#woe be upon ye. a plague on your house

[thehidn]

Mosquitos are God's answer to the South

#a plague upon your houses #woe upon ye for a hundred generations #the planter class must burn #imtchy

[umbralsound-xiv]

Words and Woes.

It had been a while since we'd had chance for a proper catch up. Of course, we see eachother most suns, if not every sun, but sometimes my duties cut the time i would have spent otherwise, short. But, this sun would be a longer one. She would visit me at my home, and over tea and pastries, we would finally put a start to writing her vows... ...I'd best not make it too flowery.

Sayuri Aoki once again finds her wandering the now familiar path, having memorised the way to Bexy's home quite well by now. Her hands linger in front of her, her right hand's fingers slowly spinning the ring upon her left as she walks, lost in her own thoughts. Her gaze only lifts when the house comes into her view, releasing her ring in favour of reaching for the door once it's in reach. She passes the threshold in the same step she pushes the door open, and closes it behind her as soon as she's far enough inside.

Bexy Amalaryssia turns her head as soon as Sayuri sets a hand on the door, offering a warm smile to the fellow Seeker. "And here is the future Mrs Fellfrost." Bexy beams. In hand, a tray of all kinds of things; mostly finger-foods and a pot of tea which gently steamed into the air. "I hope you have more ideas for vows than the last time we spoke, mm?"

Sayuri Aoki offers a weak smile in return. ".. That makes two of us."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Surely you have -something- from your travels, yes? Was it nice, at least, going all over Eorzea? We've barely had time to talk about it properly since you returned, aside from the things you've told me here and there." Bexy tilts her head, considering quietly. "Downstairs? We can sit on the ledge, with the pillows. All the better for gossiping." She grins.

Sayuri Aoki's head sinks into a gentle nod, some steps bringing her further into the house. "It was, there was some nice sights in between, and several of the mark's own places were quite the thing to see.." She smiled faintly, nodding. "Lets."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "I remember my own travels… It's been so long since i explored proper." Bexy takes the tray, to make her way through the house and to the pillows, where she carefully sets the tray down and takes a seat with a sigh of relief. "And no trouble? You never mentioned any."

...There's so many places i'd like to go, now. Further into the East, perhaps? Or to Thavnair. Even Sharlayan has it's appeal...

Sayuri Aoki rather swiftly drops into the pillows as they reach the spot, sinking into them with a soft exhale. ".. None. Thanalan was the only worry, but.. You watching over us was quite the relief to have."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "You know i didn't mind one bit. I plan to go out hunting for them, tomorrow. I haven't forgotten." Bexy offers a reassuring smile, pouring two cups of rolanberry tea. "So. Vows. Any ideas?"

Sayuri Aoki: ".. Be careful, if you run into that.. bloody bastard again.." She offers a small frown, hands shifting into her lap to let her right hand seek out her left, slowly beginning to spin the ring anew. She offers a small exhale, rocking herself back and forth once. Her head turns aside, a small, embarrassed pout taking to her lips. ".. Some vague ones.." She mumbles.

Bexy Amalaryssia: "I will. I can slip through the aether if need be, or gun him down with arrows if he gets too close. Bastard." Bexy sips her tea with a small hum, leaving the cup aside as she plucks up a small notepad and quill. "Vague ones are better than nothing at all. What have you got?"

Sayuri Aoki leaned over to pick up her cup, sinking back into the pillows afterwards. ".. A fairly simple declaration that I am his, to start with.." She mumbles, idly dragging her finger along the side of the cup. "..To be his strength during rougher suns and through nightmares that plague him, like he is mine through my own.." Her ears flicker, the tiniest red tint creeping onto her cheeks.

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…Vague, she says! That's good…" Bexy scribbles something down onto the paper with enthusiasm. "…You are his. That's… Quite the declaration, coming from you…"

To think he ever held such... Possessiveness. Unless it's her idea...? The thought of her being owned by anyone bristles me.

Sayuri Aoki: ".. We've said it to each other before, it's.. nothing new, but.. more official in a wedding vow, I suppose..?" She huffs, taking a sip from her cup. ".. The first time he refered to me as his I did not feel the same way I did when.. it's been said before, and we had a small talk about it.. " She pauses. ".. It did not feel like he was trying claim that he -owns- me, just.. that he loves me."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Much more official in a vow, yes. It is a promise, Sayuri. A whole series of them." Idly, she pens a few things, here and there. "…For you to feel different about it says much. You are his… Not because he feels like he owns you, i assume. But because… You want to be. What else would you want, for him?" Bexy asks, curiously. "…Protection?"

Sayuri Aoki nods gently. ".. I've heard that from three others in my life, and each was immediately rejected in my head. Only when Eir said it.. did it feel right." She pauses, ears lowering a touch. ".. Of course I want him to be safe, I want to be the one that keeps him safe.. But.." She releases her cup with one hand, lightly gesturing outwards with it and letting her palm face upwards. ".. I don't feel like I'm particularly capable in doing so, right now.."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…You are. Your ice is powerful, but it is not the only part of you. Not what kept you alive in those halls, nor what killed people. Your own determination was the cause for that, the ice simply just… Helped." Slowly, she dips her head. "…You can promise protection, but not safety. No one is ever truly safe from everything, unless you plan to lock him up in his room and never let him leave."

Sayuri Aoki: "… Knowing Vairg might swoop down upon him during a performance, maybe I should.." She half-grumbles, ears pinning back.

No. She wouldn't let that happen. We wouldn't. If he goes to dance, we will go to watch. ...I'm curious to watch him in a performance, anyway.

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…You have told him, yes? About… What happened?"

Sayuri Aoki: ".. Yes." She frowned. ".. When I got back, and he calmed me down a little.." Her expression grows more saddened, then. ".. He's so utterly terrified of him."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…That bastard almost killed him. Who could blame him? It's… As you said. He isn't like us. We have both almost died more times than we'd care to mention, and frightening though it might be, it's happened so often that it's simply just… Another time to add to the list. For him, though…"

...I don't even want to think how close to death we've both been. It comes with the job, i suppose. We're used to it. We chose this life, even if we didn't choose every circumstance that lead to the danger we have to face. ...Eir didn't.

Sayuri Aoki pauses, her grasp of the cup tightening slightly as her head lowered, gaze locking at the floor. ".. He broke Eir's legs." She spoke quietly. ".. I heard it all." The memory causes her aether to stir, the steam of the tea becoming less and less in response to Sayuri's cold, while her eyes pinch shut. "..I.. tried to tear the door down.."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "He…" Bexy stares, gazing to the tray before her. It's a long moment until she speaks again. "…I can't even imagine what you heard. As though almost killing him wasn't bad enough…"

...I could imagine how that might sound in my head. The sound of breaking bones and screaming and... Gods. At least there's a mercy in death, in that you know it will be over soon. Broken bones are a whole different thing entirely. No bleeding. No risk of dying, no. Even if they heal, there's no telling it will heal properly. A potential lifetime of agony.

Sayuri Aoki's eyes slowly peel open, settling on the tea in her cup. ".. They had already.. done something to my aether, at that point.. It hurt, but.. not enough to keep me from using my ice.. I split the door enough to shove my arm through it with my axe, and I was.. so close to touching him.. Then Vairg pulled him away.." She frowns.

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…Every sun we speak of it, i learn more and more. More about the compound. More about Vairg. Meeting him in Ul'dah was… Something. Even Vex tells me to be wary of him, and even knowing all he has done… It's difficult. He's just a man. Blood and bone like the rest of them. And yet, i know i should be more cautious."

Sayuri Aoki: ".. I can't judge my own fight with him all too well, considering.. I was quite weakened at that point.. But if Vex, who knows the general ability of their members, warns about him.. I'd listen."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…I plan to. But i'll shoot him if i get a chance." Her lips curl a little wider, but soon soften. "…You can promise him protection. That he never need face his horrors alone. I would never expect anyone to keep me safe, but… To know it wasn't just me, would mean much."

Sayuri Aoki: ".. Make sure it hurts, if he is to survive it." She mutters, lowering her cup of half-frozen tea to the floor, taking a deeper breath in some attempt to calm herself. Her head sinks into a nod at Bexy's words, even if a small frown remains on her lips.

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Oh, it will. I… Wouldn't mean to deprive you of a vengeful kill, but you would rest better if he was dead." Bexy sips her tea, and upon eyeing Sayuri's, gives a small frown. "…Protection. And that… You are his. To be his strength, as he is your own. These are good promises to make, i think… Have you any other thoughts?"

It's a good start. I just need to think how to word it properly...

Sayuri Aoki: ".. That he will always have a home, somewhere to return to.. That we will endure, no matter the hardships we face.." She mumbles, tilting her head a touch as she finds a loose thread upon her shirt, tugging at it. ".. Although the last is something I spoke of during our pilgrimage, so.. maybe it shouldn't be repeated.." She offers a small shrug.

Bexy Amalaryssia: "You tell him you love him. You repeat that plenty, i assume. Does that make it any less important or true?" Bexy raises a prying brow, then.

Sayuri Aoki: "… I do.. And.. no, it doesn't.."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "There you have it, then. I… Think that's a nice thing. To have that reassurance. Or… At least, it would be for me." Plucking up a pastry, Bexy sinks her teeth into it. "…I wonder what he will say, when the time comes…?"

Sayuri Aoki: ".. I'm unsure." She pauses. "..But if he calls me his moon in public I might just sink through the floor."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…Oh? -That's- what he calls you?" Bexy teases with half a tart in her teeth. "My moooon…" Bexy laughs, grinning. "And what do you call him?"

Sayuri Aoki: ".. Well, yes! Why do you think I have a moon necklace?" She manages a laugh, cheeks swiftly turning red as she pokes her tongue out Bexy's way. ".. My heart." She mumbles, quietly.

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…Gods, you're adorable, the both of you." She grins, a little too widely. "…I did see from a distance. In Thanalan. He is so… Different, with you."

I watched from afar. The kisses, the embraces. The two of them practically swooning over eachother, even in the ominous locale of Thanalan. ...I am glad no danger came to them, that sun.

Sayuri Aoki pouts softly, only to smile afterwards. ".. He is. I know he's.. not the easiest to speak with, he was the same when we started talking." She tilts her head, huffing. ".. He's very sweet, and incredibly loving."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…I never saw it back then. Perhaps why i was so defensive…" Bexy finishes the pastry, and picks a rolanberry from the top of a cupcake. "I think… That is what you needed…"

Sayuri Aoki: ".. To be fair, with the way the one before him simply up and left? I don't blame you." She pauses. ".. It is. He has helped me to.. accept that loving someone is okay, even if I am.. still terrible with the public affection bit." She mumbles. "..I'm working on it."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Well, you'll have to work on it a whole lot faster for the wedding. You'll kiss before every pair of eyes there. It won't be official, otherwise." Bexy teases, smirking. "…I am glad you're happy with him, Sayuri. Moreso now i know him better. He speaks of you with only a smile.

Sayuri Aoki: ".. I won't have to do anything if he kisses me the same way he threatened to do in public after performances to ward off anyone interested!" She laughs, flashing the tiniest of grins. ".. I am, he makes me very happy."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Hah, dare i even ask?" Bexy flashes a grin, brow lofted. "…I'm so glad. You deserve happiness, Sayuri. How to start such vows, though…" Bexy taps the notebook with the tip of her quill. "…How would you have described yourself, before you and he met?"

Sayuri Aoki: ".. Leaned back to the point I barely stood on my own and only he and my arms kept me from falling." She snickered, pausing. ".. Other than 'miserable'?"

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…Well, i was going to open the little speech with it. It's… What i did? Not that you need to do the same…"

Sayuri Aoki settles her hands in her lap, her right hand creeping closer to the left's ring finger. ".. Feeling incredibly alone because everyone I came here with up and left without a word. While having proven to be a good thing.. it wasn't, at the time. I was miserable, struggling with my sleep as.. I am very poor with being alone for prolonged periods." She pauses, pulling her shoulders into a small shrug. ".. Not sure how much I'd like to air that to everyone, however.."

...I didn't mind wearing my heart on my sleeve for all to see. People knew me before, knew the woman i was before i married Laurent. They knew having him in my life would only ever be for the better. ...That's not to say she'd like others to know the same thing, though...

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…We can leave it at… You felt alone." A few things are written, and crossed, but the notion of it brings a frown to Bexy's lips. "…You need never worry about being alone again, Sayuri. If not just for Eir, then for me. You… Know this, yes?"

Sayuri Aoki: ".. I know." She offers a small smile. "At the time, I just.. kept my quiet, mostly. I didn't want to be a bother. I know now that I wouldn't have been, and no matter what happens I will have you and Eir at my side, at the very least."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "At the very, very least." Bexy hums, offering a warm smile. "…I did not meet Eir in an easy time of my life…" Bexy murmurs, flipping the page as she looked up to Sayuri; the same words written on paper. "…Too dramatic?"

Sayuri Aoki's lips tug into a thin line. ".. I can't say I recall such a thing as an easy time in my life at all." She grimaces faintly. "..But, no. That's.. okay."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…Just okay. But not… Good. Suppose we shouldn't focus too much on the bad, but…Hm." The sound of the pen arcing through the written words is given with a sigh. "…How else to start…"

Sayuri Aoki: ".. Honestly, you're better at this than I am. If you think it's good, and not -overly- flowery, it probably is."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "I want -you- to enjoy what you're saying, at least! I mean only to start in such a way so people can see how happy you are now. Not everyone knew you before Eir, i think…"

Sayuri Aoki: "… Which might be for the better." She grimaces faintly. ".. And it's not that I don't enjoy it, I'm just.." Her hands awkwardly flop to the side, shoulders dragging into a shrug. "… I don't know what I'm doing."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "You're making a set of very flowery but honest promises." Bexy taps the edge of the quill to the parchment again, considering. "…You'll be standing at the altar in a dress, and he'll be wearing something just as fancy, i can imagine. Every pair of eyes will be on you. It's not as though you've experienced it before, hm?"

Sayuri Aoki: ".. No pressure, huh?" She gave an almost pained smile. ".. Can't say I've ever held that much attention for good reasons before.."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Well, now it will be for only the best reasons." Her painted lips pull to a smile, and she writes again. "…I stand here before you on the happiest sun of my life, second only to the one where you asked me to marry you…?" Again, a glance from the corner of her gaze…

Sayuri Aoki offers a slow blink, a bright red tint swiftly overtaking her features once the words have been processed. Her body sways slowly from side to side, before her head reels back and she takes a deep breath. "…Yes." She mumbles. ".. -Technically-.. He never -asked- me to marry him.. He did say he wanted me to, though."

...Well, it's a start, and she doesn't hate it. We're getting somewhere.

...Not too flowery, i hope...

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Details…" Bexy murmurs, penning a few more words. "We can change the wording, but the idea is the same. How to follow that, hm? It feels almost impatient to roll straight into vows, but at the risk of making it too flowery… What would you say?"

Sayuri Aoki draws a deeper breath, sinking herself against the pillow in the smallest attempt to sink through the surface. ".. Tell him that he makes me happy, brings me comfort.. and has just.. made a positive impact on my life.." She half-mumbles.

Bexy Amalaryssia: "You have brought me comfort beyond measure, joy beyond knowing, and my life is better for having you in it." Again, Bexy casts a side-glance towards Sayuri.

Sayuri Aoki pouts, the red tint on her cheeks worsening just a touch. One hand raises to cover her face, while the other raises to give a thumbs-up.

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Sayuri. You're going to be so red in the face you'll match your undergarments, at that rate. You're allowed to be loved up, you're getting -married-, for Twelve's sake!"

Sayuri Aoki: ".. Blue ones on the wedding night!" She retorts, keeping her face hidden behind her hand.

Bexy Amalaryssia: "---And red ones on the honeymoon." She smirks, head inclined. "You'll still have to read -something- out!"

Sayuri Aoki: ".. I -will-!"

And here i was thinking Eir is the one supposedly bad with words! Goodness, what kind of ceremony will i see? Will they simply stand at the altar and stare at eachother? Will the vows even be loud enough for me to hear...? ...I want to hear them... I like weddings...

Bexy Amalaryssia: "You had best! Suppose now is a good time to recite the vows? Not too long, not too short. Repeat them again to me? I wasn't sure if you had a preferred order…"

Sayuri Aoki: "..I-.." She shoves herself up to sit upright, exhaling. ".. I want the declaration at the end, that's.. the only thing I'm certain of." She pauses. "..A promise to be his strength, as he is mine.. That I will try to protect him.." She automatically reaches to fidget with her ring as she utters the latter part.

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…I promise to be your strength, as you are mine. That I will protect you to the best of my ability. That always, you will have a home with me. But above all things, i am yours, because i want to be; as much as you are mine." Another quizzical glance is given from Bexy, pausing for her reply.

Sayuri Aoki pouts faintly, spinning her ring slowly. "..Something like that."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Feel free to tweak the wording, hm? But a least we have something of a plan, now. We can refine it to you exact liking, if you like." Humming, her head slowly tilts.

Sayuri Aoki offers a small smile, head sinking into a nod. ".. Who knows, maybe I'll come up with something more?" She snickers faintly.

...We'd come up with something befitting a wedding, for certain. Sometimes things are difficult to put into words, with so much emotion and meaning behind them... ...But not impossible.

#Muse: [Bexy] #Chapter: [Shelter] #FFXIV #IC #Screeenshot #Writing #Textlog

[wovenstarlight]

For fic asks, 17, 31, 32, 49, aaaaand 50 if you want!

WAHA LETS GO

17. What highly specific AU do you want to read or write even though you might be the only person to appreciate it?

[extremely mournfully] witchwolf.... I want to write witchwolf.... i know there was interest way back when but that was for the plot and now I'm just interested in the worldbuilding and universe mechanics... and also characterization plagues me at every moment

31. What’s your ideal fic length to write?

HMMMM I can't say I track fic lengths but i usually like to keep them short because I'm not too good at keeping up with longfics? say about... 10k ish at most? 2k as a lower bound, given that my writing limit per day is fairly consistently 3k

32. What’s your ideal fic length to read?

generally 5k, 10k upwards? I want something to chew on for a bit so anything smaller doesn't really do as much for me.... and I LOVE longfics but above 100k I start needing to break it down into reading sessions lmao. I still love it! but I need to schedule time for other stuff in my day and i have a tendency to get fixated

49. What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it!

ksfjjdjv oh man... this super self indulgent sranks one shot of hyj dropping fear resistance in shjs company for the explicit purpose of using that S-rank aura to make him feel fear that he can actually work through, because he always represses it otherwise.... I love whump I love writing and reading panic attacks and paralyzing terror. so. you know.

IIIII am not gonna post excerpt because it is hard to find something that would make any amount of sense out of context but ! if there's interest I might post the whole thing as a fic

50. Answer any question of your choice, or talk about anything you want to talk about!

gonna pick q7 for this! which is:

7. Any worldbuilding you’re particularly proud of?

WOE FIREFORGED BE UPON YE!!!!! admittedly a portion of the worldbuilding is to be expanded on in the sequel which is.... in the works..... but still!!! gestures enthusiastically at it!!! dragons and houses and clans !!!!!!!

(ask me fic writer questions)

#answered #inkstaindusk #re: witchwolf for those who dont know its an old orv au feat. kdj as a witch and yjh as a werewolf and they're partner detectives #waha this was fun to think abt.... esp. the fic lengths thing

[beinmybonnet]

29th June 1613 - London, England

   “Remind me again why we’re doing this?

“He went to the trouble to have a draft carried all the way to Brandenburg for me, the least I can do is attend the opening night.”

Andromache rolls her shoulders into her partlet. “The least you can do maybe. Why am I doing this?”

“Because you missed me. And because you cried when we saw Othello.” Yusuf replies, looking sideways at her. Curbing the inevitable objection, Quynh squeezes Nicolò’s arm and strides forwards to overtake them. He lets himself be dragged after her, taking care not to tread on her skirts.

“I love the theatre. Plus, we’ve spent the last week sleeping in a shack in the Dales. This,” Quynh waves her free arm over the bridge rail, “is a nice change of scenery.”

London Bridge is teeming with people, the warmth of the bustle settling like cinders into his skin. The city writhes in its haste. Against the far bank of the Thames tall buildings strike against the horizon, the old Southwark Priory still reaching high in spent pride. Buildings are painted pale with dark beams striking bold across them. It is beautiful in its own way, Nicolò thinks. Inelegant, but unique.

“It wasn’t that bad. I still think we should have stayed a little longer, at least until-

“Andromache we’ve slept in nicer caves.”

Quynh glances back over her shoulder meaningfully, brow rising. Andromache shrugs. A smile, although few would recognise it. They step down onto the riverbank as one, turning east.

Nicolò nudges his shoulder into Yusuf as they pass the gardens. “You fail to mention you sent that script back with corrections.”

“Revisions. Small ones.” Yusuf’s voice is low, his expression impish. “Barely noticeable.”

                                                         *

“Ah, here we are.” Yusuf waves Andromache forward into their usual first-floor booth and steps back to allow Quynh to pass. Nicolò pauses, peering up the stairwell.

“Full house.”

“First performance. Trust me, this will be one to remember.” Yusuf is bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, and it makes Nicolò want to tuck his chin over a bobbing shoulder.

“You’d think the city would be a bit more subdued,” Andromache settles herself on the bench tucking thick plum skirts around her calves. She happily accepts a bag of roasted hazelnuts from Yusuf as he passes her to stand at the balcony. “They’ve only just recovered from their last bout of plague.”

“Exactly! This is the power of art.” Yusuf beams, arm sweeping wide. “Look at these people.” All around them the crowd is seething with anticipation, the noise growing as the wait goes on. Children scramble in the lower level of the yard for better vantage points, clawing their way up the beams supporting the lower galleries. People are shouting and laughing and drinking, the sound cocooned tight within the impressive structure. A man swings a laughing boy up over the mass, and a small group of women pressed against the stage begin shouting a suspicious sounding rhyme, pointing across the pit. Before they can finish a man in the gallery beneath them roars his response across the yard.

Nicolò’s brow furrows. “Clot-pole? I don’t…”

“She’s calling him an idiot,” Andromache supplies, “and insulting his hat.”

“It is a bit much.” Quynh’s leaning over the balcony to get a better look. “I think she’s accusing him of, err – short-changing her. Last night.”

Still grinning, Yusuf peers over beside her. “Oh, she’s quite angry. Here we go.” He sounds delighted. What looks like a parsnip sails over the head of the crowd. “A pity, she’ll want those for the third act.”

Quynh’s now bent almost double over the bannister and Andromache reaches to steady her without looking. “Isn’t this sort of thing that made the man move half of the troupe over to Blackfriars?”

Yusuf shakes his head in fond exasperation. “Ah, William has become far too prudish in his success. The engagement of the audience is the nature of theatre.”

“Engagement?” Nicolò smirks as something below meets its mark with a splat and a shout.

“Well, you cannot deny their enthusiasm-”

Quynh reappears with a whoop of triumph clutching her prize; a browning cabbage intercepted in the air. She rotates the rotten vegetable in careful examination. “Excellent.”

Yusuf raises his hand in hopeless protest as Nicolò leans back in his seat, eyeing Quynh. “10 crowns says you can’t hit the stage from here.”

She snorts derisively.

“20 if you can take King Henry off his feet.” Andromache counters, rising slightly to gauge the distance. Done, Quynh agrees happily, settling beside her and tucking her cabbage under the bench. Yusuf mutters an exasperated appeal for help to the heavens and Nicolò quickly tugs him down into the remaining space with a hand over his knee.

The parting of the stage curtain prompts the dropping of remaining projectiles and an enthusiastic cheer from the crowd. The herald clears his throat, steps to the edge of the stage and spreads his arms.

The first and happiest hearers of the town,

I come no more to make you laugh; things now,

That bear a weighty and a serious brow,

Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe,

Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow,

We now present. Those that can pity, here

May, if they think it well, let fall a tear;

Be sad, as we would make ye

“Oh, so a comedy?” Quynh says brightly and Yusuf shushes her.

The first actors emerge from the wings in their velvets and the tale takes flight.

                                                                                                                                                                    *

In all this noble bevy, has brought with her

One care abroad; he would have all as merry

As, first, good company, good wine, good welcome,

Can make good people. O, my lord, you're tardy:

Yusuf is mouthing the words soundlessly, engrossed.

There are many things Nicolò has enjoyed about visiting theatres over the years. He will readily admit this performance is an enjoyable one - the young man playing Buckingham is particularly charismatic, the audience viscerally immersed in his indignation. The actors proudly deliver their lines and their story to an increasingly hypnotised audience.  

But the play itself has never been what really draws Nicolò to this place. He glances sideways again and immediately, expectedly, loses the thread of the plot. In this moment the talent on the stage could never hope to hold his interest as he sits beside this man. Yusuf has lost himself entirely to the unfolding tale, gaze flitting from figure to figure calling below. Passion alight in his eyes. The arts do this to him in a way Nicolò has seen nothing else in all their time together. They have walked familiar paths in gallery halls for hours on end, Yusuf’s eyes roving walls of painted expression. They’ve sat in houses of the dying and listened to children bringing comfort with songs of naivety. Literature, dance, poetry, music; in all their changing forms they have always arrested Yusuf in his entirety.

These things give people freedom Nicolò, true freedom, he had once said. Free of limitation and expectation, in art people reveal their true selves. It is beautiful.

For Nicolò, that beauty is reflected blindingly in Yusuf’s own experience. To watch him like this for the rest of his given days would see him depart this earth achingly grateful to his God.

But Yusuf feels his distraction and leans toward him. “You’re missing it,” he murmurs, smile pulling impossibly wider. Unbridled delight is etched at the edges of his eyes, and Nicolò wants to trace his fingertips over the creases. He only realises he has reached out and done so when Yusuf captures and kisses his palm. “Watch the play.”

“It is a story still within living memory, I know how it ends,” Nicolò whispers.

Yusuf will not have it, nodding towards the actors. “Watch them tell it.”

Anne Boleyn is drifting across the stage, hand at her chest and Nicolò turns dutifully back to the performance.

Was he mad, sir?

O, very mad, exceeding mad, in love too:

But he would bite none; just as I do now,

He would kiss you twenty with a breath.

This time it’s Yusuf’s eyes that flicker back towards him and Nicolò hears silent words in the curl of his lip. Twenty kisses in a single breath. A risky venture, no?

Nicolò hums, his thoughts mirrored beside him. We shall see.

                                                                                                                      *

Good lord chamberlain,

Go, give 'em welcome; you can speak the French tongue;

And, pray, receive 'em nobly, and conduct 'em

Into our presence, where this heaven of beauty

Shall shine at full upon them. Some attend him.

You have now a broken banquet; but we'll mend it.

A good digestion to you all: and once more

I shower a welcome on ye; welcome all!

King Henry VIII emerges from the curtains with a flourish, the actor clearly taking great pains not to stumble in breeches that billow around his knees. The theatre bursts into applause as a round of trumpets sound, and they shout their approval at the blast of a canon from the rafters. The actors move to their marks to begin the scene in earnest, and Andromache leans forward with interest for the first time.

“See, I told you! With the funding now available, they’ve really spared no expense,” Yusuf is still clapping. Andromache hums noncommittally sitting back, but her eyes are suddenly bright with curiosity.

“Quynh, if you’re going to win your money, I suggest you do it now.”

“Why? I was going to wait until the trial scene,” she replies, confused.

From his place beside her Nicolò can see clearly that Andromache is struggling to suppress a smirk. “Well, there won’t be much left by then.”

“What?” Quynh looks down the bench at him. He shrugs. Andromache sighs around her growing amusement.

Seconds pass before she speaks again.

“They’ve set the roof on fire.”

He doesn’t need long to piece together what’s happened. There’s a thin plume of smoke rising from the inner curve of the roof and within, a flicker of light no bigger than that from a candle waving gently in the rafters. The canon. They wadded the canon, he realises. The little flame wafts higher in the breeze. The crowd is oblivious, too focused on the stage to be looking upwards. He taps Yusuf’s thigh.

It does take a moment. “Oh dear.” Yusuf looks back and forth between the roof and the stage, face falling. “Well maybe-

There’s a loud pop as the flame meets eager fuel. It dances up into the thatch lining the hooped roof and flares wide and greedy. Whip fast, it licks across the reeds consuming them in crunches and cracks that have people now looking skywards and shouting. Those in the highest galleries rear back as the fire completes its rapid circuit of the roof. By the time the actors have abandoned their attempts at continuing and stand dumbstruck on the stage, the theatre is ringed in an ominous halo of flame.

“Yusuf, unless your intention is a repeat of ’54…” Quynh trails off sadly, holding her cabbage.

Clumps of lit thatch are beginning to drift into the standing audience and the pushing and shoving follows in earnest. One man charges through the crowd braying, his breeches alight. Andromache stands looking decidedly more cheerful. “Come on, we’ll help them clear the pit.”

Nicolò follows suit, a hand falling to Yusuf’s shoulder. He has to work to quell an absurd urge to laugh; Yusuf is glaring at the roof with all the stubbornness of a chastised child. He squeezes gently, sympathy winning out. “I’m sorry.”

“Canons, who on earth thought canons in a wooden building was…” Yusuf trails off, glancing up. “Nothing to be done I suppose.” He holds out his other hand. “Shall we?”

