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sixeyesgojo · 3 years

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I’ll Be Your Enemy

Summary: Gojo Satoru is willing to do anything for you. As long as it helps you heal from what haunted your night.

Pairing: Gojo x Reader

Word count: 2,019

Content warning: implied but unspecified mental illness, mentions of self-harm (scratching), mentions of character death

A/N: Kind of stumbled upon this masterpiece of a song and I thought it would be ideal for some Gojo HURT. This entire thing takes place after the Cursed Womb Arc, so to say: after Yuji dies.

Song: Be Your Enemy by Taemin ft. Wendy

PREQUEL HERE: Pictures of You

Quickly, quickly. The key was inserted into the keyhole and turned. The door lock clicked faintly, signaling that the door has been unlocked. Satoru made sure to open and close the door softly as he entered the familiar apartment. Putting the spare key into his pocket, he slid out of his shoes. Usually he would have made some big noise to ‘announce his arrival’ but not this time. He left his shoes neatly at the genkan of the residence and slipped into the white slippers that always stood by the wooden door, an extra pair just for him.

23 minutes ago. “Hello?” Satoru had picked up the phone. “Gojo-san! Finally the call went through. I’m glad I am able to reach you now,” the voice on the other end said. “Yo, Ijichi, what’s up?” Satoru greeted. He had been sent to a pretty rural area of Japan to get rid of some pesky curses and the cell phone reception was poor in that place, so it wasn’t surprising that calls didn’t go through at times. In addition to that, some curses that manifested had an electrical ability, which impaired the cell towers at place even more. Almost as if planned. “Gojo-san, I think you need to come back as fast as you can,” the man with glasses on the other end of the line stated calmly. “Why?” was the only thing the white-haired sorcerer said in response. Somehow, he had a strange feeling in his gut. The tone in Ijichi’s voice didn’t do anything to calm this odd feeling either.

“It’s L/N-san. Something horrible happened and I don’t think she is taking it well. I did my best to calm her but I’m at wits’ end too…” Ichiji explained vaguely. Satoru was experiencing a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time - his stomach churned, it felt like his guts were wrenching inside him - at the mention of your name. “Ijichi,” he said in a relatively calm voice. He was lucky his voice wasn’t betraying him by showing what he truly felt in that moment. Satoru’s feet were set in rapid motion. “Stay calm. I need you to explain to me what exactly happened.”

Gojo Satoru might be many things. A tease, a teacher (supposedly), a cruel man, a strong sorcerer, a crazy coach, a walking menace to some, protective, an inspiration to a handful, a venti-sized manchild, idiotic, a sweets maniac, a lifelong student to Yaga, playful, a pillar of the Jujutsu world… but most importantly, he was a caring person. This goes without saying for his students and especially his loved ones. What Ijichi just said on the phone had left his heart stinging in his chest. He was in the kitchen, leaving the bag he brought with him on the table.

“Alright. I will tell you what happened, Gojo-san.” “I am listening.” “I am not sure if you are aware that this happened,” the suit-clad man began, “but one of the missions that was originally assigned to you - a case of utmost priority of a cursed womb - was suddenly taken off of your pile and reassigned…” Satoru’s eyes narrowed underneath the black fabric. The beginning already left a bad taste in his mouth; missions assigned to him were usually first grade or even special grade and he knew all too well that there were nowhere enough first grade, let alone special grade, sorcerers around. So who had it been assigned to? “...to your three first-year students,” Ijichi finished with a sigh. The sickening hotness of rage filled Satoru’s whole body. Already having realized the scenario that must have taken place, he still asked for confirmation, “What grade?” “...Special grade. One casualty.” The picture that you had taken of him, his first years and yourself (so carefully hung up on your wall at home) flashed in front of his inner eye. He clenched his teeth so hard as he wordlessly hung up; it hurt. It hurt so badly.

Such an atrocious inhumane act coated in malice. He was going to kill these dirty-playing bastards. However, that would have to wait until later. Much later. Satoru couldn’t leave you to your own devices, not in this state. The scenario he concluded for himself earlier replayed in his mind several times as he made his way through your completely dark apartment. His heart stung with each beat. It was almost as if someone drove a blade through his chest repeatedly.

When he stood in front of the closed door of your bedroom, he heard soft sobs coming from inside. Should he knock to let you know someone came? He wasn’t sure what to do. He gave the door two soft knocks and entered the room. It was your hunched form on the bed, no doubt. Satoru could not see your face with the way your back was facing him. Slowly he made his way to your bed and crouched down to face you. Your face was swollen and tear-stained, a sight he didn’t see often. His large hand rested on your shoulder and gently rubbed it, a silent question hung in the air.

Finally, you looked at him with your swollen eyes. Almost instantly, your sobs got louder and you reached out for the tall sorcerer. “S-Satoru…” you hiccuped in-between sobs. “Yeah. I’m here, I’m here,” he reassured you and stroked the wet hair out of your puffy face as you threw yourself around him, relentlessly crying into his broad shoulders. The white-haired man enclosed his arms around you but it wasn’t to hug you for comfort.

He scooped your delicate frame up and wrapped a warm blanket around you before leaning your body against the headboard of the bed. He sat next to you on the bed and guided your head onto his shoulders. Your violent sobbing stopped but tears were still flowing freely.

If there was someone who understood the agony, bitterness and distress someone in this line of work had to face, it was Gojo Satoru. The path of a Jujutsu Sorcerer was painted black and red by trials and tribulations. This was why Satoru was so hell-bent on resetting the world he called his obligation. “If you feel exhausted, just lean on me for a second,” his calm voice sounded through the room. There was no answer from you. Even if there was silence, your feelings reached his heart and he spoke again. “Do you want to tell me about it?” he asked gently. Let it go with me. It’ll be easier to shake this burden off and share it, he thought. Of course, he would never dare force you. You nuzzled into his shoulder, as if to get even closer physically.

Ultimately, the woman sucked in a breath and with a shaky voice and recounted everything in her point of view. “I-I.. was on a mission when I… got a call from Ijichi. ‘Something wasn’t right’, he said and… t-told me about the cursed womb. As soon as I heard… that they sent y-your students there, I rushed to the location but…”, you hiccuped, “...I was too late… Y-Yuji, he-” You sobbed hysterically into his shoulder. Satoru turned to you to wipe away the tears and snot with a tissue. “Shhh, I’m here, I’m here”, he reassured once again, “I’ll fix it somehow.” It was just as he thought: those damned higher ups.

“H-How? This is not… something… you can f-fix, Satoru… not even you,” you continued bawling into his shoulders. I’ll kill all the higher ups, he thought to himself. “I don’t know but I’ll be damned if I can’t do something to change this detestable, loathsome and bloody world we live in,” his voice seethed with anger but it quickly died down as he re-focused on the main topic at hand, “there has to be something I can do, I’ll even drag out Sukuna myself if I have to.” “Please, Satoru…” Your whisper was faint and weak, “I… saw Yuji’s corpse... on the ground... I just want to see him one last time…”

Being a Jujutsu Sorcerer undoubtedly put a heavy strain on your mental wellbeing; nobody was spared from it, not even the great Gojo Satoru. Unfortunately, you were one of the people who were much more affected by incidents like these. He realized how badly it hurt your heart, he knew how much all the students meant to you and he knew just how much more fragile you were than you let on in front of other people. Where there is light, there must be shadow. It wasn’t like he was left unscathed by it either but right now, his utmost priority was you.

“Right,” the male sorcerer murmured more to himself. He still had to check something. “I want you to show me your arms, please.” If this had been a command, it had to be the gentlest one you had ever heard. Maybe it was the fact that there was a hint of pain infused in the way he spoke to you just now that made you show your arms so willingly, or maybe it was the fact that he always sounded so earnest when he took care of you like this. He genuinely cared; it was something you shouldn’t be surprised about, considering how long the two of you have known and cared for each other, but it never ceased to leave you in awe. You held out your arms for him to see.

As carefully as possible, the man examined your arms, his touch ghosting over your skin. It was a good thing he came prepared. The angry red lines, dry blood and broken skin on both of your forearms seemed to scream at him: you hurt yourself again. Without a doubt, he felt guilty. “I’ll be right back,” he announced as he slipped away from the bed after fixing your position and stroking your hair tenderly. A few moments later, your tall friend was back with a few medical supplies. Sitting back on the bed, he started to clean and treat your injuries. Besides a few hiccups and whimpers from your side, silence befell the room.

“Don’t you want to curse and insult me?” His eyes were still fixed on bandaging your arms. “No,” was all you said in response, fearing that your voice would give in. “You should though. After all, it was technically my fault...” Even though you were hurting, you knew Satoru was hurting all the same deep down in his heart, seeing that his precious students were the victims in this case. Satoru really treasured disciples. You took a few deep breaths before you replied, “Please don’t ever blame yourself for this… I know you wouldn’t have… let this shit happen. I know how much you adore them.”

“If it makes you feel better... if it can help you heal, I’ll take it. Any words are fine. I can deal with all the painful words…” Strong arms wrapped around you and pulled you to his chest. It was rare but his voice… unmistakably cracked for a second. A shaky chuckle left your lungs, “Please Satoru,” you wrapped your arms around him as well and nuzzled into his shirt again, “I could never treat you like that. You are everything to me but an enemy. Have always been.”

“I’ll be anything you need. I’ll even be your enemy if you ask me to… so please tell me, so that it doesn’t hurt you anymore…” he said shakily. The blindfolded man had masked his pain up until now, for your sake. It was your time to comfort him. Giving him shelter, like he had done for you. He had already experienced far too much hurt.

“Satoru, all I’ll ever need you to be in my life… is the important and comforting presence you have always been. Don’t change. If things are too much, too overwhelming and you become tired, you can lean on me too. I will never leave you.”

There was nothing left to say, no need. It was enough for both of you to be in each other’s comforting presence.

Taglist: @gojos-mochi @megumifushi @bleueluna

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo angst #angst #gojo satoru angst #song fic #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #jjk #tw: death #tw: mentions of death #tw: mental illness #tw: self harm #taemin #inspired by taemin #shinee #ibye series

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dracosaurusrex · 3 years

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Kintsugi: Imperfectly Perfect (Draco x Reader)

“Kintsugi is the Japanese art of putting broken pottery pieces back together with gold — built on the idea that in embracing flaws and imperfections, you can create an even stronger, more beautiful piece of art.”

- Tiffany Ayuda

Summary:In which Y/N teaches a broken Draco Malfoy how to mend himself and embrace the scars that haunt him.

Wordcount: 10.3k

Genre: Angst/Fluff; Postwar AU

Warnings: Descriptions of depression; self-degredation; sexual themes but no smut

A/N: Hi! This is my first time writing a postwar AU. I was always afraid of doing so out of fear that I would mistakenly portray Draco, but I guess this can be a rite of passage in a way aha. With that being said, here’s my attempt! I hope you like it :D Feedback is very much appreciated!!

The sound of an alarm clock breaks the peace that had manifested within the darkness of the room. One eye creaks open, followed by the other, and a body raises itself to greet the day.

The boy lifts his sheets gently, allowing the cold air to engulf his skin, to wake him, to pull him into the reality of yet another morning.

The pads of his feet are the next to awaken as he hoists himself out of bed, meeting the frigid floor beneath him. He plods across the expanse of space, only to take notice of his reflection in the mirror.

Draco Malfoy, once boisterous, prideful, loud, and arrogant, had been reduced to a shell. One that lived by drifting through the motions of each passing day. It showed through the dark circles apparent under his eyes, the frown that resided on his lips, and his overall gaunt appearance. The thrill that was once characteristic of his youth had spilled through his cracks, leaving him empty and seemingly unrepairable; and no other perspective of his experience could convince him otherwise.

The second wizarding war took too much from him so early on. It started with his father, the man he had ardently looked up to, who he desired so much to please. Lucius’s arrest put the young boy on the forefront of the Death Eaters’ activities, placing an unbearable weight on his shoulders. From that point on, it wasn’t long until the mischievous smile left him, only to be replaced with panicked eyes, increased stress levels, and absolutely no peace of mind. The boy had his entire life on a tightrope, constantly pulling strings to survive.

The result of such was the immense realization of guilt pooling from the sights of Hogwarts in shambles, the lifeless bodies of those he was once acquainted with, and the shame of literally walking away from it all.

Nightmares were also frequent visitors. Besides those that embodied remnants of the war, Draco was almost always confronted by the tauntings of his wrongs: the way he poorly treated others, his stuck-up sense of superiority, the foul slur that he once used so freely--they all haunted him with no end, and all he wanted to do was take everything back. The boy has so often degraded his character since then, describing himself with words such as ‘worthless’, ‘loathsome’, ‘putrid’--the list goes on. He carried his beating heart as though it was dead weight, wanting so desperately to discard the regret that compounded on itself through the years. He was broken, and had no hope of being fixed.

It was also needless to say that the family dynamic had changed for the Malfoy’s; especially since they often stayed within the confines of the property. Narcissa had been diligent in eradicating the place of all things that harbored any signs of Voldemort’s occupation--opening curtains, tending to her garden, changing up the plans for the interior design. Lucius, on the other hand, often occupied himself in his study, simply abiding by the plans for change that his wife had made. He still invested in his social connections, actively making donations to charities and hospitals that had been established as a result of the war. The act helped shed some light on their image, however any interaction that was to be made with the world outside was done through Draco as representative of the family name.

Fortunately, he managed to keep his mind silent in the mornings. As he walked through the vast hallways he would take note of the way light had poured into the manor, admiring the charm that it brought to its nooks and crannies. The quaint atmosphere that was characteristic of these corridors were peaceful, and managed to calm his thoughts albeit temporarily.

As soon as he entered the dining room, Narcissa beckoned him to sit with her and his father.

“Draco, darling, come have some breakfast.” Without much response, he obeys, taking the spot across from her. She placed his favorites on a platter, and observed him as he nibbled on the food in front of him. After several minutes of silence, she pulled an ivory-colored envelope from the pocket of her robe and slid it to him. With food still mounted on his utensils, the boy glanced at the gold details that embellished its corners.

“We’ve been invited to an art gala hosted by the Ministry. The details are inside.” She said.

“I’ll be sure to be in attendance, mother.” He confirmed before resuming his breakfast. The woman casted a worried look at him before turning to Lucius. Things could never go back to the way they once were.

The art gala was held on a Saturday evening, and Draco found himself standing in front of a finely decorated building. An air of aristocracy and luxury loomed within the environment--it was an energy that he had been surrounded by all his life. Large columns aligned its front. A red carpet stemming from the entrance had been rolled out, sweeping along a flight of stairs. Familiar faces of esteemed socialites were seen making their way up the steps. Banners had been hung, indicating the gala and a live auction as highlights of the day’s events.

His only job was to engage in civilized conversation, connect with other high-standing figures, and expand the family network. Simply put, he was there to look pretty.

The feeling of dread overcame him at the thought of immersing himself in socialization. With a begrudging sigh, he straightened his back, briefly smoothened out his suit, and adjusted his cufflinks before trudging up the stairs. Eyes tracked his every step. Despite his emotional wellbeing, the boy still managed to clean up well, creating a facade to those around him. He didn’t bask in the glory, though. He knew he was handsome, he knew he was wealthy, but looks and money were no longer sufficient enough to help him tend to the emptiness he felt on the inside.

The gala itself didn’t begin until 6:00 PM, which was in an hour. Therefore, in hopes to kill time, Draco aimlessly walked through the art displayed for the auction to be held later that night. He carefully observed the numerous crafts with great scrutiny. Paintings were created with much detail--many of them embodying styles from the varying art periods. Sculptures paying great detail to the human body littered the main floor. Hand-crafted furniture were set on display as well, showcasing elaborate ornaments and designs. Mother would like these. He thought. He continued plodding across the exhibit, typically stopping for a mere minute for every submission before walking away.

It was when he took sight of a humble set of ceramics that he actually stopped to stare. The collection consisted of bowls and pots ranging from small to medium sizes. However, what caught his attention were the traces of gold that coursed through their shapes. They took the form of cracks, which looked too beautiful, too flawless to be such--he couldn’t comprehend them ever being broken at all.

“Do you like them?” A light voice startles him from his thoughts. Standing next to him is a bright-eyed girl whose face he vaguely remembers.

“Y/N Y/L/N? What are you doing here?” He dismisses her question and looks at her with disbelief laced through his voice. The girl was in Ravenclaw when they were still in Hogwarts. Due to the difference in houses and friend groups, there was rarely any interaction between them. Nevertheless, he’s heard countless praises for her artistic talent even as a student, therefore reserved a tinge of respect for her reputation.

“Draco Malfoy! It’s been such a long time!” She beams at him. A breathy laugh escapes him as a polite smile settles on his lips.

“Definitely has been. Were you eyeing this set as well?” He glanced back at the ceramics, contemplating on bidding for them in the auction. The sight of them evoked a warm, admirable energy within him, as though they called for his presence.

“Heavens, no. I actually made them.” Y/N took notice of the way he glanced at them, and shyly rubbed the back of her neck. The boy turned to her with eyes widened in awe of her brilliance—the smile of politeness immediately transitioning to one of sincerity.

“You made these? They’re beautiful!” The comment brought heat to her cheeks.

“Draco, please. You flatter me so.”

“I’ll be taking these home without a doubt.” He reassures her. In the moment that he says so, he immediately takes notice of her appearance. Her hair was slicked into a low bun. Her makeup gave her a pleasant dewy look. Gold accessories accentuates her deep emerald evening gown, which only emphasizes her curves as it flows down her body. He couldn’t recall her ever being attractive when they were students—she had always been clad in blue. But, tonight proved that green was definitely her color.

“You look lovely, by the way.” He complimented as his eyes glossed over her. She bit her lip in response to the butterflies that formed in her stomach.

“You always had a way with words didn’t you, Malfoy?” The melodic laugh that she produced, in turn, caused his heart to skip a beat.

“I admit I was a prat, but I’m not joking around this time.” The girl let out another giggle before placing her hand on his shoulder and giving it a quick squeeze.

“I think you look rather dashing yourself. Unfortunately, though, I have to get going. I’ll see you around?”

“It would be my pleasure.” Draco watches Y/N’s figure as she walks away. Before she goes any further, she looks over her shoulder and says, “Good luck with the auction!”

With a small wave and smile, the boy is left in a lighter state.

The gala came and went with Draco thoroughly exhausted from the copious amounts of socialization. Questions regarding connections to his father were asked, business cards were exchanged, and flattery and compliment was a common occurrence amongst these interactions. Nevertheless, the boy’s energy especially drained from the intensity of the auction that occurred towards the end of the night. All the art pieces were valuable and beautiful, however it was only then that he realized that he wasn’t the only one drawn to Y/N’s work. Competition for the highest bid was at an all-time high as number paddles were desperately raised for every price announced. His heart clambered in his chest as the thought of keeping the ceramics seemingly slipped from his grasp.

