuminated the sky, startling both of them. They broke apart for a moment to marvel at it. Neither of them had ever seen lightning during a snow shower. It seemed impossible the way the lightning flashed across the sky in a steady, silent beat as snow fell against the world at an eerily slow pace. Harry thought it was beautiful, almost as beautiful as the blonde in his arms that was becoming to mean so much to him. He and Draco seemed impossible some days too. But if a Malfoy could love a Potter and snow could mingle with lightning, Harry was sure that nearly anything was possible.

#drarry #harry x draco #harry potter #draco malfoy #writing #drabble

[rabbitcruiser]

In the Wild

What do you think about my pic?    

#Lower Gnat Lake #British Columbia #Stewart-Cassiar Highway #BC #nature #flora #fireweed #travel #original photography #vacation #tourist attraction #landmark #landscape #countryside #Canada #summer 2023 #mountains #wildflower #photo of the day #What do you think about my pic? #lake shore

[szataniism-blog]

Chapter 1: Summer is over

'Dear Diary, Summer has been great. I've been spending time with my best friend Jenny before she leaves to Kansas. It won't be as much fun without her. But at least I can keep in touch. Speaking of keeping touch, I haven't really seen Kenny, Brandon, or Sunday at all. I try texting them but they don't respond. It kind of saddens me. But I'll see them at school! It's going to be my freshmen year at the magical high school, I'm sort of nervous. I'm not the best kind of witch. I can barely do levitation spells! Anyways Diary, I'm scared but excited for school next week. I'll see you tomorrow.”