Drawing Yusuf up behind him, Nicolò moves out into the stairwell twisting up into the higher galleries where people are starting to pile down in haste. An older man stumbles in the rush and he reaches out to steady him. “Careful, sir. Head out towards the river.”

The man nods and quickly hurries on pressing his handkerchief to his mouth. The next woman through the door snatches her arm up to her chest before he can move to offer any assistance. Dirty papist  she spits as she veers away. Yusuf tenses, a hard line pressed at his back. Nicolò just dips his head.

“Please hurry.”

By the time the flow of people has ebbed the flames are beginning to consume the ornate stage pillars. The curtains masking backstage catch like parchment and blaze furiously. “We should make sure the galleries are clear,” he says, “you take the east, I the west?”

Yusuf eyes the roof timbers warily. “Five minutes. No more.”

In the end it only takes Nicolò four minutes to usher the last stubborn gamblers from the gentleman’s room. The fact that the smoke has now crept down to waist level speeds this along nicely, and they hurry to the stairwell hunched and coughing. Nicolò stays low, following them down the last steep flight when his foot catches on something in the darkness, almost putting his hand through the adjacent wall in an attempt to steady himself. There’s a man slouched in the corner, limbs sprawled wide and snoring. An empty bladder clutched to his chest. The strength of the brandy fumes punch through the dense smoke to further sting at his eyes and his irritation almost threatens to outweigh his conscience. Almost.

By the time he staggers out into clear air dragging his oblivious charge Nicolò know he’s been much longer than five minutes. Behind him there’s a crash which sounds very much like the galleries have finally given in and collapsed. Sounds like, because his eyes are clenched shut, burning and watering. Pressing his hands to his knees, he tries not to gag on the tar in his throat.

A hand settles on the back of his neck whilst another cups a palmful of water to his face. Nicolò winces.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, “He’s heavier than he looks.”

He can hear Yusuf grinding his teeth but his response is surprisingly placid. “Rinse your eyes.”

Yusuf presses a water skin into his hands and moves away. When Nicolò’s vision has cleared he spots him back near the eastern entrance, patiently shepherding two enraptured boys further from the fire as they gape at the sky. Even for one who has seen much, Nicolò must admit, it is quite a sight.

The playhouse’s cylindrical shape has moulded the fire into a twirling steeple of flame inside the structure, now reaching twenty feet clear of the building itself. The Globe resembles an enormous cauldron struggling to hold its roiling contents. It belches clouds of thick black smoke as its rim splinters and cracks under the pressure and heat. What’s left of the thatch continues to feed the furnace, keeping the flames bright and fierce.

Quynh appears, sliding her hand into the crook of his elbow to steer him away. She leads him to a grassy curve of the riverbank where people are congregating in groups and beginning to resettle on the ground. From one muse to another, the audience remain eager spectators, gasping and whooping as the bones of the building begin to break, sending up showers of sparks. Yusuf and Andromache join them just as the walls start to keel inwards.

“You were right, definitely one of his more memorable works,” Andromache announces as they sit. “Perhaps my favourite.”

“Yes, I’m so very glad you enjoyed yourself.” Yusuf’s tone is flat, but his eyes roll indulgently.

Quynh settles herself back against Andromache’s bent knees, facing the playhouse. “We can still make a night of it. We get a bottle of wine, some pastries. Watch the sunset.” Her voices softens slightly and she levels her gaze at them. “You really must go so soon?”

He looks to Yusuf, who nods. “We have passage on a ship to Antwerp. She leaves on the tide tomorrow morning.”

Quynh’s sigh is dejected. “You won’t consider staying just a little longer? We’re moving on to…” she trails off, peering up at Andromache – Devon, she supplies, “We could use your help relocating these women. The trials are becoming barbaric.”

Yusuf shakes his head, surveying the crowd. “I’d prefer not to tempt fate. London is not at its most welcoming for us presently.

Nicolò quirks his lip. “You mean for me.” Ah, he sees now. The woman from earlier is stood just a little further up the bank, clutching at well-dressed man and pointing at them. Yusuf stares back unflinchingly. Nicolò feels him shift to further block her line of sight to him.

Then he turns back to meet Nicolò’s eye and speaks firmly. “For us. If a place does not welcome you, it does not welcome me.” 

Quynh has watched the exchange carefully and suddenly sits up. She clears her throat and calls out loudly enough for those nearest to turn. “Thou art a boil, madam, a plague sore!”

Andromache snorts and the woman raises her fan to her face appalled, tugging on her husband’s arm. It has the intended effect on Yusuf though and his grin returns to its proper place. Nicolò feels a familiar rush of affection for Quynh and her unfailing ability to put people at ease.

“King Lear,” Yusuf says proudly. “I didn’t think you were paying attention.”

“Of course she was,” Andromache interjects, “It’s a magnum opus of insults.”

Quynh grins up at her. “Oh, you worsted-stockinged knave.”

The retort is instant. “Brazen-faced varlet.”

“Ancient ruffian.”

Andromache shrugs. “Accurate.”

Their laughter comes in easy unison and Yusuf’s expression is unbearably soft as he watches them. “It won’t be for long,” he promises.

Quynh pulls her eyes from Andromache and nods. “Probably a sensible choice at the moment. You do look violently Venetian Nicolò.

He wrinkles his nose, affronted. “I do not-”

Yusuf is reaching for his face, so he pauses his protest for the gentle pass of a thumb over the bridge of his nose. “It’s your profile my love.” Yusuf’s tongue darts out over the pad of his thumb before it returns to rub more firmly at his nose. “Which currently is very sooty.”

With his hands still upon Nicolò’s face he murmurs.  “Oh but what a piece of work is this man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel,” Yusuf blinks, his sincerity blinding, “in apprehension how like a god.”

It’s all Nicolò can do not to rub his flushed cheeks into Yusuf’s palms like an alley cat.

Andromache arches a refined brow at Quynh. “Nicolò gets a Hamletian ode to his soul, and I get ‘ruffian’?”

Quynh rocks onto her elbow in the grass without missing a beat. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Mayhap a smouldering playhouse, ablaze in righteous flame?

“Likened to a smoking wreckage, how romantic.”

Nicolò would laugh but Yusuf is still holding his gaze and his face, everything else muting around him. He does this; bestows his love in soft declarations that leave Nicolò stunned, and then holds him steady until the words perfuse. Nicolò loves him so much he feels he might combust, with all the ferocity of the fire at his back.

Centuries before, he had allowed his disbelief to ask a question once, and only once. The intensity frightening him. Could a gift such as this truly be his eternal?

Nicolò smiles at his world and whispers.

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and gives life to thee.

 held in the embers on ao3 at theexistentialteapot

 part one of this series can be found here

#god this one took years off me #but it's done! #thank you bones for the final shove over the finish line #i am so soft for this found family #and they deserve happy memories #yusuf would 1000% have been a theatre kid #the headcanon is lodged #userbones #usermarwan #tusermj #tuserceleste #the old guard fic #the old guard #mine

[halothenthehorns]

TLTNL- The Wizard and the Hopping Pot

"Hey Mum, what's this?"

Harry hadn't meant to go snooping through, well his own baby room, but he'd spotted it on the little bookshelf in there and something about the title had caught his eye.

Lily took the book curiously and smiled as she read out, "The Tales of Beedle The Bard? Oh that's just a bunch of children novels sweetie. It was a gift from Dumbledore at your baby shower. Your father insists these were stories everybody grew up reading, though honestly I've never gotten around to hearing them myself." She ended with a little grimace, once again reminded that her son hadn't grown up with this either. She glanced around her house, feeling the echoing silence, the unnaturalness from all that they were doing. The pressing weight of what they kept reading was dragging her boys down, and it was beginning to worry her greatly. She smiled and curled her hand tighter around the thin spine as she said, "how about we read this for a while? Just as a little break?"

"Okay," Harry said at once with a huge smile. "I'll go ask the others."

The other three boys said yes at once as well, all of them knew they just needed a break, so they tucked into their spots. Lily even kept her infant cradled in her arms, for once in a very long time not having to worry at all about him hearing of any bad things going on around him for these tales were surely ones he'd continue to hear long into his life.

Harry first offered the book to his mum, considering it was her 'turn,' but she shook her head with a careful look at him. "We're taking a break for you dear, it'll do you some good to be the one reading this, so you can start."

  Harry shrugged as he stared at the first title. That feeling hadn't yet left, he could feel some significance to something in here but it had no relation to this story. Still, he had no reason to protest as he began with The Wizard and the Hopping Pot.

"Can we skip this one," Sirius rolled his eyes, "honestly this one of all of them has the most idiotic bits."

"It's a children's story Sirius, I thought it would be the one thing you could grasp," Remus said lightly, not at all hiding his sarcasm.

Sirius was likely to say a snappy retort back, but Harry had too much practice by now cutting the lot of them off.

There once was a kind old wizard who used his magic generously to help his Muggle neighbors, and rather than them knowing the true source of his powers, he told them all it came from a lucky cooking pot.

"Muggles can't really be that daft," James rolled his eyes, feeling as if he were five years old again and his own parents were telling these stories, and he'd said the same thing to them then. "Surely they know it's magic."

"Maybe in this fable they're all really dim," Remus offered, "hence why I said Sirius would fit right in."

Sirius twitched like he was going to start smothering Remus soon, but Harry was still smiling slightly and ignoring them at the same time.

From miles around people would come in seek of help for their troubles, but the son found his father helping them worthless and a waste of dispensing their magic.

Sirius made the loudest disapproving noise, and for a moment Harry wanted to laugh he was being so silly over a kids story, but then he realized Sirius really had grown up hearing this so much. It must not be fun for him to hear it being trivialized when he now believed something wholly otherwise. Still, Harry was honestly glad Sirius was still participating, considering everything he'd heard about his future recently, he treasured even the tiniest gesture from his godfather sharing his opinion.

Upon the fathers death, the pot was gifted to this son. Inside was a slipper, and a note attached from the father stating he hoped his son would never have to use the slipper. The son cursed his father's age-softened mind, then threw the slipper back into the cauldron, resolving to use it henceforth as a rubbish pail.

Harry couldn't help but wonder at this already, why not just get rid of the cauldron if he had no further use for it? Though he supposed questioning this made no more sense than when he'd laughed at his family poking at all of his past decisions.

Yet that very night a woman came seeking help for her daughters warts, pleading the son make the fathers cure like he had before, but the son only cried for her to leave him in peace and slammed the door in her face.

"Rude," Lily tisked.

"Honestly I may not have been any more pleasant though," Sirius couldn't help but wheedle at her with a smirk even if he didn't mean it. "Who comes over to someones house at night for something like that? Much more of a lunch request."

"You're an idiot," Lily happily reminded him as if he'd forgotten.

Moments later, an odd noise began, and the son turned and found the pot, warts covering its surface, making the worst noise imaginable as it had sprouted a single metallic foot and was hopping on it.

Harry couldn't help a startled laugh in surprise picturing such a thing on a cauldron, and to his surprise the infant in Lily's lap proceeded to do the same. Harry scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck even while everyone else just laughed louder for this.

The wizard tried every manor of vanishing the pot, but it merely followed him right up to bed that night, still clanging and banging loud as ever.

"That's quite an ornery object just over some warts," Remus couldn't help but crack again, "probably what would happen if I tried to transfigure Sirius."

"It's also impossible to get rid of, remember that bit," Sirius said with a challenging brow.

The wizard could not sleep all night, and next morning the pot insisted upon hopping after him to the breakfast table. The wizard had not even started his porridge when there came another knock on the door.

"Do all of these villagers just have no care for what hour they're popping in," James couldn't help but agree with Sirius on that one. "Surely that father set visiting hours."

"Honestly you two," Lily rolled her eyes at both of them now.

It was an old man, begging for the help of the return of his donkey who had vanished in the night. If his mule didn't return, his family would go hungry-

The wizard roared he was hungry now!

"Well he's got a point on that one," Sirius said just to annoy Lily now. It finally worked, instead of her giving him that look he could hardly stand to see for this future he kept hearing about, he finally got a proper scowl out of her.

The door was slammed shut again, but the pot behind him only worsened the problem by braying a more horrid noise than ever on top of it's hopping and continued warty demeanor. Still the wizard went about his day and tried to ignore the thing, but that evening another villager came about with an ill child. She'd hardly begun her plea for her infant to be cured when the door was slammed on her face as well.

"No snappy retort for that eh?" Lily muttered in disgust as she clutched her infant tighter to her. It didn't matter this was a simple story, she didn't like the idea considering all she knew of his future to come.

Sirius didn't bother to respond, that would never be funny, and he couldn't find anyone's heart so cold as to not help with that. Even now if Dudley or Malfoy the infant had needed something Sirius knew he wouldn't have turned away.

Now the tormenting pot filled to the brim with salt water, and slopped tears all over the floor as it hopped, and brayed, and groaned, and sprouted more warts and started crying as if an infant sat in its basin.

Though no more villagers came to seek help at the wizard's cottage, the pot kept him informed of their many ills. Within a few days, it was not only braying and groaning and slopping and hopping and sprouting warts, it was also choking and retching, whining like a dog, and spewing out bad cheese and sour milk and a plague of hungry slugs.

Harry couldn't help reading all of this in a way he never could manage with his own life. It was a carefree, cheerful little sing song voice he was using with the slightest hint of a smile even through all of these woes. For once he felt no impending misery, doom, or any bad feelings. He was just spending time with his family, going along with some little children's tale, and it was easier than ever just to imagine many nights to come, forever if he wanted, always spent like this.

The wizard could not sleep or eat with the pot beside him, but the pot refused to leave, and he could not silence it or force it to be still.

At last the wizard could bear it no more.

"Does it really count if you're forced to do the good deed?" Remus asked with honest curiosity about this moral quandary.

"Half credit?" James answered with a shrug, not really thinking about it much at all considering it was hard to imagine no matter how much proof there was to the contrary just how many people would go on ignoring these problems without a pot around to be reminded of them.

Falling to his knees before the pot he swore he would aid all troubles, cure them all! With the foul pot still bounding along behind him,

"To make sure he didn't back out probably," Sirius chuckled.

he ran up the street, casting spells in every direction.

Inside one house the little girl's warts vanished as she slept; the lost donkey was Summoned from a distant brier patch and set down softly in its stable;

"The pot couldn't cure that, why was it braying?" Harry stopped in surprise.

"The magic of the pot knew he could help the problem, not the brew itself could," Lily corrected.

the sick baby was doused in dittany and woke, well and rosy. At every house of sickness and sorrow, the wizard did his best, and gradually the cooking pot beside him stopped groaning and retching, and became quiet, shiny and clean.

He tentatively asked if there was anymore to do as the sun rose, but the pot only did one more act. It burped the slipper once long lost, and stood idly calm as the wizard fixed it into place. Now the clanging noise vanished as the pot hopped along behind him, the noise muffled at last.

"You ever wonder if the first man had to learn the same lesson?" James asked in bemusement. "He started off the same way as his son and learned better?"

"The story would get repetitive if it ended with this wizard having a son to learn the same thing over and over," Lily shrugged.

From that day forward, the wizard helped the villagers like his father before him, lest the pot cast off its slipper, and begin to hop once more.

"Anybody else ever find it sad the bloke had to be forced to do a good thing?" Remus sniffed. "I feel like that ruins the moral of the story, he should have simply done the good deeds to begin with and then faced some other obstacle."

"Well then you write the next children book," Sirius rolled his eyes at him.

"Can you imagine all the good we could do, if we really could help Muggles out with our magic?" James gave a wistful smile. "We wouldn't have to hide from them, we really could help in just the simplest ways."

"I know dear," Lily agreed smiling sweetly down at her infant who was finally gurgling happily at the brightened mood.

"Hey, there's more in here," Harry said in surprise, "Dumbledore put notes in."

"What?" James asked in surprise, but Harry was already reading.

Albus Dumbledore on "The Wizard and the Hopping Pot"

"Err, cool, I guess," Remus blinked in surprise.

A kind old wizard decides to teach his hardhearted son a lesson by giving him a taste of the local Muggles' misery.

"A taste?" Sirius scoffed at this generalizing. "He drowned in it until he gave in, I'm pretty sure that's torture."

"Dumbledore just tries to put a good spin on everything," James muttered, quickly waving Harry on, he didn't want to think about his headmaster right now.

The young wizard's conscience awakes,

"More like is harassed out of him," Remus couldn't help but agree with Sirius on this one.

and he agrees to use his magic for the benefit of his non-magical neighbors. A simple and heart-warming fable, one might think, in which case, one would reveal oneself to be an innocent nincompoop.

"Got to love the man's sense of humor anyways," Lily couldn't help a slight smile.

A pro-Muggle story showing a Muggle-loving father as superior in magic to a Muggle-hating son? It is nothing short of amazing that any copies of the original version of this tale survived the flames to which they were so often consigned.

Beedle was somewhat out of step with his times in preaching a message of brotherly love for Muggles. The persecution of witches and wizards was gathering pace all over Europe in the early fifteenth century. Many in the magical community felt, and with good reason, that offering to cast a spell on the Muggle-next-door's sickly pig was tantamount to volunteering to fetch the firewood for one's own funeral pyre.

Harry couldn't help the sympathy that washed through him hearing of this, scantly remembering his History of Magic lessons and knew this to be true didn't make it feel better to remember.

"Let the Muggles manage without us!" was the cry, as the wizards drew further and further apart from their non-magical brethren, culminating with the institution of the International Statute of Wizarding.

It is true, of course, that genuine witches and wizards were reasonably adept at escaping the stake, block and noose (see my comments about Lisette de Lapin in the commentary on "Babbitty Rabbitty and her Cackling Stump").

"Oh, so he comments on all of them," Remus said with his head cocked to the side. "Wonder if he does that to all of his books in his study."

"Guess it kind of makes sense, can't keep all your thoughts in a pensive so he puts them down as he thinks of them," James shrugged in agreement.

However, a number of deaths did occur: Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington (a wizard at the royal court in his lifetime, and in his death-time, ghost of Gryffindor Tower) was stripped of his wand before being locked in a dungeon, and was unable to magic himself out of his execution;

Harry and Lily winced in surprise, never having asked Nick for details, while the Marauders knew of these scant aspects and simply frowned in pity for someone they'd considered a passing friend in school for all his help when they asked of it.

and wizarding families were particularly prone to losing younger members, whose inability to control their own magic made them noticeable, and vulnerable, to Muggle witch-hunters.

Lily shivered and held her infant that much closer to her, remembering his little fit the last time they'd gone to visit the McKinnons and how he'd made his bottle appear in his hands even if it had still been empty. That would have been impossible to explain to a Muggle, the idea that mothers had lost their infants because a child just didn't know better yet...what the Dursleys had done to Harry probably was a close approximation if death hadn't been the answer in all cases.

Children being children, however, the grotesque Hopping Pot had taken hold of their imaginations.

The solution was to jettison the pro-Muggle moral but keep the warty cauldron, so by the middle of the sixteenth century a different version of the tale was in wide circulation among wizarding families.

In the revised story, the Hopping Pot protects an innocent wizard from his torch-bearing, pitchfork toting neighbors by chasing them away from the wizard's cottage, catching them and swallowing them whole. At the end of the story, by which time the Pot has consumed most of his neighbors, the wizard gains a promise from the few remaining villagers that he will be left in peace to practice magic. In return, he instructs the Pot to render up its victims, who are duly burped out of its depths, slightly mangled. To this day, some wizarding children are only told the revised version of the story by their (generally antiMuggle) parents, and the original, if and when they ever read it, comes as a great surprise.

"I'll say," James ruffled up his brow, "I never heard of such a thing."

"You're parents read you the original version though, this one," Remus agreed. "I can easily imagine someone much more like Malfoy's parents giving off that tale."

"I'm surprised you knew this version then Sirius," Lily agreed.

"My parents didn't read me children's stories," Sirius rolled his eyes heavily at her assumption. "I hunted some stuff down on my own in our family library and wherever we visited. I came across this version in my Uncle Alphard's supply of books. He had both copies of the story and one other ludicrous one, but you know, he was a historian who had a copy of everything on hand. All three are so dull I really think he could have cleared out this space."

Lily just raised a brow at him though, not having missed the fact he'd openly admitted to wanting to learn and study in his youth and so honestly kicking herself for ever in her own school years falling for his lazy attitude.

As I have already hinted, however, its proMuggle sentiment was not the only reason that "The Wizard and the Hopping Pot" attracted anger. As the witch-hunts grew ever fiercer, wizarding families began to live double lives, using charms of concealment to protect themselves and their families. By the seventeenth century, any witch or wizard who chose to fraternize with Muggles became suspect, even an outcast in his or her own community. Among the many insults hurled at pro-Muggle witches and wizards (such fruity epithets as "Mudwallower", "Dunglicker" and "Scumsucker" date from this period), was the charge of having weak or inferior magic.

James scoffed deeply in disgust at such a thing, tightening his arm around his own beloved wife and as always incapable of understanding a word of that nonsense.

Influential wizards of the day, such as Brutus Malfoy, editor of Warlock at War, an anti-Muggle periodical, perpetuated the stereotype that a Muggle-lover was about as magical as a Squib.

"Why am I not surprised the Malfoy line traces all the way back to every one of them being the same way," Remus scoffed.

"Makes you wonder why they bother to procreate rather than just making copies of themselves, oh wait," Sirius rolled his eyes.

In 1675, Brutus wrote:

This we may state with certainty: any wizard who shows fondness for the society of Muggles is of low intelligence, with magic so feeble and pitiful that he can only feel himself superior if surrounded by Muggle pigmen. Nothing is a surer sign of weak magic than a weakness for non-magical company.

Harry couldn't help his brows rising at having to say all of this, about any other person. He'd never for a second considered himself more than a muggle just because he could do magic. Why then could this thought actually cross someone's mind?

This prejudice eventually died out in the face of overwhelming evidence that some of the world's most brilliant wizards ( Such as myself)

"Doesn't think much of himself," Sirius said deadpan.

"You two have that in common," Remus still had his fun.

were, to use the common phrase, "Muggle-lovers".

The final objection to "The Wizard and the Hopping Pot" remains alive in certain quarters today. It was summed up best, perhaps, by Beatrix Bloxam (1794-1910), author of the infamous Toadstool Tales.

"Urgh, alright, I'll take this tosh over hers any day!" Sirius retched at the idea of her retellings.

Harry just looked at him with bemusement before finishing curiously.

Mrs. Bloxam believed that The Tales of Beedle the Bard were damaging to children because of what she called "their unhealthy preoccupation with the most horrid subjects, such as death, disease, bloodshed, wicked magic, unwholesome characters and bodily effusions and eruptions of the most disgusting kind".

Lily ruffled up her brows in thought. This little story was honestly harmless and not nearly as bad as all that, but even so, she could half see the woman's point in wanting to keep such gory details away from children. Still though, to imply they should never be around it was ridiculous, or the children would just grow up in ignorance and that could be just as damaging.

Mrs. Bloxam took a variety of old stories, including several of Beedle's, and rewrote them according to her ideals, which she expressed as "filling the pure minds of our little angels with healthy, happy thoughts, keeping their sweet slumber free of wicked dreams and protecting the precious flower of their innocence".

"That's it, I'm off sweets for a week because of that sentence alone," James crinkled his nose.

"Oh it gets worse," Sirius promised, "do yourself a favor Prongs and never read the actual work, you'll be trying to remove your eyes before the first page."

"Advice heeded," James promised.

The final paragraph of Mrs. Bloxam's pure and precious reworking of "The Wizard and the Hopping Pot" reads:

"Oh no!" Remus groaned, already trying to plug up his ears. "Dumbledore knew we were going to read these, he's actively trying to torture us now!"

Sirius reached over and popped his fingers back out, holding his wrist firmly and stating, "you need more sugar in your life Moony, and if I have to suffer through hearing this again so do you."

Remus gave him an exaggerated hurt look while Harry read out with a look of deep disgust.

Then the little golden pot danced with delight "hoppitty hoppitty hop!" on its tiny rosy toes! Wee Willykins had cured all the dollies of their poorly tum-tums, and the little pot was so happy that it filled up with sweeties for Wee Willykins and the dollies!

"But don't forget to brush your teethy-pegs!" cried the pot.

And Wee Willykins kissed and huggled the hoppitty pot and promised always to help the dollies and never to be an old grumpy-wumpkins again.

"Alright, you made your point!" James protested as he wondered what the best spell was to remove his tongue from the layer of sweeties he'd just been forced to ingest.

"It's over, just one bit left," Harry promised, smiling just slightly at the lot of them again messing around with each other like always, meeting his mums eyes and the two silently laughing at their behavior he hoped would never end.

Mrs. Bloxam's tale has met the same response from generations of wizarding children: uncontrollable retching, followed by an immediate demand to have the book taken from them and mashed into pulp.

"The proper response," Sirius agreed.

"Is that what you did to your Uncles copy?" Remus asked with honest hope.

"Oh no, I force fed it to his owl, who proceeded to try taking my nose off," Sirius shrugged. "Honestly I deserved that one, and then I had to repair the bloody thing with something called tape when my Uncle caught me. Bloody useless stuff, reparo charm would have fixed it in a second, and why's it invisible?"

"Keep going Harry, or we'll be here all year explaining this stuff," Lily managed around her continued chuckles.

"That bit was over," Harry told as he tried to pass it on while still smiling for once.

#The Life That Never Lived #Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #Tales of Beedle the Bard #wizard and the hopping pot #adorable

[eldriitchmurmurs]

aspity route thoughtsicles

you start outside of town filling in a shallow grave as changeling returns to the earth

i want a termitary flashback in aspity route because i know we're not getting it in the actual game and I Would Like To See It

on that note. going BACK to the termitary and getting repeatedly gut punched with how This Is All Your Fault (it's not but it would definitely feel like it this is the pain game)

her title would probably just be aspae inun. i liked how in patho classic you'd have your title next to the dialogue, like a script, and i think it would be pretty interesting to have ASPAE INUN right there as everybody calls you aspity.

or her title is QUEEN OF WORMS. either way.

patches situation is reversed oof ow ouch my feelings

that thing where everybody sucks at their job happens so now you're running around trying to help baby boy. baby. sorry that was instinctive i was just thinking of artemy and that happened. i know he's 28 and can handle himself

both rubin and daniil having "hunting the haruspex" type quests at different points in the game for maximum player suffering

having aspitys bound be the humbles would be. interesting.

germaphobe anna angel and sahba "i am the shabnak" otun conversations start with anna screaming "six feet back" and like if you thought she called changeling ugly. well.

aspity and oyun post-reveal. THAT would be a conversation and id want there to be a "woe. plague be upon ye" dialogue option. not that i think its the best option but i want it.

oh god would clara be one of your bound......................

hospice quests the way p2 had hospital quests, you show up every night and the kin have more and more problems and everything is getting worse so fast and you're miserable welcome to path of logic >:)

i'd also like to see some dream interpretation from aspity pov. like you relive peoples dreams and tell them what they mean and what you say can come true.

going from playing as aglaya and having aspity mean flirt with you to playing as aspity and aglaya going oh wow you have SOOOO much agency in the narrative omg *twirls hair* um hey hi hello um. hi :) and like really getting into the meta with her, because aglaya feels strangled by tptb and um. aspity literally keeps dolls of the healers in her house. i think she Knows on the same level that changeling Knows, aka because YOU do at this point, and she's just fucking around having fun doing her thing she doesn't care if she's a doll and its all fake she cares about her people and shes fine with being an instrument of the Law as long as she's able to pick which notes she plays.

endings would probably be like, either the kin swallows the town completely or you give your bound to make panacea so the surviving townsfolk can still live just not you know, all of them in those big ass houses while you had 1100 members of the kin just in the termitary, but Miss Sand Pest, the aurochs, and the magic and miracles are here to stay either way babey. you have the termite mistresses and the vlads and kains are definitely dead by this point rest in rip

#pathologic #head empty no thoughts brain aspity

[lastluvbug]

told you I was gonna come with a new request! =D mind doing another Scarabia, along with a Diasmonia one? The reader has the same kind of past as the one in the last request, but I just wanna see how you would write it in their perspectives. You can make them into one or separate stories, it doesn't matter to me so go ahead and go all out! Oh and if you can make a added part where it was near the time when they found a way to get home, that would be great, thanks so much! =D

Thanks for the requests @sanata101!! I’ll do my best!

Warnings: mentioned abuse and self harm (please love yourself), language, toxic behavior. If sensitive, please do not read!

A Sweet Melody (Diasomnia)

Normally, Yuu would’ve found herself anywhere but here.

The night hadn’t sat well in her gut, long since given the opportunity of relief from its seemingly endless feast upon itself, and as such, Yuu couldn’t manage even a wink of sleep. She was somewhat jealous of Grim, who snored soundly, lost in his sea of slumber. She couldn’t help but envy that he had nothing to prod at his consciousness in the late hours, nothing to worry himself over, or remember.

So, quietly as she could, Yuu snuck away from Ramshackle, and into the brisk wind that whipped at her hair and chilled her skin, still clad in her sleepwear. She wasn’t sure exactly where she planned to go, all she knew was that she sought a way to remove the worm that had been planted too firmly in her ear.