“Highest bid for 80,000 galleons! Do we have any takers?” The auctioneer announces. Draco waits for a second to see that no one has raised their paddles. Within the next, he lifts his own confidently.

“We have a bidder for 80,000 galleons! Do we have any more bidders? No?” At this point, adrenaline coursed through his veins, beads of sweat had formed and fell, and the grip on his paddle tightened, leaving marks on his hand.

The auctioneer proceeds to announce the final countdown, “Final bid for 80,000 galleons! 1, 2, 3, sold to Draco Malfoy!” Relief overcame him while congratulatory praises were given by those nearby. He catches Y/N’s gaze from afar, and throws her a wink, signifying the resolution for the chaotic night.

As attendees began to file out of the building, the boy waited in the hall to collect his reward, filling out the form that confirmed the amount he had to pay. With his attention drawn to the slip, he fails to notice Y/N’s presence beside him. She looks over his shoulder, eyes widening at the amount before looking away to suppress the smile that threatens to form on her lips. She never really gave much monetary value to her art before; each one was produced as a product of passion and love. However, the expression that it first brought to Draco’s face, in addition to the amount of effort he put in to attain them, reassures that her work will be well taken care of. She momentarily stares at his broad shoulders before gaining the courage to speak.

“Congratulations!” She says, startling him once again. He takes a second to collect his breath before looking up at her.

“Do you plan on giving me a heart attack, Y/L/N, or is it in your nature to be overly enthusiastic?” The shameless smirk she has on her face, prompts him to release a chuckle. He stands up straight as soon as he signs the piece of paper, engaging his line of vision with hers.

“The way you respond is not my fault, Malfoy.” She answers, playfully shoving her index finger towards his shoulder. He grabs her wrist, and the warmth from his hands, accompanied by the flirtatious gleam in his eyes, prompts her to cast the same expression. She shoots him a coy smile before he releases her from his grasp.

“Would you like to accompany me to the front?” He asks.

“That’d be lovely.” The pair approaches the stage where the volunteers greet them both. They present his items upon confirmation, and proceed to wrap each bowl individually. He lifts one of the unwrapped pieces to his eyes, examining the gold details.

“How’d you manage to pull this off?” He asks, impressed by her craftsmanship.

“It’s a technique called ‘kintsugi’. I learned it while living in Japan for a while after the war,” She says, reaching her hand out for it. He gives it to her.

“You know, these pieces were never supposed to be auctioned off in this gala,” She explains as she delicately traces the lines, “They were so damaged. You can even consider them to be broken beyond repair,” Draco observes as she lifts it to her eye level.

“But obviously, when pieced back together—with all their cracks emphasized by the gold—they have much more value and beauty,” Y/N gives it back to Draco, and he takes it gingerly.

“However, It took a long time for it to come out that way. When you examine the piece before its repair, the first thought in mind would be to discard it. After all, why would anyone bother mending a broken bowl?” She meets his eyes once again.

“These cracks would typically be considered flaws, but at the end of the process the piece is still whole—I’m still whole. They mean a lot to me, and helped me heal from the war and all.” Her line of sight drifts towards the end of her statement, yet the boy catches himself appalled by the passion in her voice. He didn’t expect her to speak so openly, yet the words that flowed from her mouth touch him in a way he can’t comprehend. For once he feels a glimmer of hope budding within. For once, inspiration meets him, and he doesn’t want to lose that feeling she effortlessly provided.

“I’ll make sure to take great care of them.” He says with much sincerity.

He places the piece back onto the table, and turns back to Y/N to see a sweet smile on her lips.

“I have faith you will.” A knowing look is shared between them--one that makes both hearts flutter in longing to see each other again.

“Do you think we can keep in contact? If it’s alright with you that is. I’d like to become more familiar with this art technique.”

“The Slytherin prince wants to keep in contact with me? Consider me wooed.” Draco rolls his eyes and chuckles at the old title. Before he could respond, she speaks again with more seriousness, “I don’t usually accept visitors in my studio, but I’ll make an exception for you. You can come by sometime, if you’d like.”

A genuine smile appears on his lips for the second time that night. Out of all the individuals he exchanged contacts with, she by far had been his favorite. He ensured to send her an owl to confirm their meeting, hoping to do so some time next week.

As they part, she turns back one more time, and calls out to him, “Draco,” The sound of his name perks his head upward

“You should smile more. It’s a lovely sight.” Before he could see her face erupt in a blush, she apparates away. With his new belongings in hand and an obvious grin, he too returns to the manor, feeling elated for the first time in a long while.

It was nine o’clock by the time Draco apparated home. Narcissa immediately took notice of his change in aura much to her relief.

“How was the gala, dear?” She asks.

“Quite pleasant this time around, if I’m being honest. I won these at an auction.” Draco stated as he props the box on top of a table. His mother approaches him, attention drawn to the objects when he reveals the contents inside.

She gasps, “Oh my stars, they’re beautiful.”

She picks one up delicately. The expression she had on her face was very much identical to the one he sported when he came across them the first time.

“I knew you’d like them. The artist was a fellow classmate of mine at Hogwarts.”

“Oh? Who is it? I would like to see more from this artist.”

“Her name is Y/N Y/L/N. Quite brilliant she is.” Mother’s instinct told Narcissa that this girl had her son taken aback. She saw it through the pleasant expression that graced his facial features, which contrasted greatly to the gloomy air that usually accompanied him. Furthermore, there was a decadent tone in his voice, a sparkle in his eyes, and a slight smile present when her name rolled off his tongue. She decided to probe a little bit more.

“House?”

“Ravenclaw.” He responds.

“Very fitting. The craftsmanship in her work is amazing,” The woman’s eyes marveled at the gold.

“How is she?” She asks. The question catches the boy off guard.

“Pardon?”

“How is she doing? Has she been okay since the war?”

“We didn’t touch upon it too much. Although, she mentioned that creating these has helped her heal.”

“You mean to say that these were broken at one point?”

“Precisely. She mended them.” At this point, Narcissa was quite taken by the girl as well.

“You should invite her over one of these days. I’d love to have a cup of tea with her.” Draco quirked a brow at her.

“You’re not going to ask about her blood status?”

“I would’ve known she was a pureblood from her last name, but times are changing aren’t they not?” Narcissa flashes a tightlipped smile towards her son, to which he responds with a nod of understanding.

“I’ll be going up then. You can keep that one mother. You seem to take a liking to it.” Draco turns on his heel at the end of his statement, carrying the box of ceramic goods under his arm. He wouldn’t acknowledge that times are changing. However, tonight has been the only instance he had felt his life shifting —from the way he reunited with Y/N, to the way his mother spoke. It was a step forward to redemption, and he felt a little more willing to see where it would go.

The boy sat on his bed, deep in thought. With moonlight shining upon him, he delicately traced the golden lines that streaked the small bowl in his hands. Then with much hesitation, he rolled up his left sleeve and began tracing the blaring curves of the mark that stained his porcelain skin. Its presence resembled shackles that have been chained to his ankles, and the weight of the memories caused him to grimace. However the budding warmth that had seeped within him soothed the negative sensations. Heart palpitations of regret transformed into those of hope. Furthermore, recollection of the girl’s words rang through his mind. It led him to wonder if piecing himself into something better would ever be a viable reality—a dream so tempting to pursue that he brought himself to his desk to start a letter addressed to her.

Y/N awoke to a tapping noise on her window. With heavy-lidded eyes, she peeks through her curtains only to be met by an eagle owl. Its wide orbs stared directly at her, and attached to its beak was an envelope. She recalled the conversation she had with a certain platinum-haired boy from the night before, and immediately jolted upward, pushing the window open to let the animal in.

“Do you belong to Draco, love?” It perches itself on her shoulder, and drops the envelope into her hands. A wax seal presents itself with an ‘M’, confirming her inquiry. She opens it with much carefulness, and pulls out the letter inside.

Y/L/N,

How does this Thursday sound? 5:00?

The girl chuckled at how straight-to-the-point he was, while her mind flitted back to their school days. She had always felt neutral about him. In contrast to popular belief, she didn’t think he was quite bad. Despite the harshness behind his actions, his eyes always maintained an undertone of fear. Upon the revelation that the boy was indeed a death eater, the title itself wasn’t what stirred her. Rather, it was the incomprehensible experience that she could merely picture him going through. She was there when he crossed sides. She was no stranger to the distraught look on his face--fear had overtaken him even in that moment. He might’ve been flawed, but it wasn’t without reason.

A cry from the owl broke her out of thought. “Impatient are we?” It blinked in response. Not wanting to keep the bird waiting any longer, she pulls out a piece of parchment and begins to write a response to the letter.

Y/N inserted the parchment into an envelope, sealed it, and handed it to the owl only after she gave it a treat. As she watched it take flight from her window sill, she contemplated more on the boy. ‘Kintsugi’ the art of broken pieces and precious scars. As thoughts of him lingered, she began to wonder if how he fared ever since the war had drawn to its close. Before she knew it, she carried along with her work, totally occupied with the image of him in mind.

Draco’s heart beat like a drum when he skimmed through the contents of Y/N’s response. The feeling of nervous excitement erupted within his stomach up until the moment he stood on her doorstep. Besides the instances in which he’d gone out for his parents, it had been a long while since he stepped foot outside for himself. He took sight of the sheet of clouds that blanketed the sky, the small plants that were scattered on her porch, and the movement of the curtain as wind blew through her open window.

Mere seconds of waiting were filled with more self-doubt as he tugged on his left sleeve, clenching his forearm soon after. Not much could be guaranteed from this meeting. For all he knew, this might’ve been a one a time thing. However, such thoughts were casted aside once he was greeted with Y/N’s glowing smile.

“Draco! It’s so nice to see you!” She stepped aside to let him in, “Please come in.”

The boy greets her, and looks around her small space. He indulges in the glimpse of her expressive decor--somehow they represented the life that she had built and created for herself over time.

“Darling, your jaw is going to fall off,” she chuckled, “Come, the studio is in the back.” The girl gestures at him to follow her, and is met with a small building stationed behind the main house. The image of shelves fills his view upon entering. On them were stacks of cracked ceramic—some in large pieces, others in small. Towards the far corner of the room was a pottery wheel, and opposite from it was a small gas kiln. In the middle was a table space with various tools, brushes, lacquer, and gold. The room was as neat as it could be, much to Draco’s surprise.

“This is me.” Y/N turns around with her arms spread out. She then proceeds to pull a stool out for the boy and urges him to sit. He does so, and she stands in close proximity to him, leaning on the table for support.

“I was actually working on a piece before you came.” The girl points to her current project—a vase whose cracks have already been bound.

“What’s the process like?” He asks

“It’s much longer than you think. I learned how to do it the traditional way in Japan, and I haven’t deviated from it ever since.” The boy quirks a brow.

“You mean to say that there are faster methods?”

“There are, however it’s the process I appreciate the most I suppose. Mending takes time after all.” Y/N, who had been looking down at her feet, glances up at him to see his brows furrowed inwardly.

“Don’t you get impatient?” She nods in reminiscence.

“I used to in the past, but all things worth anything take time, right?” They stare at each other for a moment. Draco, who has longed for the feeling of redemption, looked into the pure intent within her eyes. The silence prompts her to slip a small smile at him.

“How about you, Draco Malfoy? How have you been?” There it was: The question that he could never answer (not truthfully anyway). Despite being in the center of all his thoughts, he hadn’t developed the courage to face them properly. He was stuck in a routine of living that provided a false sense of security. However, the present brought him to the realization that he had never been secure--not with himself.

“Not as good as what people see at face value.” He said simply.

“I never would’ve thought. Although, I suppose it just shows that we can never truly judge others, huh?”

“Yes, definitely.” He allowed his view on her to linger before speaking again.

“I actually wanted to see the way you worked.” It was her turn to quirk a brow at him.

“And why’s that?”

“To see the mending process.” Y/N remained silent as she analyzed the longing look in his eyes. His silvery orbs conveyed volumes of a history that was left unspoken.

He continued, “I want to believe that broken things can be mended.” The determination in his eyes reminded her of why she began learning kintsugi in the first place. Behind the determination was hope that longed to be born to fruition.

“I have one condition,” she said. His eyebrows arched in response.

“You can watch me, but you have to do some mending yourself.” She stepped away at the end of her statement and reached for something on her shelves. When she came back, she grabbed the boy’s hand, and placed a small bowl in his palm. It was a simple piece--still intact--taking on a warm, grey sheen. He looked at her with confusion, only to be met with seriousness.

“Kintsugi begins when something breaks, and it focuses more on the beauty of the process rather than the outcome. That being said, it requires a lot of patience and acceptance.”

“I’m not an artist, Y/N. It won’t be perfect.” The girl takes hold of his other hand, and cups it within hers firmly.

“It doesn’t have to be, Draco. The process belongs to you. You just have to trust yourself.” She said earnestly with her grip on him tightening. The warmth from her hands emanated through his skin and into his chest. She stood so close now, her head tilted upward to meet the uncertainty on his face. It made him feel vulnerable, but he stared back into her eyes with much resolve. It was an answer as it is.

Y/N gave him a reassuring smile and stepped away from him.

“I want you to drop that bowl. You don’t have to smash it, just let it fall.” Draco shifted his glance and looked at the bowl hesitantly. After a couple of seconds, he releases his hold, and allows the piece to slip from his fingers. His eyes were trained on it as it fell through the air, meeting its fate with a shattering sound. The bowl that was once intact was now in pieces on the floor, eliciting a familiar ache within him. It had split into five--a large one, one medium, and three more that were much smaller that comprised the object's rim.

As he bent down to pick up the pieces, a new wave of ambition overcame him. Each chip was picked up with much mindfulness, with responsibility, with purpose. When he stood up again, he began to perceive them as a reflection of himself, and gently placed them on the workbench.

Y/N, who witnessed the entire scene, smiled when Draco turned to face her. Her lips were pulled up gently, sweetly, and it evoked rosy feelings inside him. The boy eyed her as she went back to the shelf.

“How do you feel?” She asked. Her back was turned to him as she reached for another bowl.

“Light.” She smiled at the sound of his response. She returned with a teal-colored bowl in hand. Following his previous actions, she dropped it, allowing the sounds of shatters to fill their ears once more.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

“You think I’m going to make you do this alone?” The girl bends down as she gingerly picks up the chips of ceramic from the floor. She proceeds to clear out the table, leaving only the utensils to be used to start the process.

“The materials I use are already here, but we’ll be working only with the lacquer for today.” The two set off to organize their pieces, hearts becoming more aware of one another as time passes on. After everything got sorted out, she demonstrated layering a coat of lacquer to the edges. Draco examined the way the smile instantly left her face, only to be replaced with a focused expression. Her eyebrows lowered, lips in a firm line, sights fixed on the ceramic. He also noticed how languid her fingers were in handling each piece with care.

The solemnity of the sight is broken as she parts her lips to speak again, “Did you know that the lacquer is toxic?” He shakes his head when she spares him a glance momentarily before setting her gaze back onto the chips. “It’s toxic when wet, therefore much care needs to be taken when you lay it on the edges.” She then takes the smaller pieces and proceeds to add lacquer on them as well.

“However,” She continues, “as it dries, it hardens and mends the bowl perfectly.” She attaches the pieces together, and lifts the bowl carefully to show him. The boy stares at her flawless handiwork--the cracks reveal themselves as mere lines, seemingly invisible to the naked eye.

“Strange, right? A substance that was once toxic is used to mend. When it dries it restores the product to perfection, and loses its toxicity.” Draco simply nods. It was a hard concept for the boy to grasp, but her words tickled a corner of his heart. How could something so bad be used to restore something that was once whole into perfection? He gazes at his own project while Y/N sets hers down carefully.

She passes the materials to him, observing as he gingerly takes the brush in hand. He dips it into the pool of lacquer, raising a glob of it up from the bottle.

“You don’t need too much, just enough so that the brush is covered completely.” She reached out to grab his hand, to demonstrate what she had meant. After realizing their closeness, however, she turned a shade of pink and stepped back. Draco tried his best to hold back his smile, but failed miserably.

“I’m s-sorry.” She stammered. He chuckled at her.

“Nonsense, I’m all for this form of instruction.” He said teasingly, eliciting a laugh from her.

“Don’t mind me, just concentrate.” She ordered. Silence loomed, but smiles remained on their faces. Draco continued his work, emulating the way she coated her edges. He gripped each chip firmly while his eyes trailed the movement of the brush. Each second spent felt like darkness was being extracted from within, leaving him light and solemn. With much caution, he then pressed them together, and watched as the product adopted its once flawless form. With an approving look, Y/N explained the proceeding steps, immediately noticing the relaxed expression that had settled on his features. Deciding to take a break, the two embark to the main house to relax.

“Since we have to wait a while, is there anything you want to do? To eat?” She asked as they entered the room. The question, however, was left unanswered due to the sighting of a familiar looking uniform. Hung on her wall was a Ravenclaw robe.

“You still have it?” He asked, pointing to the article of clothing with his chin. She chuckled and pulled it off it’s hanger.

“Yeah. I found it a couple days ago, and thought I’d try it for old times sake.” She slipped it over her shoulders, pulling the boy through a series of flashbacks from his time in Hogwarts. He recalled passing her by the hallways, getting small glimpses of her sketches, even seeing her vibrant personality shine with her friends.

“You know, I always thought you looked better in green.” He said approaching her.

“You think so?” He nodded.

“It’s a shame that we never really talked much. I think we would’ve been good friends.” She said in response.

“You think so?”

“Well besides the bullying, yes. I don’t think you’re as bad as people portray you to be.”

“You give me too much credit, Y/L/N.”

“Maybe you deserve a little more credit than you were granted.” This sparked more warmth within the boy. As she ordered food for delivery, Draco took a seat at her table, his gaze locked on her with the robe still propped on her body. His thoughts drifted as he imagined what might’ve happened if he did befriend the girl. How different would he be if he had her for company? How close would he have allowed their friendship to become? His mind began to wander and he ruminated on the what-could-have-beens, most especially the effect that his receiving of the dark mark would have had on her. His fingers flitted to his arm and rubbed the portion of fabric that covered his mark.

Y/N sat across from the boy, immediately noticing his dazed look.

“What’s on your mind?” She inquires. The boy broke off from his thoughts and refocused his attention to her.

“Just thinking about the past.”

“What of it?” She asked. He looked at her with slight reservation in his eyes.