    Kate closed the book and set it on her desk. Giving a big stretch and yawn. She had blue eyes and medium brown messy hair. Her face was full of freckles and had natural red cheeks. As well as being a little chubby.     It was night out and the moon was full, casting a bright light to the land below. Filtering through her window next to the bed.     “Kate! Go to bed already!” Her mom yelled up to her. Kate sighed and rolled her eyes.     “It's not even school days yet!” she yelled back with a slight lisp.     “Well you need to adjust your sleeping schedule! Don't make me come up there!” Her mom said jokingly.   Kate finally gave up and and sighed. Her mom was right, school started in two days and she had to turn her up all night to sleeping. She changed into her pajamas and hopped into bed. Leaving her blanket off. It was too hot to sleep with it on. At least that's what Kate thought. She closed her eyes to try and fall asleep, but to no avail. “Ugh. I want to go to sleep,” she mumbled to herself and tossed and turned. After about an hour of rolling around she fell asleep finally.     The sun greeted her with the warm rays coming through the curtain. She grumbled and looked for her blanket, but it was at her feet. So she turned her back on the sun beams to try and wake up without them in her face.     About twenty minutes later she finally sat up with a groan. Stretching her arms and legs. She leaned forward to the window and opened up the curtain, squinting when the sun hit her face. “Such a beautiful day,” she murmured and got off of the bed and headed out of her room. Not bothering to change her clothes yet. Breakfast beckoned her.     “Hey mom! I'm awake!” Kate called out. But no one was here. That was odd. Usually her mom was awake before her. She pondered if she should make her own breakfast or see if her mom was okay... She should probably see if her mother was fine but her stomach growled. Kate followed her stomach.     She fetched herself a bowl and some cereal along with some milk. She poured it altogether and sat down at the table with a spoon and bowl. She slowly ate from the bowl and then she heard foot steps coming her way. She saw her mom with messy hair. She had long brown curly hair with no bangs and wore glasses.     “I feel like I died,” her mom joked and rubbed the top of her head. “Oh you're just gonna have cereal? I wish you woke me up.”   “Sorry mom. I just woke up so hungry so I fixed myself some cereal. Can never go wrong with crispy flakes!” Kate said with a grin. She chowed down and finished her cereal. Slurping of the left over milk and wiped away the milky mustache.     Her mother had the same cereal she had and sat down. “Can you grab the newspaper?” her mother asked her. Kate nodded her head and popped up from her chair and headed to the door and opened it. Retrieving the newspaper at the door and placing it in front of her mom.     “Here you go.” Kate sat back down at the table and twiddled her thumbs. Hoping to talk to her mom more. “Hey mom... what do you plan to do today?”     “Probably just clean the house. What about you dear?”     “The usual. I'm gonna spend time with Jenny. This is her last day here in Oregon. We're going to go inner tubing  in the river. It's so nice out.”     “That is true. I'll probably do laundry and hang it up to dry. Since our dryer isn't working. Anyways, you go off and have fun.”     “I will mom,” Kate said with a smile and dashed out the door.     When she got outside she was greeted with the heat. And that's when she noticed she was still in her pajamas. Why didn't her mom tell her!? She went back inside and was spotted by her mother. “Forgot to put on proper clothes?” her mom chuckled and went back to reading the paper.   Kate huffed and puffed up a cheek and went upstairs, quickly putting on her swimwear and then a shirt and shorts over it. It was plain white with pink flowers on it. The girl headed downstairs, put on her flip flops, and out.     The meeting point was by the river in the woods that was equivalent to a block or two away. But first she had to get the inter tubes. She went around the back of the house where there was a a small pile of deflated inter tubes. It was their hobby to go inter tubing at the river. It was close and convenient. But too bad she couldn't get in contact with her other three friends. They would have had a ball and celebrate Jenny's last day!     Kate grabbed up two inter tubes and headed off to the forest. She cursed herself for forgetting sunblock, but she wasn't about to go back inside and put some on. The sun burn would be the price to pay. But then again the river did have trees surrounding it to block the rays. She figured she'd be safe, somewhat.     When she reached the edge of the forest she was already having sweat drops on her forehead. She wiped them off with her free hand and went into the woods. The witch swatted away the small gnats buzzing around. She wished to herself that she would have brought her wand to spark the flies on fire. But knowing her luck she'd set the forest on fire.    Soon water could be heard and a break in the trees. Revealing a rolling river. Kate badly wanted to get into it, but she'd have to find Jenny first. This river could sweep you off your feet and drag you down to a large lake. Which was their destination. But where they were to meet was at the bridge. Which was father up the river.   Kate dragged herself up the small hill and on wards. Soon she saw the bridge and a person on it. The figure waved at her and Kate knew who it was and waved back. She picked up her pace and wiped the beads of sweat off her forehead with her free hand again.     “Hey Kate!” Jenny greeted with a cheery smile. Jenny had long black hair that was in a pony tail and hazel eyes and bright red lips. She also had her ears pierced with little blue studs.“I had no idea when you were gonna come!”     “Yeah I guess I was a bit slow,” Kate admitted. “I brought the inter tubes, but we're gonna have to inflate them.”     “That's fine. But it's not too fast over here, the river,” Jenny said nodding her head towards a bank.   Kate nodded her head and headed over to the bridge, discarding her layer of clothing to reveal a swimsuit. Jenny was already in her swim wear, but it was her own clothes. Just a plain red shirt with blue shorts. She also had her wand tucked in her belt. Just out of habit she always kept it on person..     The two friends headed to the slow patch of water and tip toed into it. For both of them it felt great. To cool off. The water was slow, but deep. When Kate was waist in she lowered herself in and dunked her head under water and whipped her head back up. Flicking water behind her. “Sorry, I had to do that,” she said with a smile.     Kate handed the black inter tube to her friend and began blowing up the inflatable. Jenny did the same when she was given hers.     The two friends were silent as they inflated the inter tubes. But both were having fun, just being in the presence of each other. Though Kate couldn't shake this feeling that they weren't alone... But then again there were a lot of bugs. She remembered last summer when they were in the woods and there was a bug the size of your head. It grossed her out.     “Ha! I beat you,” Jenny said as she plugged up the inter tube and smirked at Kate. Kate was still inflating her tube and flipped the bird at her friend as she blew it up.     Around five minutes later, Kate was finished. She plugged it up and let it float on the water. “How the hell do you inflate it so fast?” she asked her friend.     “I don't know. Just can. I guess I have more air than you. Anyways, let's get out and go passed the bridge and start there. Come on let's go!” Jenny grabbed Kate's free hand and yanked her out of the water and passed the bridge and into the water again.    Both witches sat in the hole of the inter tube and pushed into the center. Where they began to float down it. “This is always the boring part. I can't wait until it gets faster,” Jenny said.   “Hopefully none of us will get thrown off like last time!” the other witch laughed.     As Kate floated down the river she saw something out of the corner of her eye. She couldn't help but now watch to her left in the direction she saw the movement... Well she was moving, maybe it was just a small tree? But her eyes remained glued to the left side of the river.     “Hey Kate, you okay? You seem distracted,” Jenny pointed out.     It took a moment for the witch to reply. But she delayed jump and nodded her head, “Yeah I'm fine. Just thought I saw something.”     Then there was silence between the two. Only nature could be heard. The river, the birds and cicadas. It was pretty relaxing for the two of them. Then, Kate saw something out of the corner of her eye again. She whipped her head over to look to her left and saw a shape moving. And then it flew at her.     Kate let out a screech and covered her face with her arms. Then she heard laughing in front of her. She removed her arms and looked around. “What was that?”     “A bug,” Jenny answered with a snort of laughter. “It was a big one too! But they way you screamed I thought something got you!”   Kate pouted and looked away from Jenny's direction. It was just a bug, all along. She huffed and closed her eyes. Leaning back in the inflatable. Jenny remained silent too. Strangely the river wasn't going as fast as it usually would. It was rather slow. Which wasn't normal.     As she drifted, she suddenly felt an intense burn on her left arm. She held back a yelp of pain and shot straight up and turned her head to the left. To see a strange looking thing following at the bank of the river. A twisted grin on it's visage. It had to be what did that. But just what was it.     “Jenny what is that thing!”     Jenny snapped up and looked around and suddenly spotted the creature. “That's an imp!” she exclaimed and reached for her wand at her waist and pulled it out.     So it was an imp! A demon of fire. The said imp began to laugh and cast another small fire ball and shot it Jenny. Jenny quickly shot out of her inter tube and into the water to dodge it. She popped up and waved her wand, uttering a chant, “Water ball!” A water ball formed in front of her and shot it at the imp.     It shot at high speeds and hit the demon right in the face. It let out a blood curdling screech, followed by a sizzling sound and ran off. Water was like fire to fire imps. Even a splash of water would send them crying home to mommy.     'But why was one near a river,' Kate wondered. Though she slumped in the tube, she felt quite useless in that small combat. Even if she had her wand she'd still be utterly useless. Any form of magic wasn't her forte. But she so badly wanted to be a full fledged witch!     “You okay?” Jenny asked, breaking her thoughts.     “Yeah I'm fine. But my arm burns. I'm gonna get off my tube,” Kate said and slid off of it. Dunking her arm into the water. It soothed the pain. “I hate imps. I know little about them though.”     