Her skin crawled with nolstalgia, eye tingling with the reminder of the glass that had so cruelly sliced away half her world. She’d merely been a child when her father lashed out one night, stealing a part of Yuu that she could never replace, and as time ticked forward, she did as well.

It came as a shock to her when she found herself standing in the illusive Mirror Chamber of Night Raven College. Of all places to go, she chose here? Yuu had only been brought into the area a scarce few times before, and not of her own accord, having been forced by a too excited Grim to check it out. She wanted to excuse herself, to speed away from the decision that lay in front of her, but the way it bent and warped before her very eyes kept her grounded, the magic visible even beneath a blanket of water.

Yuu shakily reached towards the Dark Mirror, only stopped by the tear that dripped down her cheek. “How could I...? After everything that happened... how could I go back..?!” She thought, clenching her fists as she withdrew her hand. “I shouldn’t be here.” She turned on her heel, tramping back to her rundown dorm, all the while pressing her palms to her head in order to squeeze out the memories that brought a pounding headache along with them.

When she creaked the door to her room open, Yuu suppressed her sigh, finding that Grim was still sound asleep. She tucked herself back into the dense warmth of her bed, grimacing at how the little monster barely even stirred as she lifted him up to make herself comfortable. Her eyes fluttered shut, a finger tracing over her damaged lid with a feather light touch. Ever since that day, Yuu hadn’t had a single peaceful night, any small bump or whistle in the wind causing her to jump to alertness.

A long while later, her consciousness gave way, allowing itself to sink into oblivion.

<————>

Sirens, water, blood.

To Yuu, that was the only thing she could remember clearly, like a movie playing too vividly in her overactive head.

Sirens; the blues, yellow, and reds that flooded the house as the ear piercing screams signalled the arrival of the emergency vehicles. The sound kept her awake night after night, plaguing her dreams that soon flitted away altogether. It sounded like—like the shrieks of her sister, of her mother, the last that their voices would ever create.

Water; streaming down her windows as she sat broken at the sills, stuck in a home that had long since been referred to as such. It wasn’t a home, it was her prison. It carved paths down her young cheeks, one horribly marred by the hand of someone she once held dear to her heart, the only constant that could be relied upon.

And blood; there was always so much of it. Pooling on the white tile flooring, staining the sheets, dripping over mounds of muscle. It was hers that was spilled first, and soon, it was of her sister and mother’s. Long after that blood had been washed away, Yuu often found herself holed up in the bathroom, dragging new trails across her skin with anything she could, whether that be a blade, or a dirty shard of glass.

She couldn’t seem to climb the boulder of self doubt and blame, never gaining an inch before it grew, scheming new reasons as to why she’d never amount to anything more than a guilty murderer.

Yes, that was what her father used to call her. A murderer.

“It wasn’t my fault...right? It wasn’t me!” Yuu screamed to no one in particular, staring at her hands.

“Oh, but it was these hands that led to their demise, wasn’t it?” A deep voice grumbled, grotesque like nails on a chalkboard. “It was you who made that—that noise you were so insistent on creating. Always with that damn harp, strumming away like everything was fine. Look around Yuu! Does everything seem fine?!” Her father growled, and suddenly, Yuu was no longer in the black of her subconscious, rather in that kitchen that reeked of death.

“I j-just... I wanted to make you happy... I was never enough! I just wanted to be enough for you!”

“For him? What about us? Did you forget about me, Yuu?” Her sister cooed, standing in front of her, battered and bruised.

“Did you forget what you did to us? If it weren’t for you, we’d still be alive!” Her mother joined, the family finally complete in all its broken glory.

“I-I’m sorry—I’m so, so sorry! I never meant for this, you know I never—“ Yuu dropped to her knees, clutching her head.

“You can’t hide from your past! You can’t hide from what you caused!” The bleeding mother wailed, each syllable sharp as a prick from a needle.

“You’ll always be a filthy murderer!” They said in unison, Yuu shooting her head up with panic striken tears clouding her half view.

“Take the punishment you deserve!” Her father boomed, raising his hand above his head, a bottle clenched tightly in the meaty fingers.

Yuu could do nothing but throw her arms over her face as the weapon was swung with deadly precision, racing faster and faster on its fatal track until—!

<————>

Yuu screamed as she jerked awake, sweat beads trickling down the sides of her face as she twisted her fingers in the sheets that stifled her with too much heat.

“Yuu? What’s all the noise ‘bout...?” Grim whined, rolling over and peeking an eye open.

She sucked in a shaky breath, raking a hand through her hair. “I-I... I think I–I need a w-walk. Yeah, a walk. Go b-back to sleep, I’ll be back in a little bit.” Yuu said, voice quivering worse than a dead leaf in the wind.

“Are ya sure? You don’t sound like you’re—“

“I’m fine! I just need to get some fresh air, that’s all. See you soon, Grim.” She intervened, giving him no time to respond as she lifted herself from the bed, practically racing out the door without so much as a coat.

The silent night was of little calm to the distressed girl, her bare feet slapping against the cold stone paving the path she walked over. Even as she wove further and further from the dorm house, and away from the dim light provided from the lit lanterns positioned haphazardly around the place, her wire thin thoughts didn’t allow her to notice the guest she entertained as she relived her nightmare.

That was the first vision she’d seen after clocking out in a long, long time. So long, in fact, Yuu had begun to believe that she was incapable of dreaming. The marks over her wrists and thighs tingled, none so uncomfortably as the scar blemishing her face. Out of habit, she hid it beneath a sweaty hand, wishing for the umpteenth time that some magic power would wash away the record of her father’s woes. Of her own failures.

A harsh wind whipped at her hair, rustling through her already thin clothing and sinking ice into her bones as a shiver crawled over her skin. Yuu pulled her arms across her body, hands rubbing her arms as she attempted to create even an inkling of warmth over the deprived flesh. Only now did she notice how far she’d wandered from...the only place she could call home in her twisted wonderland.

“Did you come with a plan for the chill, or are you just a fool?”

Yuu nearly tripped over her feet as she spun, ignited by the hyperactive moon. “Ts-Tsunataro!” She called, startled the appearance of the towering faerie. “H-How long have you been out here? Were you following me?”

“Ah, mortals and all of their insistent questioning,” he chuckled, horns glinting in the moonlight, “no matter. Please, cover yourself with this. You’ll catch your death if you remain dressed that way in this weather.” He shrugged off his blazer, largely oversized for Yuu’s frame.

“A-Ah... of course.” She extended her hand to grab the covering. Just as she was about to pull her second arm through the sleeve, a gloved hand gently took her arm, keeping her from completing the simple act. She kept silent as Tsunataro rotated it to expose the underside, pale and littered in thin ladders of scars.

His eyes widened a fraction of an inch, and he reached out for the other arm, only to have it pulled away by Yuu, who hid herself behind a curtain of hair. “...Why? Why would you do this to yourself?” He asked, and if Yuu didn’t know any better, she would’ve believed that the confusion held in his voice was genuine.

“You wouldn’t understand...” she replied weakly. “...the things I’ve done, the people I’ve hurt. I’m as ugly on the inside as am out, I don’t deserve anything more than the dirt on the soles of my shoes.”

The dark haired man froze, still as a statue as he processed the words, her arm still gently gripped in his large hand. Yuu stared at the smooth cement, at her pale feet in the too bright light, refusing to meet his eye.

And, each action executed with an elegance Yuu could never hope to possess, Tsunataro took her other arm, his hands sliding down to envelope hers as he kneeled, only somewhat shorter than she was standing. “I’ve seen many a peculiar incident in my lifetime, some so bizarre they seem impossible, but this my dear, is unbelievably false. You need not hide your face, for such a work of art cannot be praised unless the light frames its beauty.” He released a hand to cup her cheek, tilting her head to sweep away the bangs and reveal her teary eyes.

“Y-You... you shouldn’t lie, not for me. There’s no truth in anything you say...!” She sobbed, making no movements to wipe away her liquid sorrow.

“Once again, undeniably false. It astounds me to see that you fail to notice the perfection you carry within your mere existence. I’ve seen maidens from near and far, all come to win my hand, but never someone as fair as you. You may bear a past laced and threaded with horrors only few are opportune to see, and you may bear the scars and bruises from the times when you fell. But, the very fact that you stand here before me today, bathed in the light of the moon and glittering like a star, is the proof that you not only fell, but you rose to become something greater. I see no truer beauty than that, Yuu.”

The girl was silent, a cascading waterfall dripping to the pavement as she stared at the kneeled man, for once unashamed to show her face in its entirety. She could voice no words as she weeped, falling to her knees as well as pressing herself into the bigger body, hands clasping the fabric of his chest as she buried herself under his chin.

Malleus Draconia was for once at a loss for a plan. So, hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around the trembling girl, tracing lines up and down her back to soothe her cries. “I-I—I just...I d-don’t want to be a-alone anymore!” She screamed, voice cracking like the glass of his heart.

“Shh, you don’t have to be. I know what it’s like to take the hard road with no one to guide you, believe me, I know. But you don’t have to be. Tomorrow, look for the people wearing these colors. They will be the ones to keep you company while I cannot.” Malleus instructed, gesturing to his green-and-black armband.

“T-They...will?”

“Yes, I promise it.”

“T-That sounds...nice. Thank y-you, Tsunataro.” Yuu whispered, her cries reduced to pitiful hiccups.

“Whatever you require, my dear. Now, hush, and close your eyes. You must be incredibly worn out.” She listened, noticing how she was, indeed, exhausted. She barely recognized as she was lifted bridal style, a fuzzy feeling raising goosebumps along her flesh as she snuggled closer to the warmth radiating from her savior.

The world faded away, one sense at a time, until the thankfully dreamless slumber rewelcomed Yuu, sweeping her away to a world where naught mattered but the darkness and its tantalizing hand.

<————>

The cafeteria chatter greeted Yuu’s ears as the smell of all sorts of foods mingled in the air.

She stepped into the bustling room, dodging students as she held Grim in her arms, looking down to the band that was tied around her wrist. After she had awoken, she wanted to believe that the encounter the night before had been some crazy dream her mind had conjured up, but was proven wrong by a lime-and-black colored ribbon tied loosely around her wrist, reminding Yuu of the promise that had been sworn.

“Do you see them, Yuu? I just want to get food already...” Grim pouted, crossing his arms.

“N-No, I don’t... I thought Tsunataro said they’d be here...” she faltered, standing on her toes to try and glimpse around the taller students around her.

She jumped slightly, trying to locate the colors that should’ve normally stuck out like a sore thumb. She was so focused, that Yuu nearly tripped over herself when her vision was blocked by two red eyes dancing with amusement. “Woah—! W-who are you?” She stammered, leaping back a step.

She stared a little too intensely, intrigued by how the boy was quite literally hanging upside down in midair, his black and magenta streaked hair falling around his face as he chuckled, uprighting himself and sinking to the floor. On instinct, her gaze was quickly diverted downwards as she tilted her face away from his, hiding her scarring. “Kufufu, relax, young one. I’m Lilia Vanrouge, the proud vice of Diasomnia dorm. You don’t need to hide your face, I know who you are.”

Yuu looked up, seeing nothing but his gentle smile as her tense shoulders slumped, continuing to shadow her eye as Grim stirred in her embrace. “Fgna?! Aren’t you the guy we saw before Leona’s crazy beast mode during the Magift championships?” The monster exclaimed, so restless he nearly fell from Yuu’s hold.

“Hm? Oh, I guess that is true. Commendable job on handling that, by the way.” Lilia congratulated, clapping his hands as he smiled. “Now, I heard from a certain someone that you were in need of companionship, correct?”

“U-Uh, you mean this?” She held up her ribbon. “I s-suppose that’s right...”

“Fufu, no need to be so timid. Come, I’ll lead the way.” Lilia waved his hand, gesturing for her to follow as he disappeared within the crowd.

“I guess it can’t get any worse...” She thought, quickly trailing after the shorter senior.

It didn’t take long for the two to arrive at a rowdy table, Lilia bowing teasingly as she stood, a sweat drop almost visible on her forehead. “Silver! You cannot sleep in the cafeteria! You’ve already woken for the day, what if the young master requires our assistance?!” A boy with pale green hair yelled, gripping someone with chin length grey hair and shaking the life from him.

“Sebek, quite down... you’ll disturb the peace.” He yawned, pushing himself away from the green haired boy.

The latter gasped dramatically, fists clenching as he lifted them into the air. “You dare order me around?! Why I ought to—!”

“Ahem. Sebek, Silver, would you like to explain or shall I turn yet another blind eye to this?” Lilia coughed, staring blankly.

“Lilia-san!” The two instantly straightened out, Sebek’s temper cooling as Silver rose to alertness. “Apologies, Lilia-san. We weren’t aware of the...guests.” Silver bowed his head, completely oblivious to the hot glare Grim sent his way.

“By all mighty... in all my years of teaching you two, have you not learned a thing about manners? Introduce yourselves!” Lilia scolded, wagging a gloved finger in the air as Yuu took her spot at the table.

“R-Right! I’m Sebek Zigvolt, first year Diasomnia student. Very nice to meet you.” Yuu nodded respectfully, fidgeting with Grim’s tattered tie.

“...Silver, second year from Diasomnia, as well. Sorry for the mess you had to see before.”

“I-It’s alright... I’m Yuu, though I’m s-sure you already knew that...” she mumbled, Grim seated on her lap as she ran a hand over her eye absentmindedly. She was only torn from her meddling as silence wrapped around the table, something that from her short time of sitting with the group, Yuu could tell was uncommon. When she looked up, she felt her ears redden to find that both Silver and Sebek were staring at her, sharing unreadable expressions.

“I-Is something the matter?” She asked, a knot tying in her throat.

“N-No! Nothing at all!” Sebek refuted, shaking his head from side to side.

“No offense or anything, but why are you here?” Silver asked matter-of-factly, Yuu flinching at the tone.

“A-Ah, w-well...I—“

“Ms. Yuu here has been awfully lonely, as most of the students avoid her like the plague, the terrible oafs. So, as said by our dear lord, we shall be the ones to provide her company!” Lilia revealed, once again clapping in his oversized sleeves as he took a seat next to the girl.

“What?! Lilia, you do realize she has no magical powers whatsoever, correct? How could we bring her under our wing when—“ Sebek’s outraged voice trailed off as Yuu felt tears sting her eyes.

It was the same thing everyone always said. She wasn’t enough, she was never enough.

“I-I’m so sorry, I should just leave...! I-I’m sorry to have taken your time like this.” She stood to go, breathless as she held back sobs. She was about to storm away, off to her first class, when someone snagged her wrist, keeping her from running.

“Wait! Please, wait Yuu.” Lilia called, taking both her hands similarly to the way Malleus did the night before.

“Why...? I-I don’t want to bother a-anyone, I’m sure just associating yourself with someone like me tarnishes your reputation!” Yuu argued, Grim holding onto her leg protectively.

“No, no no. Don’t speak like that. Reputation be damned, I say. Why does it matter what anyone else thinks? Come back, I know those two are a little hectic, but I promise you, once you get through their walls, they’ll be there for you through thick and thin. Just... give it a chance, alright? Do you think you can try that for me?” He asked softly, the busy cafeteria blind to the exchange.

“I...” Yuu took a deep breath, steadying her shaking voice. “I don’t know what I can promise you, but I can try.” She said, earning a cheeky grin in response.

“Come on, let’s go back.” Lilia smiled, letting go of one of her hands to pull her back towards the table.

As soon as the dramatic first year noticed the pair heading back over, he stood, easier to read than a book with the emotions spilt across his face.

“Lady Yuu! I deeply apologize for my previous words, it was wrong of me to speak that way.” Sebek near shouted as Yuu sat back down.

“I-It’s alright... really. Right, Grim?” Yuu noddd, her tears having soaked back to the dam behind her eyes.

“Grr... You knucklehead better watch that tongue of yours from now on! Got it?” He growled, shooting daggers at the much bigger student.

“Oh, don’t worry about him. He may be emotional and dramatic, but unfortunately, he’s not an idiot. It won’t happen again...” Silver added before Sebek could reply, yawning as he stretched his arms over his head.

“Silver!” Sebek yelled, slamming his palms on the table.

As the antics continued, and the clock ticked by, Yuu found herself enjoying the jumbled company more than she thought. Her mind was steered away from the reminder of her horrid past, and for the first time since the accident, she forgot about the cicatrice that had disfigured her complexion. And, perhaps best of all, she found herself creating small giggles she had no idea she was still capable of making.

<————>

When the bell tolled the end of breakfast and the beginning of the first class, she was pleasantly surprised when Sebek walked her to the room, finding that they shared the period, as well as many others. Throughout the day, she reunited with Silver and Lilia, whether it be at lunch, or in the never halting progression of her magic filled classes.

Each of them comforted Yuu in their own way; for Lilia, it was through kind words and subtle encouragement. Everytime he notice her falling into the abyss of her thousand pound thoughts, he whispered her sweet nothings, taking her hand and giving it a light squeeze to let her know that she had someone to rely on.

For Silver, it was through soft touches and physical reminders. Whenever they shared a period together, he’d often doze off, slumping onto her shoulder and using it as a pillow. The few times he managed to stay awake, he would smile and use his pen to scribble little pictures and doodles in the corners of her assignments, to which Yuu would grin and return the favor.

For Sebek, it was through firm support and voiced praise. Applauding her when she answered questions correctly, cheering when she rode her broom properly in P.E, he was there to congratulate her on the smallest of things. He even offered to personally escort her to each classroom, guaranteeing that she wouldn’t be messed with by any of the students who dared poke fun at her outward appearance.

By the time the last bell of the school day reverberated off the intricately designed walls, Yuu had to press her cool hands to her eyes to slow the rise of water pooling in the sparkling orbs. It was too much—they were too much. It was all—all too similar to the way her... her family used to be! She didn’t want to lose anyone again, didn’t want to place her trust in those who didn’t deserve it! She’d failed to protect what she loved most once before, and she’d be struck dead before it happened again. Every beating she took, every meal she sacrificed, and for what? So that she would just lose it all in the blink of an eye?

What if... what if they left her too?

What if she was being used, again—

“...uu. Yuu. Hello? Anyone in there?”

The girl in question looked up, startled by the voice. “...Huh...? Silver?” She gasped, noticing how Grim was missing as the grey haired boy laughed inaudibly.

“Sleeping in class is my thing, you doofus. C’mon, I have something I want to show you.” He extended a hand, Yuu taking it after a minute of consideration.

“Where are we go—woah!” She yelped as she was dragged by the agile Diasomnia student, zipping through the halls in a blur of color as the speed brought a grin to her lips.

It wasn’t much, but the wind in her hair and the temporary high of running was enough to spike her adrenaline, in the kind of way that was addicting as opposed to way driven entirely off of fear.

All too soon, Yuu was brought to a complete stop, only caught from tripping by Silver’s sturdy grip. “Huff... w-was the running... necessary?” She panted, regaining her composure.

“Shh... look.” Silver simply instructed pointing.

Yuu followed the direction, and felt her heart burst with adoration at the scene unraveling before her.

Standing at the edge of the courtyard, Yuu stared with nary a trace of malice in her gaze as there, laid against the apple tree, Malleus slept silently, the only sign that he was even alive being the calming breaths that heaved through his chest. Yuu covered her mouth, turning away the laughter that threatened to spill from her pink lips.

Little animals were all over the great fae.

Birds decorated his horns, in a variety of blues and reds and yellows, while critters splayed themselves out over his lap, sandy brown chipmunks and greyed squirrels quarreling over tree nuts nearby.

“Is this an everyday occurrence for Tsunataro?” Yuu thought, stepping into the courtyard.

Silver followed after her, and once she took a seat by the slumbering boy, Silver gave her a little nod before stretching out over the wooden bench, basking in the late afternoon sun that made his hair shine like a newly polished sword.

Reaching out, she gingerly brushed away a few locks of ebony hair, scaring a few of the animals away. Malleus stirred, eyes fluttering open sleepily as he shook off the rest of the little creatures. “Hello...” Yuu cooed, withdrawing her hand and placing it on her lap as she sat on her knees.

“What a shame, really. Lordy here never gets a full night’s rest anymore, always staring at the moon like a love struck puppy dog.” Yuu shifted, falling back onto her hands as the enigmatic vice yet again dropped upside down in front of her.

“L-Lilia? How long have you been here?” She asked, crossing her arms.

“A while. I was the one who told Silver to get you, right, my boy?” Lilia smirked, cackling as Silver grunted and sent a thumbs-up as his approval.

“I’m sorry to wake you, if that is the case the—“

“Young master!” Came the familiar cry of Sebek, who practically raced over to the bench where Silver sat. “I’ve been looking everywhere! You can’t just disappear like that, you’ll put yourself in danger!”

“Oh hush now, Sebek. You’ll scare the doves.” Malleus yawned, exposing his sharp canines for a brief second.

“The doves aren’t anything to be concerned with right now... ah! Hello, Yuu! Apologies for failing to notice your presence sooner!” The green haired guard said with just a touch too much emotion to seem genuine.

“H-Hi...?” She waved timidly, a small but identifiable smile on her lips.

“My dear, I’m deeply sorry for only now making an appearance. Just as the day and night chase each other in a never ending cycle of time, my identity comes and goes. During school hours, I’m needed elsewhere.” Malleus said, Lilia having wandered off to pester Sebek and Silver.

“It’s alright, I figured there’s more than just me to entertain in your life,” Yuu shrugged, smoothing out her clothes.

“Fufu, indeed. Tell me—at the very least, did they behave?”

Yuu watched as the three goofed off, carefree chatter and laughs floating about the courtyard. “Well... Sebek is loud, and sometimes a little overwhelming. Silver is always sleeping, and doesn’t have a very strong attention span. And Lilia... he’s unpredictable, hopping left and right without so much as a plan to fall back to.” Yuu admitted, a pleasant breeze sweeping through her hair.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, but... it’s not all bad. They all—they all remind me so much of my family...!” Yuu felt her voice crack as her tears returned yet again. “Silver—ha, Silver reminds me of my sister! She was so young, and...and she loved to draw. She would always doodle little pictures on my papers, and I’d always get so mad at her for it...” she wiped away the fat beads, sniffling.

“What about Lilia?” Malleus prodded, urging her to continue.

“Lilia-san reminds me of my mother. His smile, the way he quietly encouraged me when I felt like I wasn’t enough... I haven’t felt her embrace in so long, I often find myself wondering if she was real at all!”

“And... Sebek?”

“Sebek? He... well, he reminds me of—of my... my father. Before he is who he is now. I can barely remember it, but I know for a fact that he used to cheer for me whenever I got full marks on a test. I know he used to patch up my bumps and scrapes, he wasn’t always the man who... who sat around drowning himself in liquor!” The tears were so thick, Yuu couldn’t see more than a blurred mess as she hiccuped, rubbing over her scar.

“Yuu. Come here.” Malleus opened his arms. An invitation, to which Yuu wordlessly accepted by flinging herself into him, sobbing her heart onto his uniform, tears dampening the fabric.

“I don’t...! I don’t want to go back! I don’t care that Crowley found a way to get me home! I can’t go back!” She lamented, feeling Malleus tense below her.

“He...what?” It was clear that no one had been aware of this turn events, no one besides the headmaster of Night Raven and Yuu herself.

“Please... I don’t want to go back to a place where I’m not loved. To a place where I’ll forever be subjected to... to ridicule, and mockery. Please, please don’t let me leave.” Yuu begged, unaware of the crowd she had gathered.

Silver and Sebek stood dumbfounded, both gaping as Lilia watched speechless, a dark look shadowing his normally mischievous face.

In that moment, all four boys made a choice. They made the choice of compassion.

Malleus crushed Yuu in a hug, a hand over the back of her head as he pulled her flush against himself. “Shh. You don’t have to leave. You’ll stay with us. You’ll stay here, where you’re safe, and you don’t have to hide anymore.” Malleus promised, dropping the embrace to look Yuu in the eyes, absorbing all of her fractured beauty.

“I... can stay?”

“Dearest, remain here, with us. You never have to be scared again. Not ever.”

Yuu pried herself away from the broad fae, sitting on her knees and for the first time, seeing a picture so clearly, it was as if her vision returned to her after all this time.

She saw the faces of her family in them. She saw the innocent bliss of her sister, the serenity of her mother’s forgiveness, and the pride of her father. She saw the acceptance, the realization that this was now her family.

No more blood. No more tears.

She had a place she could call home, and it wasn’t even a place. It was in the arms of these four people.

Yuu had finally found her lost melody.

Holy wow, I am so, so sorry that this took so long to finish! I’m still working on the Scarabia duo, so keep an eye out for that!

I hope you enjoyed, and once again, thanks for reading!!

Stay lovely!

#twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #sebek zigvolt #silver #twst silver #lilia vanrouge #yuu/mc #mc/yuu #angst #twst grim

[deliasbabe]

You Deserve the World- Cordelia Goode x Reader

Authors Note: First time writing something like this. Sorry if it’s bad, I’m used to writing much longer stories than this in the thrid person, but I figured I’d give this a shot. Also let me know if you want me to continue this?

Word count: 3,115

Warnings: None (?) literally just light angst and fluff

Summary: Reader gets close to Cordelia and they end up kissing, Light angst ensues. 

When you first arrived at the coven, you weren’t one for socialization. You kept mostly to your room and tended to be on the quiet side, no one knew much about you, but they seemed to accept you exactly as you were, shyness and all. No one ever pushed you, despite the rest of the girls all being much more outgoing and talkative than you were. They never asked questions or tried to pry, they just let you be, which you appreciated immensely. Slowly, the coven became home, and with each passing day you were more comfortable to read in the library as opposed to your room, or get involved in some of the conversations with the girls at dinner. Everyone seemed to be fond of you in some way, you were kind and polite and always willing to help the girls with spells they couldn’t master or book recommendations, you were their shoulder to cry on when a boy didn’t like them back or the one they would come to when they needed a quiet space to think. Despite the chaos of the house, you fit in perfectly, appearing when needed then disappearing into the background, which honestly you preferred.

You didn’t talk about your past, and thankfully no one really asked. You wanted a fresh start, a place to call home, a respite from all the demons that had plagued your life for so long, and you found it in the coven. It was your sanctuary, which you were reminded of when you took in the silence in the middle of the night. No more yelling, no more pain, just peace. The coven didn’t fix all your problems, as much as you wished it would. You were a bit of a night owl, although not exactly by choice. What you could escape from during the day plagued your dreams at night, and you often roamed the empty halls at all hours just to keep the flames in your mind at bay. Luckily you weren’t a screamer like the other girls, so you didn’t cause a disturbance, you weren’t forced to out your problems into the open air. You didn’t mind the hiding; it was what you were good at.

But there was one witch who knew of your woes from the second you arrived, Cordelia. You could feel all your demons escape in a rush of energy at your joined palms when she first welcomed you inside the doors. You had expected her to push you out the doors and tell you to never come back, but she didn’t falter, and there was never a word spoken about it, she just took you in like you were a clean slate, and while you appreciated it, you also made sure to avoid her as much as possible, that was until she had found you one night in the greenhouse.

Your shy persona carried into your studies. You were hardly the type to show off your talents, they had only caused you trouble in the past, so you tried your very best to keep them under lock and key, slipping off to the greenhouse at night to practice spells you had learned throughout the day. You thought no one would even notice you were gone, and once you had mastered your spells you had a little fun, taking the numerous seeds that had slipped between the floorboards and making them grow through the cracks in spidery vines.

“Very impressive, Y/N.” Cordelia said from the doorway, and as you whipped around to face her the numerous vines quickly caught fire and turned to ash, disappearing without a trace. Cordelia stared at the floor with eyebrows raised, obviously stunned as you stammered out an apology. She didn’t seem to hear you, and you could see her mind putting together the pieces. You hadn’t told the woman upon your arrival that you possessed pyrokinesis and resurgence, only concillum, and due to the precise control you seemed to have over them, they weren’t newly manifested gifts. You dropped your head and wrung your hands, preparing for her to chastise you for keeping them secret, but instead she spoke softly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I had a headache and was just coming out here to whip something up.” You glanced up and nodded slightly, moving to collect your things and scurry off when she halted your movements by placing her hand over your own, “Can you do that again?”

From then on she seemed to take a particular notice in you, and that quickly evolved into a friendship, then an impermeable bond. She wasn’t quite the same with other girls as she was with you. She checked on you more often, always tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear before leaning in to whisper a joke into your ear, just to see you smile. At dinner, every time Madison would say something particularly bitchy you would glance over at her and she would roll her eyes dramatically, just to see that goofy grin only she could pull out of you. You would spend countless nights in the greenhouse and have movie nights. You would even go shopping with her, something she knew you despised, and she would take your hand and pull you into store after store with that same adoring smile that would make your heart beat rapidly. She didn’t know you were in love with her, you knew she would never feel the same, and you were perfectly happy to just orbit around her. You didn’t care if she shared your affections, you were just happy someone as incredible as her even paid you the slightest bit of attention.