“How different things would be if we were friends.” Her thoughts lingered on the possibilities for a while before she abandoned them completely. Only one realization came into mind:

“Well, we’re friends now. Perhaps everything that happened in the past was needed for us to meet like this.” She slid off her robe and propped it back on the hanger.

She continued, “Whatever it is, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Now belongs to us.”

In that moment, a switch flipped in Draco’s mind, and he knew those words would stick to him for a long time. Maybe it wasn’t a chance at redemption that he yearned for--the conversation he had with her made him realize that the chance had always been presented to him--rather it was company. Genuine company. The one that opened their arms for comfort, the one that offered understanding when he couldn’t offer some to himself, the one that provided reassurance that everything was going to be okay.

She didn’t need to elaborate. Her words conveyed her intent clearly, her eyes blazed with firmness, confidence, and faith in him. The boy closed himself off for way too long out of the fear that he’d be rejected once again. The anxieties that had resulted from the foul glances, derogatory statements, and prematurely formed accusations towards his family locked him away to the only source of comfort that was available to him--himself. How was it possible that he made it through on his own all this time? He barely held on to a thread, and as he crumbled further, so did his grip. And when the grip was no more, he fell into the hollowed body that he was. He allowed his darkness to swallow him, to control him as he mindlessly drifted with each passing day.

Until now.

Right now, in the stillness of the room, in the comfort of her dining table, in the presence of her worn out Ravenclaw robe, the thread had reconstructed itself. It presented itself as the small smile that softly graced her lips, the scent of clay that lingered on her hands, and his bowl that sat solemnly streaked with cracks in the workshop behind the main house.

“I suppose you’re right.” The boy showed a smile of relief, which prompted the girl to reach out for his hand, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Here’s to our friendship!”

There were very few things that Draco cherished in his life: his family and his solitude. As weeks flew by with Y/N’s company, however, he found that his heart was beginning to create space for her as well. It began subtly with the way he silently observed her actions. She catered to each of her pieces with the same amount of dedication--every detail incorporated with mindfulness, with care, and intention. She exerted a similar effort when it came to guiding him. Every step in the process was taught with much patience. Her soft hands would graze his own in attempts to correct his form, to stabilize his shakiness, and to relieve him of the tension that came with his perfectionistic tendencies.

-flashback-

The sound of Draco’s uneven breaths made themselves aware in Y/N’s presence. She had left him alone to tend to his project and herself to her own. Muscle memory led her to scrape off the excess traces of lacquer from the cracks, while the boy fixed his concentration on sanding the surface of his bowl smooth. Scratching noises filled the air, and only became more amplified as minutes ticked onward. It was unfamiliar to the girl--the action itself shouldn’t have required much energy. With a brow arched upward, and her gaze directed towards him, the sight of furrowed brows and tense lines fill her view, eliciting a chuckle from her.

“You’re going to break the bowl at that rate, Draco.” The boy unclenched his jaw and gave Y/N an exasperated look, increasing the volume of her laughter.

“I told you I won’t be perfect.”

“What is it that you’re having trouble with?” Y/N asked, as she made her way to his side of the table.

“Some of the excess just won’t budge from its place.” Draco huffed in frustration. She removed the bowl from his grasp, and examined the object. On the other hand, he takes the liberty to step closer to her, his face peering over her shoulder. The heat emanating from his body distracted her, which she responded to by immediately returning her attention to the remnants that resided on its cracks.

“It helps to focus on one spot at a time,” She grabs the crumpled piece of sandpaper laying on the side, and connects its surface to the porcelain. He watches as she uses minimal yet focused motions to scrub at the excess. Slowly but surely the residue clears out, revealing a clean, crisp line. “See?” She turns her head to the side only to be met with his in such close proximity. His breath softly brushes against her skin. His silvery orbs dive deep into her y/e/c ones. The pulses of their heartbeats ring through their ears, and the concentration shifts from the demonstration to one another.

It’s the apparent flush staining his skin that has her pulling away.

“Why don’t you try?” She nervously asks. Y/N hands the bowl to the boy, and observes as he attempts to emulate her actions. With motions still stiff and choppy, she finally takes his hand into hers.

“Relax, Draco. You need to be patient with it.” With slender fingers wrapped around the back of his palm, she guides his grip with focused and particular motions. The repetition engrains itself into his muscle memory, and he quickly gets the hang of it. He exhibits relief with every remnant removed. In return, she releases her grip and looks at him with a satisfied expression.

“Thank you.” He says, and he means it. With perfection constantly being expected of him, the feeling of humility that comes with being a beginner is foreign. He had always been pushed into the limelight--the weight of his family name designates the image of flawlessness, elegance, and poise in all that he did. No room for mistakes. He was required of only the best. So, when he looks at her and gazes at his hands, a genuine smile spreads on his lips.

The expectation for perfection may have taunted his past, but the realization of his commitment in giving his best brought out a clear sense of victory despite the imperfect process that had been associated with it.

Some days are tougher than others. The nightmares make it difficult to get through the night regardless of how infrequent they became. It always resulted in him waking up, broken into a cold sweat. Goosebumps peppered his skin, the hair behind his neck stood straight, and he would gasp for air. With regret once again overcoming him, a weight forms in his throat--it’s impossible to go to sleep now. Moreover, the fear for the lack of a peaceful slumber keeps him wide awake until sunrise, and there is only one word that shouts at him in the back of his mind.

“Mudblood.”

“You filthy mudblood!”

The sayings are coupled with the memory of his back pressed onto the cold, wet, bathroom floor. He could recall the stinging sensations that pricked his body, the sight of blood seeping through the white fabric of his uniform, and the energy that was draining from his spirit. It was the lowest he has ever been--mere moments away from what could’ve been his end. Maybe that’s what should’ve happened. There was no one for him to turn to--the warmth of his mother’s arms was so far away, the act of shedding tears was sacrificed to protect his family, and the fact that he was already repulsive in the eyes of others caused his hope to plummet. There wasn’t anyone who he could call his true friend--one he could confide in to relieve the burdens he had faced.

But there was Y/N. The erratic heartbeats that rang against his chest subside when he remembered the firmness within her voice as she cheered for their friendship. The sparkle and reassurance that was displayed within her eyes tickled his heart in a way that he hadn’t experienced before. The soft touch of her hands reminded him that he wasn’t alone. The patience in her voice reminded him that despite all of his shortcomings, there was always hope for change.

It was then that he’d pluck himself out of bed, and take hold of the ceramic piece that laid prettily on his desk. With deep breaths, he ran his fingers through its golden streaks, allowing the chilled sensation to calm him down. His eyelids would flutter close, and he’d envision her soft smiles, her chipper personality, and the passion that was expressed through her eyes whenever she worked. He’d recall the worn-out Ravenclaw robe hanging on the wall of her dining room, and remember that she was there. She believed in him. She had given him a chance. With his mind set to ease and the morning sun illuminating through the fabric of his curtains, Draco picked up his own broken pieces, and binded himself with the faith she had as the lacquer to keep him together.

Narcissa and Lucius had noticed subtle changes in the boy. A peaceful light had returned to his silvery eyes, the frown that graced his lips began to fade with time, and the tension that he held in his joints loosened. He treaded the halls with his back upright, his vision trained straight ahead--each step filled with more purpose than the last. They didn’t make it known to him, but the sight brought them much joy.

It was a cloudy day when Draco returned to Y/N’s workshop. This time around, however, there’s much more uncertainty and nervousness within him as he stands in the midst of her working.

Earlier that morning, Narcissa mentioned hosting a ball within the manor (something that hasn’t been done in forever). Invitations were sent out already, the RSVP list continues to grow, and the property itself has been decorated to exhibit its new grandeur. Of course, he agreed to it--slightly concerned about how they’d be perceived--but he was more thrown off by his mother’s only request:

“Please bring Y/N with you, Draco. I’d like to commission her for a piece.” In his mind that translated into, “I want to meet the girl you’ve been constantly visiting.” He knew his mother wasn’t against her. He was more worried about how Y/N, herself, would respond.

The familiarity of her focused expression surfaces, and it attracts him much more than it has before. Her hands are nimble, and she moves fluently. Her hair was tied into a low and messy bun with loose strands framing her face. Her appearance now was much different than their first meeting at the gala, yet his mind went back to that night--picturing her beauty in her deep emerald green dress. With his feelings for her more clarified, he feels his heart beat at the thought of her touch, moreover the thought of his touch on her. Would she even return his feelings?

“Draco, are you alright? You’ve been staring this way for a while now.” He takes the opportunity to test the waters.

“I needed to ask you something actually.” He goes around and pulls a stool to sit on, meeting the level of her gaze.

“And that is?”

“My mother asked for you,” He said, fumbling with his fingers, “My family is hosting a ball, and she wants you to come--she wants to meet you.” He notices the way her eyes widen at the sound of his announcement.

“I’m sorry. Come again?” Draco released a soft chuckle before reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a decorated envelope with her name printed on the front.

“This is yours.” She takes it from his grasp gingerly and brushes her fingers on the fine embellishments. Realization hits her when she skims across the familiar letters of her name.

“I’ve imagined many things in my life, but they certainly don’t come close to this. Wow, imagine being invited to a Malfoy ball.” Her words flowed out with awe, softening his heart. He reaches out, and tucks one of the loose strands behind her ear. The action forces her to look into his eyes.

“She’s taken quite a liking to your work.” His smile brings out one of her own.

“I’m honored.” She starts to beam, “I should go dress shopping soon.” Her eyes remain transfixed on the information given on the actual invite itself.

“I think you’d look beautiful in anything you decide to wear.” It was meant to be a thought--meant to stay in his head--but it came out, and now the girl felt her face get hot. She covered it with her hands, while the boy just looked up at the ceiling to avoid her gaze.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that.” He says.

“It’s fine.”

“If it’s fine then why are your hands still covering your face?”

“Why are you still looking up?” Draco, lowers his chin and pulls her wrists away.

“I’m not anymore.” When the words leave his lips, and his eyes meet hers, he becomes aware of the amount of peace that he attained since meeting her again. In some way, the silence that fills them is overtaken by the messages that their gazes send to one another, both containing gratitude and affection.

“So will you come with me?” He asks.

“Definitely.”

Y/N paced back and forth while many aristocrats stepped into the manor with much poise in their step. She didn’t mind formal events when it came to art, however, this case felt entirely foreign to her realm of comfort. She wasn’t from a wealthy family nor was she pureblooded either. Surely the end of the war had initiated a shift in change, but the significance of blood status still persisted in some even after. Nevertheless, she made herself present. With much resolve and a false sense of confidence, she stepped into the entrance of the building.

The foyer was bustling with chatter--many attendees stood with glasses of champagne in hand. Still in an awkward stature, the girl takes a look around. The ceilings were decorated with crystal chandeliers. Velvet curtains were pulled to the side, exposing massive windows. Arches, columns, even the walls were covered with ornamental carvings. Every single aspect portrayed luxury. Whenever Draco visited the girl, she discarded his association to wealth and solely focused on him as a person. Because of this, the realization that the boy actually had some coin in his pockets hit her like bricks.

Draco, who had kept his eyes locked on the girl, chuckled to himself. She stuck out from the crowd with her eyes widened in awe. Not to mention her attire. Her hair was kept straight down with golden clips holding it tucked behind her ear. Furthermore, she was dressed in a champagne mermaid gown speckled with beads and embroidery, which flourished outwards and into a sheer fabric decorated with similar details. Her neckline plunged into the middle of her abdomen, yet her shoulders remained covered with long sleeves that wrapped themselves fittingly around her wrists. She truly had the tastes of an artist.

He quietly made his way to her as she continued to gawk at the room. “Your jaw is going to drop, darling.” He whispered in her ear. The feeling of large hands planting themselves on her waist caused her to let out a small yelp, pulling her out of her daze. She let out a breath of relief when she turned to see Draco’s face.

“You scared me.”

“You were gawking at the walls.” Y/N rolled her eyes, and briefly skimmed him from head to toe. Heart skipping at the way his suit had admiringly framed his shape well. She giggled at the sight of the snake brooch that embellished the collar of his jacket.

“Always a Slytherin, aren’t you Malfoy?” As she brushed her fingers along the details of its design, Draco reached for her hand, and held it by her fingers. She could only stare as he lifted it higher to press his lips on it. Butterflies were felt everywhere.

“And a charmer.” She added. They shared a quick laugh before being interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Standing before them was Narcissa, who beamed at the sight of her son with the girl beside him.

“You must be Y/N Y/L/N. I admire your work, dear.” The older woman stuck her hand out, which the girl shook firmly.

“Thank you so much. It’s a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Malfoy.”

“Please, call me Narcissa.” The delight in her voice emitted a welcoming energy, loosening the nerves that Y/N felt early on.

“Thank you so much for inviting me, Narcissa.”

“It was no problem at all, dear. I’d actually like to speak to you regarding a commission later on tonight. Would that be alright with you?”

“Of course! I’m honored you’d even considered me.”

“Very well, I’ll leave you two alone now. I hope you enjoy yourselves.” Sweet smiles and gazes were exchanged between the two women. After casting a knowing look to her son, she departs from the pair, disappearing into the crowd.

“Draco, I’ll have you know that I can’t dance to save my life.” He snickered at her confession, already letting the comfort between them settle in.

“It’s alright. Let’s walk instead.” With arms hooked, Draco begins leading her away from the bustling room and into a secluded hall. Mounted on the walls were paintings of his predecessors. He introduced each patriarchal figure to her, starting with Septimus. Her vision plastered itself to their features, mentally discerning the traits that Draco inherited. After a while of walking and conversation, they finally got to a family portrait. Depicted on it was a younger-looking Lucius and Narcissa, and seated on his mother’s lap was a young Draco himself. Y/N unhooked her arm from his, and approached the painting. She concentrated on the little boy. He had bright eyes, a toothy grin, and flowing platinum locks. His hand gripped firmly on Narcissa’s, and his small legs dangled over her dress. He was the only one smiling in the painting, and it warmed your heart knowing that the artist decided to keep that detail in.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours?” He asks, stepping close. He hesitantly snaked his arm around her waist, hoping that she didn’t mind. She looked up to him and smiled, stepping even closer to him.

“You were so small.” Draco scowled slightly. However, his heart skipped a beat when he saw the way she looked at the portrait with adoration, allowing his foul expression to fade.

“Well that was painted when I was seven, so it’s no wonder I was small.” His sarcastic remark caused her to roll her eyes again, softly slapping the hand that was planted on her. He glanced at her and squeezed her side tighter, pulling Y/N even closer to his body--his warmth increasing the amount of butterflies that rose in her stomach.

“When I walked in earlier, it completely slipped my mind that this was your house. That you grew up here.”

“Why’s that?” He asks, genuinely interested in her response.

“Everytime you came over, I only saw you as Draco. Not as Draco Malfoy, only son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, and heir to the Malfoy family name.”

“Please elaborate.” He commands, his heart now racing.

“You’re more than the expectations held for you. You came with commitment to learn about a process that you were genuinely interested in. You grew with your mistakes and your frustrations. That experience was you, and you alone.” She couldn’t help but reveal that admiration she had for him through her voice.

“I thought it was amazing.” She whispered, hoping that he wouldn’t hear her. He did, however. In turn, he grabbed her hand and led her further down the hallway and into his room. Y/N stood there confused at his sudden action. Her eyes then begin to widen at the sight of him removing his suit jacket with her mind drifting to rather dirty thoughts.

“Draco, what are you-”

“I didn’t think it was possible.” Y/N furrowed her brows.

“What do you mean?” Draco looked into her eyes, before shifting his gaze to his left sleeve. Her line of sight follows him as he unbuttons his cuff, and rolls the fabric up, revealing his dark mark. She gasps.

“I didn’t think it was possible to mend myself.” It didn’t take him to say much for her to finally understand that he didn’t intend to do anything dirty. It was the opposite of that. He was making himself vulnerable to her.

“But you showed me how.” He said, completing his statement. Tears brimmed her eyes upon the realization of the reality he had to live. The blaring mark that took away his innocence screamed against his pale skin. It screamed of the pain, of loneliness, and the many many long sleeved shirts he must’ve worn to keep it hidden away.

“If there’s anyone amazing, it’s you, Y/N.” The tears that had built up fell as she furiously shook her head.

“No, Draco. It’s you. It’s all you.” She took his arm delicately into her hands and pressed her lips on his dark mark. Draco felt his eyes well up in tears, while her own spilled onto his skin. Every kiss that she peppered seemed to paint over his scars, his cracks with gold. The feeling of emptiness dissipated in her presence, only surrounding him with warmth that he had yearned to keep.

“I’m thankful for you.” He whispers. Y/N couldn’t hold herself back at that point anymore. She released his arm from her grip, and held his cheeks within her fingertips, wiping the moisture that managed to fall from his silvery orbs. She, then, slowly lifts herself using her tiptoes, and scans his face for a moment before pressing a sweet, short kiss on his lips. It was gentle, much like her. It was patient, much like her. It was filled with faith, hope, and concern--things that she hadn’t been able to express to him in words, yet was felt through her kiss. Draco closed his eyes at the sensation. When she parted from him, he cupped her face with his hands, and drew her close once more. A sigh escaped her as she felt all the emotions he managed to keep in. Each press conveyed a level of appreciation that the boy had never thought he was capable of showing.

In that moment a memory of a shrill shout fills her mind, and she stops so suddenly.

“Weren’t you struck with sectumsempra?” She asks with her brows furrowed towards him. His lack of response confirms her curiosity.

“May I?” Her fingers trail to the top of his shirt as she makes her request. Knowing what it is she wants to see, he nods, prompting her to carefully undo the buttons. Her hands tremble as she makes her way down, revealing the scars that resided on his body. She pushes the fabric over his shoulders, and begins tracing each one--much similar to the way he has done with the golden cracks on her bowl. She slowly lowers herself and starts placing kisses where he has been struck. With her hands gently fastened to his sides, her lips linger in one area before transferring to another. He finds comfort in them--it was as if each sensation reassured that he was loved. As she travels upward, she plants a kiss on his jaw, and a final one on his own. With it she expresses a message dedicated only to him: I believe in you.

They separate and bask in the moment by holding each other’s gaze. After a while, Draco wraps his arms around her waist, and pulls her into a tight embrace. He nuzzles his nose on the crook of her neck and kisses it, while she runs her hands up and down his bare sides. His left hand then finds its way to her jaw, tilting her face upwards. He proceeds to nip the expanse of her neck, making her head fall back to grant him more access. The hand that was wrapped around her waist travels downwards to her hip, grips it, and presses her body against his.

“Draco,” she moans.

“Hm?” She doesn’t respond. She finds herself completely intoxicated by his lips as he moves from her neck, her sternum, and to her exposed abdomen. Instead, she laced her fingers into his hair and pushed him closer to her skin.