Jenny swam closer to Kate and pulled her arm up. There was a dark red mark that was already blistering. “Well imps are trouble makers. They love bothering people in any manner... Man I wish I knew healing magic. I'd heal you,” Jenny sighed and let go of the arm. “Also imps can become familiars to witches and wizards. But it's very rare to see. Only very skilled magicians can pull it off. And that's just an imp! Demons are bad business. From what I hear they hurt those who are close to you, as they want you all to themselves. I remember David stupidly said how he summoned Satan once, king of demons. Of course no one believed him as that's impossible to do. You have to be like, super skilled in the black arts. Even then I don't think anyone could.”     “I'll never do that. I don't want any demon hurting you or my mom..” Kate replied.     The two floated down the river, long losing their inter tubes. But then something surprised both of them. “Why?” Kate uttered with disbelief.     It's a beaver dam!” Jenny said and swam forward. There was a big  dam with neatly stacked wood. They then saw a little beaver scooting across the dam and looked at the two girls with beady eyes. Then continued on its merry little way.    “There goes the rest of the river,” Kate sighed and headed to the bank and crawled out of the river. She didn't bother grabbing the two tubes that were floating against the dam. There wasn't too much river anyways. Jenny got out of the river and looked behind her.    “Oh, we forgot them. Want me to go grab them?” Jenny asked Kate. Kate shook her head and headed back the way they came. Jenny followed after and the two headed silently back to the bridge.   They could have gone to the lake to float around. But it wasn't the same when you go there by inter tubes floating down.     The two witches finally got to the bridge and Kate grabbed her dry clothes. Pressing them against her wet body. “Well do you want to go get some ice cream?” Kate asked. Jenny shrugged her shoulders then nodded her head.     “Sure, let's go.”     The two got out of the woods. Jenny kept looking around, as if something was going to jump out at them at any moment. Kate noticed this, but didn't say anything. Already guessing it was because of the imp.   They reached the city which was busy with people walking around and window shopping. Jenny and Kate headed in and looked around for the ice cream shop. Quickly spotting a line to it, the two went over and waited in line.     “That imp was still crazy,” Kate suddenly piped up. Jenny nodded her head and nibbled on her nail for a moment.     “Yeah it was. I just wonder where it came from and why it attacked us. Usually they do pranks, not outright attacking. I hope Satan isn't planning on something. But then again, I don't think he can come here unless summoned,” Jenny replied.    “I doubt David summoned him. Or else man kind would be doomed.”     “Yeah, no one knows what's Satan is like except for the books what the other demons tell about him. And from what people have heard, he's pretty scary. Steals the souls right out of people and brings them to hell.”     “Is that so? How do you know he can do that if he's never been to Earth?”     “Oh he has. There's a book about the war against Satan. He used to teleport here on free will but then against humans he was sealed away back in hell to where he can't come back. I'm sure we'll be learning about it in the freshmen year.. Oh! We're next!”     Jenny dashed to the counter and ordered a large cone ice scream that was mint chocolate chip. Kate order a simple chocolate ice scream in a waffle bowl. The two sat down at a nearby table that had a large umbrella over it. The place was busy, and Kate was quite surprised they got a spot.     “You know, I have mixed feelings about school,” Kate admitted and ate some of her ice cream. “It's just not going to be the same without you. And Kenny, Brandon, and Sunday haven't contacted me all summer,” she continued sadly.     “Maybe they're just on vacation with no service? Those three do travel a lot together. They're probably too busy having fun without us,” Jenny replied and stuffed her face with ice cream.     Kate sighed and ate her ice cream in silence. Just what were they doing without them? Perhaps they were away. But why didn't they tell her or Jenny? Maybe she should go to their house. But then that would be very awkward. What if they didn't want to see them? Not even say goodbye to Jenny? That was just strange.     “Hey, this is your last day, right?” Kate asked. Jenny nodded her head with a mouth full of ice cream. She gulped it down and suddenly grabbed her head.     “Brain freeze!” A painful one too. But that's what you get for eating ice cream to fast. Kate just laughed at her pain and finished her ice cream with no brain freeze. She then waited for Jenny to finish hers.     “So now what do you want to do?” Kate asked her friend. Jenny hummed for a moment in though. “How about we go to Kenny's house and see if he's there?”     “Uuumm. What if he is? That would be really awkward since he hasn't wanted to hang out with us and avoiding me.”     Jenny shook her head and smiled, “I'm sure it'll be fine! I'll be there with you.”     Kate felt better. It would be better with Jenny to see Kenny and the others with her. Rather than by herself. They got up and headed off to the road and followed it until there was a neighborhood in sight. They soon reached a white house with a red roof and got to the door. Jenny knocked and waited.     After a moment the door opened and they were greeted with a familiar face. A young tall man with ginger hair in curls. He frowned when he saw the two girls and rubbed the back of his head. “Oh.. hey..” he said sheepishly.     “Hey you. Why haven't you been answering Kate's texts?” Jane questioned.     Silence.     “I'm talking to you,” Jenny said tapping a foot. Kate felt awkward not saying anything, and Kenny seemed pretty awkward as well.     “Look... I don't think we can be seen together. We all sorta decided this. But we want a fresh start in high school... and that's with a clean slate of friends,” Kenny explained.     The look on Jenny's face scared Kate. “What the hell do you mean a clean slate of friends!?” Jenny exploded. “Then you're ditching Sunday and Brandon too!?”     “No, they're my best pals.. And even me and Sunday are dating. Me and her have been since summer break.”     “Oh and we're not best friends? What happened to us with friends forever!?”     Kenny rubbed the back of his head once again, “Look , we weren't as close as I was with Sunday and Brandon. But they share the same feeling. Just Kate wouldn't make us... look good.”     A loud slap noise echoed the air. Kenny's face was turned and had a red hand mark on his cheek. Kate looked in horror. Not only from the slap, but from what Kenny said. Make them look bad... It tore her heart. Was it because she wasn't a good witch? Or just a bad friend.     Without warning, Kate dashed off. Leaving the two teenagers to fight. Jenny noticed Kate had left and yelled for her. But Kate was far off, crying into her arm. To make things worse, she forgot her clothes at the ice cream place. She liked them, but it was only a thought for a moment, and then it went back to what Kenny said.     She headed right home and went straight for her bed. Flopping on to her bed and sobbing into her puffy pillow. Not only was her best friend moving away. But her only friends ditched her. Now she'd be going into the freshmen year with no friends... Maybe she'd meet new ones? She hoped so... 'But who'd want me as a friend?' she thought to herself as she sobbed.     She heard the door bell and guessed it was Jenny. She'd let her mom answer it. Which she did. “Hey Kate! Jenny' here!”     Kate slowly got to her feet and tried to wipe her tears away. She then headed downstairs to the door where her mom and Jenny was. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying and her mother took notice. “Have you been crying hun?”     “Yeah.... I don't want to talk about it at the moment,” Kate answered.     Her mother nodded her head, “You two can talk or whatever you want to do. It is getting late though.”     Her mom left the two alone and went to do bills. Kate rubbed her eyes once more and sniffled.     “Hey, who needs them? They're just toxic jerks. You're too good for them!” Jenny said.     “I know.. but I'm losing everyone. You're moving away and my last three friends ditched me,” Kate replied     “You'll make new friends! Don't listen to what dip shit said. I'm always glad to be your friend. I don't deserve you but you're with me.” Jenny gave her friend a hug and Kate hugged back tightly. Not wanting to let go of her. “Don't worry, I'll still visit you! I'll try to as soon as possible. So you can smile,” Jenny encouraged with her own smile.     A faint smile pulled on her lips and she let go of the hug. “You'd better. Or I'll summon Satan and sick him on you,” she joked with a chuckle. Jenny smiled brighter and patted Kate on the head. “Please don't do that, you'll doom humanity!”Jenny laughed. “Anyways, I gotta go. I have to do more packing. I'll text you when I get home. Goodnight! I'll see you in the morning if you intend to see us off!”    Kate nodded her head and waved a hand. “Yeah I'll come over in the morning. Man I wish I could ride a broom stick. It'd make things so much easier to get to your house!”     “Hey, I can't either. That's more of senior level magic!” Jenny replied and waved back. She headed out of the house and shut the door behind her.    Her mother heard the door shut and went over to her daughters side. “What happened sweetie?” she asked as her daughter grew sad again.     “Just... lost three friends,” Kate sighed. “And I'm losing my best friend too.”     “Oh you aren't losing her. She's just moving. But she'll always be you friend. You should get some sleep. It looks like your eyes are going to shut at any moment!”     “Yes Jane...” Kate said, calling her mom by her name. She was already nodding off at the table. Crying sure did make you tired. She dragged herself up the stairs and into her desk chair. She grabbed her diary and opened it up. Plucking a pen up and began to jot down inside of it.     'Dear Diary, today was good, and horrible. I got to hang out with Jenny all day. First we went inter tubing which took up most of the day. Then something really weird happened. A fire imp came out and attacked us! The little guy burned my arm. It's one big blister now and surprisingly doesn't hurt much. Mom didn't even see it. She'd probably be all over it and want to treat it properly. Anyways, Jenny was awesome as always and made it flee with a water attack. I wish I could do elemental attacks. Most I can do is light a cigarette. And back to the inter tubing story. The river was really slow and then we ran into a beaver dam! We even saw a beaver on it. It was pretty cute, but we didn't want to bother it. So then we went and got ice cream and I left my clothes there. And then... well we met with Kenny, who wants nothing to do with me anymore. It really hurts. A lot. I'm actually starting to hate him. Same with the others. My only friend is Jenny. And she's moving away tomorrow. It's late, and I need sleep. I'll write in you again.”     Kate got up and turned off the light. Plopping onto the bed and turning to her side. Her eyes shut and she quickly drifted into the dream world.