Then one night, Madison convinced you to go out with her. You don’t know exactly how it happened, but one minute she was begging and the next you were in her room, trying on dress after dress that you wouldn’t be caught dead in. You conceded under the condition that you could wear your own clothes, although she insisted she had to approve, considering your usual attire was sneakers, ripped jeans, and a plaid shirt with a band tee thrown underneath. You rolled your eyes and pulled her to your room, pulling out a short, tight black dress you had bought but never worn, and her eyes instantly lit up as she nodded. You got ready and met her in the foyer, Madison giving you the once over as she nodded approvingly, “Just wait til Cordi sees you in that, she’ll be undressing you with her eyes.” You rolled your eyes. Everyone at the coven was always making jokes about the two of you and you knew this, but only Madison was bold enough to say it to your face. A few moments later you were joined by Zoe and Queenie and after they complimented how hot you looked, you headed off to the Hollywood starlets favorite bar.

By the time you returned to the coven it was almost 2am, and you stumbled in after the girls who were practically carrying Madison, everyone but her giggling at the superstars obviously inebriated state. You weren’t exactly quiet, and Cordelia could hear the giggling the second you walked in the door. It wasn’t unusual for her to stay up until all the girls returned home, but she had made it a priority to stay awake until you got home, especially when she heard you were going out with Madison. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust you, she was just protective, not to mention Madison had been teasing Cordelia mercilessly for months about how she was going to get you laid.

She rose from her desk and walked out to the landing, standing at the top of the stairs, and after throwing a slightly concerned glance in Madison’s direction her eyes landed on you, and she couldn’t keep the smile off her face. Yes, you looked incredibly hot, she would be a fool not to notice that, but her focus was more on how absolutely adorable you looked, with your stumbles and drunken smile and loud giggles. When you glanced up and saw her your eyes lit up and you grinned, which just made the woman’s heart soar. You moved to slide off your enormously high heels and stumbled a bit, which just made the woman laugh, that was until Madison took a nose dive and Queenie and Zoe had to catch her, shattering the moment into tiny little pieces to be whisked away by the wind.

The girls all headed up to bed as you moved to the kitchen, suddenly absolutely famished. You had expected Cordelia to head off to bed, now that everyone was home and accounted for, but a few moments later you heard the tap of her heels on the stairs, and you expected her as you searched through the fridge. “It looks like you had a good time.” Cordelia chuckled, and you peeked your head out from the fridge doors, throwing her a goofy grin.

“We did, well… I did.” You said, refocusing on the task in front of you, “You know what sounds incredible? Nachos. Do we still have the leftovers from taco night?”

Cordelia let out a laugh, “I think so, unless the girls took them.”

You were quiet for a few moments, pilfering through the fridge like a woman on a mission. “Found them! Victory!” You joked, pumping your fist in the air as you set the containers on the counter next to you, stumbling a little, “Maybe I should sit down for this.”

“Maybe I should have gone with you.” Cordelia teased, “You seemed to have a bit too much fun without me.” She couldn’t help but feel like she missed out, you were always so reserved and quiet, this was a whole new side to you, and Cordelia hated to think she missed out on a single second of it.

“Believe me, I would have much rather been hanging out with you, but you would have lost your shit. Madison said I was too uptight and dared me to match her shot for shot. First one to puke lost.” You explained, Cordelia’s eyes going wide as she let out a groan.

“Please tell me you didn’t take her up on it.” The woman groaned as you bit your lip. “Y/N…” she said in mock disapproval as you threw her a sheepish smile.

“I did.” You said before pausing and letting out a chuckle, “You should have seen Madison’s face when she realized she was going to lose. It was priceless.”

Cordelia’s eyes went wide, “You outdrank Madison? The teenage alcoholic?” You threw her a flirty smirk as she let out a laugh, “Wow. You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Maybe…” You teased as you pulled your nachos out of the microwave, throwing the woman another suggestive smirk. “Want some?” You slurred, turning around only to feel your body being pushed back into the counter behind you, the supreme’s lips suddenly on your own. You didn’t have time to process or even react before your lips and body went cold, the older woman pulling back abruptly, her face white as paper.

“I’m… I’m so sorry.” She mumbled, not even bothering to look at your face as she practically ran away from you and up the stairs.

“Delia, wait!” You called out, trying to go after her, but your drunken state simply wouldn’t allow it, and you stumbled for a few moments before nearly falling, barely catching yourself on the doorframe. “Shit.” You mumbled to yourself, letting your body slide down the wall to the floor, “Now what?”

You woke up the next day with the worst hangover of your life, choosing to stay in bed for the majority of the weekend. You had convinced yourself it had to be a drunken dream, that it couldn’t possibly have been real, but when you went down for breakfast Monday morning you noticed the supreme couldn’t even look at you, and you felt your stomach sink. It wasn’t a dream, it actually happened, but how did it happen? Days went on and the woman was still avoiding you, she wasn’t meeting you in the greenhouse like she did every night, there were no more jokes or eye rolls, just a cold silence. The memory was fuzzy due to the numerous drinks you consumed, but you fixated on it, playing it over and over. By the time the sixth day had rolled around, you had convinced yourself that she didn’t even try to kiss you, that in your drunken state you actually had tried to kiss her, and that just made it all worse. You let your feelings slip, you had ripped away the one good thing you had found, and you didn’t think you could ever get it back.

Your nightmares always got worse when you were stressed, and a week after the incident, you woke up in a cold sweat, your thoughts racing. After you had decided sleep just wasn’t for you, you headed off for the greenhouse, padding down the stairs in your socks as to not wake anyone. It wasn’t something you normally did, but it was early enough in the night that you thought you might get away with it. After all, you might as well be productive with your time. You quickly started to practice a potion you had been working on earlier in the week, not even bothering to listen for the footsteps that were quietly approaching. “What are you doing out here?” a familiar voice asked, and you whipped around to see your supreme standing in the doorway.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You said, momentarily making eye contact with the woman before refocusing on the potion.

Cordelia’s gaze softened as she watched you work. You didn’t know that she knew about your countless nightmares. She never told you about how each time they occurred she would be woken out of a dead sleep by a sharp bolt of electricity shooting down her spine, how she would stand outside your door until she was sure you were ok. You didn’t talk about them, didn’t want anyone to know, and she tried to honor your wishes and keep her distance, but it was all she could do to not burst through the door and hold you until you felt ok again. She felt the admission bubble up in her throat, but she pushed it down, it just wasn’t the time. Not when she could hear the hurt in your voice, could feel it radiating off of you in waves. She knew you missed her as much as she missed you, and it pained her that it had taken her this long to work up the courage to talk to you. “I know I’ve been distant.” She began, her voice wavering slightly as you met her gaze, “I just… I’m sorry for putting you in that position.”

So it wasn’t you, you thought to yourself, quickly trying to push all your feelings down as you carefully worded a response. “Cordelia, it’s fine. It doesn’t have to mean anything, we can just drop it and move on.” You didn’t want to drop it, but you also didn’t want to lose her, so you bottled your feelings up and prepared to toss them in the nearest ocean, praying they would be swept away.

“God, I wish it were that easy.” Cordelia said quietly. She knew you were angry, you had to be to use her full name. With you it was always a nickname, always short and sweet. Hearing her full name leave your lips just made her hair stand on end. She knew you were upset, but she had no idea the true reason behind it, that you were irrevocably in love with her, she thought she made you uncomfortable, that you didn’t want it.

“What are you talking about?” You asked, confused, Wasn’t this what she wanted?

There was silence for a few moments until you turned to look at her, the woman awkwardly clearing her throat, “I can’t just drop it. I have feelings for you, strong feelings, and I know it’s selfish and not what you need right now… I shouldn’t have forced it on you like that.”

“You didn’t force me.” You stated, your mind spinning with the revelation as you glanced back down at the plants in front of you. She had to be kidding, right? There was no way she could feel the same way you did; it just wasn’t possible. She must have been trying to make you feel better, that’s why this all seemed so uncomfortable. She didn’t mean it, she couldn’t.

“You were drunk.” Cordelia said with a sigh, and you snapped your head up.

“You didn’t force me, I wanted it.” You admitted without thinking, silently cursing yourself as you bit your lip and looked back down. You were in it now, the only thing you could do at this point was be honest, “I’ve wanted it for a while now. I just thought I was the only one.”

You didn’t bother to look up as you heard the footsteps draw closer, not wanting to see the pity plastered across the woman’s delicate features. You felt one hand cover your own as the other turned your face towards her, and you could see the tears beginning to swell in her chocolate eyes. “Why on earth would you think that?” She asked softly, searching your eyes intensely.

You furrowed your brow, and let out a strangled laugh, “Come on. You can’t be serious?” Cordelia didn’t say anything, waiting patiently for you to give her an explanation, a tiny glimpse inside your head, “Delia, you’re too good for me. You’re always going to be too good for me. I don’t deserve….”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence, the supreme’s lips softly but passionately planted against your own, and once the surprise had worn off you melted into the kiss, feeling it warm you from the inside out. Her hand left your own and moved to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as the kiss grew more heated, months of pent up feelings rushing out at your joined lips. You didn’t want to move, to breathe, you just wanted to keep kissing. You would happily die if it meant her lips would be on yours for even a second longer.

Finally, the two of you came up for air, foreheads and noses touching as you sucked in panting breaths. Cordelia lovingly stroked your cheek, “Y/N, you deserve the world. Let me try to give it to you.”

#ahs #ahs coven #ahs apocalypse #cordelia goode x reader #cordelia foxx x reader #cordelia goode #cordelia foxx #sarah paulson x reader #fanfiction

[gamzee]

I was going to keep this card up my sleeve for the purposes of writing the act 8 intermission, but homestuck as hamlet and fandom as ophelia is resonant. I spilled the beans on twitter so I will spill them here too.

OPHELIA: Good my lord, How does your honour for this many a day? HAMLET: I humbly thank you; well, well, well. OPHELIA: My lord, I have remembrances of yours, That I have longed long to re-deliver; I pray you, now receive them. HAMLET: No, not I; I never gave you aught. OPHELIA: My honour'd lord, you know right well you did; And, with them, words of so sweet breath composed As made the things more rich: their perfume lost, Take these again; for to the noble mind Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind. There, my lord.

Cascade felt to many of us like a promise of the core ethos of a future homestuck rather than the cultural zenith it has become in retrospect. Another work like Cascade is not sustainable in the times we live in, but hauntology has fully settled in and won’t let anything come after without us remembering that beautiful, wonderful thing that happened. Many promises were made back then... many....

HAMLET: Ha, ha! are you honest? OPHELIA: My lord? HAMLET: Are you fair? OPHELIA: What means your lordship? HAMLET: That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should admit no discourse to your beauty. OPHELIA: Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty? HAMLET: Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will sooner transform honesty from what it is to a bawd than the force of honesty can translate beauty into his likeness: this was sometime a paradox, but now the time gives it proof. I did love you once. OPHELIA: Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so. HAMLET: You should not have believed me; for virtue cannot so inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of it: I loved you not. OPHELIA: I was the more deceived.

Language floats about on twitter nowadays about how it truly is our fault for our misidentification of homestuck’s real aesthetics and ambitions, and comments that specifically point out tumblr creating a false, softer homestuck feel about as gendered as hamlet’s upcoming take on cosmetics. Is fandom, or bad fandom, only cosmetic? 

My takeaway is that... yes, actually, there was something we didn’t realize about the relationship we were all getting into. Perhaps it was obscured underneath all the voices of various contributing artists; [S] Explore made me feel a sense of haunting beauty that hasn’t left over a decade later. Lexxy’s god tier jade is a wonderful painting of a happy young girl who came back to life and saved everyone, but beauty in homestuck now is about pure, unadulterated terror. Terror of beauty, and terror of each other.

(Well now I’m sounding artsy, let me just get this snippet from a PDF of the script.)

[caption; for a moment Hamlet has been touched by the sight of Ophelia with her book of prayers. yet there is estrangement in the word “Sylph” “Nymph.” She inquires for his health (having seen him yesterday); he answers as to a stranger; formally, as he does to Osric... and with some impatience; he will tell her nothing. She produces his gifts; he has been sent for by the King; Ophelia, like Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, has doubtless also been sent for; he falls back on his accustomed method of baffling half-truths. These toys were the gift of another Hamlet to another Ophelia-- not his.]

Homestuck begins to question the base nature of canon and the expectations held to canon, and thus everything feels a bit like evasive maneuvers re: accountability for anything that is said or done whatsoever. Baffling half-truths, questionable sincerity in open derision, like as follows;

HAMLET: Get thee to a nunnery: why wouldst thou be a breeder of sinners? I am myself indifferent honest; but yet I could accuse me of such things that it were better my mother had not borne me: I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in. What should such fellows as I do crawling between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves, all; believe none of us. Go thy ways to a nunnery. Where's your father? OPHELIA: At home, my lord. HAMLET: Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool no where but in's own house. Farewell.

Lol, house.

OPHELIA: O, help him, you sweet heavens! HAMLET: If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry: be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny. Get thee to a nunnery, go: farewell. Or, if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough what monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go, and quickly too. Farewell. OPHELIA: O heavenly powers, restore him! HAMLET: I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; God has given you one face, and you make yourselves another: you jig, you amble, and you lisp, and nick-name God's creatures, and make your wantonness your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't; it hath made me mad. I say, we will have no more marriages: those that are married already, all but one, shall live; the rest shall keep as they are. To a nunnery, go. (Exit)

The suspicion fostered in narrative by the epilogues is in fact a kind of “lesson” we are to take towards all narrators and all stories. But is that any way to live-- like, no reciprocation, no honesty, no trust or gentleness-- there shall be no marriage. This sort of intertextual reading (wait is it... intertextual if it’s paired with a narrative external space? It’s not like i can just CALL Kristeva to ask) ...does kind of imply the Epilogues were inevitable and a result of homestuck’s “real” philosophies. But you still get to ask, is it a good philosophy? Hamlet agrees and he’s just a famously good and emotionally stable guy, so who’s to say. 

(My real answer is that Hegel’s m/s model was right and that mutual recognition is not only better but the best thing humans can do and strive for, and so this all feels petulant to me. But famously good and emotionally stable Ophelia drowned in a river so maybe don’t take my word for it.)

Pair with Errant Signal’s videos on The Beginner’s Guide and That Dragon Cancer if you like which both have thoughts about narrative-reader connections. (The latter discusses the former.)

Anyway, this should be my new twitter bio;

OPHELIA: O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown! The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword; The expectancy and rose of the fair state, The glass of fashion and the mould of form, The observed of all observers, quite, quite down! And I, of ladies most deject and wretched, That suck'd the honey of his music vows, Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh; That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth Blasted with ecstasy: O, woe is me, To have seen what I have seen, see what I see!

#i have a meta tag now #that i will curate some day in the future

[benperorsolo]

Do you have any songs that remind you of Ben? Or Reylo? Most of the playlists I've come across are for Kylo and it's just metal. Which I don't think matches him at all!

I have a Ben playlist that’s nearly 13 hours long and a reylo one that’s about 12 hours. They’ve both been curated since early 2016 and I still add to them. I keep meaning to upload a “final” canonical playlist (the Ben one started as a fic playlist for my redemption fic back in Ye Olden TFA Days) but it’s just so damn big. Since you probably don’t want 25 hours of music(?), here’s...idk a selection of them under the cut.

some ben songs:

Flares — The Script

Did you lose what won't return? Did you love but never learn? The fire's out but still it burns And no one cares, there's no one there

But did you see the flares in the sky? Were you blinded by the light?

I’ll Be Good  — James Young 

Grace is just weakness Or so I've been told I've been cold, I've been merciless But the blood on my hands scares me to death Maybe I'm waking up today

I'll be good, I'll be good And I'll love the world, like I should

CASTLE OF GLASS (esp the acoustic version)  — Linkin Park

Cause I'm only a crack in this castle of glass Hardly anything there for you to see

Nobody Can Save Me  — Linkin Park

So tell me it's alright, tell me I'm forgiven If only I can save me now I'm holding up a light Chasing up the darkness inside And I don't wanna let you down But only I can save me

(Un)lost  — The Maine 

Unaware of where I'm going Or if I'm going anywhere at all I'm not looking to be found Just want to feel (un) lost

Outrunning Karma  — Alec Benjamin 

He's never gonna make it, all the Poor people he's forsaken (karma) Is always gonna chase him for his lies

Saul to Paul  — Red Jumpsuit Apparatus 

For all the times I looked into your eyes and said you lie Oh, I'm sorry For all the times I looked into the sky and said I hated you I'm sorry, God forgive me

Oh, Lord please help me change From Saul to Paul Before it's too late (before it's too late)

Gabriel  — Bear’s Den

It's a part of me, Gabriel, I wish I could deny  The face that I can barely recognize  He lives inside of me every day of my life  And I can hear him, screaming in the night 

Is this all I am? And all I ever was? All that he has won is all that I have lost  Won't you hear me out, Gabriel? Can't you see the shape I'm in? Just don't leave me alone 

The Only Fire  — Motherfolk

Taught to fear my God Then that fear became a cancer And I take medicine to destroy the sin But I know, in the end it's killing me

With my heart in my hands I am ready again I am a broken man, I am

Let It Burn  — Red

I watch the city burn These dreams like ashes float away

How long can you stand the pain How long will you hide your face How long will you be afraid Are you afraid? How long will you play this game Will you fight or will you walk away How long will you let it burn Let it burn (let it burn)

Black Eyes — Radical Face

When you last left me my blood was in a jar And you kept it on your mantelpiece I couldn't count on anyone to stand there behind me And keep the dogs from dragging me off with them While I slept you crept in and pulled the rug right out from under me Then the rain stole away and took the parts that kept me functioning

Welcome Home, Son  — Radical Face

Peel the scars from off my back I don't need them anymore You can throw them out or keep them in your mason jars I've come home

Great Divide  — Ira Wolf 

I wish I could take the hands of time and turn them in reverse I'd take back every long goodbye with venom in my words The only way to be being found is getting lost at first But all I find are more bridges to burn

So am I too far gone To be running home Cause I'm longing tonight To be somewhere 'cross that great divide

Dear Wormwood   — The Oh Hellos

When I was a child I didn't hear a single word you said Things I was afraid of they were all confined beneath my bed The years have been long, and you have taught me well to hide away The things that I believe in You’ve taught me to call them all escapes

There before the flesh I saw a brighter world beyond myself In my hour of weakness you were there to see my courage fail The years have been long and you have taught me well to sit and wait Planning without acting Steadily becoming what I hate  

The Driver  —Bastille

Shout out from the bottom of my lungs A plague on both your houses This thing It's a family affair It's drawing out my weakness

Failure — Breaking Benjamin 

Tired of feeling lost, tired of letting go Tear the whole world down, tear the whole world down Tired of wasting breath, tired of nothing left Tear the whole world down, tear the whole world down

Ashes of Eden  — Breaking Benjamin 

Will the faithful be rewarded When we come to the end Will I miss the final warning From the lie that I have lived

Will the darkness fall upon me When the air is growing thin Will the light begin to pull me To its everlasting will 

Some reylo songs:

Halo — Beyonce

It's like I've been awakened Every rule I had you breaking It's the risk that I'm taking I ain't never gonna shut you outEverywhere I'm looking now I'm surrounded by your embrace Baby, I can see your halo You know you're my saving grace

Just My Soul Responding  — Amber Run

Oh, and I wanna be here when morning comes When the stars in the sky fade into one Oh, and I wanna be here when times are hard When the beating of your heart is like a drum But every day I found new ways to hurt you And every day we took our sides

Reminder  — Mumford & Sons 

A constant reminder of where I can find her A light that might give up the way Is all that I'm asking for Without her I'm lost Oh my love don't fade away

I Will Follow You Into the Dark  — Death Cab for Cutie 

Love of mine, someday you will die But I'll be close behind and I'll follow you into the dark No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white Just our hands clasped so tight, waiting for the hint of a spark

My One Safe Place  — Andrew Peterson

You're my oasis The eye of the hurricane One look at your face is all I need to remember my name So I run away home (yes I run away home to you) I was an orphan caught in a thunderstorm You open the door and welcome me into your arms So I run away home Yes I run away home to you

Save Yourself  — My Darkest Days (this is really more of a Ben POV song, so it’s like the angsty woe is me I’m a monster you shouldn’t be with me song)

I'm the devil's son, straight out of hell And you're an angel with a haunted heart If you're smart you'd run and protect yourself From the demon living in the dark There's nothing to be gained, 'cause I can never change And you can never understand my sickness (I'll never understand my sickness)

Never Giving Up On You  — Of Mice & Men

You hit the wall, lost it all And I'll find a way to wake you from this bed you've made Even though I know you want me to I'm never giving up on you

Little Light  — Lewis Watson

And all my days were young and wasted When I was waiting, oh for you And all the plans that I've been chasing are always fading But ever since I found you A little light is breaking through

Sinner  — Andy Grammer

I've been throwing stones, waiting by the river I've been on my own, praying like a sinner You've been gone too long, I'm waiting out the winter I've been on my knees, praying like, praying like a sinner Well you've built a city right in me And brick by brick and piece by piece And love in both your hands Try to make an honest man

Halo  — Starset 

I can see you running, running Every night from the same darkness It's coming, coming But you are not alone If you just say the word I'll be there by your side

Armor — Landon Austin

I'm not bullet proof when it comes to you Don't know what to say when you made me the enemy After the war is won There's always the next one I'm not bullet proof when it comes to you

Maybe I'll crash into you Maybe we would open these wounds We're only alive if we bruise So I lay down this armor

Not Alone — Red

And I'll be your hope when you feel like its over And I will pick you up when your whole world shatters And when you're finally in my arms Look up and see love has a face

I am with you I will carry you through it all I won't leave you I will catch you When you feel like letting go Cause you're not, you're not alone

Ghost (acoustic)  — Tilian 

Is it too late to go back down that road? Or take the backroads, we're not the same no Tell me I'm not dreaming again Our love is not a ghost, our love is not a ghost Could build a brand new home

Even When I’m Gone  — Quietdrive 

There's a light in my heart That can't be contained You knew right from the start That there's no one here to blame

So send me off with your love, I'll fly like a dove into the sunset of my teenage adolescence And if you're ever feeling alone Know that I'll never forget you Even when I'm gone

#asks #nonnie #recs

[pope-francis-quotes]

10th April >> (@ZenitEnglish) #PopeFrancis #Pope Francis Presides Over Celebration of Passion of the Lord. Full Text of Homily by Fr. Raniero Cantalamessa, O.F.M. Cap

Pope Francis on Good Friday presided over the celebration of the Passion of the Lord in the Vatican Basilica.

The Preacher of the Pontifical House, Fr. Raniero Cantalamessa, O.F.M. Cap., delivered the homily, which is provided in its entirety below, provided by the Vatican.

“I HAVE PLANS FOR YOUR WELFARE AND NOT FOR WOE”

St. Gregory the Great said that Scripture “grows with its readers”, cum legentibus crescit.[1] It reveals meanings always new according to the questions people have in their hearts as they read it. And this year we read the account of the Passion with a question—rather with a cry—in our hearts that is rising up over the whole earth. We need to seek the answer that the word of God gives it.

The Gospel reading we have just listened to is the account of the objectively greatest evil committed on earth. We can look at it from two different angles: either from the front or from the back, that is, either from its causes or from its effects. If we stop at the historical causes of Christ’s death, we get confused and everyone will be tempted to say, as Pilate did, “I am innocent of this man’s blood” (Mt 27:24). The cross is better understood by its effects than by its causes. And what were the effects of Christ’s death? Being justified through faith in him, being reconciled and at peace with God, and being filled with the hope of eternal life! (see Rom 53:1-5).

But there is one effect that the current situation can help us to grasp in particular. The cross of Christ has changed the meaning of pain and human suffering—of every kind of suffering, physical and moral. It is no longer punishment, a curse. It was redeemed at its root when the Son of God took it upon himself. What is the surest proof that the drink someone offers you is not poisoned? It is if that person drinks from the same cup before you do. This is what God has done: on the cross, he drank, in front of the whole world, the cup of pain down to its dregs. This is how he showed us it is not poisoned, but that there is a pearl at the bottom of it.

And not only the pain of those who have faith but of every human pain. He died for all human beings: “And when I am lifted up from the earth,” he said, “I will draw everyone to myself” (Jn 12:32).

Everyone, not just some! St. John Paul II wrote from his hospital bed after his attempted assassination, “To suffer means to become particularly susceptible, particularly open to the working of the salvific powers of God, offered to humanity in Christ.”[2] Thanks to the cross of Christ, suffering has also become in its own way a kind of “universal sacrament of salvation” for the human race.

* * *

What light does all of this shed on the dramatic situation that humanity is going through now? Here too we need to look at the effects more than at the causes—not just the negative ones we hear about every day in heart-wrenching reports but also the positive ones that only a more careful observation can help us grasp.

The pandemic of Coronavirus has abruptly roused us from the greatest danger individuals and humanity have always been susceptible to: the delusion of omnipotence. A Jewish rabbi has written that we have the opportunity to celebrate a very special paschal exodus this year, that “from the exile of consciousness” [3]. It took merely the smallest and most formless element of nature, a virus, to remind us that we are mortal, that military power and technology are not sufficient to save us. As a psalm in the Bible says, “In his prime, man does not understand. / He is like the beasts—they perish” (Ps 49:21). How true that is!

While he was painting frescoes in St. Paul’s Cathedral in London, the artist James Thornhill became so excited at a certain point about his fresco that he stepped back to see it better and was unaware he was about to fall over the edge of the scaffolding. A horrified assistant understood that crying out to him would have only hastened the disaster. Without thinking twice, he dipped a brush in paint and hurled it at the middle of the fresco. The master, appalled, sprang forward. His work was damaged, but he was saved.

God does this with us sometimes: he disrupts our projects and our calm to save us from the abyss we don’t see. But we need to be careful not to be deceived. God is not the one who hurled the brush at the sparkling fresco of our technological society. God is our ally, not the ally of the virus! He himself says in the Bible, “I have . . . plans for your welfare and not for woe” (Jer 29:11). If these scourges were punishments of God, it would not be explained why they strike equally good and bad, and why the poor usually bring the worst consequences of them. Are they more sinners than others?

No! The one who cried one day for Lazarus’ death cries today for the scourge that has fallen on humanity. Yes, God “suffers”, like every father and every mother. When we will find out this one day, we will be ashamed of all the accusations we made against him in life. God participates in our pain to overcome it. “Being supremely good – wrote St. Augustine – God would not allow any evil in his works, unless in his omnipotence and goodness, he is able to bring forth good out of evil.”[4]

Did God the Father possibly desire the death of his Son in order to draw good out of it? No, he simply permitted human freedom to take its course, making it serve, however, his own purposes and not those of human beings. This is also the case for natural disasters like earthquakes and plagues. He does not bring them about. He has given nature a kind of freedom as well, qualitatively different of course than that of human beings, but still a form of freedom—freedom to evolve according to its own laws of development. He did not create a world as a programmed clock whose least little movement could be anticipated. It is what some call “chance” but the Bible calls instead “the wisdom of God.”

* * *

The other positive fruit of the present health crisis is the feeling of solidarity. When, in the memory of humanity, have the people of all nations ever felt themselves so united, so equal, so less in conflict than at this moment of pain? Never so much as now have we experienced the truth of the words of one of our great poets: “Peace, you peoples! Too deep is the mystery of the prostrate earth.”[5] We have forgotten about building walls. The virus knows no borders. In an instant, it has broken down all the barriers and distinctions of race, nation, religion, wealth, and power. We should not revert to that prior time when this moment has passed. As the Holy Father has exhorted us, we should not waste this opportunity. Let us not allow so much pain, so many deaths, and so much heroic engagement on the part of health workers to have been in vain. Returning to the way things were is the “recession” we should fear the most.

They shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks;

One nation shall not raise the sword against another, nor shall they train for war again. (Is 2:4)

This is the moment to put into practice something of the prophecy of Isaiah whose fulfillment humanity has long been waiting for. Let us say “Enough!” to the tragic race toward arms. Say it with all your might, you young people, because it is above all your destiny that is at stake. Let us devote the unlimited resources committed to weapons to the goals that we now realize are most necessary and urgent: health, hygiene, food, the fight against poverty, stewardship of creation. Let us leave to the next generation a world poorer in goods and money, if need be, but richer in its humanity.

* * *

The word of God tells us the first thing we should do at times like these is to cry out to God. He himself is the one who puts on people’s lips the words to cry out to him, at times harsh words of lament and almost of accusation: “Awake! Why do you sleep, O Lord? / Rise up! Do not reject us forever! . . . Rise up, help us! / Redeem us in your mercy” (Ps 44, 24, 27). “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” (Mk 4:38).

Does God perhaps like to be petitioned so that he can grant his benefits? Can our prayer perhaps make God change his plans? No, but there are things that God has decided to grant us as the fruit both of his grace and of our prayer, almost as though sharing with his creatures the credit for the benefit received.[6] God is the one who prompts us to do it: “Seek and you will find,” Jesus said; “knock and the door will be opened to you” (Mt 7:7).

When the Israelites were bitten by poisonous serpents in the desert, God commanded Moses to lift up a serpent of bronze on a pole, and whoever looked at it would not die. Jesus appropriated this symbol to himself when he told Nicodemus, “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life” (Jn 3:14-15). We too at this moment have been bitten by an invisible, poisonous “serpent.” Let us gaze upon the one who was “lifted up” for us on the cross. Let us adore him on behalf of ourselves and of the whole human race. The one who looks on him with faith does not die. And if that person dies, it will be to enter eternal life.