The pair was interrupted by the sound of a knock on the door.

“Young master! Are you in there?” It was a houself. Draco presses a finger to his lips, signalling to remain quiet.

“I don’t think he’s there, we should check elsewhere.” Light footsteps were heard fading into the distance, eliciting a light laugh between the two. Y/N looks into his eyes once more, and kisses him one last time.

“Should we go?” He responds with a small ‘yes’ and kisses her forehead. As he buttons his shirt, the girl plods across his room, fascinated with its luxuriousness as she takes in the details. One of them causes her to gasp, however. She walks with her throat choking up at sight of the familiar bowl that was placed on his desk. It was hers. She lifts it gently, recalling their first conversation at the gala. The golden scars remind her heavily of the boy behind her. As she traces them, warm hands rub against her sides before snaking around her waist once more.

“Does this mean you’re my girlfriend now?” Y/N laughs at his question.

“I suppose it does.” She says as she weaves her fingers into his. The boy takes a moment to stare at the bowl ahead.

“When you said that Kintsugi helped you heal, I wasn’t quite sure to believe you or not. But, going through the process was more than enough to make me understand why.”

“You truly are amazing Draco Malfoy. I won’t let anyone tell me you aren’t.”

“Even if my past is completely flawed?”

“Your past made you into who you are right now. What we have is ‘now’, and ‘now’,” she sets the bowl down and faces him, while her hand caresses his cheek. “...‘now’ belongs to us. Now you are amazingly, wonderfully, imperfectly perfect.”

Epilogue:

The sound of Y/N’s words rung in his mind as Draco found himself standing in the middle of her workspace. With a firm grasp on the brush handle, he dips the bristles into the gold liquid, allowing the excess to drip back.

He takes a deep breath, and allows the solemnity of the room to fill him. Many thoughts overtake him in the moment, but only one makes itself prominent to him, resilience. After going through the binding process himself, he pridefully lays down the gold over the cracks on his bowl--each one portraying the imperfections of his past.

A/N: Hi! If you made it this far, I want to thank you so much for reading! There’s a bit of inaccuracy in the last bit, but besides that I hope I brought much light to the technique in general. I hope you enjoyed!! Feedback is very much appreciated :D

Tagging:

@beiahadid @hahee154hq @mushi98 @stretchyice @dracosathenaeum @dreaming-about-fanfictions @saby06143 @rottenhexrt @littlethie @amithatemo

Link to the taglist is on my masterlist :D

#Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco x reader #draco x y/n #draco x you #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy imagines #draco lucius malfoy #tw depression #tw self degredation

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sakura-83 · 3 years

Text

Things from Anne with an e that I feel like writing down

Season 2 Episode 1: Youth Is The Season of Hope

1. Anne looking over her collection of treasures

2. Her walk through the forests and fields, talking to trees and watching butterflies and being free from worldly concerns such as dirtying her clothes or going home before dark

3. The general way that Anne loves nature

4. Anne falling into a creek. I’ve done that so many times

5. Anne coming hone covered in twigs and mud and Matthew just smiling

6. It does make me sad how Mr. Dunlop is genuinely happy at Green Gables but the plan still crumbles. He was a bad person but I still wish he could’ve had his house, a calm life, maybe then he could’ve changed forever.

7. The fact that when school isn’t in session, there’s no paper to be had for students

8. Anne critiquing the way Nate prays

9. “And bless those who are here, and those who are in our hearts” CUTTING INTO A SHOT OF THE BOAT GILBERT IS ON

10. Gilbert singing while he works

11. Bash being exasperated with Gilbert

12. Gilbert could’ve had a comfortable steady life but willingly chose to work in the name of adventure and experience

13. Nate trying to convince Anne of all people that geology is boring

14. Nate frequently says things that will trigger a flashback in Anne and yet she still continues to spring back up enthusiastically

15. The whole flirting thing between Nate and Marilla never fails to make me very uncomfortable

16. Yknow. It’s probably the money they stole from Jerry that’s paying the rent

17. Jerry having a mini heart attack when Anne is in the barn

18. Jerry knowing there’s something off about Nate but being unable to place it

19. Anne’s fond talk of reading seeking very surface level while the scene is interrupted by flashbacks of how it was the only hope, the only shred of happiness she was able to keep in her youth

20. “Reading can save your life.”

21. Anne finding Jane eyre when she had to hold the books as punishment

22. “Look at this sentence, isn’t it glorious!” “Sometimes you’re not very nice.” “What do you mean? Why are you- Jerry!” “No school for me, remember?” “I can teach you to read!”

23. Jerry telling her not to bother and her proceeding to relay the entire alphabet anyways

24. They don’t have any paper so Anne has to teach him by writing in the hay and dirt on the ground

25. Nate just starting to scream and throw things so people thing he’s having a breakdown

26. Stupid mr Barry falling for it

27. The cuthberts singing the same song as Gilbert while they work

28. Bash explaining to Gilbert that he’s a young white boy and he can do whatever he wants in life, but bash is stuck with his lot in life and needs to keep his job

29. Bash telling him he’s also bad at singing

30. “I’m so glad I get to live in a world where there are Octobers, aren’t you?”

31. Anne being baffled that they haven’t been to the beach since they were children

32. Anne going to the beach for the first time

33. The way she absolutely has to stand on the cliff edge over the ocean

34. Matthew waving back to her

35. Anne impulsively stripping down and jumping into the ocean during a Canadian October

36. Matthew doing the same

37. Anne can’t swim

38. Anne laughing at her near death experience

39. Matthew teaching her to swim

40. Anne asking to buy back Birdie with the harvest money

41. Even Marilla coming to enjoy the beach

42. Anne looking off into the sea from land and Gilbert looking out to the horizon from the ship deck

43. Only Anne would realize how well loved the gold chapter is

44. Anne’s impulsive and nosy nature is what ultimately revealed Nate’s lie

45. Nate manipulating a child and taking advantage of their trust

46. “How about a dashing hero, named Albert, Herbert, Rupert, Pilbert-“ “Pilbert!? That’s ridiculous! I would never write a story about a boy named Pilbert!” “It’s not like we can’t tell-“ “Well YOU always murder everyone because you can’t figure out what to do with your characters-“

47. Aunt Josephine wanting to read their stories

48. Anne using an entire framed embroidery piece to teach Jerry to read

49. Jerry trying to refuse learning to read but being convinced by the way Anne talks about it so fondly

50. “Reading can save your life.” “Alright, I’ll try it.” “YES!”

51. “Let’s kill the cat.” The cat being Anne. I wouldn’t put actually killing her past Nate

52. Them decorating a pie

53. Jerry carving the alphabet into the barn wall

54. Poor Jerry, not only did Nate beat him terrible but the comments about “a little French pig” are also. Ouch.

55. Anne coming out of a flashback and still acting brave, plus her starting to catch on to Nate based on his outbursts and Jerry’s behavior

56. Not Nate half stripping in front of Marilla >:(

57. Yayyyyy more marriage drama from the Barry household

58. “I just want to do something that matters for once.”

59. Mr Dunlop really isn’t so bad to me? A crook, sure, but one with basic empathy and way less full of malice towards children

60. Anne making him an apron

61. One specific tell of the lie being the specific repeated use of the phrase “moral quandary”. Most people in a genuinely situation wouldnt repeatedly use that phrase and Nate’s liberal use of it makes him feel scripted which is perfect because he’s a liar using a script

62. Marilla giving Jerry an entire BASKET of pastries for his family

63. Never tell Rachel Lynde a secret

64. $150 PER GOLD TEST????

65. Fun facts from Matthew, most folks in Avonlea make about $300-$400 a year

66. Nate isn’t a great actor but mr Dunlop certainly is, mostly because he’s half genuinely

67. “You are a moral man.” :/ well

68. Anne immediately thinking of writing to Gilbert and being determined to find where he is

69. Anne almost cracking the code with the stamp and then getting distracted

70. “Does that sound romantical?” The- the manifest, not the letter to Gilbert-“

71. “Please let there be gold in Avonlea, so that there’s no more hardship for anyone. And please, please help me get my letter to Gilbert. And please be sure I don’t misspell any words! Amen.”

#anne with an e #renew awae #awae #anne shirley cuthbert #marilla cuthbert #mathew cuthbert #jerry baynard #gilbert blythe #diana barry #cole mackenzie #sebastian lacroix #bash lacroix

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ravenadottir · 3 years

Note

Yo! I had so many questions I wanted to ask you while you were gone but I of course wasn’t gonna send in asks while you were on hiatus! I wanted you to have peace. But I should have written them down!! 😭

Now I only have this one question. I saw your ask to Mango about Chelsea’s super power and now I want your take on this. Not on Chelsea but an islander or islanders of your choice. What super powers would you give your favorite islanders? They can have more than one power like super heroes do if you feel like it fits.

hi! i missed you!

oh oh oh oh!! anything you remember, send it my way! i need something to help me wake up from this brain coma i've been in. i blame cmm for that...

ok, so i love this question, thank you for sending it to me! i'll definitely focus on a lot of them because well, i love the genre, and i love talking about them 🥺

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

lucas

fire. he's able to start it, besides dominating and bending it over to his own will. sometimes uses it for (partial) evil and more. being the anti hero i think he is, i would LOVE to see lucas playing with fire while delivering a speech that instigates the good guy in front of him. in a cool, well cut, all black suit with just one (1) red scarf on the lapel, or his neck, he would look amazing sending blazes everywhere! i even have a song for him: play with fire. aaaah the idea of lucas and fire sends me to heaven, hell, purgatory and back! he can be like tuxedo mask, regarding how he annoys everyone with his smugness.

gary

colossus. strength and possibility of turning into a dense metal at will? gary is perfect for it! he has the body shape and weight, and the skills for the maintenance. picture this: you walk down the hallway to go to the bathroom, only to hear him moaning in there. you're uncomfortable, thinking the worst, only to open the door and see him oiling his joints and almost falling on the floor. "a little help? i can't reach some places..." please, give me metal body gary, it would clear all my trauma! plus, as he is in the villa, he would exercise his comic relief role.

carl

brainiac with technology/time bending. (@lasswithumor's idea for 'time' makes me smile! thank you for the inspo!) not actual brainiac from dc though, let me explain. i always get the sense carl could be tony stark or bruce wayne, minus the assholery. he's much humbler and quiet, but still very capable. as for time bending being his power, it could make him overcome this sense of running out of time he always seems to have. he might have a hardship about it because he never seems to find a balance, so this skill is probably the only thing he could actually be good at, and benefit from.

noah

talking to the dead, like klaus hargreeves. something i would love to see is how tormented he would be while it happens. distressed noah is a beautiful concept, and part of the reason why he would be such a troubled character. picture this: he uses those people to fight in exchange of favors, like finding out who killed them, or to tell their families how peaceful they are now, among other things. noah and ghosts ring different to me, and the thought of him being troubled? even more! not like klaus, but definitely close to that. i love that "short temper" side of him, and in this context, it would be perfect. plus, his looks being similar to something from the 1920's, without the hat. so white shirt, suspenders, dark brown pants. ugh, he would look so good in it!

henrik

vines and plant banding, like layla williams in sky high. there's no other answer for him. i thought about making him avalanche, from x men, but i see him more connected to plants than any other element of nature. the way he would smirk and grow a small vine around his pinky while talking about a brilliant idea he just had? PLEASE. GIVE - IT - TO - ME, I LIVE FOR SMUG HENRIK! and you can be damn sure his looks would include this ponytail, by @juggalohenrik.

kassam

at first i thought invisibility, because of his personality and how he behaves in groups, but then it hit me, supersonic scream. he can take his frustrations out on a single booming scream and be done with it. i would love to see kassam being teased and beat up, only to get up from the ground, scrapes all over, bloody nose, only to position himself and close his fists to focus, before delivering a resounding scream to round it up real nicely. that's definitely a power he would find useful and excels in. the visuals definitely don't hurt either!

bobby

he's a very peculiar boy, and so his powers would have to be too. it might sound crazy, but hear me out! laughter inducement. the power itself can cause the person to laugh so hard, eventually the air is expelled from their lungs and they have quite the death! it's gruesome and i love it, it's the perfect juxtaposition between it and bobby's personality that is so bubbly. picture this: battlefield, gary smugly says "i guess that's the only way you could make someone laugh." to which bobby replies with a laugh "including you, tin can" while making colossus!gary laugh and fall on the floor because of it. it might require lots of energy, so bobby can't always cause mass laughter, just like in the villa... jk jk jk! i just know his uniform would be clown like, before priya adjusted to a beautiful dark teal piece. before that? goofy pink mask and cape with sprinkles, and tights everywhere else. he would also be the type of hero that is a comic relief. ironically, in this case.

lottie

rogue. the power and the visuals fit in so well! sucking up someone's power and/or energy SCREAMS lottie's personality all over! if i could adjust it so the girl doesn't manifest it unless she wants to, that's even better. lottie with dark hair and a streak of platinum, or the opposite, would look another level and i'm here for it! plus, the gloves... AAAAH THE GLOVES. she would smirk before taking them off and turning that grin into a determined smug expression before touching her enemy. PLEASE!

priya

TURNING - PEOPLE - INTO - GOLD. i said what i said. similar to medusa's power of turning people into stone. flowy dresses for the goddess looks, a smirk on her lips while she does it, and golden shiny eyes that glow bright when she throws her gold curse upon her enemy! she's goofy, so you know she has a cheesy catchphrase, but i can't think of anything right now. it's there, i just need to find it.

hope

mind control. CAN I JUST SAY? she practically has that power already. being persuasive and having the power of negotiation the way she already does would fit in perfectly. and if i may add, storm looks like the uniform and the "bright white eyes" while it happens???also! hope as the person who plans the attacks and defense.

marisol

persuasion. similar to allison hargreeves. one word and they will do it. at first i considered super strength, for being so unexpected to someone that petit, but if you account for her personality, persuasion as a super power is so much cooler! plus, she doesn't have to try hard, the seed of argumentation is already there. in her origin story you could have marisol having a moral grey area where she debates whether or not using those powers in court. i would love to see this dilemma and her going through it, since there's a clear distinction in what she considers right and wrong, and the ethically correct options to choose. as looks go, all she needs is a suit, similar to the prom one, and definitely a ponytail and gloves.

ibrahim.

flying and speed. something about rahim screams traditional super hero persona and i can't help but stir into it. he's perfect for the superman alter ego, the one that talks about justice and fights the big guy for the little ones. rahim has a way of going around and making people's lives better, at least that's how i see him. i asked for @itsrealityboo 's approval about this, because you know, she's the authority on golf boy, and she added something really cool that i hadn't thought about: "I will say that I could definitely see Rahim as a part of a team tho, like the fantastic four! I think because of his insecurities, he’s need some type of support system or even older mentor. He’d definitely go through that awkward phase of learning how to manage his powers if he wasn’t born with them lol"

i definitely agree after reading it, it makes so much sense! i don't know if that need comes from being the younger brother, or having those expectations at home (about being suave and all) but that would for sure be a part of his origin story as a superhero.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

in case you missed the asks i sent about superpowers, here is chelsea, by mango, and elisa, by kc

#litg lucas #litg gary #litg noah #litg henrik #litg kassam #litg bobby #litg lottie #litg hope #litg priya #litg marisol #litg elisa #litg chelsea #litg ibrahim #litg #litg season 2 #love island the game #love island the game season 2 #queue

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mrsmarymorstan · 4 years

Note

Don't why the fans especially the manga readers are hyping about tooru breaking the curse when she didn't even do shit. she just went on that silly adventure and be an annoying crybaby whenever she learns something new about the curse. it was actually akito who broke the curse so i can't understand what you are all hyping tohru on.

Ah yes, I to remember the days when I’d be deliberately antagonistic just for fun and beat on female characters for showing emotions and caring about people. Or indeed, resent characters for having entirely realistic reactions to the cosmic horror and terror that surrounds them. Then I turned 16 and HER WE ARE ten years later and I get to see it from a whole new perspective! What fun.

In your misguided attempt to cause drama by shitting on people having a good time by being excited about upcoming character moments, much like Dr Flemming’s unwashed petri dish, you have hit upon something that benefits further discussion and interest.

That point being, was it TOHRU who broke the curse, or was it Akito?

The answer, I believe, is both. SPOILERS FOR ANIME ONLIES TONY YOU ARE WARNED DO NOT @ ME AGAIN IF YOU MESS UP.

When Tohru sets out to break the curse and stop the love of her life from being locked up in a cold dark room for the rest of his existence, she finds out that the curse is firstly, a bond of blood sworn by the spririts of the past and not something that can be physically manifested, and secondly, that the curse has already begun to break RE: Kureno.

Now, there’s a LOT of theories about why Kureno’s curse broke and if it truly was some random event or if there was a trigger. I think it’s a combination of the two. It’s noted by the maids and by (I think) Shigure that this is the first time in a long time that the entire Juunishi are present. There is also a sizeable age gap betwee Hiro and Kureno, that would about match up between Hiro being an infant when Kureno’s curse broke. Ergo, I propose that his curse broke soon after their first New Year’s together as a complete banquet with no spaces missing. Save that of the cat, of course, but more on him later.

Kureno is the rooster, and I believe that in legend the Rooster was seen as the closest to God because he could deliver messages between heaven and earth. Therefore it makes sense that the first to leave God alone, is God’s messenger. “We have had our final Banquet, it’s time to end the cycle.”

Of course Akito/God does not have a positive reaction to this, and the loss of one Juunishi inspires a great sense of loneliness and fear within Akito similar to that which lead to the creation of the bond in the first place. We do not see God being willing to make any attempt to work on achieving the Cat’s wish of finally being able to form friendships beyond the Zodiac and forming bonds with the humans he was so afraid of before.

And THAT is the crux of the matter. Tohru came into the Sohma’s lives and began to break the curse simply by forming close bonds with them all, and letting them into her life and react to the world around them. Hana and Uo are both friends with Kyo and Yuki, actively choosing to spend time together. We also see that in Kyo attending the same school as Yuki, it opens up that same school to Haru and Momiji where they too can form bonds outside of the Sohma influence. It’s a school THEY chose, not the single sex one Akito picked out. Equally this means we have to give some credit to Yuki for making the brave choice of defying his parents and Akito’s wishes by attending a mixed school, and Shigure (who continues to be the mastermind here) for goading Akito into allowing Kyo to also attend that school and not simply pay off the private school he was MEANT to attend and have them let him back in.