#my friend satan #chapter 1 #book #I'm probably only putting the first few chapters up #mainly cuz I'm afraid of someone stealing my book if I post it all on here #I'll probably skip chapters so you guys get a taste of what Satan is like

[bnrobertson1]

The Unexpected Tutelage of Cuphead

Lot of Life Knowledge in those cups. 

I am not a fan of horror movies. Sure, I almost always like them when I find myself watching them, but that usually takes a Herculean effort of an enthusiastic friend or a total lack of desire to drudge up an explanation why I don’t want to watch something called Happy Death Day 2U. The reason I don’t like them? Simple- life is terrifying enough as is, and seeing as I don’t like ruminating in fear with my precious free time, the idea of willingly being scared strikes me as preposterous.

While there are some “scary” games like the new Resident Evil*, for me the real parallel to scary movies in the video game world is difficult games. Most current video games are super user-friendly, oftentimes because the software developers want you to see the entirety of the thing they’ve spent hundreds of thousands of hours and hundreds of millions of dollars creating. In other words, they don’t want you to get pissed and bail without showing off what they spent a good chunk of their lives working on. And while I have played video games long enough to be pretty good at them (I’m not), I actually appreciate the lowering of the difficulty bar. Much like scary movies, I usually stray away from difficult games. Why? Again, simple- frustration ain’t welcome in my leisure time. I’m trying to enjoy myself, not get all red-faced and hurl hard plastic as a torrent of never-before-heard profanity gushes out of my mouth because I’m trying to defeat some recluse’s brainchild/ torture device.  

*A stone cold modern classic for the first hour alone

But, many hardcore* gamers find modern games’ user- friendliness/ forgiveness to be insulting to their cheesy-dusted core. Many of this ilk were raised in the original Nintendo-era, where difficulty was praised and games like Ninja Gaiden and Battletoads were designed to be essentially impossible to defeat, thus making it a bragging-worthy accomplishment if you could.   

*Bathe in the irony of me using a pornographic term to describe a gamer 

But, as video games started to expand their audience, many of these Capital G Gamers who loved the feeling of accomplishment that accompanied victory over insanely hard games were kind of forgotten, given “Hard” modes on otherwise easy games to satiate their thirst for difficulty, but that’s about it. After being avoided for what to them must have felt like ions, things finally began to change when games like the rebooted Ninja Gaiden and the fetishized Dark Soul franchises started catering to those who those studs who think replacing l3tt3rs with numb3rs is cool and that the best games are the ones that only those with superhuman focus and tenacity can defeat. 

Enter: Cuphead. A long-in-development indie game that looks like a gorgeously* animated WW 2-era cartoon a la Betty Boop or Woody Woodpecker yet is as difficult as finding a WiFi hotspot during the Great Depression. A simple shooter, the game does an excellent job of drawing you in with its eye-popping looks and catchy soundtrack before it intentionally overwhelms you. Because it’s you, a literal cup of coffee whose only offense is a finger-gun (seriously) and the ability to jump, fighting enemies so large their eyeballs fill the screen. To put it politely, you’re fucked.     

*And buddy, it is one seriously gorgeous game. One of the things that keeps you playing is the desire to see all of the peerless art and monster design    

Again, it’s you:

Versus (that’s you in the little red airplane- everything that’s glowing will kill you instantly, but that’s a good life lesson within itself):

Again, fucked. And that’s one of the earliest bosses. Just about everything on screen kills you, and there are no checkpoints from which you can start over. It often takes several consecutive minutes of flawless playing to even make a dent. But amongst all the gorgeous ass-kicking chaos, the game does something profound on the sly: it gives you hope.

I realize this sounds silly- hope, arguably existence’s sweetest gift, is given by a game where Asperger’s is almost a prerequisite to win? But it’s true. 

At 35, I’m at the age where I doubt that most things can or will change. Sure, shoes look different, the popularity of some philosophies surge then retract, the younger get old who in turn die, but much of life is being reminded that real human change simply does not happen. Socially awkward at 15? Probably won’t be much different at 45. Addictive personality? Better find a healthy outlet because the addictive part probably ain’t going anywhere. Planning on writing the Great American Novel? Drinking like the other millions who tried that is much more likely. Want to pick up a language in your 30s? Maybe an instrument? Good luck, those parts of your brain stopped working while you were cursing at the iPod speaker because it wasn’t playing Master of Puppets loud enough after that gin bucket incident. 

The more life’s inevitable stasis solidifies in the brain, the more harrowing it is- the more dangerous the feeling of defeat and despair become. Grand realizations and epiphanies start feeling like the stuff of fiction. Things perpetually prove pointless, because if you can’t change, what exactly is the point of existence? The one thing you know for sure that does change is our planet’s resources (they dwindle) as we march- or should I say sail- to our doom.  

“Hold it right there, Mr. Goth McDowner,” Cuphead whispers at you after about an hour of play. 

Because not being good at Cuphead is exactly what you should be once you start playing it. Failure is certain. You die all the time. Like within seconds, over and over and over. You’ve got a gnat’s chance against a windshield. Fail. Fail. Fail.  