“After three days I will rise”, Jesus had foretold (cf. Mt 9:31). We too, after these days that we hope will be short, shall rise and come out of the tombs of our homes. Not however to return to the former life like Lazarus, but to a new life, like Jesus. A more fraternal, more human, more Christian life!

[1] Moralia in Job, XX, 1.

[2] John Paul II, Salvifici doloris [On the Meaning of Human Suffering], n. 23.

[3] https://blogs.timesofisrael.com/coronavirus-a-spiritual-message-from-brooklyn (Yaakov Yitzhak Biderman).

[4] See St. Augustine, Enchiridion 11, 3; PL 40, 236.

[5] Giovanni Pascoli, “I due fanciulli” [“The Two Children”].

[6] See St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologicae, II-IIae, q. 83, a. 2.

10th APRIL 2020 19:27POPE & HOLY SEE

[stormylewirmy]

*throws rat into your house like a bomb*

Woe, plague upon ye

*gets plague and dies instantly*

#my post #ask #duckyducc

[everlasting-gospel]

New Post has been published on Present Truth

New Post has been published on https://presenttruth.info/fear-not-coronavirus-precautions/

Fear Not! Coronavirus Precautions!

“Grace be with you, mercy, and peace, from God the Father, and from the Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of the Father, in truth and love” (2 John 3).

I pray that you are doing well despite the perilous times in which we are living.

I am a first responder with our volunteer fire department. I just wanted to share a few things with you about the caronavirus that were shared with our department.

First of all, Thus saith the Lord, “Fear not!” This phrase is found 63 times in the Bible.

“Fear not, little flock; for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom” (Luke 12:32).

“Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment? Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they? Which of you by taking thought can add one cubit unto his stature? And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to day is, and to morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith? Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed? (For after all these things do the Gentiles seek:) for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things. But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you. Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof” (Matthew 6:25-34).

“And fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell” (Matthew 10:28).

“He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the LORD, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust. Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence. He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and buckler. Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day; Nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness; nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday. A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee. Only with thine eyes shalt thou behold and see the reward of the wicked. Because thou hast made the LORD, which is my refuge, even the most High, thy habitation; There shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling. For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways. They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone. Thou shalt tread upon the lion and adder: the young lion and the dragon shalt thou trample under feet. Because he hath set his love upon me, therefore will I deliver him: I will set him on high, because he hath known my name. He shall call upon me, and I will answer him: I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him, and honour him. With long life will I satisfy him, and shew him my salvation” (Psalms 91:1-16).

“No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper; and every tongue that shall rise against thee in judgment thou shalt condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the LORD, and their righteousness is of me, saith the LORD” (Isaiah 54:17).

“But now thus saith the LORD that created thee, O Jacob, and he that formed thee, O Israel, Fear not: for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine. When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee” (Isaiah 43:1, 2).

“Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness” (Isaiah 41:10).

For a study on trusting the Lord for everything, please read the following article.

The Faith of the Son of God – Jun-Jul 2018

Paul exclaimed, “I live by the faith of the Son of God” (Galatians 2:20). Wait a minute, I know we are to “…walk by faith, not by sight” (2 Corinthians 5:7), but Paul talks about “the faith of” God’s Son, not his own faith. …Read More

Some Precautions

1) Wash your hands often. Hands are the number one carrier of germs and viruses.

2) Avoid touching your mouth, nose, and eyes.

3) Drink lots of water. The caronavirus first attaches in your throat, and cannot survive well in warm temperatures. It can be washed down to the stomach by warm water where it will be killed by your stomach acid. If you have a sore throat gargle with warm salt water, and drink lots of water.

4) Monitor yourself and others with a thermometer, preferably one that does not need to touch the patient.

5) Stay at least six feet away from anyone who has symptoms of caronavirus without protection. Protection will include gloves, mask, eye protection, and a gown. Even with these precautions, limit all contact, and carefully remove and dispose of the protection, then wash your clothes, shower, and change into clean clothes. Spray the bottom of your shoes with a disinfectant like Lysol, before entering your vehicle or house after you have been exposed to coronavirus.

According to the CDC Website here are some things you should watch for.

Watch for symptoms Reported illnesses have ranged from mild symptoms to severe illness and death for confirmed coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) cases. The following symptoms may appear 2-14 days after exposure.*

Fever

Cough

Shortness of breath

*This is based on what has been seen previously as the incubation period of MERS-CoV viruses.

If you develop emergency warning signs for COVID-19 get medical attention immediately. Emergency warning signs include*:

Difficulty breathing or shortness of breath

Persistent pain or pressure in the chest

New confusion or inability to arouse

Bluish lips or face

*This list is not all inclusive. Please consult your medical provider for any other symptoms that are severe or concerning.

If you suspect someone to be a carrier of the caronavirus, they will probably not be transported to the hospital unless they have emergency warning signs.

Currently, President Trump is requesting that you avoid gatherings of more than ten people, and avoid unnecessary travel.

I am not giving you everything you need to know about this, so check your trusted news sources for more information.

The best preparation you can make is to draw near to God. “Draw nigh to God, and he will draw nigh to you. Cleanse your hands, ye sinners; and purify your hearts, ye double minded” (James 4:8).

There are a lot of promises of protection in the Bible for us, claim them and believe them for you and your family. If there is known sin in your life, ask God to remove it, then ask Him to reveal more light. Watch and pray is the instruction Jesus gave His disciples before their faith was severely tried.

As students of the Bible we should not be surprised by things like this. There are a lot of potential events behind the scenes that might explain why this is going on right now. The bottom line is, Satan is behind it all.

“…Woe to the inhabiters of the earth and of the sea! for the devil is come down unto you, having great wrath, because he knoweth that he hath but a short time” (Revelation 12:12).

The final conflict will be over worship. Read Revelation 13. God’s Ten Commandments are split into two sections, 1-4 deal with worship to God, 5-10 deal with how we treat people. The primary commandments that will be involved in this final conflict revolve around commandments 1 and 4.

On February 18, 1890 there was a Breckenridge Sunday Bill presented to the House of Representatives in the United States. Here is a portion of what this bill entailed.

“Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Representatives of the United States of America in Congress assembled, That it shall be unlawful for any person or corporation, or employee of any person or corporation in the District of Columbia, to perform any secular labor or business, or to cause the same to be performed by any person in their employment on Sunday, except works of necessity or mercy; nor shall it be lawful for any person or corporation to receive pay for labor or services performed or rendered in violation of this act…”

JO Corliss testified before the house in opposition to this bill saying,

“…In this connection let me say, gentlemen, that the District of Columbia has just the same kind of a Sunday law as that of Ohio. This law of the District of Columbia was in force when this book was issued which I hold in my hand, which was April 1, 1868; and I am told that this law (which I will read) was re-enacted in 1874. I now quote from the law. Section 1 provides that- ‘If any person shall DENY THE TRINITY, he shall, for the first offense, be bored through the tongue, and fined twenty pounds; … and for the second offense, the offender being thereof convict as aforesaid, shall be stigmatized by burning on the forehead with the letter B, and fined forty pounds; and for the third offense, the offender being thereof convict as aforesaid, shall suffer death, without the benefit of the clergy.’ Section 10 of the same law has this:- ‘No person whatever shall do any bodily labor on the Lord’s day, commonly called Sunday …’ Now, gentlemen, that law has never been repealed.” (Arguments on the Breckinridge Sunday Bill, by AT Jones, pages 3,13).

Friends, we are living in perilous times. The Lord is coming soon. The final crisis will be over worship, and the two primary aspects that will be brought to law will cause people to violate God’s Ten Commandment Laws on the true God we worship, and the day on which we worship. How those will be brought to play in forbidding people to buy or sell unless they violate these Laws is yet to be seen. But pay attention, friends, it is coming. Make sure you know who you worship, and worship Him in Spirit and in Truth, and worship Him in part by resting “the Sabbath day according to the Commandment” (Luke 23:56).

Please read these booklets: God’s Love on Trial, National ID and the Mark of the Beast, and The Mark of the Beast.

Farewell my Brothers and Sisters. God bless you and keep you.

“For this cause I bow my knees unto the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, Of whom the whole family in heaven and earth is named, That he would grant you, according to the riches of his glory, to be strengthened with might by his Spirit in the inner man; That Christ may dwell in your hearts by faith; that ye, being rooted and grounded in love, May be able to comprehend with all saints what is the breadth, and length, and depth, and height; And to know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge, that ye might be filled with all the fulness of God. Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us, Unto him be glory in the church by Christ Jesus throughout all ages, world without end. Amen” (Ephesians 3:14-21).

In Christian Love, Your Brother in Christ, Lynnford Beachy

#afraid #Bible #commandment #corona #Coronavirus #faith #fear #Law #Promise #Sabbath #Ten Commandments #trinity #trust #virus

[royal-writer]

but she already loves you

dummy - Sincerely, me

If it’s not obvious what this was inspired from I failed.

Most people didn’t live out this far into the wilds. There was too much magic in the lands; things spilling out of other parallel planes and monsters that roamed the thickets and darkness. The few who did choose to live out so far tended to be isolated nomads, or tribes of beings not entirely human. Sometimes you found a runaway thief, but more often than not you never found them at all, or only what remained of them.

But when they’d heard of people disappearing without warning, inescapable nightmares, and hideous beings stalking the night of a town outside the borders of where madness began, it was hard to turn away. The people were quick to tell them they had not much in wages to pay for the company of their aid, but doing the right thing was worth more than gold and platinum pieces. They had something these desperate people needed: experience, a pool of various strengths, and numbers.

Looking into their eyes, Essätha knew they all felt the same as she before they even agreed to the undertaking. After taking down beasts of all sizes and types, challenges that came easy and others that seemed impossible, there was little to be frightened of. They had each others backs, after all.

“We should look into this by night, since that is when most of the activity seems to stir up,” Essie pointed out, a sense of discomfort easing into her cautious words.

Adela gave a nod of agreement as she tacked on, “We’d best make sure we’re prepared for all outcomes too, then. I’ll see if the local slithery here has any extra silver-crafted weapons on hand.”

“I will prepare radiant spells before the evening,” Pri’cha chirped, their antenna wiggling. “And see to making two potions of darkvision.”

Giving a quiet chuckle, Aylin side-glanced to the two party members who lacked the nocturnal eyesight. Essie withheld her smirk as she watched Sulhadur stick out his tongue in the angelic Drow’s direction. He seemed in good spirits despite the mockery eyebrow-raising on behalf of Aylin; more than accustomed to their gentle jabbing.

Her eyes skirted past Amon. His face was sour, but it was a forced bitterness. There was a curl on the corners of his quivering lips, and his eyes were still bright and wide. Easy to get lost in if you stared too long, which she did not allow herself and thankfully, Abernathy helped her to sidetrack her from.

“If you two are feeling up for it, I purpose Sulhadur, Amon, and myself scout the outskirts of the city to see if there have been any signs left behind by our culprits.”

Sulhadur gave an encouraging nod; smiling as he answered, “I would welcome the idea.”

“As would I.”

Lord Amon’s words were gruff. She wondered if he was feeling unsettled, or perhaps hadn’t had a drink in a while. Or maybe it was with only disuse; as he seemed rather quite as of late.

“Where does that leave us?” Penimra piped up, sullen.

Ravamora stepped closer to him, Aylin close at her heel as she chimed in: “We’ll make arrangements at the inn and make sure there’s a place to get something to eat before the long all-nighter.”

“You do not need three people to operate such a task,” Abernathy scoffed. “Only one-”

“After they finish, they can start interviewing more of the townspeople for further reports,” Essätha hummed, reaching out to place a hand upon the larger man’s arm. “I’ll work the west side and move in, and they can start on the north quadrant where the town’s inn is.”

“Besides,” she snickered. “We wouldn’t want to break up the elf brigade; and it might be the only way we get Penimra to do anything today.”

The high-elf glared through the eye-sockets of his avian mask as he grumbled, “Horrid woman; you act as if I do nothing to support this group.”

“Penimra,” Abe warned, casting a shadowed look of irritation to the shorter man. He folded beneath the intimidating fatherly disapproval, much to Essie’s amusement. Or maybe he was less intimidated, and more infatuated with the formidable appearance of Sir Abernathy’s stocky build.

“Just don’t let Pen scare away any potential witnesses,” Adela murmured. Although the statement was clearly meant to be an afterthought, it caused a few of them to chuckle as the elf-man scowled deeper and folded his arms over his pudgy chest.

As the hush of giggles began to diminish, Essätha settled the squirming fruit loop serpent hanging around her neck back into her magically embellished bag (even as she tried to wriggle free, the sneaky noodle), and readjusted her carrying pack over her shoulder. The rest of of her goods remained in a larger backpack, left upon the cart for one of the gentleman to carry after she’d thumbed through any precautionary items to put into the pouches of her sack.

Abernathy’s hand patted upon her shoulder as she adjusted the position of the strap across her chest; his eyes brimming with pride. He said nothing, but no words were really needed with such an honest gaze.

“We meet back at the inn by three,” he advised to the group as a whole. “Plenty of time to have a meal before taking strategic posts in groups of four and five around the most prominent areas of trouble.”

A muttered agreement moved through the ranks like a grumbling storm. They began to splinter into groups; hoping to dissect the town of its woes as quickly as possible.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Amon’s boots scuffed heavily into the dirt as they moved. One hand he held to the hilt of his sword; the steel cool beneath the texture of his worn gloves. He would drop it as Abe caught him with a suspecting look. So he might be a bit reluctant and jumpy; but some of the townspeople seemed a bit ill at ease to see a man wandering around with a hand to his weapon, ready to brawl at a moment’s notice.

It seemed most of those they passed were skittish. They jumped at the slightest noise and shadow; their eyes wide and frightened as if they’d seen a ghost. They would offer a forewarning to their presence; a greeting, a kind word to let them know they were there to help. Most, Amon noted, seemed not to be eased by these statements but would hurry inside and close their doors behind them to lock it tight and shutter their windows.

“I guess whatever’s spooking them has done a number on their trust,” Sulhadur remarked gloomily.

“Or perhaps they’re wary of travelers this far out of the main city’s,” Abe thoughtfully added. “Bad prior experiences, perhaps?”

“The chairman said they hadn’t had any help from anyone outside the town yet in dealing with the mysterious problem,” Amon reminded them both quietly.

“Just frightened then,” Abe remarked. “Maybe it is humanoid in appearance then that skulks these grounds?”

They grew silent once more at the question. The mayor had so little to go on; hallucinations, night terrors, and disturbing dreams and encounters. Loved ones not acting quite rationally or the same, and then up and disappearing. Nothing to say what may be coming or going; if it was indeed some creature haunting the village or something else entirely.

Passing by the homesteads, they encountered more frightened people who fled upon their presence. Men and women alike; some husky and powerful in build and others thin and petite. It mattered it seemed not their size, their stature in the town, or what concealment of weapons they had on their person; they ran. A muttered few words from the braver for a short moment, or a stutter from another, and they were quick to seek shelter within their homes as if they would be their salvation from whatever plagued the area.

Amon watched, disheartened to see the lack of life. No children in their yards or running down the streets. No mother’s and father’s hanging clothes, tending to livestock for more than what was necessary, or chatty gossip between windows. There were smokestacks from some of the houses as meals were prepared; the only sign of life from some at all.

As they passed another quiet-looking home, they spotted a timid, trembling woman trying to uproot herbs and bounty from a garden overflowing into the brush.

“Good afternoon, miss!” Abe bellowed cheerfully, his smile wide.

She startled at his voice. Her head whipped towards them; flat black hair and pale skin. She looked heavily tired, with darkness beneath her eyes even as they opened wide with surprise so her droopy eyelids were pinned up. Her tongue swept nervously to her lips, and she pulled her wicker basket filled with produce close as she flipped wrappings protectively over them.

“Good Afternoon,” the maiden drifted with unease. Her dark eyes moved between them all, before settling on Amon.

She had almost Essätha’s hair color, he realized. But her skin was far too light; and her eyes much too dark. But she dragged her teeth against her lip, and the gesture seemed strangely erotic rather than nervous energy.

“Seen anything unusual around here lately, miss?” Abe inquired gently, looking around the house.

“Only yourselves,” she replied quietly.

Abernathy coughed with uneasy laughter.

“We’re not from around here,” Sul clarified.

“Yes, I can see that…”

“Well if you see anything miss, we’ll be in town,” Abe offered.

She bobbed her head slowly, like she was unsure if she should. Her eyes, all the while, continued to move between them all as she placed a death-grip upon the woven handle of her basket with a white-knuckled grip.

Clearing his throat, Amon softly spoke: “Thank you for your time, miss. If you recall anything at all: seeing anything, feeling anything, hearing anything, smelling or thinking differently, we’ll be in the town’s inn. We would gladly be of service should you require it.”

“I m-might remember something I heard; a little less than a fortnight ago, from outside my window,” the woman stated, her gaze darting between them all as she licked her lips.

Abe lit up, puffing out his chest as gushed, “That would be-”

The woman cringed; stepping further back as she whispered, “I- I would rather speak privately of it.” She swallowed, her eyes falling at last on Amon as she murmured, “P-Preferably to someone… trustworthy and less prone to violence.”

An uncomfortable weighted silence dropped upon them like a guillotine blade. Amon’s eyes grew wider by fractions as the young lady’s words sank into him, and he looked over the mask covering the pair’s face. Each expressionless. Friends he knew and trusted who would never do any harm unless it was absolutely necessary to apply force.

“Miss, I guarantee you would find no safer-”

“That’s alright, Amon,” Abe cut in; his voice cool and eerily chipper. “Why don’t you have a word with the lady? Sul and I will forge on ahead. We’ll round back here if you don’t rejoin us by the time we finish scouting out the next one-thousand paces.”

Sul made a noise; smoke curling from his nostrils as he teased, “Are we really going to count our steps?”

Placing a hand against the crimson dragon’s shoulder, Abernathy nodded to his comrade before turning to do the same to Amon. He watched, his eyebrows knitted together as the duo moved to continue along the edges of the town before glancing back at the shivering woman.

Her pink tongue moved across her lip slowly. It once again appeared more like a lewd suggestion than a nervous tendency. Not quick and jerky, but slow and methodical.

She wasn’t terrible to look at. Her skin was smooth and appeared well-cared for; flawless in complexion. Just the right amount of temptation with a low cut in her shirt and voluminous thighs. As she turned to pick up another basket Amon hadn’t seen behind her almost overflowing with goods, he noticed the careful lacing on the back of her shirt and the shape of her rear before darting his eyes away respectfully.

What was more worrisome; the fact the lady was interested in him, and trying to flirt with him rather than provide actual aid to their mission, or the fact he felt… nothing.

He wanted to want something. But everything from the shape of her eyes to the color of her lips and the angle of her curves, he continued to compare it to someone else in his mind.

And it was that image of a smiling, warm complexion and the golden-brown of shining eyes that was coiling and semblance of desire in his thoughts.

Turning around; both cradles in her arms, the lady presented a shy curtsy as she ushered, “Alice.”

Her fingers were thinner than Essätha’s. Less muscle build in her fingers, maybe? She might not need to wiggle them with precision for spellcasting.

“Lord Amon of Briarton; and of the Emerald Expanse,” he offered, dipping his head forward.

“Ohhh a Lord?” she exhaled, placing a hand over her mouth. “My I- I would think it surprising a Lord would depart his territory for an expedition. What brings you all the way out here, to our little town?”

He laid the bait perfectly to impress her but…

Her reaction meant nothing to him. It felt like so many he’d heard. Expected. The same curiosity; the same wonder for how many coins were to his name. The later was admittedly cruel to assume; knowing little of her as he did any other, but the way she perked up at the title seemed draw a suspicious air around her interest. But maybe she was being honest in her surprised statement; though he doubted it.

“Offering my help, along with my associates,” he admittedly flatly. His voice didn’t lessen in the deadpan confliction as he went on, “If there was anything you had that could help us to figure out what might be prowling on the town, that would be appreciated. If not, I would like to meet up with my companions, before they’re forced to round back looking for me.”

“My most sincere apologies, Lord Amon,” Alice faltered quietly. “I did not mean to pry unwanted. I will tell you what I know; about the strange voices in the night.”

Nothing they hadn’t heard about before; but not everyone remembered what the voices said. Those that did seemed to all recall very different stories, too. Maybe another would help to unravel the pattern.

“Alright,” Amon remarked, straightening his posture.

“I would feel more comfortable, inside my home.”

“Lead the way, miss.”

“Oh, would you mind carrying one of these for me?” she ushered, offering out one of her wicker baskets with a flirtatious flutter of her eyes. Only a fool would mistake the gesture for anything else. A large, pouty lip and whispered damsel’s cry for help.

Ignoring the implication of her voice entirely, Amon carefully accepted the offered hamper to hold at the crook of his elbow. He cleared his throat, turning to look at the house as he stated firmly: “Now then, which way to… to…”

Slowly blinking, he shuffled his boots into the dirt to turn. His eyelids suddenly felt tremendously heavy, and a drowsiness was settling over him like a fog.

The beautiful mistress had stepped back from him; and was continuing to do so as she hissed in a sharp tongue and gestured with her hand.

Amon cursed in a tired slur. He staggered towards the woman, his hand outreached.

But never made it quite to her, slumping to his knees and sagging into the ground with a heavy sigh. His limbs felt heavy and weak. The basket, and its contents, were mangled and scattered on the ground beside him.

“Oh, now look what you’ve done,” the lady crooned; her voice cracking. “You’ve gone and ruined my herbs.”

Grunting, his eyelids fighting to stay awake, he reached for her. Trembling fingers curled in the air, and fell to the dirt. His vision blurred and began to grow dark as he blinked his eyes closed, seeing the woman’s dark hair begin to growl gnarled before he fell into a slumber, snoring quietly.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Josephine stared at him with utter disgust in her eyes. Turning away, she placed a hand to both of her children’s shoulders to encourage them to do the same. Their faces were all displaying the same vision of revulsion and loathing as they followed their mothers lead.

“Josie, wait-”

“Do not speak my name,” she stated flatly; her voice cold as a blizzard as she looked over her shoulder upon him. “You are no brother to me. You are a coward, a liar, and a deceiver. You let our family mourn in sorrow over a lost man you killed. I never want to see or hear from you again.”

“Please,” Amon begged; his face warm with tears. “Josephine listen to me. I am your blood. I love you; I love your children, I would do anything for them-”

“Or anything to them, apparently,” she deflected, storming up the stone stairs. He groveled upon the bottom step; calling to her as she opened the doors to guide her children inside. The young Master of the house did not so much as glance back, but his sister did, and the young lady named after their mother looked at him with a heart-clenching amount of fear.

What he would give, to take it back. He didn’t mean to let Fontane die down there. It was a mistake that haunted him endlessly. Now he got to see the affects that it lead to; the terror in the eyes of a young girl who had trusted him and adored him. Once so eager to throw herself in his arms, smiling and laughing and squealing ‘uncle’ with great pride.

Josephine cast him a long stare. Her mouth twisted into a vile look of disdain, and she gripped the door handle in a white-knuckle grip as she flung it closed.

“Josephine please-”

Nothing but silence greeted him.

Jealous man, a voice whispered from a distance. He held a grudge to young Master Fontane. The moment he became the new heir to the Illiad estate, he had plotted to kill him.

“I did not such thing!” He wailed in desperation, throwing his gaze around to see the townspeople standing at the gates, marching in towards him.

“Please believe me, I never intended for this to happen! I only wanted him to stop tormenting me, please-”

“Liar.”

“Fraud.”

“Murderer.”

“Bastard.”

“Monster.”

“Savage brute.”

A recognizable face stepped forward before all others. Their eyes were almost glowing. No, they were glowing. Fierce and white, blazing like a hot summer day’s sun with a glowering look of anger and disappointment.

“I had thought better of you, Amon,” Abernathy stated solemnly. “But your true colors were there all along, and I thought to see better of you.”

He fell back upon his rear, gasping with shock. His arms outstretched; hoping to defend himself as the man raised a massive axe.

Shackles, instead, slapped upon his wrist.

Darkness began to swallow his vision. The nobleman gasped with fright, pulling his cuffed hands in close to his chest. His head bowed and he sobbed; shaking uncontrollably from head to toe.

“Kill him?” Etheron’s Queen purred; her voice pure and clear to stand out against the hisses and snarls. “No. We’re not killing him. Strip him of his name, his title. Briarton will be given a new leader. I never want to hear another Illiad speak on behalf of the people of the Emerald Expanse. Let them rot and fall to history.”

“And toss him to the dungeon,” she stated; voice curling. “Let him rot down there with all the rest of his kind.”

The ground suddenly buckled beneath him. A cry let his lips, and he was freefalling weightlessly into a void of black. As he doubled over and spun, there was no hope of control or breaking his fall. His hands were still bound in chains.

Suddenly, the darkness was pierced by light.

Fire.

Fontane’s maniacal laughter rang in his ears; sinister and cruel. The shadowed outline of his body moved in the flames as he fell further into inferno without burning. But his lungs, they did ache. He howled; his voice breaking and rasping until it failed as the laughter mingled with another, deeper laughter. Hearty but wicked; filled with dark glee.

A hauntingly familiar fatherly voice boomed through the flames: “You are no son of mine.”

He struck the ground. Glass shattering to splinter into his very bones as he tried to utter a cry of pain that wouldn’t leave his throat. His eyes were black and dripping with tears as he looked up to see the youthful face of his lost mother. Her expression one of grim, pained suffering.

“Amon, my son… How could you do this?”

“Was it always about the power with you, boy?” A grating voice sneered. “Is that all you ever wanted?”

He wanted none of it. They just wouldn’t listen. No one understood. Being the Lord of the Emerald Expanse was not an honor; it was a burden. The title came with knowing what he had done. Every day he looked into the mirror, knowing Fontane should be sitting at the vanity in his bedchambers and going over the town’s ledgers after shaving his face. Every day he knew what he had done; knew that this was not what his father had destined for him after all and that it was only because of his fear and hurt and anger that Fontane had ended up decaying in the basement cellar, lost to time.

So many voices buried themselves in his ears. A thousand tones; many he did not recognize any longer but so many he still did. It mattered not that he bowed his head with shame, and admitted defeat. He had failed their expectations; he had ruined their lives, his family’s name. A lifetime of servitude to his people did not hide the nature of what he had done, and it was unforgivable.

“Lord Amon,” a soft voice called. “What gives you the right to carry such a title?”

He raised his head, baffled. The world moved beneath him, as though on a rocking ship. Her image swayed, with a most peculiar look of nausea in her expression.

This was not the face he knew. It was not the smile he sought and desired.

Faces began to materialize and morph behind her. Their arms crossed, their heads shaking. Family and friends; colleagues and acquaintances. People he’d worked with for generations were looking upon him and his crimes and his life with a scrutinizing eye; picking him apart like vultures.

“Essätha-”

“I’m sssorry I ever met you,” she hissed.

This… This wasn’t real. Josephine hadn’t, she wouldn’t throw him to the streets. Even betrayed in her feelings and hurting in the depths of her heart, she hadn’t the power to do it. They’d grown together; watched their mother pass, watched their father do the same. They’d had each other no matter how difficult things became. She supported him even when she found it hard to do so in his decisions, and tried to understand his solitary life despite the fact he clawed with want for something unobtainable in his eyes.

Abernathy was not a grudge-holding fiend. He was understanding, and patient. He treated all; big and small, old or young, with delicacy and the gentleness. There was a fatherly nurturing to his tactics to all of them. He cared too deeply for all of them even when not all of them were shaped like perfect puzzles but were missing pieces and stained.

And his mother, no matter the idea he was young to watch her go, was a kind and thoughtful soul. She had dotted after her children with such consideration for their well-beings, and reprimanded their father’s harsher teaching methods when she felt he was wounding their pride and feelings. She had been a gentlewoman, and if anything, Josephine was a branch of their mother’s good heart.

Now this. Her with such a warm heart; such a sweet, soft, compassionate soul of mercy and humanity. Patron of second-chances and generosity. Gentle as a bubbling river or the cooling breeze on a hot day, she was tenderness and understanding even when the world only looked in black and white. She tried so hard; never giving up, never giving in. She reached out to the wounded and the lost, the broken and the hurting even when they fought against her help to try pulling them back from the darkness.

He’d seen what she was capable of. He’d seen criminals snap beneath her scolding, and fall prey to her sugar-spun words. They were guilty of charges and ideals that had made them do horrible, terrible acts and yet she offered them comfort. It did not stop them all from justice; placed in jail cells for their crimes but even then sometimes he could see the unburdening of the broken before his very eyes just being around her.

“You have stopped fighting?”

The voice was irritated; reverberating in his head as the terrors of loved ones and fiends left his sights.

Before he could question or answer the inquiry, his field of vision shifted once more. The sultry looking woman from before stood before him, dressed in provocative and revealing clothing. Her hands caressed down her sides as she stepped closer, moaning like a wanton harlot.

As she reached for him, Amon slapped her hand aside. He scrambled backwards; appalled as he awkwardly rose to his feet.

“Is this not what you desire?” the woman taunted; her voice ragged and nasty. “Is it the hair color? The breasts? I can change it. I can change everything about myself, to fit what you desire.”