It’s also no real surprise that the two other Juunishi whose curses break before the final scene are Momiji and Hiro. Hiro is shown to be forming bonds outside of the Zodiac too. Not only has he matured enough that he is able to understand things from Tohru’s perspective now and has a relatively positive relationship with her, he ALSO becomes a Big Brother with a little sister he adores. Again, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that his curse breaks whilst he is in the same room as her. The Sheep has formed a meaningful relationship outside of the Zodaic, so it is time for the Sheep Spirit to return to its original realm. We then have Momiji, who is absolutely desperately in love with Tohru and is also equally desperate to be allowed to have a relationship with his OWN sister. Momiji’s curse breaks only after he has gone through puberty though and reaches adulthood. It’s when he starts to truly understand the path that is laid before him, and where he stands in it. He WANTS a relationship with Tohru, but he can also recognise that she is in love with Kyo and that makes it all the more painful. He knows that as he ages he is only going to be made to feel more distant from his sister, and that hurts too. HOWEVER, Momiji doesn’t ever stop LONGING for meaningful relationships and a world beyond the life of the Zodiac. He recognises that he does not have anything really tying him to the Sohma anymore, and so his curse breaks. The rabbit spirit has no need to be part of the banquet, and so heads home.

Now, as you can see, whilst Tohru is a key trigger in the breaking of the curse, she’s still not the one to actively do it, right?

Well, wrong. Sort of.

Take note that when we’re told the ACTUAL story of the Original Banquet , we find that the Cat was the first friend God ever made, and was also the first to die. It was the death of the cat that triggered God into creating the eternal bond that would always bring them together, and it was the cat’s terror and dismay at being forced into such a bond that caused them to disown him. The cat has, all along, simply wanted God to make friends. The first who had the curse take effect upon them, was the one who rejectd it the most and as such was then shunned forever more. The cat wanted God to make bonds outside of the Zodiac, and in turn the cat was forever banned form making those bonds. Even though we’ve been show the Cat was granted some realtionships in the form of Kazuma’s Grandmother; it is a relationship made out of pitty rather than love and understanding.

Tohru though? Torhu is the God Damned (excuse the pun) Year of the Cat Fanclub PRESIDENT. Nobody loves and respects the OG Cat Spirit in the way she does. She emphasied with the Cat’s plight in the legend her mother told her, feeling sorry for them being tricked like that and being forced to miss out on being part of the legend. She wanted the cat to join the group! She cradled the cat’s body in much the same way God in his final moments, as instead this time Tohru brings him back into the light and forms a stronger and longer lasting relationship with the cat spirit through love and empathy.

And later on, in that same mountainside, it is TOHRU who is the one who reaches out her hand to god and asks to become friends. It is the act of God forming friends with mortal humans that triggers Akito/God to finally release everyone from their curse. That’s why it happens when it does, when Akito knows that Tohru is safely out of hospital, that she has still welcomed Akito into her life... and that if Akito is going to take those terrifying steps into forming relationships that can end in rejection, she’s going to have to do it on her own two feet.

THAT is how Tohru breaks the curse. THAT is what is important here and what is so FUCKING HARD ROCK about Tohru Honda. We see her willing to stand up to GOD in order to break the curse, but she stands before God as an EQUAL. Tohru WILL break the curse. She WILL fight for her soulmate. She WILL make you be friends with her and address your deep seated issues of self hate and abandonment (not that she has those issues herself ahahahha no I’m just your average happy go lucky teenager with two dead parents who lives in a tent I’M FINE)

Of course, it turns out that everything Shigure and Kazuma told her about breaking the curse was true: That she didn’t have to do anything other than to continue to be herself. HOWEVER, in order to BE herself she needed to try and have a “silly adventure” where she tested her metal and learnt to speak up for herself. Why are we excited? Because we’re going to see Tohru finally find the confidence to speak out against others without harm! We see her get into a fight with Rin about it. We see her refusing to back down against Kagura. We see her standing on her own two feet and saying “No. No I don’t want that. I REFUSE to give in and to leave well alone!”

All before, Tohru has been so scared to speak up for herself because of her debilitating abandonment issues (and please let’s not make fun of people’s mental health issues, okay? I haven’t been having a weekly therapy session for nearly two years now just because for the fun of it) but now she’s got to the point where she feels comfortable and secure enough to show an uglier side to herself that people might reject. She is able to be mean, and shout, and fucking break into someone’s house in order to get what she wants! How can a TRUE fruits basket fan NOT be excitd for that level of character development?

And to end it, please, for the LOVE OF GOD it is 2020. I am 26 years old. I have been on tumblr since 2011. Do not send me hate about female fictional characters and expect me to roll over. My username is “Mrs Mary Morstan”. Mary. Morstan. The most hated female character in all of BBC Sherlock. Do not even try to fucking test me, you Petri Dish.

#Fruits Basket #Furuba #Furuba Manga Spoilers #Tohru Honda #Akito Sohma #The Curse #The Juunishi #Anonymous #greatest hits

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mvrtaiswriting · 4 years

Note

Your writing is so beautifully done! I feel like you really capture your characters’ personalities. Would you consider writing a scenario where reader was part of the Crusaders and is reconnecting with part4!Jotaro after his recent divorce. It’s awkward dating at first, but Joot’s heart melts every time he sees reader and Jolyne getting along so well.

Are you even real? - Jotaro Kujo.

HELLO HELLO HELLO and thank you so much for waiting so long! Writer’s block has been a pain BUT this one actually carried me away and helped me get through it.. so thank you for requesting it! Gotta say it: timeline of jojo’s event is not accurate, but it does include everything you asked for!! I don’t wanna bother you anymore so please enjoy! I hope this meets your expectations!!

Neutral reader x Jotaro Kujoh.

Jojo’s bizzare adventures: Diamond Is Unbreakable & Stardust Crusaders

Timeline of Jojo’s events (mostly jotaro’s fatherhood) is a bit bizzare

SFW

Trigger warning: usual jojo’s violence

Words Count: 2631

Song suggestion: Are you even real? by James Blake

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Jotaro was about to throw what would have been his last punch to Kira when he was interrupted by the manifestation of a familiar stand. Was he hallucinating? Did he lose too much blood to imagine things now? While he asked himself this questions, resting his back against the wall trying to preserve the few energies he had left in his body, he looked around looking for the owner of the stand that just came to his rescue. His eyes scanned meticulously the area; he was sure you weren’t far – of course, if all of it just wasn’t a massive joke made by his tired mind.

But you were there – you were really there. And you were beating up Kira so bad, making it look so easy. He widened his eyes open, forcing himself to remain conscious. Josuke would have arrived in matters of minutes and he would have cured all of his injuries.

Jotaro closed his eyes, and the next thing he saw was you and Josuke leaning over him. You smiled when you noticed he was regained energy and health, looking into his beautiful aquamarine eyes for some seconds. You really missed them, you missed him.

“Getting old?” you said laughing, offering him a hand to help him stand up. He shook his head while a soft, almost imperceptible smile formed on his lips as he fixed his hat onto his head as per usual.

“What are you doing here?” he said, opening his arms and implicitly inviting you into a hug.

You smiled, hugging him tight. You guys hadn’t seen each other in so long, and being in each other’s arms just felt like coming home.

“Guess this is your way to say ‘thank you for saving my ass, nice to see you again!’” you said laughing.

Behind you, Josuke’s and his friends’ all had riddled expressions on their faces. Seeing Jotaro so outgoing surely was something unexpected – so much that Kira running away didn’t seem to matter at all.

Jotaro nodded at your words, breaking up from the hug and taking a good minute to look at you. He still was much taller than you, and you didn’t seem to have aged a bit. You were as beautiful as he remembered you. What he didn’t remember was all the complicated, little emotions he felt every time he was next to you that were now coming back to surface. You always held a special place in his heart. You two always shared a particular bond that never got the chance to really develop. During the crusaders days, you were too busy fighting and looking for Dio to get involved into emotional relationships; and following the final battle, after losing Kakyion, Avdol and Iggy, Jotaro didn’t think it was appropriate to actually confess you his feelings. All of you were mourning the deaths of your companions, and although Kakyion would have encouraged Jotaro to actually tell you about how he felt, in that moment, it just didn’t feel right. So he let you go, and everyone just returned to their own lives. He had moved on since then or at least he tried to do so; he was now a father with a failed marriage, but he never really forgot you. Afterall, no one ever forgets their first love.

“Joseph called me a week ago. I’m sorry I came late but it was the best I could do!” You answered Jotaro’s previous question. “He told me you guys needed a hand and that my degree in criminology would have been useful. He explained everything to me and.. here I am!” you continued.

Jotaro’s expression seemed surprised. He didn’t know his grandfather was still in contact with you. At first, he started to ask himself why didn’t Joseph tell him years before. He could have had a chance with you – he would have followed you wherever you were. His jiji knew what he felt towards you, how could he just stay silent? Those questions were quickly followed by doubts: what was Joseph planning? Did he call you because they really needed you there or because he was just trying to help Jotaro overcome his divorce and find someone to help him with Jolyne? All these doubts clouded Jotaro’s mind, leaving him silent.

After you were introduced to everyone, you and the rest of the guys went to a coffee bar to discuss how investigations would have been organised and what methods would have been more successful in finding Kira’s new identity.

Jotaro kept his eyes locked on you while you professionally explained to Rohan, Koichi and the rest of the boys what to do. A part of him was busy studying every little detail of your face. How you still did the same facial expression you did 10 years before, how your smile still managed to lighten up everything around you. It was so strange how much time passed by, how many things changed during these years; yet things stayed the same between the two of you. He still felt the same way he did when he was just a boy, you guys still related to each other the same way you did when you travelled around the world.

Jotaro’s posture was much more relaxed now that you were around. His face had a more relaxed expression, and you gladly found out that he became a bit more talkative than he was in his younger days.

Joseph found you a room in the same Hotel where him and Jotaro where staying in while in Morio-cho, leading the two of you to spend an incredible amount of time together.

As time passed, you and Jotaro grew closer and closer. You quickly learned about his love life and that he became a marine biologist, something you would have never expected from him. He was very curious about your life too: he was eager to know what happened to you during those years – he wasn’t able to find you when he tried, and now that you were right in front of him, he wanted to make the best out of the time he got to spend with you. He wanted to know if the person he always loved was taken, and what happened to them during all that time. However, he never directly asked you any private question. He learned that you had an important relationship at a certain point, which broke your heart and made you afraid of love, but only because you and Joseph talked about it.

He thought it was ironic; he had a similar experience.

Searching for Kira’s new identity was tiring. You were all doing your best, and were using every resource you could. You in particular were really involved with the whole research project– it was the main reason why you were there. Every time there were news, whether they were minor or not, you were always the first one to be notified.

You were busy examining some of your notes and the pictures Rohan took when Jotaro knocked on your door. You sent your stand over to open the door, focusing on your studies. It was only when you smelled Jotaro’s sweet perfume filling the room that you finally lifted your eyes up from the books and the various pics in front of you. You greeted Jotaro with a weak smile, as he sat down next to you.

“Thought you could use some coffee.” He said, leaving a fuming cup in front of you.

You thanked him, and proceeded to take a long sip from the cup.

“How is it going?” he asked.

You sighed, running an hand through your hair as if that gesture could help you reorganise your thoughts. You explained everything to him, ranting a bit about how stressing the whole situation felt. Every time you thought you got closer to finding Kira, something happened that forced you to start all over again. He wasn’t like every other serial killer you studied about; he was always a step ahead of everyone.

Jotaro listened carefully to your words, nodding sometimes to let you know that he was really paying attention to what you were saying. Once you finished, he looked a bit perplexed and offered you his insight regarding the whole situations. You trusted his words more than anyone else’s – you knew he had great analytical skills, you would have trusted him with your life. Something you already did in the past.

The two of you spent the night together, smoking some cigarettes while discussing about every possibility regarding Kira’s escape. He sat exactly next to you on the sofa, reading some documents given to you by the Speedwagon foundation when you tiredly rested your head on his shoulder.

This gesture made his muscles contract for a second, catching him out of guard. He turned to look at you, your eyes almost closed because of your tiredness. Without saying a word, Jotaro leaned his lips against your head, leaving a soft kiss on it before continuing reading his documents as if nothing happened. It wasn’t long until you fell asleep. When Jotaro noticed it, he wasn’t sure about moving. He didn’t want to wake you up, but he knew that wasn’t the most comfortable position for you to sleep in. He slowly lied on the sofa, letting you rest your head on his chest. He put his white coat on you, deciding to stay there for the night.

You woke up next to him the following morning, your bodies completely intertwined. You were confused, as you didn’t remember falling asleep. Also, you didn’t really want to bother Jotaro this much, and immediately felt bad about it. You slowly got up, leaving the beautiful man sleep on the sofa of your hotel room. After a quick shower, you headed towards the hotel’s canteen to buy some breakfast for both of you.

When you finally returned to your room, you saw Jotaro stretching up, standing tall in the middle of the room. “Morning” he whispered in a low, raspy voice.

Smiling as if you were a teenager in love, you replied and offered him a donut.

“I’m sorry for yesterday. You could have woken me up.” You said shyly, doing your best to avoid eye contact.

He hinted a small laugh, messing your hair with his hand.

“No need to apologise, silly. It’s fine, I fell asleep too.”

Days passed by, and you knew you were getting closer to find out Kira’s identity. Your days however, weren’t made up solely by studies, researches or fight. Most of the time you found yourself spending time with the Joestar’s family: you would usually have dinner with Josuke, Jotaro, Joseph and Josuke’s mum, spending quality time together and hearing funny anecdotes from Josuke and Joseph. You also had the chance to meet Jolyne a few times; Jotaro drove you out of city because he really cared about letting the two of you meet. And it was a good thing: you and jolyne relly got along with each other, almost as if you had been friends in a previous lifetime.

Although Jotaro was never vocal about it, he was important to him to see how along you got with his family. He loved seeing you playing with Jolyne, and he knew how much you appreciated and respected Joseph. It was also nice to see you getting along with Josuke – both of you had a lively personality, and he grew affectionate towards you really quickly. Sometimes, Jotaro would find your bond a bit irritating – but he knew Josuke was only a 14 y/o boy. He was also conscious about how irrationally jealous he could become, so he never really spoke about it.

As time passed, Jotaro became more and more aware of his feelings towards you. He never forgot you and now every emotion he felt in the past was simply coming back.

The two of you spent an awful amount of time together, always finding new excuses to do so. Whether it was to investigate over Kira, training to prepare for the final battle or simply visiting some new places, there wasn’t a moment when you weren’t with him; and although he felt incredible bad for thinking about it, Jotaro hoped to find Kira as late as possible.

He needed more time; more time to fully understand what was going on inside his mind and his heart, more time to find the right words to explain everything to you, more time to understand whether his feelings were reciprocated or not.

It was during the final battle with Kira that he finally had the responses he needed.

Seeing you covered in blood made his heart beat incredibly fast. For minutes that felt like an eternity he did not know what to do, how to act - something which was very unusual for him. Jotaro had always been the kind of person to think rapidly, without letting his emotions overwhelm him. But this time it was different. He left you and Josuke fighting alone against Kira for too much time and now the both of you were in danger. It was something he already experience before in Egypt, and he wasn’t willing to lose anyone else. You kept one of Josuke’s arms around your shoulders to help him standing, the young boy still towering you even if his figure was arched over you. Both of you were covered in blood and with various injuries over your bodies. You were still able to stand on your feet, looking angrily at Kira who was grinning in response. Your breath was heavy and you didn’t have much strength left in your body, but when you saw Jotaro, you knew you had to hold on.

You gave him a quick look, his face covered with worry and fear. “I’ll cover your back but you'll have to be quick.” you said, summoning your powerful Stand once again. Jotaro understood your plan, and without losing anymore time he started walking towards you, becoming close enough to use Star Platinum against your enemy.

“Star Platinum. The World!” he said, stopping time and letting Kira have a taste of Star Platinum’s punches.

Before he let time flow again, he gently picked your body up in his arms and stepped far enough from the explosion Killer Queen would have caused moments later. Shielding you with his own body, time started to flow again. You looked at him smiling, gratefully crouching yourself onto his chest, trying your best to recover some energie and enjoying the warmth of his body.

“Thanks for always being my hero.”

Jotaro couldn’t help but smile hearing those words, shaking his head in response.

“I just returned you a favour.”, he added.

Two weeks passed by since the defeat of Yoshikage Kira.

You and Jotaro decided to stay in Morio-cho a bit longer than what you originally planned. The time spent together allowed you to discuss your mutual feelings and, after a long night of passion and love, you started dating.

It was awkward at first. You and Jotaro never really officialised your relationship; you just let things between you evolve naturally, preferring a physical love language over words – what united the two of you wasn’t something that could have been easily described. However, he eventually confessed you that he had loved you since your trip in Egypt, receiving a: “I did too, idiot.” in response.

As time went by, you and Jolyne managed to build a strong, beautiful bond – so much, she’d start to refer to you as a parental figure and nothing less. Jotaro loved seeing the two of you together; you were the people he loved the most, and he was happy his little daughter liked you as much as he always did.

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atomicblasphemy · 3 years

Text

Eda becomes some kind of flying taxi service

Amity: So I told Malphas he needed to have a talk with Gary about our coffee break space.

Emira: Mhmm.

Amity: I mean, for one, Gary never cleans after himself. Like, I once saw him leaving his mug dirty for over a week. A WEEK. It was disgusting. It was just sitting dare on the table for days. I didn’t want to clean it, I’m not a doormate. But it was dire and I had no choice. And don’t get me started on the fridge situation. My lunch has been getting smaller by the day and I can’t seem to figure out the culprit.

Emira: That’s nice, Mittens. Isn’t it nice, Edric?

Edric: What?

Amity: Will you guys pay attention? I need some advice on...

*Windows cracking”

Edric: What the...

Hooty: AMITY FELICITY BLIGHT! IT IS I, HOOTCIFER, HARBINGER OF THY DESTINY. COME WITH ME AND I SHALL REVEAL WHAT JOYS THE FUTURE HOLDS FOR THEE.

Amity: I... What?

Hooty: DOTH THOU DARE DEFY FATE? *Swallows Amity*

Emira: ... What just happened? Wasn’t that Eda’s house demon? You know, the one we met before Grom?

Edric: I think it was. I’m not sure though, he sounded more... ominous...

SEVERAL EMOTIONAL MOMENTS LATER

Luz: It’s early... Do you really have to go already?

Amity: Yeah... I still have to finish homework, and I have work tomorrow. But I’ll come back here tomorrow... If you’re okay with it, that is...

Luz: YES! I mean... yeah, I’d love that...

Amity: Anyway... I guess I should get going, we’re not exactly neighbors after all. See you tomorrow then.

Luz: Wait, I have an idea. *Turns around* EDA!

Eda: *Not stopping her flight practice* What?

Luz: Do you think you could give Amity a lift back to her place?