But while Cuphead first appears to be the masochist’s wet dream, you realize that why everything still overwhelms and doom as is certain as time itself, you’re- somehow- getting better. Slowly, sure. In most instances, you’re not even sure how. It’s almost imperceptible when it isn’t imperceptible. But, sure enough, keep at it, and you will improve.

And that is the direct result of Cuphead’s design. For while it is hard- easily one of the hardest games I actually enjoyed playing- it is never cheap. The game doesn’t want to defeat you with bullshit tactics like games from the 80s. Much like the loving, hardass parents everybody probably needs, It wants you to get better, and is more than willing to kick your ass to get you there. How does it do both? By subtly encouraging you through how it is made. Getting better boils down to two things: sharpening your hand-eye coordination and muscle memory*, and recognizing patterns that start simple but become supremely sophisticated, ranging from the speed of enemies to knowing the exact positions where the 12,000 objects flying at you will miss you by a millipixel. Nothing truly random ever occurs, so you won’t have to bear the true indignity of finding meaning in a game you’ve played for dozens of hours about coffee cups cheap deaths (or cheap wins) just when you’re about to see that sweet, sweet Victory! screen. The game also does something genius when it comes to letting you know you’re progressing: Every time you lose, a timeline appears where you see how close you were to victory. 

*Sorry, A.I., but that one requires practice, which means dying. A lot. 

Plus, it’s just funny to lose to characters from the 30′s who then insult you with Vaudevillian trash talk. None of them have voices, but I like to think they all sound like the Penguin from Adam West’s Batman. 

At first this seems boisterous if not barbaric in the worst possible way- a na na nee boo boo for the Switch generation. It quickly proves to be just the thing you need to see that you are in fact making progress. Yes, it makes some of the frustrations sting a lot more (I was this close). But it also gives you hope (I was this close). It’s the first time I’ve seen such a mechanic in a game, and I will be amazed if it is the last.

Eventually, after you’ve beaten the Robot that has been giving you a headache for the better part of 10 hours, a weird feeling may hit you like it hit me: not accomplishment- although that is most certainly present- but hope. Hope that if you are willing to be persistent, you will get better. Sure, that’s not an guarantee, but one thing is for sure: you can’t improve- in this game, in life- if you quit.  Persistence is the best quality a person can have, as it is pretty much the only one they can control. Why? Because hope- the beautiful thing that makes happy people happy-  is the fruit of persistence. And the truly ingenious thing about Cuphead is that its design encourages such epiphanies. Not bad for $20. 

Does constant failure suck? Speaking as an ad writer and more generally as a person I can tell you from experience that yes it indeed does. It’s humbling. It can be crippling. It’s demoralizing. But if you’re willing to fail with both feet, you will get better. At least sometimes.  And if you don’t, just remember to not chuck your Switch in the lake.

[cbutler1961]

North Carolina May 2019-Part IV

Today is Friday. Catching up on the last couple of Days. Wednesday we loaded the kayaks up and dropped them off at the bottom of Fontana Dam. I drove over to 20 Mile trailhead and a shuttle driver brought me back (shuttles driver owns the “Hike Inn”). When I got back Wanda was taking some pictures of a moma goose and her goslings. We hopped in the kayaks and floated down the river. The current was decent and we floated turning circles in our kayaks taking in the panorama of the mountains all round We floated for a couple hours and since we couldn’t find a good place to pull out we pulled our kayaks together and ate lunch. We continued on for another mile or so and Wanda spotted an Eagle. It landed in a tree right by the river about a half mile down. We paddled over there slowly with Wanda taking pictures. We kept thinking we were gonna scare it off but it let us get right under the tree where it was perched. Wanda got some great pictures. We continued our float. We came around the bend of the river and the wind got in our face and it sprinkled a little bit. We dug a little harder to finish the last mile and luckily the weather cleared. We pulled out near the trailhead and loaded up and went home.

Thursday we went over to the Deep Creek trailhead in Bryson City. We hiked the Deep Creek trail and jumped over to the Thomas Divide trail which looked back down to our starting point. It was nice and cool. Lots of beautiful waterfalls and a couple of pretty good climbs to get the heart pumping.

Friday we went over to the Road to Nowhere and hiked the Noland Creek Trail up to Springhouse Branch. We had down the lower end of the Noland Creek Trail two years ago on a fall trip. This time we went up the creek instead of down to the lake. Beautiful waterfalls and several bridge crossings. The trail is more of a gravel road bed. It’s nice and wide. We saw several people riding horses. We saw lots of butterflies. The only downside is the gnats were pretty bad especially coming back down. We also lots of Turkeys on the drive in and out.

[dreamworksworddump]

Summer AU

(I got this idea after riding uphill two miles for a slushie. I felt like this is something Lance would do.)

Sweat drips from his hairline and into his eyes, and runs down his back like condensation on a wet glass. He still feels the stupid urge to swat, even though he knows that it’s not another gnat crawling under his shirt. The artificial breeze gently rippling his shirt does nothing the alleviate the heat. He could peddle faster, sure, but he’s still got another half mile uphill before they reach the gas station.

Sure, he could’ve stayed at home, and let Hunk make one out of their pooled resources, but he wanted a real slushie. One that’s too sweet, and melts in the bottom before you can drink it, with ice crystals that melt just as they meet your tongue. In the summer heat, a slushie like that was practically heaven. He could have the mango one, even though it tasted more like pineapple, or maybe he could mix the coconut with-

“Dude, watch-” Hunk starts, and Lance turns, only to miss the very thing that he had been warning him of. His front wheel divots into the pothole, and his handlebars swerve, nearly steering him into the street. He regains control of the bike, but he’s rolled back to flank Pidge because of the struggle. He offers a thumbs up and a smile, which only makes his handlebar swerve again.

Pidge rolls her eyes and continues pedaling, with occasional boosts from the engine she’d added to it a few summers ago. Personally, Lance thinks the extra weight isn’t worth it, but hey, if Pidge thinks it’s helpful, fine by him.

“Why couldn’t this wait until Matt got back from work?” Pidge huffs, each word an almost insurmountable effort; even Lance had gotten over trying to talk and peddle uphill, and they had been riding in silence for the past half hour because of it.

“Because I want a slushie now.” Lance says, as Hunk jogs to cross the distance between them. Hunk had abandoned the idea of pedaling, in favor of walking and dragging his bike along with him, like a toy dog on a string. The handlebars swerved on every pothole they crossed, as if trying to escape his sweaty grasp. “Besides, it’s right there! No point in turning back now.”