“You’re a succubus?” Amon stated, fumbling backwards as the woman’s eyes turned a startling green right in front of him. Her hair, too, began to turn shades; becoming a mid-range brown as her shape began to morph and twist before him. Not unnerving, but unsettling to see such rapid growth and sloping changes in curves of a feminine form.

“No,” the woman stated flatly; infuriated. “But that doesn’t make me any less your end.”

“What have you done to me? Why am I here? What is here?” he demanded, pawing beneath his cloak and against his person. There was no sign of weapons on his person.

“Not the right look, I suppose,” the bewitching woman hummed. Her face began to slim; cheeks rounding up as her hips swayed. Her skin grew warmer; darker in hue as the sun settled into her eyes and they grew to the color of falling leaves. Curls of ebony descended to frame and outline her perfectly sculpted face, and she placed a dainty little hand to her full lips.

“Is this one any better, Lord Amon?”

“You desecrate the beauty of a woman you can not even hope to copy,” he snarled; clenching his trembling fists at his sides.

Essätha’s voice spilled out of the strange anomaly as it replied: “I dare say I have made an exact replica. Memories do not lie, Lord Amon. Unless, perhaps, you have not seen… all of her. Which would be a hopeful fantasy that could be quickly reprimanded.”

As she stepped nearer, he exhaled with fury. The tone might be right, but it was not used in the same infliction's. He furrowed his brow as he stepped further away, vaguely aware of the atmosphere changing around him in a constant flip-book pattern of places he’d seen and been.

A hand moved to caress his cheek, and he slapped it away.

“Amon-”

“You are not Essie,” he snarled; snatching upon the false-image’s throat with more anger then intended. His gloved fingers curled into skin, and with a horrifying realization, he began to see the image of the woman he admired so deeply crumble beneath the visage of a weathered and wretched old wrinkly woman.

“Release me at once!”

He raised his hand, finding a sword had manifested within his grip as he raised it. The blade rested perfectly in his grasp, and the sharp end glinted as he held it close to the vile witch’s throat.

“Where are we, and what are you doing to me?”

“Let go of me,” the woman wheezed, struggling. Her hands, shaped with lethal looking fingernails, grasped upon his forearm but the blade pressed into her throat. Blood beaded up from the knick it caused, and she tensed despite her claws piercing through his garments into his skin.

“Answer the question, witch.”

“I know what you want most in the world,” the woman gagged, desperate. “I can offer it to you. The love of the young woman you wish so fondly for. A pinch of magic. A lovespell you could say, and she will want you and nothing else. Adore you; infatuated forever with you… despite the corrupt man that you are.”

His eyes narrowed. Flaring his nostrils as he breathed deeply and heavily, he aggressively shook the woman. It was like rattling a flesh-covered skeleton. She rattled and teeth chattered; squealed with pain as her talons ripped into his sore flesh.

“I would never-”

“She doesn’t want you,” the enchantress cackled; twisting her nails into him until he grunted with pain. “You will never have a better chance. She pities you; poor, broken, lonely man. All alone in the world. She takes care of everyone, even you. That does not make you special. But I can make you something more in her eyes.”

“I can make you her every dream and fantasy. I know you long for her. I can see it in your thoughts. You dream about her. Picturing her eyes, lost in her smile. It would be easy to play her mind-”

“I do not want her, an enslaved puppet to feelings she does not have!” Amon snarled. “Love that is not real is never yours. A stolen heart is a lie, and bleeds for all the wrong reasons.”

Deep, in the most hurt parts of himself, he tried to ignore the inflicted wounds of the sorceress’ words. A poor, broken, lonely man he was. Not so lonely anymore. Not as lonely. But he ached, even still. The tendrils of a lifetime of doubt and shame were not so easily erased.

And it felt like no matter how much he battled and fought himself, he could never open his mouth to say the words. It was all true: Essätha was a sun-kissed will of charity and selflessness. Her attention upon him was not unusual. She picked up anyone she thought she could help. He was not exceptional; in fact it was easy to argue they’d met up with some more interesting people along the way. Glorious stories, handsome and pretty faces, courageous and strong. Famous and infamous; various lifestyles and quirky habits.

The quiet attempts he made to chivalrous romance were politely brushed aside, or met with embarrassed teasing.

But he would rather take a single ‘no’, and honest friendship, then twist the mind of the woman he felt so fondly for into a zombie of untrue affections.

“M’lord Amon-”

That voice-

With a fierce cry, the beastly lady slashed at his face with her talons.

Amon flung his arm forward; decapitating the woman in a single swoop just before her nails could catch upon his flesh.

Everything exploded around him, and suddenly, he was falling again, with no hope and no safety net in sight.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“There are only two hags here, where is the third?!”

“How do you know hags travel in groups of three, Abernathy?”

“I just know these things Aylin!”

Despite the pounding headache from the yelling, the vicious mockery, and countered acidic splash of her magic that burned her hand, Essie ran past the corpse of the foul looking old woman (who appeared much like the dead before actually being dead). The second hag was still too busy trying to defend herself from the onslaught of magic missiles Adela sent in a frenzied torrent her way as she passed; dropping down on her kneecaps with a wince to the still form of Amon.

Sweat peppered his limp frame. His face appeared ashen pale, with heavy lines beneath his eyes. There was little color to his lips, and his eyes darted beneath his eyelids in rapid little movements.

Fear. Fear settled in her heart, despite seeing the clear indication he was breathing. It was not the sound of normal breathing however; it was fast and quick. Chasing each one as though it was going to be his last. Short and sputtering one after another.

Raggedly trying to catch her breath, Essätha reached out to him with trembling fingers.

“M’lord Amon-”

She had yet to sweep the sweaty hair from his forehead when a dark shroud materialized a few feet away from her. From the inky black shadow, another old woman appeared, with her features as animated-dead like as the other two appeared. Long, thin hair, a frail looking body, and nasty clawed hands.

Her body whipped towards Amon, and in turn Essätha, with rage.

An incantation formed on the woman’s lips. Familiar words, but spoken in a cryptic harsh tongue of Abyssal.

Without thinking twice of it, she threw herself over Amon.

Magic missiles pelted upon her back. The spears of witchcraft caused a sharp ache where they struck; colliding with her spine and bringing a sharp ache into her backside.

In a flurry of crashing boots, and a unified howl of wrath, she turned around with a flick of her wrist to summon her Hound of Ill Omen just as the others began to clobber upon the unexpected woman from another dimension.

Beneath her, Amon began to stir with an agonized groan.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

His eyelids lifted, barely. A ringing in his ears. A taste of blood on his tongue. There seemed to be an all-over throb carrying with the pounding of his pulse, that began in his head and radiated everywhere else. The world smelled of sourness in a way that churned his stomach into knots. Everything was filtered lighting and shapes.

“Oh m’lord, your skin is so cold.”

Cold like death, he thought numbly. He sure felt like death, punting an enchantress out of his mind and waking to a body that felt… out of place from reality.

He tried to catch sight of the one with the melody voice that wakened him. His vision doubled and refracted; trying to collect itself into a singularity.

Arms wrapped around him. Enticing. Warm breath to his neck, and curves melding against him as he shivered while a waking awareness dawned upon him.

Essätha.

She smelled of magic; burning and harsh. But there was something else upon her skin. He couldn’t place his thumb on what it was, but he recognized the floral aroma. Something he’d planted once, but by Pelor’s name he couldn’t recall what it had been called. The plant had lasted some seasons, and had a delightful scent.

To hell with the name. It was the Essätha flower now. Smelling of home and nested in warmth. He breathed the perfume in against her throat; mostly limp in her arms. What strength he found, he wrapped an arm around her to sink his fingers into the back of her cape and hold himself to her. His eyes closed; soaking in the sun that exuded from her that felt so delightful… even if the area was loud with snarling voices and the sickening wails of a dying woman.

His fingers discovered a tear in her cloak, and the delicate frame fused against him hissed with pain.

“Es’-”

“Shhh it’s fine,” she whispered, raking her fingers through his hair. “Magic Resistance, remember? Just a little sting.”

Amon tried to move, but found his strength oddly zapped. Stuck between utter bliss, and frustrated immobility, he drank in the smell of sweat, battle, and perfumed fragrance of her skin. Nearly a grateful groan on his lips as she frisked him; rapidly running her hands all over him to warm him.

But it was more then warming. He burned, even cold. It was like searing her skin, her body heat, her softness right into him. More intoxicating than the scent drifting off of her, or the very star they called their sun.

“Essätha?”

“I’ve got him; he seems a bit out of it, and chilled to the bone!”

He gritted his teeth at the loud voices, snuffling his face into the crook of her shoulder. Breathing her in; hearing the stuttered way she dragged in air like a sound of shock.

Too tired and achy to care, Amon remained lax in her arms. It would be nice, to look upon her face and those eyes crowned with heavy lashes but his head throbbed. A bit of rest first, though. A bit of rest and he’d address their questions, and fill in the blanks, and find out how they’d found him…

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Essie looked back over her shoulder. She cradled Amon closer to her chest at first, before her shoulders would relax as she witnessed Sul sliding his blade into its sheath and Abe, only feet behind, sliding his still gore-covered axe against his hip.

“He’s unconscious again,” she murmured, running her fingers against the back of his head. “I think he’s just sleeping, though.”

“Good. Or, maybe good,” Abe gruffed, kneeling down. “Sul and I can carry him from here, Essie.”

“Make sure you support his head,” she fretted, holding him closer. “And he’s cold, so maybe-”

Her voice stalled, falling short at the weird, knowing look in the older gentleman’s eyes.

“We got him, Essätha, you did your part,” the orcish-elf repeated, patting her shoulder.

Frowning, she relented the lax frame into Abernathy’s arms. He murmured softly to Sulhadur as he kneeled beside him, dragged off his bear-skin cloak to wrap around the pale nobleman.

Her heart danced with unease in her chest If they’d just been a little later…

She couldn’t lose him.

Exhaling nervously, Essie wrapped her arms around herself with a deep shiver. She didn’t even want to think about it. She refused to think about it. The green hags and the night hag were dead now, and Amon was safe. The town was safe. Nothing else mattered now but making sure he was going to be okay.

As Abernathy hefted himself to his feet; holding Amon like a babe in his arms to support his head and neck, Essätha scrambled to her feet to hover at his side.

She told herself it was just to be there to correct him, should his grasp slip up. To make sure Amon was comfortable, and no further injuries were bestowed upon him in a tussled ride. Nothing to do with her overwhelming worry for him, that clawed at the back of her throat and stung at her eyes. Nothing to do with the fact that she needed to be there when he opened his eyes again, and make sure he was alright.

Nothing to do with her alarmed heart at all, that felt nearly ready to escape her chest if doing so would see to Lord Amon being okay.

#eci artz #Essie rw #amon illiad #essamon ship #finally!! a long piece!! i missed writing some... delicious essamon... sappy.. bs....

[lil-purplebird]

Handle with Care - Chapter Twelve

Fandom: Pokémon

Rating: NC-17

Genre: Romance/Drama

Words: 22,220

Pairing: Mewtwo/Mew

Summary: Having been loving mates for five years, Mew desires for a baby, even though Mewtwo feels the opposite, believing he cannot have offspring. As strong as their bond is, receiving nothing but bad news and unfortunate events slowly tears them apart and pushes their relationship to the edge. A fragile heart can break in any hand that handles it for too long. It can be put back together as many times as possible, but it’ll never be the same.

Note: while the fan fic is still on-going, uploading the chapters are going to be sporadic at best. The chapters may be uploaded daily, weekly, or whenever I get banners finished.

Can also be read here.

Time no longer mattered the more Mewtwo allowed himself to be consumed by his research. As a parallel of his nomadic days, he wandered in search of answers, a light at the end of the tunnel, anything that could be of help. He was plagued by dreams, perhaps nightmarish visions, of the Mew he once knew and loved taunting him with happy has-beens and what-ifs. And that was if she let him near her. In person was a whole different experience.

He had taken Dr. Mime's prescription to heart and made his first attempt to talk to her in weeks, but it wasn't the progress he had expected. She never once looked at him, nor showed she was listening, and her silently getting up to head outside could've caused him to snap had he not been so willing to try. At the very least, he knew she wasn't going to leave the house for long periods of time if she was intentionally avoiding him, though the cold rejection made him take pause from trying again.

But there was a question that had been bothering him for some time, shackles fastened to his heart that only Mew had the key for. It had caused sharp stings when it first came to mind, and the longer he pondered on it, the more it adapted to gentle squeezes to dull the pain. He couldn't bring himself to approach her about it, yet as he wandered out of his study to prepare a quick meal, the window of opportunity was open that very moment—literally, as she was seated on the windowsill. Back still turned to him, as usual, though her tail swayed slightly from the breeze.

He hadn't gotten a good look at her in quite some time, he realized. The distance between them had blurred some details on her he used to be wary of, and he was certain she wasn't so frail before. She was still eating so she wasn't losing too much weight, yet she just looked so loopy, so out of it. Perhaps she developed insomnia, or she found a way to hypnotize herself—a thought that made him ill to his stomach.

Shaking off the dark thoughts, Mewtwo stepped forward to be behind her. "Mew?"

Outside of her tail's uninterrupted swinging, she didn't make any movement from her spot at the window. It was hard to tell if she was even listening. He took a breath to coax himself into speaking his mind, consciously raising his voice to ensure she could hear him.

"Mew... when did you love me?"

She remained silent. His hands clenched, a reflexive tic he had been meaning to break.

"I am sorry for asking such a ridiculous question. I have just been bothered by it lately, and..." He trailed off, unsure how to continue. It had been such a long while since he last talked to her that he hoped his voice hadn't grown jittery. It couldn't be helped that his mind kept berating him for thinking of such stupid concerns because of course he knew the answer to that. If she didn't love him, she wouldn't have requested becoming his mate for—

"...I don't remember."

He felt his heart being ripped out of his chest, and the fragile hope he had desperately been clinging to slipped from his fingers. Despite being spoken in such a soft monotone, it echoed in his ears until it overtook his thoughts.

"What about you, Mewtwo?" He flinched, having not expected the inquiry, not when he was just barely comprehending it. "When did you claim to love me?"

Mewtwo fought to steady himself and cover his new weak point, but he was already losing it when his eyes drifted downward. "I... still have feelings for—"

"I don't care about what you feel now. I asked when."

She didn't even wait for him to give a response when she suddenly swerved around in her seat. The dull glint in her irises caused him to drop his stare again as a chill struck the raw hole his heart was dangling from. He wasn't focused on anything in particular, trying to pull his thoughts back together when she let out a harsh scoff.

"Not that it matters. It's typical of a male to have eyes only for the body."

His figure twitched at the accusation, wondering if it was actually just a coincidence Mew caught his gaze hovering on her lap for that split second. He didn't follow after her when she got up and strode by without another passing glance. The click of a door down the hallway snapped him out of his frozen state, and he cracked the sill with his fists upon crumpling to his knees.

*~*~*

A vine snagged the hammer mid-swing, allowing Mewtwo to blink down at the splintered wood he had been working absentmindedly with, feeling his co-workers' stares on the back of his head. It was unusually silent at the playground, though he hadn't been paying close attention to their chatting or bickering, if any. They had found the time to construct a long-overdue addition to the park as planned, though the clone had randomly decided to re-work the previous structures so he could have time to himself. That hadn't even been an hour ago.

His jaw locked up slightly, knowing Vic's words before he voiced them. "You should go home, Mewtwo."

The memory of Mew sneering at him still hadn't faded from mind, her words continuing to eat away at him. Shaking his head, he stated, "No, this is my top priority right now." He jerked his arm to free it, but the Flycatcher Pokémon tightened his grip on the tool.

"We have it under control," he said, eyes narrowed in concern. "You've been working yourself to exhaustion one-too many times, and frankly, we can't stand by any longer. Go home to the mate."

"I have nothing to return home to." He managed to yank the hammer free, but he instead gathered up the broken wood as he rose to his feet.

Mewtwo couldn't tell anymore if he was lying to himself to excuse why he was pushing himself to work longer hours. Even with his testy attitude, he was still making the attempt to converse with Mew in spite of her rebuff from that moment. Yet, there had still been no progress, no sign she was waking up, and his pessimism was catching up to him.

Swampert snatched the wood to stop the clone as he was passing by, sternly meeting his glower. "Just so you know, I respect you, 'Two," he said, voice low. "Even when one of us—or at least me—irritated you, you've done so much for us and never expected anything in return. So I think it's about time for us to rectify that." He eased the bundle and hammer out of his hold, looking tense as if expecting to be lashed out at. Mewtwo felt a painful twist in his gut for even thinking it. "I can only imagine the pain you two are going through, but this is nothing to work yourself to death over. Leave this to us."

So much for working his woes away; he must really be a wreck if he could be talked into going home. Though even with such bitter thoughts, Mewtwo had no energy to spare to be dismissive toward his peers for looking out for him. His expression fell slightly as he turned to catch their silent nods.

"I should at least stay on the sidelines—" he started only to be interrupted with gruff throat clearing.

"We've already made up our minds," Wiles spoke up, puffing out his chest. "If it'll make you feel better, we're not going to rush this, but we'll finish with or without you."

"Fingers crossed, boys!" Rugby crowed, then eyed his paw as it flexed.

When Swampert patted his back, the feline closed his eyes in defeat, feeling a small smile grace his mouth. "I will hold you to your words," he yielded. "But I will not hesitate to return should you call for it."

In agreement, they let him go without another word. He dusted himself off as he was passing the construction barricades, glancing over his shoulder when he heard someone jogging up to his side. Goddard didn't slow from the eye-contact, which he had to tilt his makeshift hat to do so.

"I'll walk you home," he offered.

"No need—"

"I insist."

Mewtwo didn't have the energy to argue, so after the water fowl gave a webbed thumbs up to the others, he allowed him to follow. He half-expected for it to be in silence to give his thoughts a break, but almost as soon as the park was out of sight, Goddard took the opportunity to speak.

"Sir—I mean, Mewtwo. Sorry if this comes off as insensitive, but..." He quickly trailed off, a frown on his beak. "No, I shouldn't. It was stupid to even think about..."

Not wanting there to be awkwardness between them, the clone gave in. "Ask away."

He nervously scratched at his chin, the gem on his forehead shimmering as his head canted. "Nngh... before... before things turned out for the worse, erm... Well, I mean, were you excited? Or proud about it? The egg, that is."

Mewtwo had figured he was going to ask about the egg during his stuttering, clearly trying to approach it carefully. He couldn't blame him for his hesitance with such a raw subject. "...There was a time, yes," he responded, his tone soft-spoken. The memory of him smiling down at the egg in his hand had faded into the background as time passed, so although he couldn't recall that fleeting feeling, his behavior showed in his mannerisms and stance.

Goddard seemed to relax some. "So... it's normal to be worried about an egg, then?"

"I would assume so, given how fragile they are."

"Yeah, this was stupid of me to ask," he muttered, slumping his shoulders with a sigh. His gaze strayed over to the treetops. "But it's just that I still remember how you looked with the egg, and I was kind of... expecting that to happen with me... Kind of like it did for the others, you know?"

So Mewtwo hadn't imagined it when the Azumarill walked away from their yard. "Congratulations."

Goddard got more flustered from the sudden praise. "W-Well uh, Aqua hasn't—she hasn't laid it yet. She's supposed to any time now, and uh... Thanks."

Nodding and looking up as the house came into view, the clone then swerved sharply off the path. His colleague let out a quack of confusion, but hurried up to his side. "Whoa, what was that for?"

He paused right beneath a tree and leaned his back on it, keeping his gaze down. "Let me know when Lil is finished."

"Oh, huh?" The Duck Pokémon peered over at the house. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Not at all. It... just has been a while, is all."

He didn't want to go into more detail, and luckily his companion caught on and turned back to the path to keep watch. Eyes glued to the splotches of light filtering through the trees' shadows, Mewtwo undid the tool belt to drape it over his forearm when it started chafing. Right then he noticed from the weight a few tools were missing, though he had no use for them at the moment. He trusted they would be returned to him later in the day.

"Oh, here she comes."

Pleased he didn't have to wait long, he stepped out into the sun when the Lilligant was in earshot, looking light on her feet in spite of the solemn visit. Their gazes crossed paths as he wordlessly nodded to her, expecting to pass by when she stopped with a graceful twirl. "What's troubling you, Mewtwo?" she asked softly.

"It is nothing to be concerned about," he answered, a little too hastily. He didn't wish to be rude to the Flowering Pokémon, though as relaxing as the atmosphere was around her, he was still a little petulant.

If she noticed, she didn't let it show on her petite face. "I dropped off some herbs for Mew," was what he scarcely heard, but it got him to pause and look back at her. "They're for aromatherapy, though I do recommend using the rosemary for tea. They should relax her."

Goddard sighed, hands rested on his hips. "More like you need them most, gotta be honest."

Despite the quick shrewd glance he sent his colleague, Mewtwo knew he couldn't argue with that. "Thank you for your help," he said. "Even though it may not seem like it, Mew is grateful you have been looking out for her."

Lil's leaf-like hands rested before her waistline. "I sadly don't have much to offer, but I just want you to know Tangrowth and I understand what you're going through, and are willing to listen if you ever want to talk."

He blinked in surprise. It was all on him for not making an effort to befriend Tangrowth, and therefore learn of it, but it was suddenly hard to take in. They were still newly-mates, coming up on their first year, and yet they hit this cruel roadblock. From what he could tell with Grass-types, fertility was hardly an issue between them—although as he came to expect, there were exceptions.

Not wanting to press for details, he carefully worded out his inquiry, "Is... it hard?"

She glanced down in thought, her sparkling scarlet eyes glazing over for a moment. "Sometimes. I know it's outside of my control, I just can't help feeling really bad about it because Tangrowth would like a few sprouts, but he still chose me despite it. So we had decided together very early on to instead put that mindset into raising strawberries. Though admittedly, we're growing a bit too much." She giggled, like that of tinkering bells as she blushed. "In fact, I'm actually inviting the whole community to come pick strawberries next harvest. I'm hoping you and Mew will join us, though you don't have to pick them if you don't want to, Mewtwo."

While he wouldn't express it out loud, he wished her optimism was contagious. "Thank you. I... hope we can come, too."

Lil put her hands together under her chin. "Oh, good. Tangrowth would like to talk to you more, but I guess he hasn't said anything since he's a bit shy. So I'll pass along to you that he and I had prayed day and night that your egg would hatch."

"You are too kind."

Her face lit up as her eyes smiled sweetly, then her flower crown twitched as she turned to their silent peer. "Oh, congratulations on the egg, Goddard."

He jolted. "Eh? How'd you know—did she lay it already?" A wheeze was squeezing its way out of his beak.

"No, I just knew."

Mewtwo politely cleared his throat to hide a chuckle. "Thank you for checking in on Mew," he said, body half-turned to resume walking. "And thank you for the generous offer."

"Not at all." Lil waved, swaying like she was in the breeze.

"And Goddard, I appreciate you accompanying me home," he added to his colleague. "Please return my tools when you are finished with them."

Steady on his feet again, the water fowl smiled. "Sure thing, 'Two—I mean, sir! Er, uh... yeah, sir."

He smiled in amusement, and made his way to the house. He didn't show it on his face that he could sense their worry swelling until he reached the bottom of the slope, keeping his back turned as his calm demeanor dropped. By then the pair had left, and Mewtwo felt the weight of solitude pushing down on his shoulders. Approaching the front yard, he paused to lean against a fence post for a quick breather.

Once he talked himself into entering his home, he nearly knocked over the basket of herbs that had been left on the floor. Hissing under his breath, he snatched it up as he stepped inside, barely glossing over Mew laying on the couch, back to him, until he noticed how unusually stiff she was. Her breaths also sounded irregular, like she was having trouble breathing or was trying to hold it in.

"Is there something wrong?"

"Eh?" she choked, her shoulders wincing. "U-Um... why should you care?"

That wasn't what he wanted to hear, but her response was good enough. "I just talked to Lil," he reported with a huff, hanging up his hat and tool belt. "It was considerate of her to bring you herbs, but it is rude to leave them in front of the door."

She made no other movement to look at him, though she was stabilizing her breathing. "You can have them," she murmured. "Why don't you grow your own garden?"

Mewtwo's knuckles cracked when he swiftly flexed his fingers, trying to keep his composure. Right as he was walking past to drop the basket off in the kitchen, he happened to take a second glance, noticing the tips of her ears were red. "Are you sick?"

Possibly because of his tone of voice, she twitched again, almost curling in on herself. "N-No..."

Her timid reaction concerned him, though he counted down in his head before speaking up again. "If you need assistance—"

"No, I do not!" she snapped, swiftly sitting up to leer over at him, her face flushed. Even with faded eyes, it was the most emotive she had been in weeks, but he wasn't fazed by the outburst.

He broke the gaze to leave the room when he did another double-take at the couch. "Mew, did you wet yourself?" he asked, watching as she tensed again. "Is that what happened?"

With pursed lips, she hurried into the kitchen before he could get another look at her face. "...I'll clean it up right now."

Mewtwo didn't immediately correct her that he knew from the scent it wasn't urine. They never brought attention to it, but it wasn't entirely abnormal for Mew to have what the humans called a "wet dream". Since they'd first mated, there were nights he'd get up for a drink or for the bathroom and find her face flushed and breathing slightly more rapid, then he'd connect the dots to her cleaning up in the morning. There had even been a few times he himself had such nocturnal emissions, but occurrences became scarcer over time (and he'd counteract such dreams by then being spontaneous with Mew). What he found a little disheartening in this case was the time and place; she had to have only been napping on the couch anytime between when he left and when Lil visited.

Scanning the cushions once more, something caught his eye that got him to lean in for a closer look. Pinching one of the clumps of rosy fur, he instantly gritted his teeth. Damn it, Mew... if you would just let me help you...

He stood back up just as she paused in the entryway to glower, a damp washcloth clenched in her grip. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she seethed, voice deathly quiet as her tail whipped at the base. "Why're you sticking your nose in it?"

The accusation rubbed him the wrong way, but he knew her thought process would have her take his words and spin them against him. Instead of talking back to her, he just swiped his finger across his muzzle as he walked into the kitchen to store the herbs away, intentionally keeping his back to her. There was no indication she got the gesture, no other sound came from her nor did she follow him, making him crack a sly smirk. But as he let the moment sink in, he got more and more upset with her and with himself.

It was shameful how easy it had become to turn their backs on each other when she wasn't fighting him off. He didn't like raising his voice to her in the slightest, and their arguments would just end up going nowhere, but at least it was some form of communication. At least she would acknowledge his presence instead of ignoring him, but he never could shake off Mime's statement about it.

If she was indeed thinking of him, why would she actively avoid him? He would understand if she was angry with him, but he sincerely wished to talk about it. And yet, she seemed... content with locking him out.

What is the point of us being mates if she refuses to reach out?

Mewtwo nearly dropped the herbs he was putting away when his body racked with shivers. It was a dreaded question that kept popping up now and then, but it had stayed in the recesses of his mind where it belonged. He didn't want to consider it so soon, not when he was certain there was a better solution to their problem. Casting her aside to let her fend for herself was something that could prove disastrous in her current, vulnerable condition. If not sooner, it would become apparent later.

Shaking his head clear, he stared down at what still needed to be sorted out until his eyes drifted to the cluster of lavender buds. Glancing down at where dust still clung to his fur, he let out a slow sigh through his nose. Perhaps his co-workers had a point in sending him home, and Lil was kind in sharing her remedies with them. There was more to Mew's condition than she was letting on, but any form of relaxant would help with rational thinking and soothing the body.

Filling up a tea bag with the buds, he finished storing the herbs away then carried it with him for the bath. Mew wasn't in the front room, and the bedroom door was still cracked open as he passed by, so she had to have left the house—odd that he didn't hear her, although he was that deep in thought to tune everything out. Closing the door with his tail, he took out the washcloths and a towel from their shelves and stepped up to the tub, checking it for residue before turning the knob all the way. Once hot water was coming through, he pulled the drawstrings and dropped the tea bag right by the drain, and then wet the washcloth to rub on the soap.

The clone spent the next few minutes scrubbing himself down, eyeing the light pouring in through the frosted glass. It felt silly of him to think about bathing close to the afternoon when he could still head back outside at any time, perhaps minutes after getting out. There wasn't even any guarantee Mew would want to take an early bath, let alone an herbal bath on her own accord. And with her being out at the moment, she may not return for a while without him tracking her down to drag her back. He snorted at the thought, mentally kicking himself for acting too hastily—or desperately, he felt in this case.

Mewtwo nearly reeled from the combination of heat and lavender scent as he shut off the tap. Either his sense of smell was too strong, he used too much of the buds, or a little bit of both. If it was already too much for him, Mew would be overwhelmed by it as well. Perhaps he could soak first to test it out before turning it over to her, but if the steam was going to fill up the room with the scent, that alone could have the same effect. And personally, he didn't want to come out heavily smelling like lavender, even though the house was going to be permeated with it throughout the day as is.

Just as he sat back down, he heard the door open, but only managed to catch a glimpse of pink before it was slammed shut. It should've been a small relief she hadn't been gone for long after all, yet his brows furrowed as he felt his morale start to sink. She was becoming more difficult to read as time passed. So she thought about an early bath after all, but wasn't she aware it was occupied if she didn't want to stay?