Eda: Oh? Not walking your girlfriend home? Thought you’d be more chivalrous.

Luz: *Showing that Amity’s tomato like properties are infectious* EDAAA!

Eda: Sorry, sorry. But yeah, sure. *Picks up Amity and flies away at neckbreaking speeds. She soon slows down to a more reasonable pace* So... Amity, before I give you that whole “What are your intentions?” scare there’s something I’ve been itching to ask you. What made you chose to dye your hair of all colors, and how did Odd-alia react?

Amity: Luz... Me... Girlfriend...

Eda: Ugh... Don’t make me regret making harmless fun of young love, kiddo.

ONE AWKWARD TAXI EDA FLYING SESSION LATER.

Eda: *Placing Amity on the Blight Manor’s front porch and looking at the two bewildered faces watching her* Sup. *Turns to fly away* Oh right, I guess purple here is in not in the mental state to give any explanations.

Amity: Small ceremony... Human realm... Only friends and family... Boscha is not invited...

Emira: Are you... Edalyn Clawthorne?

Eda: Last I checked I was.

Emira: You look different.

Eda: Oh right... Look, it was a very eventful night so let me start with the simpler one. King, you remember him, right? Tiny, angry, looks like a cat, was the MC at the last Grom along with Goops.

Emira and Edirc: Yeah...?

Eda: He’s harnessing all the powers of yelling. I guess all children his age kinda do that but he went above and beyond and actually learned how to make things go boom with his voice alone, and that’s why both Luz and your sister are still alive. And now I’m realizing I should probably go hide all those Death Metal records I got in human realm. Can’t risk turning my son into a weapon of mass destruction. Not yet.

Edric: That’s... nice... I guess?

Emira: How about Mittens?

Eda: Right. She and Luz are an item now. It was adorable, I called her Luz’s girlfriend then I think it finally really hit her and that made her go all catatonic on me. Sorry about that.

Edric: WHAT?

Emira: Okay, okay... So came out with it? Ed and I have some scores to settle.

Eda: I... Both, I guess? I don’t know, it was sort of at the same time. But I don’t want to spoil it for when she recovers. So I guess us three are kinda family now, huh? Tangentially at least, like you’re my nephew and niece-in-law or something like that, I don’t know.

Eda: The important thing is: there’s a huge waterway under my house and I think it is actually part of my property. Now I need to figure out a way to find out how big that place actually is without letting town hall know so my taxes won’t go up. Can’t push my tax evasion skills. I mean, can you imagine it? The Owl Lady, the most successful outlaw in Boiling Isles history: arrested for fiscal crimes.

Emira: Okay... That’s... cool.

Edric: Yeah... Not to pry though, but what happened to you?

Eda: Oh... Me? I got very high. Not on purpose. Then I became a Harpy. Also not on purpose.

Emira: ... I’m sorry but I’m not following the cause and effect relation between those thing.

Eda: Neither am I. All I remember is: Hooty spiked some cookies; I revisited that time I gauged out my dad’s eye, also not on purpose; then when I push my ex away (You know, Raine Whispers, current head of the Bard Coven, lead a small revolutionary guerrilla, now under mind control. Oh, yeah, guess they’d make to sure to keep it under wraps, anyway...)

Eda: Then it got pretty weird. I got trapped by this tall hooded sun and moon figure and I’m not sure whether that was an actual memory (I did get arrested a few time after all) or if it was just a hallucinogenics induced manifestation of the subconscious trauma of being persecuted for years by the state. Anyone’s guess to which was it.

Eda: And then I became Icarus, fell into the sea, and became a piece of paper. Then I was at the beach, the piece of paper was also there, but that’s not important... I hope... Anyway, so, my curse was there too an for a moment there I thought we were gonna play some chess, but nah.

Eda: I did have an epiphany though. The sky changed colors and now I’m a Harpy. Gotta a lot of stuff to process right.

Edric: *Wide eyed and mouth agape* Mother of Titan...

Emira: *Same as her brother* Do you... need a hug or something?

Eda: Ehh... Don’t worry, I’ll get through. I mean, I’m a badass Harpy woman now, what else could I want? I appreciate the thought though. Anyway, I’ll get going, Luz has probably been stuck in the same place ever since I left. Was nice seeing you guys. *Turns around*

Edric: WAIT, EDA.

Eda: Yeah? What is it?

Edric: Can you take me flying a little bit like you did Mittens? Pretty please?

Emira: *Elbowing her brother* EDRIC!

Edric: What? There’s a tall and friendly winged lady standing in our front porch and calling us family...

Eda: Kinda family.

Edric: Kinda family. And we only went flying, on dad’s staff mind you, like twice. And I mean, look at her. That’s clearly a person with next to no regard for speed limits or any form of flying safety. *Turns to Eda* I mean that as the highest of compliments, by the way.

Eda: *Nodding and smiling* Well, I’m not one to brag... But you’re on point there.

Edric: *Turning back to Emira* See? It will be fun. *Turns back to Eda while making puppy eyes* So, pretty pretty please?

Eda: Eh... What the heck, why not? I do need to get a better hold of this flying thing after all. Fair warning though, I only had these for about an hour, I’m not taking responsibility for any loss of limb or life. *Picks Edric up and place him on one of her shoulders and turns to Emira.* You sure you don’t wanna come with? There’s plenty of room.

Emira: ... I never said I didn’t want to...

Eda: *Placing Emira on her other shoulder* Alritty then, make sure to hold on tight to my hair, just don’t fall into it. Can’t promise I’ll find you if you do. And up we go. *Takes off at neckbreaking speed*

Eda: So... I tried that to Mittens herself, but she was too lost in elation to form coherent sentences. What’s the deal with her hair color change? Why did she pick that specific shade of... pink? Lavender? Purple? Whatever, I was a tad curious about that choice coming from one of Odd-alia’s offspring. So either of you can shed some light on it for me?

Emira: Eh, what can I say? Our little Mittens is growing up, coming out of her shell. I mean, if you told me a month that she’d have a girlfriend by now I’d call it bullshit. Though I would have guessed Luz as being the most likely candidate. In any case, I’m pretty proud of the steps our baby sister is taking, not gonna lie.

Edric: Yeah... Same. But I can’t shake the feeling that it is at least in part an act of rebellion against mom. She did always have that weird fixation with Amity’s hair after all...

Eda: Hum, I see. This actually takes me to my follow up question. How did your mom react when she saw it?

Edric: *chuckling* Oh, I thought she’d have a stroke right then and there.

Emira: Yup. Never saw mom that mad. You’d think the two of us would be the ones to cause it but nope, Mittens beat us to it. Again, I’m a proud big sister.

Eda: Hehehe Sounds about right. You two are the troublemaking type then huh?

Edric: That’s a way of putting.

Emira: We like thinking of ourselves as practical entertainers however. We are in the Illusions track so it comes with the territory. Buuut...

Edric: We indulge in some prankery every now and then, and there’s no one better at it than us.

Eda: Is that so? Ever get in trouble for it?

Edric: Sometimes... When we (kind of accidentally) cause more property damage than intended because SOMEONE botched their end of the spell and caused Bump’s office to almost go up in flames.

Emira: Awww. Ed, I told you already. Don’t beat yourself over it. Accidents happen. You’ll do better next time.

Edric: HEY!

Emira: Anyway, Eda. Why were you asking about Mittens’ hair?

Eda: Oh... You guys are going to love this. I think. Anyway, did you know that me and your parents attended Hexside at the same time?

Edric: Yeah, I remember mom seeing one of your wanted posters a while back and calling you “Ewdalyn Clownthorne” or something like that.

Eda: Ah, haven’t heard that in a minute, Titan those were the day. Anyway, as you might have guessed by now me and your mother we... had a bit of a rivalry. Unfortunately, I couldn’t top the nickname she gave me, best I could do was Odd-alia. No offense, but Blight doesn’t give much to work with in terms of puns, can’t get funnier than that. Especially when thrown at her.

Emira: None taken. And yeah. I mean, it is fun when people call us stuff like “The Blights of Hexside”. But it is kinda sad to know we’ll never get a nickname as cool as Owl Lady or Lord Calamity.

Eda: Oh, my fame still precedes me huh? You know, I think the three of us will get along just fine.

Edric and Emira: Yup, we sure will.

Eda: Anyway, flattery aside... Part of the reason why I love poking your mom with a short stick was, other than how aggravated she’d get and how surprisingly good at paying in kind she was, the fact that she was in the Oracle track. You see, that made her a challenge. And given how she would actually prank me back (successfully, mind you, I have no shame in admitting that) I feel like like we actually a weird sort of friends, or at least we reached some kind of agreement that we were fair game for each other. And trust me, she was ruthless, and very good at escalating things.

Emira: Wow...

Edric: That sounds nothing like the mom we know. Other than the ruthless or the escalation part, that is still true.

Eda: Yeah, anyway. Part of our little game was keeping it hidden. Neither your dad or my sister actually ever realized what was going on until... well, I’ll get to that.

Eda: Anyway, so some lovely day I notice how weirdly obsessed with her hair Odd-alia was. This gives me some ideas, but I know I have make this the mother of pranks, so I decided to just keep a watch, to figure out what the best way to go about it would be. And I was also making those smaller pranks, something to throw her Oracle powers off-balance, you know?

Eda: Well... Back in the day your mother wasn’t monochromatic as she is nowadays. She’d circle through all colors you can think off on her accessories (which she used an ungodly amount, and no judgement it just never seems physically possible). But I noticed that there was one very specific color that she never got anywhere near her.

Edric and Emira: No way...

Eda: And as I said, she was weirdly obsessed with her hair... And as top student of the Potions track making hair dye was child’s play for me... So... do the math... And guess what very specific color was? I may be bad at color names, but I won’t ever, EVER, forget that particular shade.

Edric and Emira: No... freaking... way...

Eda: Yes... freaking... way... I mean, seriously, the first time I saw Amity’s new hair I had to do a double take. The resemblance was just too uncanny.

Emira: And what did she do?

Eda: Well... For a couple weeks there I thought I’d have to place a restriction order on her or something like that. Ultimately the two of us, along with Lilith and Alador (they were our attorneys, no they were not qualified for the role.) sitting across from each other in a very formal looking table, signing a contract. An actual freaking contract setting clear limits to our mutual pranks, like what was off limits like her hair or my then partner, how long was the maximum period a prank could last, so on. Surprisingly enough that was Al’s idea.

Eda: And let me tell you, that was probably the toughest negotiation I ever been a part of. Shame it was not long before I dropped out so never could really put it to use. You know, sometime I think this actually made Odd-alia realize she wanted to be a business woman. I mean, before that she’d go off about how she’d join the Emperor’s Coven all the damn time.

Edric: Wow...

Emira: I second that. Really, wish I had brought something I could take notes on. You completely blown anything we ever did out of the water.

Edric: No wonder she never told us that. You know what? I think I’m dying my hair that color first thing tomorrow.

Emira: Can we tell Amity this story?

Eda: Are you two actually thinking of antagonizing her? Are you crazy? First off, she’s your mother, she holds power over you. All you’d accomplish is getting grounded. Not to mention that she has decades of experience on you, even if she wasn’t your mom, she’d demolish the two of you. No offense, you’re still young, naive, you lack guidance in the ways of the pranksters.

Edric and Emira: *Dejectedly* Ohh... You’re right...

Eda: Hey... Don’t look so gloomy. I see a lot of potential in you, in both of you. *Sighs* I can’t believe I’m gonna take more kids under my wing... But.... Have you guys ever heard of the Bad Girl Coven Initiative? We annoy our foes into submission.

Edric and Emira: WE’RE LISTENING.

Eda: Heh... We’ll get along just fine indeed.

#THE OWL HOUSE #the owl house hooty #Edric Blight #Emira Blight #amity blight #luz noceda #king clawthorne #the owl house boscha #raine whispers #I lost track of what was trying to accomplish halfway though writing this. read at your own discretion.

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aftgficrec · 3 years

Note

Any recs for fics written in an epistolary or otherwise unconventional format? Like news articles and such? (Social media AUs are good but I think I’ve read all of those lol) Thanks so much!

Yes, we’ve got plenty here for you! Fics in letter form, social media formats, interviews, pov changes, flashbacks and even incorporating post-it notes. Hope you’ll find something here that’s new to you! - S

From previous posts

Epistolary form:

‘Inevitable (the epistolary remix)’ here

Other Formats (social media etc.):

‘Take Me Home’, ‘every time you curse my name’, ‘all that i’ve been dreaming of’ and ‘What if we kissed…and we met on tinder?’ here

‘Post Its and Missing Persons’ here

‘places to go, people to see (think we both oughta put 'em on hold)’ here

‘Would You Rescue Me’ here

‘00:00 (Zero o'Clock)’ here

‘Reputation’, ‘So Fucking Romantic (The Social Media Remix)’ and ‘i got so fucking romantic (i apologize, lemme light your cigarette)’ here

‘The Best of Men’, ‘you used to call me on my cell phone’ and ‘pro exy, pro twitter au’ here

‘Captured Moments’, ‘I’ve had a love of my own’ and ‘Andrew and Neil Take the Internet’ series here

‘Please tell me it’s just the fandom freaking out’, ‘Stay Home With Me’, ‘aftg social media au’ series here

see also: ‘Red Rabbits’ series 1 and 2, the podcast au incorporating audio file transcripts and in character posting on various social media platforms (Season One and Season Two, both now complete)

Epistolary fics:

An Exchange of Owls by AgentCoop [Rated T, 2792 words, complete, Aftg Spring Exchange 2021]

Dear McGonagall,

Fuck you.

Yours sincerely,

Andrew Not-A-Witch Minyard

***

In which Andrew's Hogwarts letter finds him three years too late. In which Neil is a work study student manning the owlery. In which shenanigans, hijinks, and magic ensue via letter over the course of a semester.

Dearly Detested by darkbluebox [Rated T, 1207 words, complete, 2021]

Transcription of handwritten letters between anonymous rivals, circa 1800s. Letters were discovered in their original envelopes, which bear a broken wax seal and the stamp of the U.S. postal service. Letters have been ordered chronologically according to postal markings. For speculation on the events and people referenced, see appendix 13.

"Long distance Andreil except it’s the 1800s so their only communication is long handwritten letters sealed with wax stamps"

Every Letter That You Write Me by lemonicee [Rated G, 2000 words, complete, Aftg Mixtape Exchange 2021]

Your Grace,

I have noticed your recently increased patronage of the fencing studio situated across the street from my offices. Even in the flow of ridiculously attired swordsmen, you are monumentally easy to differentiate from the others. You have, I’ve observed, a quite unique gait. I am reminded of a small rabbit darting from the safety of one burrow to another.

Forever yours. by Aiofhan [Rated T, 6833 words, incomplete, last updated March 2021]

'You say I’m not brave, but if I manage to get this letter to you, I will feel brave. I will feel that I beat them, just for a second.'

Neil goes on a journey to find out who was writing letter to his mom.

He meets Andrew along the way.

Liebe Herr Hemmick, by rabeimwald [Not Rated, 871 words, complete, 2020]

Andrew writes a letter to Nicky in a push to start his life post-system. It's messy and painful, but so is life. He hated everything about it, but he knows it's important. And a small, small part of him hopes it works.

Heaven was a place on Earth by moonqueerdom [Rated M, 2137 words, complete, 2020]

It's better than I ever even knew

They say that the world was built for two

Only worth living if somebody

Is loving you

Baby, now you do

A letter from Neil Josten to his lover, Andrew Minyard.

tw: major character death, tw: homophobia, tw: implied/referenced violence

summer’s snow by exyandreil [Rated G, 1913 words, complete, Aftg Valentine’s Day Exchange 2019]

he looked like the god of sunshine. golden hair and honeyed eyes. his demeanour wasn’t as sweet as he looked, but the silence seemed to fit with him

Other Formats:

per my last email, you're an asshole by koemi [Rated T, 1710 words, incomplete, last updated March 2021]

(Andrew to Kevin):

Kevin Day,

I’ve noticed you frequently using your company email account for personal use. I remind you that this is against the company policy. We also discourage dealing with personal issues during work hours.

Thanks,

Andrew Minyard

Columnist

Columbia Chronicle

(803)-415-8876 ext. 0310

(Kevin to Andrew):

Bitch.

—

In which the gang works at the local newspaper and communicates via passive aggressive corporate email. Neil is their newest reporter, Nicky is a walking HR violation, and Kevin wishes that Matt would stop reviewing sports movies.

READ OUR INTERVIEW WITH ROLLING STONE HERE: by @redrabbitspod [tumblr, 2020]

Red Rabbits: The Rolling Stone Interview

Featuring Andrew Minyard, Neil Josten, and the Red Rabbits Team

(includes art by @bloodydamnit)

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced csa

Clickbait by Frostandcoal [Rated T, 5431 words, complete, Aftg Exchange 2017]

It is fitting that Josten is set to don a Dragons’ uniform. Like his new mascot, Josten is a fire-breathing, relentless, somewhat mythical creature whose very existence seems larger than life. And Minyard is the perfect manifestation of a Cyclone; an inescapable, violent maelstrom of unpredictability, where your only chance of survival is to hunker down and wait out the storm.

What happens when a dragon battles a force of nature? That’s what we’re all waiting to find out.

The media reacts to teammates-turned-rivals in the summer before Neil Josten’s first year in the pro’s.

Trending by Frenchie (Fauks) [Rated G, 2142 words, complete, 2016]

It starts with a clickbait article:

25 Themed Weddings You Wish You Were Invited To

Number 3 on the list:

3. Exy-Themed Wedding

49 notes · View notes

kashi-prompts · 3 years

Text

Flowers For A Shinobi

Chapter 9: Lotus Art: Iyasu Healing Flower

Word Count: 2,381

Pairing: Kakashi x OFC

Previous Chapter ❀ Archive of Our Own Link ❀ Wattpad Link

A/N: Thank you to those who have been reading. I hope you are enjoying it! Constructive criticism or feedback is always appreciated!

My birthday was Sunday so leave me some likes if you liked it lol

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Caw, caw!

The incessant squawking of the crows overhead reverberated annoyingly in Ayame's eardrums. Her mind felt hazy, comparable to a radio that couldn't quite grasp hold of a broadcasting station. Her consciousness came and went, her mind ebbing and flowing as her body lay still against the soiled marble floor.

Above her, another crow walked closer to the opening in the ground. Its skeletal feet tapping a pebble curiously until it fell into the hole, plummeting through the air and bouncing off the split ground, inches from Ayame's face. She stirred, a groan escaping her chapped lips. She licked them, opening a sage-colored eye lazily.