A square, red sign rises above the hill, fluorescent lights flickering weakly under the sharp rays of the sun. With renewed vigor, Lance pedals over the final slope and into the flat driveway. For the first time in nearly an hour, he can glide without effort. Behind him, Hunk is struggling to climb back onto his bike, and Pidge is keeping to her original speed. They park by the side of the building, kickstands scraping concrete as they slide off of the hard, leather seats.

His legs tingle as they walk into the gas station, air conditioning feeling like blizzard winds on their overheated skin. The sweat on his hairline dries almost instantly, and for a moment, he doesn’t want to move from the doorway. And then he remembers the whole reason why they came. 

Lance makes a beeline for the slushie machines, lined up in an orderly row. Neon colors swirl within them, the smell of sweetened syrup filling his nose.

“I’m getting watermelon.” Pidge says, grabbing the medium sized cup. She takes a few sips of water from the drink counter before filling it up. “So you guys need to pick different flavors.”

Lance grabs a cup, and is about to reach for the pineapple, when he realises that his pocket feels a little empty. He sticks his hand through the worn cotton, and his thumb sticks out the other side. He pulls the remaining change out and starts to count. Maybe if he’s lucky, he can afford to buy a kid’s cup for himself. Maybe he didn’t lose too much change.

But there’s only eight quarters and six dimes left when he counts it, just enough to buy two medium drinks. He sighs. He dragged his friends here with him on the promise that he’d buy; it’s only fair to let them have their slushies. If he’s lucky, maybe Hunk will make him one at home.

“What flavor are you getting?” Hunk asks, moving his cup to create the perfect cotton-candy swirl. He sticks a straw in it at an angle, giving the drink the appearance of something classy, versus a gas station ice drink.

Lance shrugs. “I dropped some of my money on the way here. I’m not getting one.”

Hunk and Pidge exchange a look, and then turn back to Lance. “We’ll just share. I mean, it’s not like they don’t have an abundance of straws here.” Pidge says, motioning to the forest of white covered straws in the display behind her. 

“Yeah, dude. You’re the one who wanted the slushie so bad. It’s only fair.”

Lance opens his mouth to protest, only to close it as the sight of Pidge’s glare. “Okay.” He relents. “Let’s go pay.”

They eat their slushies in the shade of the small oak growing by the curb, passing around drinks as they converse, content to stay there until the lowering sun calls them back home.

OoOoOoOoO

Shiro didn’t like him being out so late on his own. Especially when he was chasing after cryptids. Keith usually respected what Shiro wanted. He’d do practically anything for him, but not this time. He’d found a really weird footprint that morning, and had been tracking it’s trail ever since. Keith was ninety percent sure that it was Mothman, or something related to him, and he wasn’t gonna let this chance go. Even if he was totally unprepared for night tracking. Even if he’d run into about three poison oak trees and was itching like crazy. 

Ahead of him, he could see the glow of a fire burning. It was either mothman’s fire, or that of regular humans. As much as he’d prefer it to be mothman, he doubted that he’d have a phone with a charge on it. 

He pushes through the brambles and kudzu and branches, and is almost through to the other side when he hears a shaky voice. “Who’s there?”

“Keith.” He says, pushing through the final barrier separating them. The vines and growth stick to him, and when he stands up, he’s covered in mud too.

“Stay back.” The boy warns, a log held in his hand like a bat. “I’m warning you.”

Keith pulls the vines off of him, and throws them to the ground. The mud is still on his shirt, but his face is visible now. “My name’s Keith. Can I borrow your phone?” It takes every ounce of self-control he has not to yell. Jeez. Isn’t it obvious that he’s human?

The boy blinks, brown skin changing colors with the flickering of the fire. “Uh, okay.”

The smaller one, who’s sitting on a log, a plastic bag separating their pants from the damp log, tosses the brown boy a phone. He offers it to Keith, and then pulls it back, a hanky thrusted in it’s place. “Clean your hands and face off first. You look like you’ve been rolling in the mud all day.”

Keith wipes the mud off with quick, angry movements slapping mud to the ground. “I’ve been chasing Mothman all day.”

The boy snorts, and offers him the phone once more. Keith takes it and dials Shiro’s number, the only one he knows by heart. It rings, dull noise a contrast to the call of the cicada that continues to sing from somewhere in the bushes. “Hello. Who is this?” 

“Hey Shiro. It’s Keith. I’m using, uh, a friends phone.” Keith replies. He doesn’t have any friends here, not so soon after their move; but it’s a lie that will keep Shiro from freaking out, so he goes with it.

“Right, and you’re doing what? Where are you and why didn’t you call sooner?” Shiro says, and Keith immediately feels bad for disobeying him; Shiro has a tendency to worry, especially after he came back from the war.

“I...uh...” His mind goes blank, and he doesn’t really know what to say. The brown boy takes the phone from his hand and holds it against his ear.

“Hey there, Shiro. I’m Keith’s friend, Lance. Sorry he didn’t call you sooner, but his phone died when we were out at the lake.”

Keith can hear Shiro’s tinny voice through the speaker. “I- uh, Hello, Lance. I’m afraid Keith hasn’t told me about you yet.”

“We met him this afternoon. He kinda stumbled into out camp, but we’ve adopted him now, so he’s stuck with us.”

“Who’s ‘us’?” Shiro asks, ever the stern one.

Keith sits down on an open log, and feels the dampness of rot seep through his pants. It doesn’t bother him; he’s already dirty. “Pidge,” Lance points at the smaller one, who tossed him the phone. “and Hunk.” He points at the big dude, with the stature of a football player. He offers Keith a kind smile.

Lance continues talking to Shiro, talking him out of his frenzy with the promise to get Keith home safely the next morning. Hunk whispers, “Leave the mud on the poison oak; it’ll help with the itching.”

Keith nods, and sits there awkwardly until Lance is done. “Did you seriously say that you adopted me?”

“Yup.” Lance replies happily, sitting back down between his two friends. Pidge takes the phone, and slips it into a ziplock bag before dropping it back into her bag.

“And then you invited me to your campfire.” 

“Yup.”

Keith snorts. “That’s ridiculous. I could be a mass murderer or something, and you just invited me to stay the night with you in a remote location.”