The thought bothered him. They hadn't bathed together in months, so he shouldn't have been so disappointed by her reaction. Did he honestly expect her to take in a good look, or for him to quip about the intrusion before she could turn away? What good would any of that have done?

As soon as he finished his rinsing, he pulled out her seat and checked the bathwater before exiting the room, rustling the towel over his torso. He paused when he unexpectedly spotted her sitting by the door, arms and tail curled around her knees. She didn't even glance up at him, though he quickly averted his gaze in the off-chance she were to yell at him for staring.

"I already prepared the bath for you," was all he told her before he strode for his study. Just as he was closing the door, he watched her slip inside, and he slowly took a breath.

*~*~*

Steam coated the water and left condensation on the tiles, carrying the faint scent of lavender through the room. The tap was still dripping while Mew peered dully down into the tub, eyes hovering on a tea bag sitting by the drain. She wasn't going to soak after washing, anyway, but that was a suspicious sight. Just what the hell was Mewtwo plotting in getting her to come out smelling nice? Was he trying to tell her something about her hygiene? What was his end goal here?

"How disgusting," she darkly muttered.

Plopping herself on her step stool, she soaped up the wet washcloth, but didn't stop even when the bar snapped under her fingers. The squishes were nothing but white noise, and the tinge of fir mixing with the lavender was more of an annoyance than sweet. Wringing the cloth tight, she ignored how the suds dribbled onto her thighs, then balled it up to rinse and repeat.

Mew blinked rapidly upon recognizing her drowsy state, letting the gnarled washcloth hang from her fingers as she stared at the floor. Focusing her vision, she could just make out her dark reflection, but it was mostly a blur. It was probably for the best; she didn't want to see what she looked like. Sitting back, she noticed something else moving before her. Squinting, she could just make out a familiar figure looking at himself as well—no, he had his eyes on her.

Glancing up, the feline wanted to tell Mewtwo off for coming into the bath, but she couldn't find the voice for it. It had been a long while since they last washed each other, she could at least give him that right to get it out of his system. Letting out a small huff, she whirled around in her seat and held out the washcloth over her shoulder. "Do your thing, and then get out."

Nothing happened, not even a breath sounded. Her jaw hardened as a vein throbbed in her temple, her fingers curling tighter against the cloth. The silence was maddening, making her squirm impatiently.

"Well?" she hissed. "What're you waiting for? It's getting muggy in here, and I want to get out, but I'm not leaving my back dirty." She hadn't even washed her front, but she wasn't going to give him that satisfaction, knowing him.

There was a shift in the air, and Mew let out an exasperated sigh—only he didn't take the cloth from her. She flinched as the tips of his fingers raked slowly up and down her back, almost in a massage. Her mouth opened to snap at him, but she straightened her spine in response. With no resistance, her arm dropped to grip the back of the stool as she raised her head, eyes falling shut. She felt her frustration melt into the blissful darkness, deeply breathing in the heat that enveloped her.

His hands put more pressure on her lower back as he bent down, firm lips feathering the nape of her neck. The feline sharply sucked in air through her teeth, brows knitting upon recognition. "That's not what I meant!" she groaned, though she couldn't will herself to shrug him off. Her head tipped back when the clone leaned in further to circle around, nose skimming the soft flesh beneath her chin. "Mewtwo, you jerk..." was her next breath, steadily losing her train of thought. "Oh, Mewtwo..."

Her diaphragm went taut beneath antsy fingers, tracing along grooves of her sternum and edges of her rib cage. He mouthed her jawline, suctioning his lips to a faint, but rapid pulse as her heart pounded harder. She couldn't bring herself to turn her head in his direction, though she was twisting in attempt to get him to move. She was vaguely aware the washcloth had fallen from her grip, but she was more focused on how slick his touches were becoming due to perspiration.

Purposefully or not, his hand slipped to her thigh where soapy water still lingered. With it smeared on his palm, he immediately glided over to cup her groin, an action Mew knew he planned, but still found herself floored by it nevertheless. Scarcely able to tell the difference between fluids, she lifted her hips with a mewl through parted lips.

"N-Not fair—ooh!"

Slipping off the stool, Mew used it as a headrest as he quickened his pace, about to rub her raw. As she kicked out a foot, her toes bumped against an object, which she hazily noticed peeking over was phallic in shape. Scarcely moving from her spot, she dragged it over and squeezed it between her legs, gasping at how it pushed against her entrance when Mewtwo withdrew from her. She twisted it around using her thighs, marveled by the way it slid along the folds and put the perfect pressure on her clitoris.

"Please," she whimpered. "Take me, Mewtwo..."

He didn't take heed, his way of teasing her. A little frustrated at his lack of a response, Mew lifted herself and held his penis in place as she lowered herself onto the tip—only to struggle getting it to penetrate.

"Nngh... why can't you get in?" She bit back a yelp from an angled push, blinking down at the oblong shape. "O-Oh... when did you get so round? And so thick...?"

Abandoning the attempt at penetration, Mew hugged the base of the shaft and leaned in for a lick, moaning at its slick surface. Mewtwo never tasted that good, she recalled, but waived it off the harder she kissed it. As her mouth closed over the head, her tongue brushed against odd bumps she knew weren't there before, though it was driving her wild. How had she not noticed it before?

For a moment when she squeezed him, Mew wondered if he climaxed, but it was a sharper pressure that caused her to choke. Shoving him away, she was accosted with water and swallowed more stray droplets wrong, bending forward to cough her lungs out.

She flinched when the door opened a little too hastily, and she blearily stared wide-eyed at Mewtwo as he looked her over. "Are you alright?" he asked, sounding a little strained.

Something deep down inside her flipped from his concern, a prickling reminder of how he was checking up on her. It was quickly overridden with irritation at his interruption. "I'm fine," she snapped, still a little breathless. "How long have you been out there?"

"I was in the study when I heard you coughing."

Her ears flattened, not liking that he had an immediate answer. "That's a lie. You just want an excuse to come in here to peep on me."

The clone's brows twitched. "Why would I do that?"

Mew didn't know the answer to that, but she still didn't need a reason for why he had to barge in. She crossed her arms across her chest, twisting her back to him. "You've got a good look at me. Now get out!"

Mouth set in a thin line, Mewtwo roughly shut the door when he left. She waited until she was certain he wasn't listening in before grabbing the shower nozzle to turn it off. Refusing to get in the tub, she remained curled up where she sat, growing numb from her damp fur.

*~*~*

The lavender buds gone to waste, Mewtwo had to reconsider using the herbs as they were, but he held off on making any tea or more herbal baths with them. At first, he had to pick which stalks he could hide near where Mew would sit, knowing she'd throw them out if she found them. When that wasn't working, he extracted oil from a few when she was out that he decided to squirt near the furniture, by the windowsill, in the corner, wherever he felt she could still catch a whiff. But then she was moving around, and staying outside longer—which would've been a good thing for her to get sunlight and air if he wasn't trying to talk to her.

He sought to approach her about why she was regularly avoiding him and to figure out what it was about the attempts at aromatherapy that bothered her, but as always, she was dodging the questions or making accusations. He hated having his words twisted around and being condemned for showing concern for her personal welfare. It frustrated him that Mime had to tell him to "keep it up" when he gave the first progress report, because the doctor chose to hone in that she had "newfound" energy in leaving the house. She wouldn't let him accompany her, which was the desired effect in mending their relationship, but having any interaction with the outside world was seen as positive, even if he felt otherwise.

Every other night, the clone continued to do his research, including going back through the texts he had previously read to see if he had overlooked anything. Looking more into depression was a good start, though he felt it went deeper than moods. It had to have manifested sometime in her past, perhaps a previous trauma she had repressed that got triggered back to the forefront. Maybe there was something from her childhood that affected how she viewed adulthood, or just the lack of a parental figure in general. She had to teach herself, after all. It was probable she had gotten the wrong information of how to act or behave like her own species, instinct notwithstanding. She also had multiple mates in such a short amount of time, which had to be rather unusual behavior even in Pokémon. Her obsession (not a desire like previously thought) with wanting kittens had to have played a role—

Mewtwo suddenly halted his skimming and went back a couple of pages until a lone word popped out in italics.

Addictions.

Something clicked in his head he had been looking in the wrong direction. She was depressed, of course, but what led to it? Was she always depressed, or was it after the loss of the egg? She kept saying she "missed" him, always putting emphasis on it. What did she mean by it, exactly?

It was clear the textbook was only touching upon the subject given it took up a page-and-a-half. The main addictions mentioned were drug and alcohol abuse and how it caused chemical deficiencies, but that wasn't Mew. No, he had to go more into behavioral.

He searched through over half of the books he had on him until Mewtwo believed he found it. There was not much of it written (and the text noted it was considered debatable), but what he read brought him pause. He reviewed it, paused some more, and then read it again out loud, slower to take it in:

"...'distress about a pattern of repeated sexual relationships involving a succession of lovers who are experienced by the individual only as things to be used'..."

And the memories came rushing in like a tsunami.

"We must have sex for a month."

"There appears to be no sign of ovulation... Mew cannot remember her last heat cycle—if at all."

"Every one of them... they didn't care for me!"

"She had about fifteen mates prior to you, Mewtwo, give or take a few."

"Please take me with you as your mate."

"The night we met, I hated myself."

"I had thought for sure that he was going to be the one."

"I want kittens."

"You're no different from them! None of those bastards cared for me, so why should you?!"

"It's always the male that leaves. The female has no right in saying who goes and stays."

He remembered the dark thoughts he had after they had their fight and she went after Marjorie. There were all of the accusations that flooded his mind afterwards of her lying about her past mates and using him for sex. All the times she was coy, eager, brought to tears... how easily she yielded to him their first night... He wasn't in the clear, either, for having unintentionally fed into it once he accepted his libido, but he was uncomfortably correct.

"Oh, Mew..."

He shakily pushed himself up out of his seat.

*~*~*

"Ha... mmm—ah!..."

Pushing tiptoe on the mattress, Mew gyrated her pelvis to rub flesh against the palm of her hand before her fingers pinched. She pursed her lips and pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth in attempt to silence herself, but the temptation to sigh was too great. Flipping onto her stomach, she grazed her lifted clitoral hood along the wrinkled sheets and gasped into her pillow.

She didn't know where she was going with her thoughts of Mewtwo, if he was still licking her or allowing her to grind her hips into his abdomen. He was more-or-less just there gazing down on her and not making a sound. She once questioned his silence, wondering why only the sounds of her breaths and heartbeats filled her ears when usually she could hear his groans and the bed crackling under his weight. Not to mention the headboard sometimes thumping the wall whenever he got rough, which she hadn't heard in a while, either.

"Ooh..." She shakily reached out to grab the bars, and hoisted herself up to thrust her hips as hard and fast as she could. Outside of clitoral stimulation against his midriff, she didn't have the body mass to reproduce the same weight and friction to get the right rhythm she was looking for. But it didn't matter that she couldn't get Mewtwo rocking with her, she felt like she could still become one with him from the way she sank into him.

"Ah-ah-ahh—HA!"

Mew trembled and froze as she gauged the moistness between her legs, but her orgasm still held off. She was just in reach, a few more brushes should do...

"Mewtwooo..."

Her eyes blearily opened half-lidded, still feeling his name linger on her lips. She ached and twitched from ballasting herself, and though her skin was hot, the cold emptiness of the room kept her from feeling her own body heat. That was because he was always the source of warmth, from the way he would run his hands over her pelt as he held her to his chest to how his body would loom over her and shield her from moonlight. The back of her neck prickled from the thought of him behind her, noticing her pillow had replaced him without her knowing.

Swallowing to rehydrate her throat, Mew turned her head to look at the door like she expected him to be standing there, watching and waiting, perhaps even enjoying the view. He only just wanted to see her from a different angle, was all? Eyes drifting downward to watch him stroke himself, her claws restlessly tapped the bars as her hips jerked involuntarily. A squishy pillow was a poor substitute to his firm abdomen, but it had to do. She couldn't let him down.

Shifting her weight, a sharp gasp sounded deep in Mew's chest as a thick sheath suddenly pushed against her opening and slid past the tight walls. Tightening her grip as Mewtwo took her, she angled her pelvis while still keeping in contact with the pillow. Normally he didn't do it from behind because she liked looking at him, but for tonight she'd make an exception. At the risk of friction rubbing her raw, it wasn't often she felt two textures simultaneously touching her bead.

Panting thickly, Mew tearily glanced up to find Mewtwo had stepped up to the bed, penis still in hand as he hovered over her. She scarcely focused her vision past it at the lustful smirk that graced his face, feeling her mouth water as she crawled forward without further enticement. Grabbing onto him, she leaned forward to lasciviously lick it, running her tongue along the length of the shaft. The thought about its wooden taste was nothing more than a blip on her radar, her mind too clouded with desire. She couldn't take him fully into her mouth, although it didn't stop her from trying.

"Mewtwo... you're too big for me," she mewled, her lips cradling the tip. "Oh, God, you're so big..."

The withdrawal from between her legs left behind a wet prickle as she got off the mattress. She gingerly climbed on top of Mewtwo's lap, wondering for a brief moment why he wasn't laying a hand on her to aid in her balance. As she lowered herself on his erection, she twitched at the smooth push against her entrance—and she struggled to burrow him inside.

"H-Hey... why aren't you coming in?" she whimpered, wriggling her hips and stroking his girth. "Mewtwo... Mewtwo, please..."

She trembled the longer she couldn't open up further, her breath catching in her lungs. Something wasn't right, she always accepted him inside. She could take him with little difficulty, albeit not fully. Her thighs hugged around his stiff circumference when her vaginal walls constricted at the thought, feeling hollow, incomplete.

As Mew lolled her head back to meet his heated gaze, a thought teased from the back of her mind: Why not make him jealous? Make him beg to give you a good fuck.

She furrowed her brows slightly, unsure what that meant, but her eyes trailed back down to the pillows. Slowly licking her lips, the feline got up to return to the bed in a kneel, pulling one of the cushions between her legs. Running her palm along the creases, she skimmed her vulva on its surface for a test. A tingle spread upward into her abdomen, and closing her eyes, she hurriedly put pressure to curb the growing throbbing in spite of her need for penetration. Her stomach knotted, unused to the idea of her putting on a show for him, yet she was faintly acquainted with the smooth, rhythmic strokes.

"Aahhnnn... oooh... sh-shit..."

With a well-timed shift and squeeze of her thighs, she slipped her paw below to pull back the sticky clitoral hood and purred, rocking her pelvis in quick successions. Movement beneath her sent her sliding onto her backside, repositioning her legs out from underneath to keep them from cramping. Glancing up with a breath to find herself once again sitting in Mewtwo's open lap, Mew paused in thought, noticing his eyes had softened, as did his figure. He rolled his hips forward, and the feline was mesmerized by the rippling curves and perkiness that wasn't on him before—it was oddly feminine. Another feature she found unusual was she couldn't feel his genitals beneath her, but there was something wet pushing against her that took her a moment to register.

Since when could Mewtwo change sex? was her puzzled thought.

The feline realized she became breathless after another slick skim, and once she regained her bearings and stretched out a foot on a thigh, her hips lurched forward to keep pressure to her folds. Mewtwo moved against her, and with a deep sigh, Mew fell back a little bit and returned the thrusts. Gnawing on her bottom lip, she watched themselves gently rock back-and-forth against each other, taking in the size difference and musing how she could even rub up against anything. In her mind's eye, she recalled a vague memory of being in a similar flexible position, though she didn't have to stretch that much. What she had liked about it was how much her body cried in need for penetration every time flesh meshed, yet relished the lack of it all the same. Even long after the years had blurred the memory, it still remembered that heavenly sensation she had shared with another...

Oooh... oh God, that's good...

Sweat cascading down her body, Mew propped herself on her elbows and spread her thighs to quicken the grinding, panting through her teeth. The clone shifted again to go rougher, showing off some plentiful bounciness that made her gasp from the sight and lament that they couldn't press their chests together without parting. Fantasizing she had her own pair to caress, she let out a string of mewls at the warm moist rubbing on her entrance, even trembling from how frequently their clitorises flicked together.

"Yes, yes, oh Mewtwo, yesss!" she moaned, adverse to tearing her gaze away to tilt her head back, hands kneading her chest. "Ohhh, harder, push harder! It feels so good... so smooth... ooh!"

Hurriedly scrambling to her knees, Mew ballasted herself over Mewtwo's writhing figure and wildly lurched her hips, even angling more to stay connected. Hanging her head for a moment with a groan, her fingers crept up her hot figure, taut abdomen quivering at the touch. Before they reached her watering mouth, she whimpered when her lovely mate prodded and circled her puckered lips, the knobbed ends coated in thick fluid—her fluid—and a curiously furry texture. She opened wider to take it in, swiping her tongue along the underside.

"Mmnngh—mm-mm-mmMM!"

Mew staunchly flattened their puffy cores together at orgasm, her eyelids fluttering and drool dripping out of her mouth as the object pulled out. She blearily watched her tail flop to the side, and once she slumped in exhaustion, stared down at herself. Her thighs still hugged the pillow to herself, her eyes slightly widening at the glistening wet spot that covered the entire bottom half. Slowly, she bucked to brush her throbbing vulva across it again, finding intrigue with its cooling stickiness and loving how it felt, but she missed the reciprocating pressure of a partner. Then she noticed the pinned tail, and as it bumped against sensitive flesh from sliding away, her figure spasmed and she tossed back her head with a startled gasp. Without meaning to, she met Mewtwo's familiar needy gaze as he eagerly jutted his erection more against her raw mound.

Although she had found herself grown used to (and wanted more of) the curvaceous Mewtwo, she managed a smile at how passionate he had become. "M-Mew... two... Ah... you ready to do it for real?" With wavering breath, her eyes closed and spine arched as he pricked her entrance, and her mate shifted forward to push her backward on the bed to claim her.

*~*~*

The sheets rumpled in his grip as Mewtwo fell to his knees, body limp. Resting his forehead on the mattress, he breathed heavily, vainly trying to divert his thoughts elsewhere while still thinking of Mew. He tried to button his lip to soften his sobs, but when her big, bright blue eyes locked on his gaze in yearning, he couldn't help a throaty groan.

There was no getting around that he could no longer hold back. It had been too long since he last held her, last kissed her, last knew her. He was beginning to forget her loving caresses, her gasps at his ear, her heel digging into his thigh, her tail looping around him as he entered her tiny body. He had five years' worth of memories to sift through, but they weren't the present time. Interspersed were fantasies of what he had wanted to do with her, of what he would like her to do. As much as he loved her, she was so reserved in bed, always having to be goaded with his touches into reciprocating. What he would give to have her take the initiative more, like when they were in the back room of the clinic and she took him into her mouth...

Mewtwo sat trembling as he watched himself unsheathe. She just had to be so delicate, didn't she? He could hardly be rough with her out of fear she'd break under him, and she could scarcely fully take him. That lack of trust in himself to not hurt her kept him from expressing his wishes and going all out.

You like having sex with her, he reminded himself, swallowing as his throat went dry. Stop over-analyzing it. So what if you cannot go all the way in? Not everything needs to be perfect.

A headache was steadily thrumming to life the more he struggled to think of something else, yet words such as "succession of lovers", "things to be used", and "addiction" mockingly circled around him. It didn't help that the voice in his head transitioned to Mew's like she was there whispering them in his ear. His member twitched from the thought, burning in need for her touch.

This is wrong. I should be with her to help her. And help myself—no, just her! It is Mew who needs help, not I!

Mewtwo gasped when fingertips gently skimmed his penis, and glancing down, he ran his thumb along the weeping tip as he pulled back the foreskin. What he'd give to have her there and bury himself into her frail. If she were any bigger, she could comfortably sit in his lap and throw her limbs around him, squeezing him closer to better match his momentum and breathing. Perhaps she could have a fuller chest, as well? Would she be firm pressed up against him, or would she be pillowy? Could she whisper her naughtiest thoughts against his mouth, and would she beg as his hands ran along her bouncy figure?

"O-Oh, Mew...!"

He nearly jumped out of his skin when objects clattered around him, removing his hand as he whipped his head around. There was no one else in the study with him, yet his books, papers and tools had been scattered on the floor. Exhaling a trembling breath as his heart pounded against his rib cage, Mewtwo moved to stand, but his knees were wobbling too much and his groin too hot to ignore. Hoisting himself to sit on his bed, he gawked at the mess before dropping his gaze.

Was I...?

He opened and closed his hands for a long moment to let it sink in, taking notice of how his softening member twitched the longer he dwelled on it. It felt like something in the back of his mind was scratching to get out, pleading to take over for a while. It was going to drive him mad if he didn't do something about it soon.

...should I...?

In an abrupt movement, Mewtwo strolled over to the door just to pause before it, staring at the wood. He didn't know why, exactly, he thought he felt Mew's presence outside. It was faint, possibly a result of them not being as close anymore, but it was her. Perhaps she had been startled by the noise and was coming to check it out—a thought that got his hand hovering at the doorknob, thinking about what expression she might have on her face. If they could talk it through, however, they could come to a solution together, perhaps even reconcile...

The tender notion then faded as quickly as it came, leaving behind an aching void. He was foolish for getting his hopes too high. Besides, he heard nothing beyond the door to indicate she had even considered leaving her room. Such a daunting thought accompanied him as he picked up a few books to return to his studies, but he couldn't take in any new information.

*~*~*

"This has been troubling you for a while, now?"

Staring listlessly at the floor, sluggishly kneading his brows, the clone nodded as Mime jotted down some notes. "It has only just been a week, but I can barely stand it," he murmured. "The more I fight it, the more I know deep down I am going to lose."

The morning sun still had of yet to ease its spindly rays into the study. Mew had her appointment earlier, which supposedly played out no differently from the last session in her being uncooperative in answering questions. He couldn't get a good look at her when she left, but she had seemed more restless. Mime had of yet to bring up anything that was said between them, which he concluded meant there were more private matters brought up as a result of the rift separating them getting wider. And as they jumped immediately into probing his mind as soon as he sat down, he was quick to get to his current state.

"Why does the thought of masturbation bother you so much?" The doctor took a quick sip of what little was left of his drink. Mewtwo couldn't figure out why it was Mew even bothered putting tea together if she wasn't going to touch her share. "It's clear here you do not enjoy it, so there should be no reason to be fretting over it."

Eyes drifting back down, he sighed through his nose. "It is because she is not there with me. I think about her so much that I sometimes wish my thoughts would manifest her before me, and we would be together again." Now that he was hearing himself speak his thoughts, he was aware of how much it sounded like he was sniveling. He had legitimate concerns, but there was a lack of coherency. It was somewhat embarrassing.

"Does it have any correlation with your lack of sleep? You've been studying well into the night, I take it?"

Mewtwo scarcely passed a glance at the textbooks he had sloppily shoved under the bed. "To be frank, I am unsure anymore. I only ever seem to have erotic thoughts, which just get worse the more I look into it. I thought a change of subject would help."

He was being vague about what he had been reading up on lately, but he trusted Mime to catch the hints he was dropping and push for more information. For some odd reason he didn't mind wanting to share his findings, even if it was just to clear his conscious.

Mouth scrunched in thought, the Mr. Mime scribbled down another note. "Have you ever desired sex before Mew?"

"No." The clone paused in remembrance, and not just for good measure. "At least... not in that way. At first the concept disgusted me, then upon looking into it further on a biological standpoint, I became intrigued by its hidden intricacies. Yet I had no desire for a mate, so my body never had a reaction. The night Mew and I consummated our relationship, I suppose that was awakened in me, though I did not recognize it. After some time passed, I realized I liked it, and that soon grew into a love for sex."

"That's normal."

He almost chuckled, wishing he could believe it. "So I love sex because I love Mew. Or do I love Mew because I love sex? Which was it that awoke inside me on that night?"

"Males develop emotional bonds with their mates through intercourse," Mime explained. "That's just how dopamine works."

Mewtwo could believe it. He never dwelled on it, having always been too high with bliss each time they rested after intercourse, but he had found it curious how easily he opened up to Mew a little more as they lay together. It had tended to ebb by the morning, though gradually over the years, it steadied out to where he equally enjoyed his time with her at all times of the day. She became his closest companion, and before he knew it, he had stopped inwardly struggling over the thought.

Perhaps that was due to all the sex they had, and subconsciously he knew that had a grip on his emotions. His mind, however, wanted to prove it wrong. "That may be how nature designed it to work, but Mew and I defy nature just by being together. I had to have loved her before we became mates. After all, she had fallen in love with me by then."

"How did you know?"

A quick palpitation of his heart almost kept him from answering. "She told me. Why else did she come to me to become my mate?"

There was a small rattle behind him that perked him up, but he figured Mew had just left the house and he dropped his eyes again. Mime hemmed as he mused, "Your stress levels need to decrease if you wish to help Mew."

"But if she loved me," the clone continued, his thoughts running off the rails again, "then why did she leave me?"

"Mew never left you, she isolated herself."

He just shook his head for a moment. "I do not like being alone. I was alone for so long that I became numb to it, to the point you could say I was used to it. Yet I feel like despite the circumstances surrounding my birth, I was not meant to be alone. My creators were there, but I had no connection to them. I was the only one of my kind by design, and it was as if the weight of the world closed in around me."

There was a sudden flash of an image that went by too fast to comprehend, but there was a feeling of nostalgia that lingered. When he tried to think back to it, Mewtwo hissed from a sharp throb in the back of his head. He was aware Mime got to his feet, and hurriedly turned down any aid he offered. Gently massaging his temple, he took slow deep breaths to dull the ache and quell his trembling.

"I... I had dreams in that cultivation tank," he whispered. "At first I thought they had happened, but I have no memory of them, so I wrote them off as just dreams. They were the most realistic dreams I have ever had, however... It is not a pleasant feeling to have, so I do not dwell on it much anymore. But there was a time when I went looking for that place in my dreams, even sought out the faces..."

"Faces of whom?"

He gritted his teeth as he fruitlessly tried to recall the images. The best he could conjure up was a simple white dress, perhaps the shapes of small Pokémon. "I cannot remember. I get excruciating headaches just trying to think back to it..." His gaze drifted to the sunlight that finally started seeping in, a sight that he oddly wasn't happy about. He seethed at the tiny pools of light, almost daring them to touch his skin.

Dr. Mime seemed to have noticed his mood, but didn't comment on it. "What was your life like before coming here, Mewtwo? Were you always alone?"

Still leering at the light, he shook his head as he slumped back in his chair. With the confidentiality of their session in mind, he answered truthfully, but sparsely, "I had created clones like myself to combat my loneliness, albeit for a more selfish reason. I was close with them, but at some point we all parted ways. The odd thing is I did not mind being alone after that. Perhaps it is because I had a choice in the matter, and I chose selflessly to let them all live their lives. I had made my own decision to live the way I did, and I was content with it."

Mime hadn't written anything down in some time, which Mewtwo was secretly relieved about. He listened intently with small polite nods here and there, and he hardly showed a reaction to the glimpse of his past. "And yet you fear loneliness," he noted, his tone of voice calm to show he had no intention to poke holes in his statements. "Perhaps that was one reason why you chose to become mates with Mew, because the opportunity presented itself to combat it?"

He mulled on it for a moment to gather his thoughts. "I had been used to the concept of loneliness that if I did fear it, I was unaware of it. I had taken it for granted, but five years living with Mew allowed me to recognize the opposite feeling of what I had known—of what I was missing. The thought of turning her down that night is almost alien to me now."

"Would you have asked Mew to be your mate?"

Mewtwo's brows furrowed in discomfort before shaking his head. "Never on my own terms. If we had gotten to know each other longer and I had developed an interest in mating, I could have considered the thought, but I do not believe she would have been my first choice. What got a hold of my attention then was she was the one to approach me, and it was difficult for her to do. She was the most... nervous I had ever seen from her."

"Nervous" was too simple a word to describe what she was like that night. He used to smile fondly at the memory, but further analysis brought to light the implications behind her anxiety of being less "nervous" and more "desperate". She was bold in telling him her feelings, that he admired, yet he had felt something breaking under pressure that she tried to keep at bay. As much as she ultimately had him wrapped around her little finger that night, it was an emotional tug-of-war that they called a truce on to join in union.

Mime shifted his weight as he picked up his cup. "Want my educated guess?" he asked for permission, which Mewtwo nodded for him to continue. "You observe a lot, Mewtwo, soaking up information one after the other and seeking out answers to get a better understanding of how or why the world is the way it is. Curiosity is a trait that's commonly associated with younglings, but it's healthy to ask questions, to stimulate cognitive development. This is because you cannot gain experience from just being a bystander, you must become a participant."

The doctor paused to finish his drink, giving the clone a moment for it to sink in how perceptive the Mr. Mime was. He recalled the many crossroads of life he had come across that crafted his character: his many accomplishments and mistakes, the lessons he learned, the wonders he saw, the people he met. Every crucial point of his life was a result of him taking action when he could've easily remained an observer. How much more different would his life had been if he had been more accepting, more quiet, or just more obedient? Could he have still chosen his own path as readily?

"If you had chosen to not accept Mew as your mate," he resumed, cup still in hand, "you might not have been able to learn of your fears, at least not as fast. You would still be walking the earth and still be content, as you put it, but would you have ever faced your fears? Ever come to terms with them? Ever been able to live?"