Carefully, she peeled her cheek from the stone and sat up, feeling disoriented. Her body felt heavy. Her eyes settled on the remains of a man a few feet from her; his figure wrapped tightly in her lush vines, his skin gray. She felt nausea stir within her stomach, burning the back of her throat with acid. Quickly, she swallowed, taking a deep breath at the overwhelming reality around her.

Suddenly, the pieces of her memory came together like two magnets, her neck quickly snapping over to a mass of gray hair at the recollection of Kakashi. Ayame quickly scrambled over to him, gravel digging into her knees as she crawled across the floor.

"Kakashi," she breathed, looking down at his motionless body. She wasn't sure how long she had been out, maybe a few minutes, or maybe longer. She didn't want to think about it.

"Kakashi," she called his name again, patting his face gently. Deep lines had formed under his eyes, a hue of purple dusting his cheekbone. She carefully placed two fingers under his neck, feeling for his pulse. It was faint. His hair was matted to his forehead with sweat and blood.

"Kakashi," escaped her lips, feeling panic building. She forced it away, composing herself as she unzipped his jonin jacket and put her head to his chest. His body was warm against her ear. His heart was still beating. The thought of losing this man she had just met overwhelmed her. She thought of how the village would react to his death, knowing she had been the one to lead them out here.

Thump, thump.

Amatoxins, you know.

Thump, thump.

Ayame's eyes opened instantly as she recalled Daichi's words. She sat up, reaching for her backpack and pulling it over her shoulders. Her mind sorted through the laundry list of herbal medications in her bag, dumping its contents on the ground for the second time that day.

Amatoxins from mushrooms, amatoxins, she thought, picking up each vial and processing its remedies in her mind. She picked up the vial of silibinin, milk thistle extract grounded into powder and mixed into water, and a lightbulb went off in her brain. She turned back to him, her chest tightening uncomfortably at the shape he was in. She cursed herself for being unconscious when he needed her. But if she hadn't been so triggered by Daichi's words, would she have still pushed herself to create those vines?

Ayame uncorked the vial and looked down at the silver-haired Jonin. She felt a tightness in her chest as she assessed him. She would have to take his mask off, she realized. She didn't have time to think about it. The more she sat and considered it, the more time ticked away. She was sure he didn't have much time left before the toxins damaged his liver permanently - if it hadn't already.

It felt so personal, like something he would choose to show her after building a bond of trust. But she had no choice. Carefully, she pulled back the fabric of his mask, over the tip of his slender nose and beyond his lips. The realization that she was seeing his face behind his mask produced a blush to creep over her cheeks. Her ears felt hot. She let the material rest over his chin where a little black mole sat. A nagging sense that she was violating his privacy tugged at her. It was either this or nothing, she reasoned.

Reaching down, she tapped at the side of his chin to open and dumped the vial contents into his mouth. She waited a moment, pushing on his throat to ensure he swallowed it despite his unconsciousness. A drip of the antidote trickled from the corner of his mouth, trickling down to his chin. Gingerly, she reached and caught it with a hooked finger, feeling the light stubble at the edge of his chin. She drew away quickly, her skin hot.

Another pebble skidded across the floor from above. Ayame pulled Kakashi's mask up and turned away, feeling another peculiar sense of guilt mixed with a new, unfamiliar yearning to gaze at him all day. She lifted her hand and touched her braid, fiddling with the strands. Pursing her lips, she glimpsed over at the dead shinobi a few feet away again. Vines wrapped tightly around his neck and body; his skin tinted grotesquely. His lifeless, eerie eyes were staring back at her, causing her stomach to roll.

Suddenly, Ayame jumped up to her feet. She ran over to Daichi's body, tripping over the sensation of how heavy her legs felt. She realized everything required to make the flower the Konoha shinobi needed was right there in front of her. Reaching down, she snatched the scroll out from Daichi's thick fingers, adrenalin flooding through her as she quickly sprinted towards the exit where they had come from. She felt a ping of guilt leaving Kakashi and looked back at him. He would be alright, she reasoned. She just needed to give the antidote time to work. He would want her to do this first rather than save him anyway.

The stale air of her old village greeted her nose again in full force as she reached the top of the ladder. Looking around, she noticed his ninja hounds in the distance, far away from the site of the wreckage. He hadn't dismissed them, she realized. She wondered if they had seen or heard any of the commotion from earlier.

"Pakkun," she called out, waving the canine over. The little pug lifted his head from the ground, his pushed-in nose sniffing the air. The other dogs lifted their heads as well, looking over at her. Their diverse shaped faces shifting into various levels of confusion at the sight of Ayame voice calling them and not their master.

"Everything okay?" Pakkun asked, his little bowlegged arms trotting towards her.

"I need someone to keep an eye on Kakashi," she explained breathlessly. She looked around for an empty field. "But I also need someone to deliver this scroll and some flowers to Lady Hokage as soon as possible."

Ayame showed Pakkun the scroll and then pointed to a small field beyond her old home's wreckage.

"I'll take care of it," Pakkun assured her as the other dogs hurried up beside him. Without any direct orders, two of the canine sprinted off in the direction Ayame had come from, their noses following the scent of their master. Ayame watched them for a moment, amazed by their ability to trace his scent.

"What do you need?" Pakkun asked, watching Ayame turn her head back to him. He looked up at her, his tiny beady eyes staring up at her skeptically.

"This way," she said, guiding him over to the field. Kneeling on the wearied grass, she looked down at the scroll in her hand hesitantly. She thought of the small amount of chakra she had manifested through the previous day's exertion and meditation session that morning. She was sure she had already used most of it - killing - that man. She swallowed hard.

There was no turning back now. Kakashi wouldn't be awake for hours, and she certainly couldn't leave him behind or haul his body back to the village before dusk. She chewed at her bottom lip. It was now or never.

"Pakkun," she looked over at him, his little body sitting behind her on the grass. "I'm going to use this scroll to produce these flowers. I need you to pick as many as you can and take them back to Lady Hokage before dusk. She'll need this scroll too. It has directions on it."

"Got it," the small canine nodded, "don't worry."

"And Pakkun," she spoke quietly, looking down at the scroll as she sat on her heels. Worry permeated her bones, sending a chill up her spine that had little to do with the nip of cold air. She wondered if her body would be capable of handling this job after already exerting herself.

"Make sure Kakashi is okay, please," Ayame requested, unrolling the scroll on the ground. Taking a deep breath, she looked down at the scroll.

Stay focused, she remembered. Closing her eyes, her hands molded themselves into the appropriate signs through muscle memory before slamming it to the ground in the center of the scroll.

"Lotus Art: Iyasu Healing Flower!"

A rolling field of purple buds erupted from the dead weeds, the tips of their stems immediately blooming as the crisp breeze swayed them. Dozens of lavender-colored blossoms filled Ayame's blurred vision. Her eyesight tunneled, darkness breathing in and out in unison with her expanding chest. Her body weakened immediately. Her ears buzzed continuously.

Her body fell sideways, the grass rough against the skin of her cheek. As she lifted her eyes before her vision went dark, she watched the brown pug begin to pick the flowers from the ground one by one with his mouth before heading for the horizon with the scroll in his mouth.

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A raindrop landed on Kakashi's forehead, hitting his skin and dripping into his hairline. Then another, and another. Slowly, his hooded eyelid fluttered open lazily, his vision clouded. He swallowed, his throat feeling thick and scratchy. His arms and legs felt heavy, like weighted bags attached to his body. He moved his head, his neck aching.

Slowly, he sat up, raking his hand through his silver hair as more raindrops began to fall from the opening above. Kakashi looked up, his memory slowly coming back to him. He felt similar to when he depleted all his chakra, his body feeling weak. Groaning, he took in his surroundings and pulled down his headband.

More rain began to fall. Slowly standing to his feet, Kakashi noticed a lump of plants a few feet away and began making his way towards it. When he reached it, he stood over them, his eyebrows narrowing as he realized what it was: an asphyxiated man tied up tightly with dense green vines. His chest clenched uneasily, remembering the only person who was with him.

"Ayame?" he called out, turning around. His eyes traveled over the broken marble floor; its fractured and split slabs creating a challenging route to travel when your body was as weak as his. He called her name again, walking back through the hallway and into the original room they had entered the cache. His body protested at every step as he climbed the ladder.

His hair matted to his face as he reached the surface, rain pouring down from the milky gray sky. Looking around, Kakashi noticed his ninkin in the distance, nestled in the corner of the remains of a dilapidated building. He lifted himself from the opened hatch, his knees bending in an abnormally painful manner as he moved closer to them.

Bull lifted his head, his large round face wet with rain, as he watched Kakashi hobble over to them.

"What happened?" Kakashi asked, reaching the seven canines. "Why are you all still he-?"

Kakashi's eyes landed on Ayame's back, the collar of her shirt ruffled from the obvious signs of being pulled to a sheltered location. Uhei's long nose protectively laid across her hip, keeping her warm.

Kakashi knelt, his hand hovering over her head as he processed everything. Finally, he placed it on her head, her auburn hair soft under his fingertips. What happened? Why was she up here? Why was she passed out? Had she killed Daichi herself? Kakashi looked to his ninkin; his eye's inviting them to explain.

"Is she okay?" he asked, his voice sounding rough and scratchy. He reflected for a moment on how tight his chest was. Of course, he was concerned for her well-being, but seeing her unconscious disturbed him in an unfamiliar way.

Uhei lifted his head from her hip, pointing his long nose to the field nearby. Kakashi looked over, noticing a few lavender-colored flowers that remained in a field nearby. Those had not been there before, he deduced. His eyes progressed down the path where his ninken had hauled her body to shelter as the rain started to come down harder.

It all clicked in his mind instantly. She had stopped Daichi, recovered the scroll, and produced the flowers herself. He looked down at her, his eyes wide in astonishment. She should be out of chakra by now. His cold hand moved to under her neck, feeling for a pulse in the crease of her warm skin.

Thump, thump, thump. He exhaled, relieved.

"Pakkun?" Kakashi asked his ninken, feeling disoriented from the overload of information he had missed.

The smallest dog, Biscuit, lifted his head to point his snout towards the direction of the village's entrance gate, indicating Pakkun's travel back to the village on their behalf. Kakashi sighed, sitting his bottom on the hard, wet ground.

"I have to get her back to Konoha," he told the dogs.

He felt culpable for leaving her to defend herself in a battle. Despite her coming out on top, things could have ended much differently. He frowned behind his mask. Looking down at her, she looked as though she was sleeping peacefully. Dirt and sweat coated her face and body. The overwhelming desire to keep her safe washed over him as he looked down at her.

Her shoulder rose and fell with each breath she took. Long deep inhales followed by shallow exhales. He reached up, itching his chin through his mask. It felt like there was something sticky on his skin. He pulled his mask down and felt a line of sticky residue from the corner of his mouth to his chin. He wondered what it was.

A warm head laid itself on his leg, nudging his hand with a nose. Kakashi looked down at Biscuit's blond fur resting on his thigh comfortably.

He looked back up at the diverse features of his dog's faces, each set of their round eyes staring at him curiously. Fatigue washed over his body as he leaned against the wall. In the distance, thunder rumbled across the sky. Perhaps they would stay here for the night, he decided sluggishly as his eyes started to close.

He would make sure nothing happened to her tonight.

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hotdogjones44 · 2 years

Text

1-21-22

Oh man these last 2 weeks have taken me out back and beat me senseless.

Grandma has only weeks left to live, the cancer is spreading so fast. I've been very absent minded lately, so sorry for the delays. I've caused a blockage with myself and it's made it difficult to work with my spirits. But I decided at work one day that I needed a break from my audio books. (I sneak in a Bluetooth earbud under my beanie and listen to books all day) I started listening to the podcast created by the woman I get my spirits from. She is so motivational and helpful. Everything she says just gets my brain to thinking and moving. I am enrolled in her circle membership, so I have courses I can take and learn from which are just mind blowing. The podcast is jam packed with extremely helpful information as well. It's on Spotify and YouTube, if you want to give it a listen it's "Witchful Ways" all I ask is that if you go seeking her out, please be respectful. She is such a kind soul and she is so patient and helpful. I have so much respect for her.

I was hesitant to share the info publicly on here out of fear of those girls from work finding her and causing problems. But I don't want this awesome information and an amazing conjurer to go unrecognized. She has helped me with a lot of my spirit work and I know some people on here would love to take a peek and learn some stuff too.

I have a total of 4 spirits from her now, and 1 in the works. 2 demons, 1 unicorn, and 1 luxury life spirit. My vampire is in the works. And let me share my tale from these last 2 weeks and how they have helped me through it.

My car was acting weird. Never a good sign. My car is the only way my boyfriend and I have to get to and from work. I drive 40 minutes out of each day to get him and take him home. I scheduled an appointment to get my car looked at, and both back tires had broken belts. My bank account was drained from some poor money management on my part, and bills that had stacked up on me. I was sick to my stomach. I had to cancel so many appointments just to not go negative in my bank account.

I had to make it 2 weeks with broken tires.

My mom was going through something, I don't know what. But she made me feel like the biggest piece of shit on the planet. I even considered ending my life one night. My boyfriend had lost his temper with me. Something he never does. I was just ready to check out. Everything that could go bad did. I cried all night worried about how I was going to make it to work, my mom made it clear that I was on my own. She said mean things to me, she favored my brother over me, I felt outcast and alone. I sat inside for lunch at work and the mean girl was sitting directly behind me. I heard her friend say "don't you just wanna reach back and smack the shit out of her" I was done.

I listened to those podcasts and told myself I can manifest things to get better. I did every step. I did it my way. I took charge. I asked my spirits to help me survive this last week until payday. I told the universe that I would survive this, and that's the way its gonna be.

Things got better.

My blockage I had up went away. My spirits visited me in my sleep. A gorgeous unicorn that I just loved to death came through to me. The next day I got paid. The woman listed a unicorn for adoption in the Facebook group and I instantly got him.

I got my car to the shop just in time. It was on its last leg (those tires were done for)

They came out and told me my battery was completely dead and they had to jump it to get it started and I needed to take it to Walmart and hope it's still under warranty (an unexpected problem) all the way there my car flickered and the heat went off and on, she did her best and got me there. They checked my battery and it was a bad one. Luckily this happened on pay day and my battery was still under warranty so they replaced it for free. My spirits had my back on this one. It held out for me just long enough to survive the week. I had no idea it was bad, because we had just replaced it.

Everything worked out.

My boyfriend even surprised me and booked us a hotel for tomorrow night to get away and have some time together away from everyone else. And to think, I would have missed it had those podcasts not gave me the lift I needed.

#spirits #divination #spirit companion #spirit work #spirit shop #demonic #unicorn

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translations-by-aiimee · 3 years

Text

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 23

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 23 - Child Ghost

Twenty minutes later, each of the three hooligans sat on the bench in the hospital corridor in a daze, each clutching a bottle of fresh orange juice. The nurse had just scolded them for disturbing the rest of the patients in the surrounding rooms, and they all looked a little bit ashamed. A-Yan's face had some colour brought back. After drinking a few sips of the drink, he calmly said: "I c-can't exorcise it completely. I can only figure out the source of this thing. Maybe it's a good thing that it's harder to expel."

Lin Yan asked what he meant, and the little Daoist priest explained: “As the saying goes, 'He who never wrongs others does not fear the knock in the night*.' Although this girl is weak from her illness, there must be other reasons why, out of so many other patients, this thing chose her. If we can find the reason, then maybe it will leave by itself."

*(T/N: 不做亏心事，不怕鬼敲门 - means if you've done nothing wrong, you don't have to worry about any retributions.)

"It-It keeps repeating 'Why haven't you come yet?' It may be a wandering spirit who hasn't fulfilled his dying wish. His Yin energy is very weak. He probably died not that long ago."

Lin Yan's heart skipped a beat. He suddenly thought of Xiao Yu, and couldn't help but reveal his recent doubts to the little Daoist priest. After a long while, he turned his head and looked at the ghost next to him, and whispered: "Last time, I was only concerned about getting rid of him. I never asked him anything."

A-Yan sat curled up in the chair and listened to Lin Yan while gnawing on the cap of the orange juice bottle. He looked like a kitten. He jolted up and said: "Ghosts are divided into different categories. Today, the one here can only manifest by attaching itself to a living person and it will disappear once that person dies. However, the one that follows you is very, very strong."

A-Yan continued: "A ghost has no form at first, but if the soul is resentful and the body is buried in a place where the atmosphere has heavy negative energy, it's very likely to turn into a powerful ghost. A ghost will cultivate for a hundred years with a phantom body and, after a long time, it will develop a real body. When they have a real body, they don’t have to resort to 'bump around' like today, and they can even move around in the daytime without fear of Yang energy. They aren't so much ghosts as they are demons or animals." A-Yan clenched his fingers: " The most difficult evil spirit to deal with is known as the true body of the ten thousand clans. It requires special formations, plus needs to be done at the right time and place, so there's not much room for error. Once a part of the process goes wrong, the exorcist is likely to be drowned by the energy, go insane and instead be harmed by the evil spirit."

"L-Last time the formation was set up, Master made a fake one to fool the ghost, and he found the gap in time he needed. Otherwise, if you wanted to eliminate him, I'm afraid that you would have to gather more than fifteen boys in a Mandarin Duck Formation to have any hope." A-Yan suddenly gave Lin Yan a strange smile: "That was because he had just re-entered the world and was still confused when we tricked him. Now, I'm afraid. . . Brother Lin Yan, at this point, he should have already remembered something, right?"

Lin Yan thought back on all the things that happened at the lecture and the ghost's increasingly human-like behaviour. He was secretly surprised; was this ghost really recovering his memory? He nodded and replied, "He told me lots of things the day of the lecture. He can talk, just not very much."

A-Yan smiled nervously: "Y-Your four-pillar pure Yin is the most suitable alignment to feed ghosts. The longer he follows you, the more physical he'll become, and the more he'll remember."

"But. . ." A-Yan looked into the distance with a glaze in his eyes, his fingers tightly squeezed the drink bottle. He turned back and grinned at Lin Yan: "Be very careful."

"All I can say is that every action has a reaction, and I can't help you with anything at that point."

He didn’t know why, but Lin Yan felt that the way the little Daoist priest spoke seemed to imply something. Feeding ghosts. . . Lin Yan harshly inhaled the hospital’s air mixed with the smell of disinfectant and frowned. “Let's not talk about it. We have to save A-Zhou's cousin first and figure out the reason for the possession. Do you have to find out who the deceased is first?"

A-Yan nodded. Yin Zhou held his glasses, a little confused: "We don't have much time left. Dozens of people die in hospitals every month. We don't have time to go through each of them individually."

Lin Yan sighed: "That's no other option. Go and pull up the records of everyone who's died recently in the hospital. Maybe there's a clue somewhere."