“But you’re not,” Pidge says, not looking up from her computer. “because you were looking for Mothman, and I highly doubt that a cryptid hunter is gonna be a mass murderer on the side.”

“And it’s not that remote.” Hunk adds. “My house is only a mile away.”

Keith settles into the log, and pulls a map from his backpack. “I must’ve followed the trail wrong then.” He mutters. “The footprints led this way, but-”

“You were seriously tracking Mothman?” Lance asks in surprise.

“Yeah. What of it?”

“Nothin’. That just seems kinda cool for a dude who got poison oak his first time in the woods.” Lance says, leaning into Hunk’s broad shoulders. “Maybe next time you could ask the locals for help.”

Keith’s cheeks burn under his lazy gaze. “Maybe I will.”

OoOoOoO

Keith doesn’t have a choice the next morning when Shiro finds their camp, determined to meet each of them face to face. Suddenly, his whole summer is intertwined with theirs, doing impossible things, like tracking aliens or simply stupid ones, like jumping off of Backman’s cliff naked. But as the gentle summer breeze turns into the brisk one of autumn, and the notion of school isn’t so far away, he finds that he didn’t mind it so much.

(Yeah, I got lazy. Tumblr deleted my progress twice.)

#voltron #voltron legendary defender #voltron fanfiction #lance voltron #voltron pidge #hunk voltron #keith (voltron) #voltron shiro #vld shiro #summer au

[gordonwilliamsweb]

Worry less, relax more

Getting up and moving is one of the first ways you can tamp down on your anxiety. (For Spectrum Health Beat)

Worrying more? You’re not alone.

The American Psychiatric Association has found America’s anxiety is on the upswing, with more of us stressing out about health, safety and paying the bills.

Concerns about politics and relationships are also plaguing more people, perhaps to a lesser degree.

Anxiety disorders—when fears and worry exceed normal levels, zapping the joy from people’s lives—are the most common mental illness in the U.S., according to an American Psychiatric Association poll.

Anxiety affects 18.1% of the adult population, according to the Anxiety and Depression Association of America.

Keep in mind that a certain amount of anxiety isn’t just normal—it’s necessary.

“It’s good that we worry about a teen who isn’t home by curfew, for example,” said Adelle Cadieux, PsyD, a psychologist at Spectrum Health Helen DeVos Children’s Hospital. “Or whether we can meet a looming work deadline.”

In those cases, worrying can inspire helpful actions.

But when anxiety completely takes over—excessive vigilance, for instance, or chewing constantly on the same fears—it’s time to take charge.

Dr. Cadieux recommends these solutions for wrangling worries:

Candid self-assessment

Ask yourself: Will worrying about X, Y or Z have any impact?

“There are some things truly out of our control—like traffic—where our worrying truly can’t change the outcome,” Dr. Cadieux said. “The more we recognize that, the faster we can see that this specific worry is wasting time and energy.”

It also helps to write out the consequences you’re dreading, just so you can see that you’re losing perspective: “If I miss the deadline, I’ll disappoint my boss, jeopardizing my job. I’ll get fired, and wind up homeless and unemployable.”

Get moving

Exercise is a highly effective tool against anxiety. It relieves stress, distracts us from our troubles and releases chemicals that make our brains feel better.

To those who don’t exercise often—or at all—just a single session can truly help. “Just getting out and moving your body can alleviate the discomfort that comes with worrying,” Dr. Cadieux said.

Clean up your diet

The link between nutrition and anxiety might seem like a bit of a leap, but it’s a plain fact that most of us tend to seek out unhealthy foods when we’re stressed.

“It’s so easy to indulge in something like ice cream, because we imagine it’s going to make us feel better and less stressed,” Dr. Cadieux said. And it does, “but only momentarily.”

Once the gratification of an indulgence passes, you’re still left with the anxiety—plus a side serving of guilt.

Master your sleep hygiene

Worries may have you tossing and turning, but research has shown that the better your sleep habits, the lower your anxiety. People with insomnia are 17 times more likely to suffer from anxiety, according to the Sleep Foundation.

Try and stick to the basics, like going to bed and rising at the same time. Cultivating a relaxing bedtime ritual also helps. Stay away from screens and bright lights for a period before turning in. Sleep in a cooler room, with the temperature between 60 and 67 degrees.

Ease up on java

America loves its coffee. Upwards of 65% of us have at least a cup a day.

While that may be fine for many, “it can increase the sensations that feel like anxiety,” Dr. Cadieux said. “We feel jittery and it increases our heart rate.”

Learn relaxation techniques

From simple deep breathing to progressive muscle relaxation, the mindfulness movement has produced all kinds of easy-to-follow methods for calming down.

Check out free resources from authorities on the mind-body connection, such as the University of California at Los Angeles, or free apps like Insight Timer and Stop, Breathe & Think.

Shape your schedule

As silly as it may sound, you can learn to put anxiety on a schedule. If you find yourself constantly worrying about something like a health problem or a job search, it helps to say, “OK, from 4 p.m. to 4:15 p.m., I’m going to sit down and do nothing but worry about ‘X.’”

When the worry crops up later, you can dismiss it with the thought, “Nope, I’m done for now. I’ll think about this again tomorrow at 4 p.m.”

Take notes

Stray anxieties can circle like gnats. We might worry that we’ll forget about them if we don’t keep thinking about them, Dr. Cadieux said.

Solution? Keep a notepad handy, or use the notes function on your phone to help capture those persistent concerns.

Create a dialogue

Instead of beating yourself up with worries, talk your anxieties over with someone. Sometimes, simply telling another person what’s got us so wound up relieves pressure, Dr. Cadieux said.

While excessive venting can backfire and make us more tense, “one of the great things about sharing is that sometimes the more you talk, the less intense the anxiety feels,” she said.

Hunt for mood changers

Cultivate some awe and wonder. Scientists are increasingly finding that moments of awe and wonder—a bright sunset, the lake at dawn—are powerful mood changers.

Not only do they reduce stress, they can also help us transcend the self and gain a fresh perspective. Check out the steps to a 15-minute awe walk from experts at the Greater Good Science Center at the University of California at Berkeley.

Ritualize it

Start a letting-go ritual. Some people toss rocks in the water, each one symbolizing a concern, Dr. Cadieux said. Others might write worries down on a piece of paper, then rip them up or burn them in a fireplace.

“It helps people visualize what they are trying to do,” she said.

Take time away

Fleeing the country isn’t usually a realistic solution, but it can help to pretend.