After all, there were several people now that were exhausted from the attempted exorcism, paralyzed on the bench and not wanting to move. Lin Yan discreetly adjusted his position. Xiao Yu suddenly walked over to him, squatted down and grabbed his knees with both hands.

Lin Yan turned his face and snorted. "Weren't you ignoring me?"

Xiao Yu didn't answer. He gently lowered his head and put the side of his face on Lin Yan's knees, long hair cascading behind him like a waterfall. Lin Yan instinctively wanted to reach out his hand to touch his head, then he thought that he was probably still angry, so he put on an indifferent air and cold expression, not acknowledging him.

After a while, Xiao Yu raised his head. He pressed his hands firmly against Lin Yan's legs, stood up, turned and walked further down the corridor.

"Where are you going?" Lin Yan asked in a low voice. Seeing that he didn't answer, he had to follow a few steps behind. Xiao Yu quietly returned to the door of Xiao Yang's room and went straight through the door panel. Lin Yan was full of doubts. Peeking carefully through the door glass, he saw that Xiao Yang's mother was tired from crying and was sitting on the side of the bed, dozing off with her arms propping up her forehead. The girl, on the other hand, waited by the window again in the same manner as when Lin Yan had first arrived.

Xiao Yu walked to the girl's back and patted her shoulder lightly. What happened next left Lin Yan dumbfounded. The girl with her rolled-back eyes turned around and quietly "looked" at Xiao Yu, showing a normal human on her face for the first time. The corners of her mouth were pulled downward, a look of aggravation painted clearly on her face. Xiao Yu was tall, so he simply squatted in front of the girl and stroked her hair very softly. They were talking, and Lin Yan's eyes widened. Although he could not hear them, their expressions and slightly moving lips convinced him that they were indeed communicating in a language he didn't understand.

The little Daoist priest and Yin Zhou also followed at this time. They curiously holding the windowpane and looking in. They couldn't help but be shocked by the girl's appearance now.

"She's talking to herself?" Yin Zhou was surprised: "What's she saying?"

"Mortuary language." The little Daoist said in a deep voice. "The language used in ancient rituals to communicate with the dead."

Lin Yan looked at the harmonious picture in the room, unconsciously picking at the crack of the door. He grit his teeth and indignantly thought you're Xiao Yu. At home, you're fierce and want to kill me, yet you go talk to a young girl with such a tender look. You just look at such a pretty young girl that I don’t want to let it go. Zhu Xi's Neo-Confucianist teachings have really gone to the dogs. It’s useless for you to think about it. I decided ages ago. When she's a few years older, I'll take her to watch movies and visit the amusement park. Let's see what you can do. . .

"Hey? Are you going to follow him inside?" Yin Zhou patted Lin Yan on his shoulder. Lin Yan had been distracted internally cursing Xiao Yu, and he was so frightened that the hairs on his neck stood on end.

"Holy shit, when did you get here? Were you trying to scare me to death by keeping quiet?!" Lin Yan grumbled, clutching his heart.

"Did you really not hear me talking so loudly before?!" Yin Zhou said in surprise: ". . . Why are you blushing?"

A-Yan smiled and gave Lin Yan a deep look, not making a sound.

The conversation in the room seemed to be over. Xiao Yu stood up. He leaned over and rubbed the top of the girl's head and walked out. Xiao Yang reluctantly turned and stood by the window again. Lin Yan gritted his teeth and waited outside. He internally decided he wouldn't fall for any more of his tricks considering he seemed to do them with anyone. . .

Xiao Yu had already returned to stand in front of him while he was distracted. Lin Yan turned his face away from him in anger, but Xiao Yu didn't care. He took out the memo and the soft-tip fountain pen Lin Yan had bought from his pocket and began to write.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Yin Zhou looked at the pen and paper hanging in the air and stared in shock.

Xiao Yu shoved the note into Lin Yan's hand, then retreated to stand behind him. Lin Yan looked down. The light green note had two lines written on it. The first line was a series of capitalized numbers: "Three-Five-One-Zero-Zero-Four." The second line was a sentence: "He's waiting for his father."

"Father?" Yin Zhou looked at the words on the note and suddenly clapped his hands: "Hey, I got it, no wonder it came to Xiao Yang. Xiao Yang's mother is a single parent. My uncle passed away last year. I came to the hospital to watch her overnight last week and heard her say she missed her dad and it felt like he was still there with her. . . Then what does that row of numbers mean?"

Lin Yan was also puzzled holding the note. When he asked Xiao Yu, he shook his head and didn't speak. Lin Yan couldn't help muttering, "What the hell? You touched her head and smiled for a long time without asking anything. . . It’s not because the little girl looks good..."

"A g-ghost's memories are incomplete. They can only remember what they want. It would be nice if they can remember the numbers." A-Yan suddenly opened his mouth, his eyes sharply focused towards Lin Yan. Lin Yan's face grew hot, and he hurriedly lowered his head to cover it up. He explained to him that he was searching for people, why did his mind take such a strange turn. . .

That being said, why did he always get distracted by a dead person? This isn't going to work, no. Lin Yan secretly squeezed his fist.

Yin Zhou saw that the two of them were acting strangely. He crossed his hands behind his head and looked around in the corridor. When he saw the computer in front of the nurse on duty at the staircase, his eyes suddenly lit up, and he whistled frivolously: "Look, dude. Time for some fun."

With Lin Yan's girl-pleasing good looks and Yin Zhou's series of honeyed compliments, the three stooges quickly got their hands on the nurse's sister's computer. Yin Zhou stared at the screen intently. His fingers flew across the keyboard and the mouse clicked rapidly. After 15 minutes, the corners of his mouth stretched upward. His whole body suddenly leaned back in the swivel chair. He squinted his eyes and exclaimed: "Done. Turns out the info comes from this hospital. Makes it much more convenient not having to check other systems."

Lin Yan leaned in front of the computer, and the homepage showed: "351004, Zhou Jintian, male, 11 years old, died on May 11. Cause of death: internal organ rupture causing extensive abdominal hemorrhaging." A scanned copy of the body claim form was attached below. In the lower right corner where the family members signed, the family name was written in two large characters: "Zhou Mo" with a small red seal next to it.

"From the deceased's information from the database, this line of numbers is the bed number from the morgue." Yin Zhou touched his head: "This ghost is a child. No wonder he's standing by the window all the time, waiting for his father to pick him up from school."

Lin Yan took a picture of the page with his phone. He smiled and pushed the back of Yin Zhou's head: "Good job."

At the spicy and sour noodle shop across from the hospital.

Lin Yan always disliked eating near hospitals. He always feels that there were grieving patients’ families and infectious bacteria floating everywhere, but these spicy and sour noodles were particularly famous. Lin Yan drove the car for a while, and after a lengthy internal struggle, he turned back. Lin Yan scooped a spoonful of spicy soup and was satisfied that a delicious dinner was definitely worth it.

The little Daoist priest left for a shift in the restaurant where he worked. Yin Zhou stayed in the hospital to see the patient and verify the information. Lin Yan sat alone at the snack bar, a greasy orange plastic table with two bowls of spicy and sour noodles in front of him. One was placed in front of him, and the other was pushed to the opposite side. The "person" only he could see was sitting in the opposite chair with his face turned sideways in a daze. It seems that the ghost really didn't need to eat. Lin Yan sighed and asked in a low voice: "You don't eat or sleep, you follow me every day, aren't you tired?"

Xiao Yu ignored him. His slender fingers propped up his chin, and the outline of his side face looked very beautiful in the dimming daylight. The table was near the window, and the warm yellow halo of the street lamp brushed over the bridge of his nose. His skin looked as fine as porcelain. It felt like porcelain too, icy cold.

Things were still awkward.

"Excuse me, can I borrow the chair? We don't have enough." A childish male voice sounded and Lin Yan raised his head. A boy dressed as a high school student was holding the back of Xiao Yu's chair. He saw Lin Yan looked confused and pointed to the boys and girls chatting at a large table next door. The girls were wearing heavy makeup, the boys wearing ear studs, their school uniforms covered in black and blue pen doodles. There were so many people in the store that they were missing several chairs.

"Someone's using it." Lin Yan replied quietly.

"I know you've been sitting here for a while, no one's there." The boy was unyielding.

"If I say someone's there, someone's there, and if they aren't there now, they will be later." Lin Yan was a little impatient.

"Nutjob, it's just a chair, why so angry?" The boy muttered. Before leaving, he rolled his eyes at Lin Yan.

"Sorry." Lin Yan mumbled to the boy's back. He wasn't sure why. No one could see Xiao Yu, which always made him a little anxious. Lin Yan hesitated and for the first time took the initiative to reach out and touch Xiao Yu's statue-like fingers and whispered, "It's lonely, isn't it? Of all the people in the world, I'm the only one who can see you and I treat you badly."

#dig a grave to dig out a ghost translation #dig a grave to dig out a ghost #chinese bl #chinese novel #english translation #yaoi novel #yaoi #danmei #danmei novel #bl novel

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avian-writes · 3 years

Text

The day we kept moving forward

The Days Pt. 3

Word count: 2166

content warning: depression

The carpet was my new home. I had no desire to be anywhere else; not the bathtub where I could just lay in the cheap acrylic, not the closet where I could curl up in the familiar atmosphere I grew up with, not even my bed where I could spread my limbs out like a starfish.

The floor was my current sanctuary and I didn’t want to get up anytime soon. Not even when the doorbell continuously rang. I heard one of my roommates begrudgingly leave his room to answer. There was murmuring before my bedroom door crept open.

“Jake? You awake, buddy?”

I groaned into the dirty carpet and he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. A bag was dropped to the ground and crossed legs appeared in my line of sight. I tilted my head just enough to look Darian in the eye. “What is it?”

“I’m supposed to be helping you with your math, remember?”

“Can’t that wait until tomorrow? Or the day after? Or before finals?”

“Definitely not. Come on, what’s up?”

I rolled over onto my back, nearly smacking my head right into a metal bed leg. “I’m tired. So. Freaking. Tired. No, scratch that, I’m exhausted.” My body decided to send my sentence to irony by making me yawn.

“Exhausted?” Darian pulled out his phone and checked the time. “What have you done today?”

“Woke up, got up, then immediately went back to sleep here.”

“Jake, you’ve gotta get up.”

“No I don’t. Math can wait.”

Darian groaned and leaned back against my desk, staring off out the window. I kept my eyes trained on the ceiling while contemplating my whole existence. It was getting easier and easier to just, do nothing these days.

He scooted across the floor so he could lay on his back, head to head. “How about we go on another expedition? Will you get up off the floor for that?”

“Are you seriously asking me that after the last two times?”

He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “We made it out alive didn’t we?”

“My ear drums didn’t. We nearly didn’t the first time either,” I countered. Our first little excursion still haunted me and probably still would until the day I died. Which would be soon if I had my way or the app did.

“Maybe this time will be different.” But I could tell by the tone of his voice that he didn’t believe what he was saying either. “To be honest, it feels like we should do one again. At least one more.”

I stayed quiet for a moment. I knew he was right; it was like we didn’t have any other choice. Something kept pulling us back to that damn app. Some might say it was a correlation of how kids these days were always on their phones and couldn’t go one day without them.

Good thing that, at the ripe old ages of 21 and 22, we weren’t kids.

I took the phone from him and slid open the app. The same three choices appeared and I took a deep breath before tapping anomaly.

Manifest what you want

“What do we want this time?”

“A reason to do this stupid game again.” I closed my eyes and waited. I wasn’t being sarcastic with my request. I really wanted a purpose for doing this and possibly subjecting us to more horror.

There was a tap on my shoulder and I opened my eyes to the GPS on his phone screen. I didn’t recognize the area but I could tell it was on the outskirts of Statesboro, surrounded by greenery. Great, another void location.

I quickly packed my normal bag: portable charger, water, pocket knife, flashlight, and granola bars. We got into Darian’s car and we followed the GPS in reserved silence. The only sound was the gentle hum of the engine and I prayed it wasn’t a sign of what was to come.

My eyes pleaded for sleep despite the tens of hours I had gotten the past couple days. It seemed all I did lately was work and sleep. No time was spent awake in the daylight; I was simply too tired to deal with anything not demanded of me. Food wasn’t even a priority anymore.

The coords took us as far as a gravel lot in the more rural area of the city. We parked and piled out, looking at each other in what I could feel was apprehensive fear. Why were we doing this again?

But before I could openly ask my concerns, Darian shrugged and started towards the woods. I got a sudden flashback to our first trip and swallowed hard. Quickly catching up to him, I kept close and within hitting distance of my best friend.

As we trampled through the brush, tall dark figures with no definite shape loomed in my peripheral vision. I snapped my head towards them but they disappeared into the trees. A shiver ran down my spine despite the burning sun in the afternoon sky.

“Still tired?”

“Extremely. I feel like I’m about to keel over.” I flexed my hands and my knuckles popped, a relieved feeling I wish the rest of me would follow.

“Have you had your medicine today?” Darian asked knowingly.

I simply nodded and reached for his phone. He handed it over and I zoomed in on the GPS. We weren’t that far away. Luckily, Randonautica wasn’t leading us to our deaths this time.

At least I hoped so.

I nudged him. “How’s your medicine going?”

“Ehhhh...”

“Dude. You’re supposed to be taking it every day.”

He shrugged and stared down at his phone. “I forget some days is all. Or I wake up too late.”

“Do you set your alarm?”

“Alarms don’t wake me up, remember?”

“I will drive over to your apartment and force you to take your meds, so help me.”

“You couldn’t even get up off the floor today.”

I stuck my tongue out at him and leaned over to check the GPS. The red dot was in the midst of fog on the screen. It didn’t even look like we were supposed to be in a forest, but we were for sure walking right towards it.

“What do we do if something happens again?”

“Run? What else?”

“We got knives.”

“If you want to try stabbing a supernatural entity, be my guest.”

“Listen you-”

Beep!

Darian caught my arm and pulled me back from stepping right off into a stream. I stumbled back from the riverbank and glanced at the GPS.

We had hit the coordinates. All they led to was a rushing river in the middle of the woods. Not the worst thing, definitely the most interesting find we’d gotten so far. I knelt next to the water and gently touched the top, the stream changing course to flow right over my fingers.

It wasn’t until then that I noticed the ever growing silence since we had entered the woods; no birds singing, no insects chirping, no crunching of leaves underneath our feet. Nothing.

SNAP

I spun around on my heel. Right behind us was a neat pile of river rocks that definitely hadn’t been there before. I shared a shaky look with Darian and a silent notion was agreed between us. We weren’t going back the way we came.

Shadowy figures returned to the corner of my eye and I glanced towards them. Rather than disappear, I could’ve sworn one darted into the underbrush. Leaves rustled with no sound and I took a step back, blindly reaching behind me for Darian.

“I’m right here,” he said as he obediently grabbed my hand. He gazed at the river for a moment with a strained expression. “We need to go upstream to get back to the road.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Darian looked up at the sun, shielding his eyes in the afternoon bright. “We came from the North, the river’s coming from that way.”

“Why don’t we get across and climb up the hill.”

“It’s 90 degrees, we can’t climb it.”

“So you propose we swim?”

“No, I propose we walk.”

“Through the river.”

Darian nodded, already looking like he regretted this entire expedition. “Through the river.”

Multiple viewed thoughts battled in my mind, all debating the pros and cons of being idiotic enough to either walk through the storming river or traverse back into the haunted forest. Neither was particularly pleasing and listening to Darian’s ideas had already gotten us into one tight spot today already.

But a small pile of rocks scared me enough to agree.

Luckily we were both wearing shorts. We took off our shoes and placed them in our bags. Then he carefully stepped into the river and held my elbow as I followed. The water was gliding fast past and I wobbled on my feet. I treaded the tiny waves for a bit before letting go of Darian and stood on my own.

Which proved to be a horrendous idea. As soon as I moved, the river kicked up and beat against my legs. I pushed them to cut through the force and instantly all the willpower was sucked out of me.

I trudged against the ever flowing current as it pushed back ten times as hard. I felt like a football player throwing all their weight against those training dummies on the field. My shoulders hurt and my legs grew tired with every feeble step I took.

I looked to my right and my eyes widened. Darian was walking through the water as if he was on dry land, just strolling along with no hint of the frustration or torment I felt. He went at a slow pace to keep up with me but besides that, he was completely fine.

I opened my mouth to voice my frustration, but no sound came out. I gingerly touched my neck and tried to speak. My throat strained and closed in on itself, tightening with my feeble attempts to say anything.

I shut up and waved my hands towards Darian frantically, but he didn’t seem to notice my plight. He simply continued his casual journey up the river. I tried walking over to him but as soon as I turned my feet sideways, the water cranked up a notch at my ankles and nearly knocked me to my knees.

Breathing uneven and panicked, my body heated up in a cool contrast to the cold water overtaking my legs. Even though the stream was only knee-high, my entire body cooled down to the same temperature and I shivered in the 85 degree heat.

The dark figures returned and overstayed their welcome as I suffered in the river. Growing darkness in my vision as every bit of strength I had mustered quickly depleted from my body. Time was irrelevant as fear gripped my heart the more I spoke silent pleas for help.

My feet started to sink and my heart pounded against my ribcage. I floundered forward and reached for Darian, but he didn’t notice. Or couldn’t.

We had hit the end of the stream and the edge of the woods. The car and consequently freedom wasn’t far away. If only I could break free.

Darian started to step onto the bank, turning to me when I didn’t follow. “Jake? You coming?”

I shook my head and tried lifting my foot, only for it to be dragged back down. My ankles were now sunk into the rocks at the bottom of the stream, piling around my scarred skin like a bonfire.

Suddenly aware of the danger surrounding us, he grabbed both of my wrists and pulled on them. Pain shot through my arms but I couldn’t yell it out. The stream pulled just as hard and I was in a tug of war for my life.

Darian gripped my hands so tight his knuckles creeped white around the edges. He yanked one more time and it was like the river finally deemed us worthy to be let go of its clutches. I lurched forward and into his shaking arms, my elbows dipping into the water.

He immediately grappled for the rest of me and, together, we scrambled onto the shore. Our shoes kicked up dirt behind us as he pulled me onto dry land. I dug my gnarled fingers into the soil, breathing heavily.

Coughing, I looked up at Darian and choked out, “Thanks.” The word felt like molasses on my tongue.

“No problem,” was his only response. He then took my hand and started rushing further up the river and away from the figures leering out of the trees towards us.

We held hands all the way back through the dense woods and back to the car. Darian reluctantly let go to fish his keys out of his pocket and we slid into the front seats. As we drove home barefooted, I took out my knife and held it open on my lap.

#writeblr #wip #the days #horror #depression #part three #wtwcommunity #wip update #the day we kept moving forward

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