Take the afternoon off from work for an afternoon and go see a movie, or skip some errands and head to the park. Disengaging from your worries for a few hours can work wonders.

Seek help

If your worries are interfering with your daily life, you should seek professional treatment. Only about 37% of people with anxiety seek treatment, but a short course of therapy can be life-changing, Dr. Cadieux said.

While some people benefit from medication, cognitive behavioral therapy is especially effective, too.

Many people have suffered for so long with the often invisible symptoms of anxiety, they can’t quite believe change is possible, Dr. Cadieux said.

“But they learn how to handle anxiety in new ways,” she said. “And find relief from these damaging, worry habits.”

Worry less, relax more published first on https://nootropicspowdersupplier.tumblr.com/

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Worry less, relax more

Getting up and moving is one of the first ways you can tamp down on your anxiety. (For Spectrum Health Beat)

Worrying more? You’re not alone.

The American Psychiatric Association has found America’s anxiety is on the upswing, with more of us stressing out about health, safety and paying the bills.

Concerns about politics and relationships are also plaguing more people, perhaps to a lesser degree.

Anxiety disorders—when fears and worry exceed normal levels, zapping the joy from people’s lives—are the most common mental illness in the U.S., according to an American Psychiatric Association poll.

Anxiety affects 18.1% of the adult population, according to the Anxiety and Depression Association of America.

Keep in mind that a certain amount of anxiety isn’t just normal—it’s necessary.

“It’s good that we worry about a teen who isn’t home by curfew, for example,” said Adelle Cadieux, PsyD, a psychologist at Spectrum Health Helen DeVos Children’s Hospital. “Or whether we can meet a looming work deadline.”

In those cases, worrying can inspire helpful actions.

But when anxiety completely takes over—excessive vigilance, for instance, or chewing constantly on the same fears—it’s time to take charge.

Dr. Cadieux recommends these solutions for wrangling worries:

Candid self-assessment

Ask yourself: Will worrying about X, Y or Z have any impact?

“There are some things truly out of our control—like traffic—where our worrying truly can’t change the outcome,” Dr. Cadieux said. “The more we recognize that, the faster we can see that this specific worry is wasting time and energy.”

It also helps to write out the consequences you’re dreading, just so you can see that you’re losing perspective: “If I miss the deadline, I’ll disappoint my boss, jeopardizing my job. I’ll get fired, and wind up homeless and unemployable.”

Get moving

Exercise is a highly effective tool against anxiety. It relieves stress, distracts us from our troubles and releases chemicals that make our brains feel better.

To those who don’t exercise often—or at all—just a single session can truly help. “Just getting out and moving your body can alleviate the discomfort that comes with worrying,” Dr. Cadieux said.

Clean up your diet

The link between nutrition and anxiety might seem like a bit of a leap, but it’s a plain fact that most of us tend to seek out unhealthy foods when we’re stressed.

“It’s so easy to indulge in something like ice cream, because we imagine it’s going to make us feel better and less stressed,” Dr. Cadieux said. And it does, “but only momentarily.”

Once the gratification of an indulgence passes, you’re still left with the anxiety—plus a side serving of guilt.

Master your sleep hygiene

Worries may have you tossing and turning, but research has shown that the better your sleep habits, the lower your anxiety. People with insomnia are 17 times more likely to suffer from anxiety, according to the Sleep Foundation.

Try and stick to the basics, like going to bed and rising at the same time. Cultivating a relaxing bedtime ritual also helps. Stay away from screens and bright lights for a period before turning in. Sleep in a cooler room, with the temperature between 60 and 67 degrees.

Ease up on java

America loves its coffee. Upwards of 65% of us have at least a cup a day.

While that may be fine for many, “it can increase the sensations that feel like anxiety,” Dr. Cadieux said. “We feel jittery and it increases our heart rate.”

Learn relaxation techniques

From simple deep breathing to progressive muscle relaxation, the mindfulness movement has produced all kinds of easy-to-follow methods for calming down.

Check out free resources from authorities on the mind-body connection, such as the University of California at Los Angeles, or free apps like Insight Timer and Stop, Breathe & Think.

Shape your schedule

As silly as it may sound, you can learn to put anxiety on a schedule. If you find yourself constantly worrying about something like a health problem or a job search, it helps to say, “OK, from 4 p.m. to 4:15 p.m., I’m going to sit down and do nothing but worry about ‘X.’”

When the worry crops up later, you can dismiss it with the thought, “Nope, I’m done for now. I’ll think about this again tomorrow at 4 p.m.”

Take notes

Stray anxieties can circle like gnats. We might worry that we’ll forget about them if we don’t keep thinking about them, Dr. Cadieux said.

Solution? Keep a notepad handy, or use the notes function on your phone to help capture those persistent concerns.

Create a dialogue

Instead of beating yourself up with worries, talk your anxieties over with someone. Sometimes, simply telling another person what’s got us so wound up relieves pressure, Dr. Cadieux said.

While excessive venting can backfire and make us more tense, “one of the great things about sharing is that sometimes the more you talk, the less intense the anxiety feels,” she said.

Hunt for mood changers

Cultivate some awe and wonder. Scientists are increasingly finding that moments of awe and wonder—a bright sunset, the lake at dawn—are powerful mood changers.

Not only do they reduce stress, they can also help us transcend the self and gain a fresh perspective. Check out the steps to a 15-minute awe walk from experts at the Greater Good Science Center at the University of California at Berkeley.

Ritualize it

Start a letting-go ritual. Some people toss rocks in the water, each one symbolizing a concern, Dr. Cadieux said. Others might write worries down on a piece of paper, then rip them up or burn them in a fireplace.

“It helps people visualize what they are trying to do,” she said.

Take time away

Fleeing the country isn’t usually a realistic solution, but it can help to pretend.

Take the afternoon off from work for an afternoon and go see a movie, or skip some errands and head to the park. Disengaging from your worries for a few hours can work wonders.

Seek help

If your worries are interfering with your daily life, you should seek professional treatment. Only about 37% of people with anxiety seek treatment, but a short course of therapy can be life-changing, Dr. Cadieux said.

While some people benefit from medication, cognitive behavioral therapy is especially effective, too.

Many people have suffered for so long with the often invisible symptoms of anxiety, they can’t quite believe change is possible, Dr. Cadieux said.

“But they learn how to handle anxiety in new ways,” she said. “And find relief from these damaging, worry habits.”

Worry less, relax more published first on https://smartdrinkingweb.tumblr.com/