Mewtwo winced slightly at a quiet whisper in his head, but he couldn't bring himself to bring it to Mime's attention. He could sense the session had come to a close from the way he wrote something down on his clipboard and got up from his seat, and prolonging it sounded selfish. While he felt the doctor would be intrigued by his thoughts, learning about why "life is wonderful" was a long-term goal he wanted to answer on his own.

"I find it interesting how you two are so far apart from each other, and yet you share the same concerns," he mused out loud.

The feline blinked in surprise. "We what?"

Mime quirked a brow, tucking the clipboard under his arm. "I've been doing a little digging of my own, and found it's quite common for two psychics—of any species—to share psychosis. But it almost always leads to disastrous results."

Mewtwo wasn't liking what he was eluding to, but he cautiously leaned in. "...we have become psychotic?"

He canted his head from side-to-side. "Not necessarily. Psychics have to be extensively trained from a very young age to control their powers to keep their minds from falling apart, but even the most senior of psychics can fall victim if they're not careful. There's a human term for it: folie à deux—madness of two. It's been mostly documented with lower-leveled and poorly-trained psychics, so I just can't help wondering the effects it'd have on someone of yours and Mew's stature. You're still grounded in reality for the most part, it's just been Mew who seems to straddle that line. And from what she's told me, she must like it that way."

As much as he wanted to know more about the condition, something told him the double entendre was intentional. "Pardon?"

"I don't feel it's a coincidence you're just as hung up on your lack of sex as she is, Mewtwo." He gave a stern stare that made him nearly look away. "I've told you to talk with her. When you're not, she loses what it's like to have companionship while still desiring it. It will become more and more difficult to get her to stop engaging in fantasy the farther away you two drift from one another. I'm honestly surprised she hasn't gone off looking for an actual body yet."

Unintentionally, Mewtwo rose to his feet with clenched fists and teeth, his gaze hardening. "What are you implying, doctor? That Mew will become a whore?"

Mime was unfazed by his sudden behavior. "That's not what I'm saying at all. How about you, Mewtwo? Have you ever had or are currently having thoughts of Mew being a 'whore', as you're accusing her of?"

His mind cruelly overlaid a recording of himself reading the definition over an image of Mew sprawled beneath another male, one of many he had thought of in the past week. Quickly regaining his composure, he shook his head and went over to his desk to hunch over it. "...I... I do not want to believe it..."

"Pokémon being promiscuous is nothing new, but putting such human terms on their behavior is hardly fair." He found himself agreeing with the doctor, though he still couldn't relax his tense muscles. "Many Pokémon have multiple mates in their lifetime, although that typically means having offspring with different mates. And mating for pleasure is limited to a few species, it seems, though exceptions exist. I'm going to be honest that given the rarity of her species, it's plausible she was just prone to it."

"If she is tired of me, she should have just left," Mewtwo hissed before he could stop himself, whirling back around to face him. "But it was Mew who suggested we be mates for life."

"...I see." Dr. Mime let out a slow sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced outside. His voice then lowered, "This community is quite the oddball, Mewtwo. Most everyone here has had more than the one mate, and yet the mates they do have are the ones they are raising children with. And here, of all places. This is not a breeding grounds, it is just someplace humans don't travel to much."

"What are you getting at, doctor?"

"Outside of you and I, no other Pokémon here has had human interaction. My hypothesis is the Pokémon who have congregated here with their mates are all wired differently from the general population. And as the need for companionship is hard-wired into our DNA, like-minded individuals will always find each other, someway." He gave a small, sad smile, age showing once more on his face. "Mew has everything she needs here to recover, but only if she allows it, and if you are open to it. I know you truly care for her, Mewtwo, but something has got to give if you two are to move forward."

At that, Mewtwo reluctantly dropped his eyes to stare at his hands, his destructive hands.

He offered to go with Mime back to the clinic for the mere purpose of returning the books, but the doctor insisted he keep them on hand a little while longer. And as he lingered in the doorway to watch him depart, his thoughts went over what he said as well as the concerns of their neighbors. Glancing at the bare soil that once flourished with Mew's handiwork, he wondered about the gift of herbs Lil had dropped off. They were more for calming purposes than seasoning, and far as he knew they hadn't been touched since he stored them away.

He hadn't used all of the sprigs, but there was a limited amount, and he was running out of a few of them. While grateful for the gift, he knew they couldn't keep leeching off their neighbors' generosity. Even if it was just to calm her down with scents (which she was consistently rejecting), he had come to accept he wasn't doing a proper job at it. But on the off-chance it were to start working, he'd need to have the knowledge to do it, as well as regular access to supplies. Though in being honest with himself, it was so he could have a way to clear his head.

Mewtwo thought about telling Mew he was heading out, but as the bedroom door had been closed since leaving the study, he believed she was getting a little more sleep. Besides, he figured he wasn't going to be out long, and he'd be back in time to fix themselves breakfast. And so, he exited the house to take his first step to starting his new nurturing hobby.

*~*~*

One of the hands running along Mew's chest slid up to poke its knobbed fingers inside her mouth, subduing her moans just before she curved from soft skims between her shoulder blades. Breathing sporadically through her nose, the feline rubbed her cheek against the muzzle nestled in the crook of her neck, writhing her hips in tandem with the pelvis digging into her backside. A leg snaked over her thigh to draw her closer, and the unoccupied paw raked grooves down her abdomen. Their tails coiled out of reach, tips stroking, with the thicker appendage easily pinning the smaller of the pair.

There was movement as her partner feathered up her face to lick at her ear, bringing her to bend backwards without breaking skin contact to catch a quick kiss. The freed fingers held her by the chin to keep her still as their tongues danced and explored, Mew's heart fluttering from the dual wet texture of their mouths and between her legs. Without parting, she half-flipped onto her back until their chests brushed, dropping a hand to knead a firm breast.

Mewtwo was going the extra mile, having remembered her unfulfilled desires and changed much more than physique to meet her conveniences. It had taken a few trysts and some trial and error before the transformation could come smoothly, now at the point where the clone was ready at first eye-contact. Not that the rosy feline wasn't satisfied to begin with, it was just that the new form tired less and was softer on the body no matter how rough they would get. Though it amused her that the sex had gotten better as a result...

She sighed into the kiss from the memories. Even as their pelvises met and slowly rocked in yearning, Mewtwo still fondled her, burying deep inside to blindly search for a raw spot. Mew whimpered and swerved her legs around to rest them on the shoulders, sinking far enough into her pillow to sloppily break away and gaze up at her beautiful mate.

"We know she's not real."

Her eyes snapped over to peer at what had to be a mirror sitting at the foot of the bed. At least, she thought that was what she was seeing, but it was just a lone figure of herself, staring at them with contempt. Brows furrowing slightly at the interruption, Mew muttered, "Why should it matter?"

A shrug, glassy eyes narrowing mischievously. "Because the real one feels better."

As Mewtwo pecked along her chest, she winced from a small twist to sensitive flesh. "What real one?" she grunted out.

Her reflection's face curled slightly into a devious smile. "'What real one', indeed."

A moan escaped her parted lips as the clone sat up to impatiently grind their crotches together, her ankles slipping from the momentum. Mesmerized by how the breasts and curves swayed, their hips gyrated with irregular speed for a few rounds without parting. Mew's heated cries then petered out upon noticing her other self hadn't moved from her spot, let alone changed her expression. Growing self-conscious about her performance, the feline reached up to grip tighter and lunged harder against her, breaths shortening out over swift slapping flesh.

"Hah-ha-ahh, Mewtwooo—AAUGHH!"

Her voice suddenly contorted with anguish at a bolt shooting up her legs, a result of harsh penetration. Feet still hovering at Mewtwo's hips, she was distraught to find he returned to normal in size and anatomy inside her, though their eyes didn't meet. She convulsed from the increasing thrusts, realizing the pain had extended further into her abdominal cavity like a dull knife searing into her flesh.

"Mewtwo, wait!" she gasped, tightly gripping the pillow. "Y-You're too far in! It hurts!"

A quiet laugh vibrated at her ear, hands gently cupping her jaw from behind. "'It hurts'?" was the coo. "But don't we like pain?"

Mew threw her head back more to gape up at the sly smirk plastered on the illusion's face. Her legs tingled from the blood rushing to her hips, having an unsinkable feeling Mewtwo wasn't going to slow down any time soon. Shaking her head, she whimpered, "O-Only the good pain!"

"But if pain hurts, how can it be good?"

Her eyes fell shut with another cry, growing nauseated from her rocking. "Mm-mm-mm... M-Mewtwo hurt me..."

"Oh, yes," her double sighed, sounding lost in a memory. A paw gently slid up to touch her cheek, slowly tracing a circle, and she realized it felt too real to be a mirage. "He was very sorry, wasn't he? Though he never did apologize for the other time he hurt us, has he?"

Mew squirmed once she dropped from her face to her chest. When their eyes met, a sinister gleam flared in her still-faraway gaze, and her paw slipped down her figure to cup her clitoris. Sharply gasping and bucking her hips, the feline reached up to push her away only to end up fondling hers as well.

"If he were like the other males, we'd have left him a long time ago, wouldn't we?" she purred, slowly swaying to her touches. "At least then, he wouldn't have had the chance to hurt us."

Distantly, she realized Mewtwo had pulled out of her, but he didn't move away. Her abdomen quivered when his hand caressed it, weaving around her reflection's arm but moving no further up than her ribs. Mew darted her gaze between them, her breath catching at the smoldering look they shared.

"So why does he stay?" her other self continued to whisper, leaning in closer. "Why do we still want him inside, even though he hurts?"

A quiet whimper was silenced when their lips touched right as their fingers entered each other. The kiss only lasted for a few seconds until she pulled away for Mewtwo to take her place, hardly giving Mew room to breathe. The difference in pressure sent her mind spiraling, opening her mouth out of habit for him as she stroked his jawline with her other paw. Images flashed through her mind's eye of her mate holding her, seeing him shrouded in moonlight, covered in dust, reclining in the bathtub... resting on his side as they held hands.

"It's because he's a good lover."

Mew couldn't tell if she said it against his lips, or if it was from the mirror image of her. She mewled when his thick digits also fondled her, not seeming to mind the second hand already preoccupying itself with her. Pushing up on tiptoe to encourage them to go deeper and flattening herself on the bed, she slinked her tail between his thighs.

"But that's a lie."

Her heart skipped a beat when Mewtwo forcibly lifted himself from her like she burned him, yanking her tail away. Exposed and aching, she mourned the loss of his touch and dropped her hands until another twist disoriented her thoughts. Turning her head, she froze at the icy glare drilling into her soul.

"It's because you don't love yourself."

Even if she wanted to, she had no rebuttal to give, instead quietly admitting to herself there was truth to it. Laying a paw over her heart, she willed herself to break the gaze upwards for the ceiling, thinking of the nights she and Mewtwo had worked at trying to get her pregnant. "I-I just..."

"What good will having kittens do for you?" was the retort. She winced at the harsh tone and from when a hand roughly caressed her stomach, claws lightly scratching her skin. "You were happy to know you being infertile meant having all the sex you could milk from him."

"No, that's not—" Her voice stuttered when her reflection compressed herself into her side, mouth peppering along a shoulder. A leg hooked over her hips to roll her closer while the petting increased. "Get off!" she gasped, shoving her away.

"That's all you're ever good for, sweetheart," the shadow drawled, licking her lips. Her frosty irises roamed her body as she giggled. "You're just a good fuck. That's as unmotherly as it gets."

Mew rapidly shook her head, trying to crawl away from her prying eyes only to find herself in a warm lap. She let out a yell when strong hands held her down, spreading her legs for room. "Hey, wait!" She shivered at the lecherous smirk on Mewtwo's face as he rubbed his erection against her slick entrance. Looking up to find her double smiling fiercely and her fingers suggestively hovering parallel to her clitoral hood, she didn't need an explanation for their intentions.

"I've gone mad," she whimpered to herself, eyes tearing up. "I'm in a bad dream."

Chuckling under her breath, the second Mew strode forward with a swing of the hips. "Your fantasies get wilder every day, toots. But it's what you've wanted."

"I-I didn't want this! I swear!" She tried to throw off the hand when she was gripped by her chin.

"But you do want to know what it's like to mate with another of your species. It's why Mewtwo's so irresistible." Mew gritted her teeth to bite back a whine, squirming uncomfortably from the intrusive erotic thoughts that suddenly bombarded her mind. "And with two of us here before him..."

"No!"

A commanding look was shot up at Mewtwo, and he released her, allowing her to be swept up in the other's tail and pulled into a body hug. Try as she could to fight her way out, she was forced to keep eye-contact as her figure was felt up, unhurried and sensual to relax her tense muscles. She could scarcely stay afloat, but was too tangled up in the appendage and probing limbs to even fall away. A teasing nip to her neck got her to jerk and grab on, her breaths growing shallow.

"Why're you doing this?" she managed to choke out, scrunching her eyes shut as a finger stroked her mound.

"Because it is what you want," was the sultry purr, snouts bumping when she raised her head. "Deep down, you want to mate with another Mew, but alas, it's just been you." She chuckled, her breath ghosting over her lips. Mew's mouth dropped in a strangled cry when her labia was pried apart, feeling hot liquid oozing down her inner thigh. "Mm, slippery. Just the way Arceus intended."

She was then pushed to the bed, her assailant straddling over her hips. Wrists pinned above her head, the feline looked up in time to watch her duplicate lean in for a full-body massage, putting the most pressure on her abdomen. She found it difficult to breathe from the added weight, but more-so as she twitched against her each time her teats were stimulated. Her legs flailed to kick her off, but they were wrestled down in return and entangled beneath her.

"Stop fighting it," was the demand, angling her backside upward. "You like how it feels. Yield yourself to your desires as before."

Weakly shaking her head, Mew gave a pitiful mewl, "No, please..."

"And leave Mewtwo unsatisfied?" A nod was gestured in his direction with a click of her tongue. "You're such a bad mate and a bad tease. This is a rare sight for him, so at least have some courtesy to give him a good show."

Her eyes flickered briefly over to where he sat, taking note of the thin film of sweat being smeared along his swollen penis. Quickly turning her head away, she whined at the lick to her jugular, feeling her vaginal muscles automatically squeeze. "I-I..."

"Would you like to be on top, instead?" came the muse, a smile quirking on her lips. "That should be more empowering."

With little effort, she rolled themselves over so Mew was forced to peer down at her shadow. Her neck too tense to keep up for the moment, she collapsed into her hold, their lips meeting as a result. A hand gripped the back of her head to prevent her from moving away, the kiss growing in vigor. She hardly could keep up, her muffled protests quietening down to contented moans as she became accustomed to letting her partner lead, their bodies pressing closer. The only ineptitude she felt was whenever they tongue-kissed overtly and messily, done to give Mewtwo a better view.

Gradually they slowed, resorting to licking and nipping each others' lips to catch their breaths as hands wandered. The rapid sound of wet flesh came to a grinding halt as a groan rumbled from the clone, and Mew choked on a gasp when she felt drops of sticky fluid splash over her back, returning her to her harsh reality. Feeling a little sick to her stomach, she squinted down at the bottom feline, disturbed by how she leered beneath her lashes.

"Turn around, slut," came the growl, tongue between her teeth.

Gulping, Mew shakily lifted herself to turn in a half-circle, purposefully avoiding looking at her lone spectator. Resting once more on her belly, she glanced down at the glistening mound, hesitantly pulling it back for a better look and feeling herself widen as well. When she flicked the fleshy nub, she, too, jerked from the same touch. Easing a leg to the side to make room for her head, she cautiously leaned down to pucker her lips on the clitoris, wincing at the skim of teeth from below.

That shouldn't be happening, her thoughts whispered anxiously. How am I—

"Lower," was the murmur behind her, claws pricking her hindquarters.

She tried again, brushing her lips to sensitive flesh. The movement was also mirrored between her legs, making her breaths quicken and her stomach to churn. "No, I-I can't...!" she attempted to gasp.

"Do as I goddamn say!" came the hiss, and she squealed in surprise. "Use your tongue and lick me like the bitch you are!"

Mew half-expected Mewtwo to step in and stop it, perhaps even pull her into his arms where she belonged, but a swift glance in his direction crushed that hope. Trembling, she gave in to the demand and ran her tongue along the bitter folds, trying to ignore the same sensation being done to her but failing. She couldn't prevent a moan from emitting in her throat, didn't miss the slight differences between the slimy textures. They started to move their hips, as much as they held tighter to keep themselves still.

There was something about her scent that was catching her off-guard. It might've been the familiarity of it, making her question what was her species' natural musk, but it was being covered up by the pheromones. Pheromones, she realized, that she shouldn't have even been affected by if they were coming from herself. And yet, it got her to think past the wild tang that bit at the tip of her tongue to delve deeper and faster, getting the same treatment in return.

Was this how Mewtwo felt each time he had his head between her thighs? Although she wasn't a fan of the taste and couldn't speak for him, did each lick and each breath drive him just as crazy?

Her neck still ached, and there was a pinched muscle in her back, but she didn't want to be snapped at again. Pushing her cheekbone into the inner thigh, Mew dabbed at the side of her clitoris, keeping brief contact as she circled around it and ended with a gentle suck. She fought back a whimper as her pelvis spasmed, nearly ramming herself into her partner's face.

"Having a hard time up there?"

It was an oddly teasing tone when it had been just minutes ago she was getting jeered at. She wet her dry throat, still keeping her head down. "U-Um... I can't hold this pose..."

She heard a soft apathetic scoff until it was replaced by a sigh of disappointment. "You need to work on your flexibility. Same goes for your technique."

"But I've never done this before."

"You were thinking it earlier." She yelped in shock when a hand smacked her behind. "Now get up, but don't get off."

Taking it easy to stretch out her back, Mew scooted herself into a sitting position while remaining on her knees, glancing over her shoulder to find a look of boredom on her reflection's face. She raised a brow up at her, then rubbed a thigh to her vulva, a tingle coaxing out a startled gasp. "H-Hey, no!"

"You should know your likes and dislikes, what gets you hot and bothered. You're still on top, so now act like it."

Unable to counteract, the feline gently pushed the leg away, then lowered herself to sit crisscross with a shaky moan. Like her partner had expected it, her hips immediately elevated to roughly grind against her, and passing a glance to their enchanted spectator, they then rolled in sync as voices fervently climbed. Flesh wasn't fully touching outside of some pressure and skimming to the clitoral hood, yet she could feel themselves become slicker and stickier with each swaying motion, accompanied by a yearning to be filled with something, anything. When grasped tightly in place, a succession of hard bucks got her to coo and push back more firmly in return as a pleasurable numbing spread further up her body, licking her lips in anticipation and hugging the bent knee to her chest. And for a euphoric moment, their duet crescendoed as their thighs squeezed and groins melded from a suction.

Flipping herself around to better look her in the eye, Mew kept a leg hooked over a thigh and straightened out flat, letting out a wailing sigh upon resting together at the pelvis. Their hips hastened their rocking, finding herself loving how their teats brushed every now and then the higher their ecstasy soared. Blinking down at her mirror image, she wondered what it was about her sharp, devious gaze that bothered her.

She jerked at a furry, bulbous end stroking against raw flesh. "Fuck me with your tail," was the command, just as she wriggled it inside without missing a beat. "Shove it in if you have to."

Whimpering, Mew obeyed, finding it not as strange a sensation as the thought implicated, and she slid through the cavity with ease. Then again, her tail was acclimated to her size, even though it wasn't enough—

As a pair of hands gripped her hips, she whirled her head around with a gasp. "Wait, what're you...?!" She could scarcely finish before Mewtwo entered another orifice, and she let out a scream at the stretching, yet odd stimulation that came from the penetration.

She didn't realize she had stopped pumping until her head was yanked back by the ears. "Harder, you fucking whore!" her partner barked. "Move your ass!"

"Ah—AHH, AHHGH!"

"Ooh, you like that, don't you?" The laugh that burst out of her throat was cruel. "If you want more, sing for me, toots. Tell me you want me."

Mew really didn't, she wanted to have ended it long ago. But something inside her broke, too overwhelmed by everything she was taking in. Now she couldn't speak her thoughts, not when her voice was betraying her with moans that wavered from increased momentum. Sighs echoed in her ears, and her lips constantly craved for kisses, no matter how biting. Their legs were in a tangled mess to stay joined, almost pulling her away from physical contact with Mewtwo who appeared very invested in their sexual escapade. Before she knew it, she couldn't pick out his touches from her double's, and presumed he stepped back to give them room to tussle about and explore each other uninterrupted. Then losing herself to lust, she abstained his presence in favor of her shadow who knew the right parts, the right touches, the right positions to gratify the female body.

Once their mouths wetly parted for the umpteenth time, Mew noticed her vision hazing over and her hips pounding wilder as her groin went numb against her partner's thigh. Her arms strained to hold herself up, pulling harshly at the sheets as her head tossed back with every cry. Shifting beneath her with a naughty smirk, her reflection raised a leg to rest on her shoulder, slipping their mounds together with a squelch without slowing. Panting heavily, the rosy feline whimpered and buried her face into her hot collar, feeling her heart was about to pop.

Right at the very cusp of her orgasmic throes, she was flipped over and pinned onto her back, clefts smashing at an angle. Her voice tightened from a high-pitched scream, keeping her pelvis lingering in reach of skin contact as her thighs squeezed and figure quaked. She closed her eyes when they rolled too far into her skull, her hands reaching for something but only grasped space.

"Ooh, she came her brains out!" was scarcely caught in the void, a weight lifting from her. "Looks like Mewtwo never got that far. Well, as they say, 'No one knows you better than you'."

Air burned her throat as she struggled to remain conscious and steady herself. Sinking into the mattress, her fingers snagged the sheets above her head only to wince from the aches in her muscles. She was briefly aware of her double looking down at her, the thinnest of smiles on her face.

"That's a good girl," she murmured, leaving behind an electrical current each time she stroked her face. "Rest up, now. I'll take over from here."

Mew clenched her fists as she braced herself, but nothing came of it. She looked over in slight confusion at Mewtwo the moment he went up to the shadow from behind, wrapping his arms around her torso. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she moaned in encouragement, reaching back to pet his cheekbone right as his mouth pecked her neck.

The feline's heart dropped into the pit of her stomach as she helplessly watched her mate ravish her other self. The passion increased when he ran his hands over her tiny body and nipped her skin with a growl. "H-Hey," she weakly rasped out, trying to lift her head. "What're you... he's..."

The icy stare silenced her as their tails entwined, a devilish smirk on her lips. "Just relax, Mew," she cooed, "I'm only fulfilling my duty as a mate. Just sit back and enjoy the show for once, maybe take some pointers." And she turned her head without breaking eye-contact to kiss him, moaning deeply as his tongue plunged into her mouth. The wet sucks between their lips seemed to increase in volume, laughs rumbling in their chests.

Mew's thighs involuntarily squeezed at the sight of Mewtwo cupping her crotch, taking in how his knuckles flexed as he pumped his fingers in-and-out of her. Her mate never touched anyone else but her and her alone, and his movements affirmed his loyalty. He knew the workings of her body, how to thrill her and get her to think of nothing else but of how his body felt draped over her. He valued their intimacy, building it up to levels she could've never dreamed of to the point she'd beg for him to please don't stop.

Even if the female he was fondling looked like her, it was obvious she wasn't her. Her touches were too possessive, her figure too curvy, her voice too husky. She looked at him with lustful eyes, not adoration. She kissed him too sloppily with such a dirty mouth, not bothering to try matching up. She was too loose, too loud, too wild to be her.

How could Mewtwo not see that? Was he too blinded with hormones to notice he was with the wrong one? Did she hypnotize him into thinking she was her?

Mew fought back a sudden wave of nausea upon remembering that night. Some of it was a blur, but only because it felt like she was more of an observer than a participant. Her body had moved and writhed to his touches like clockwork, yet her mind was left behind to pick up the pieces. She had the desire to love him back and strengthen their bond, but she was stopped by a thin barrier that she couldn't break, no matter how weakened it became when he had dived into her heart for a look. Even then, the knowledge of the egg's fate had been looming over her head like a guillotine, and with it the reason why she couldn't be in full control.

Mewtwo knew that and had tried to dance around the subject, to keep her in blissful ignorance so she wouldn't feel it when it eventually sliced through her. As a result, however, his heart wasn't in it. It hurt him just as much as it hurt her that they couldn't fully love each other.

She just couldn't recognize in time that he shared her pain with her.

"Oo-OOOOH!"

Mew covered her mouth at the sight of him burying his face directly into her double's vulva, tongue drawing crazy circles over her folds and lapping up her fluids. Tiny paws gripping his head, she humped in tune to his movements, nibbling her lip. She dreamily glanced over at their little voyeur and let out a pleased laugh, loosening her tail to drop between his legs. He jerked under her touch, aiding her to stroke in the right spots.

Tears trickled down her cheeks. She didn't want to watch anymore, didn't want to know of the fire in his irises burning the brightest she had ever seen. If she had the strength, she could get up to pull them apart, snap him out of it, and remind him of why he chose her as his mate.

"Ah!"

Her other hand had slipped its way down her body without her knowing, sinking into her puffy core to plug herself up. Her fingers weren't of his girth, the size she was most attuned to, but she just needed something to impede the throbbing. Biting down on her knuckles to stifle her sobs, she squirmed to get into a more comfortable position without drawing too much attention to herself.

Harmonious yowls broke her concentration, and her eyes refocused on the copulating pair, Mewtwo hunched on his knees and her other self on her face, pelvis in the air. Though her expression was unpleasantly distorted, there was a smirk quirked on her lips. "Ahhh, fuck, that's the spot!" she crooned, quickening her pace. "Plow my pussy deep, Mewtwo! I want to feel it all!"

Even though she couldn't find her voice, Mew felt her lips mouth the words and leave herself in a buzz. She wouldn't have dared say them, she felt her actions were more important, yet Mewtwo responded rather positively to such vulgarity. The act was too crude, too feral to even be enjoyable—but there they were, lost to euphoria and to themselves, not caring about who could come across them.

The Mewtwo before her was a different creature at this point, but she couldn't help feeling envious of the Mew he risked crushing beneath him. It was a side of him that may not even exist, yet he was confident enough in his little mate to show it to her. For all the times he believed himself unnatural as a product of science, the insatiable driving force of nature came instinctively to him as it did her.

She missed him... she missed him so much...

With a heavy sigh, Mew tipped back her head as her tail reached an opening, envisioning herself switching places. "More... more, Mewtwo..."

*~*~*

As he stepped onto the path for his house, Mewtwo's stream of positive thoughts kept flowing towards Lil, feeling he couldn't thank her enough for her help even with the impromptu visit (though it was no real surprise she was a morning person). He thought it a little embarrassing he was starting up a garden in the winter season, yet her gentle smile convinced him otherwise. She happily gave tips for the herbs and lent him the containers so he could start it indoors, although from the way she had danced about gathering them up, she was more excited that he was even taking up gardening. Far as he knew, being more adept in tinkering with scrap metal meant he couldn't possibly have a green thumb, but he didn't want the herbs to go to waste.

"Although what would Vic say?" he smirked to himself, amusing himself with the most viable responses of the pitcher plant should he ever learn of his new hobby.

He almost came to a stop by the fence, briefly sensing a disturbance in the air. Unsure of its origins, he inhaled deeply and hoisted the items in his arms to psychically sort them out. He had a good picture of how he could reorganize his study to be better suited for the plants, which he would get started on right after their late breakfast—

"...Mewtwo!"

Blood ran cold so fast that he trembled and collapsed on a knee. It was muffled, yet the urgency in the tone sharply rippled through his body. Without a second thought, he dropped everything at the gate to hurry inside, nearly stumbling over the threshold. "Mew, what happened?!" he gasped, poking his head into the empty kitchen.

There came a sneer from the back of his mind, telling him he was crazy for being frantic until her cries interrupted it. Shooting his gaze down the hall, Mewtwo ran to grab the doorknob to find it locked.

...locked? Why would it be locked?

"...more, Mewtwo... your cock feels so fucking good!"

He stood frozen as he listened to Mew shout his name again beyond the wood. On top of her no longer sounding as urgent as he thought, she was audibly out of breath, but that didn't bother him as much as how brazen she became. It was rare for her to use harsh language even in anger, and the concept of "dirty talk" wasn't something they considered. He shook in place, heart pounding in his ears as he cursed under his breath.

Something was wrong.

Telekinetically, he turned the lock just as he heard the creak of the bed followed by another string of moans. "Mew, are you all ri—?" It was when he shoved the door open that he trailed off, unable to finish his sentence.

Mew, draped upside-down over the edge of the disheveled bed, had an unfocused stare as her gasps became irregular, drool slipping down her cheek. Her raised hips gyrated to the rhythm of her paw and tail, which was plunging deep into herself at an angle. The other hand, palm slick with sweat, was tightly gripping the sheets hanging around her head and yanking it with every thrust out of passion.

"O-O-O—OHH! Oh, harder, Mewtwo! Fuck my brains out!"

The clone was sure his mouth was agape from the shock of what was displayed before him, but he couldn't feel his numb body apart from the icy chill that continued to run up his spine. He could scarcely stand to look at her as she deliriously writhed on the bed, and yet he couldn't turn away as if mesmerized. The taunting nag hovered in the back of his mind as if to further rub it in his face:

She sometimes screamed your name during sex, remember?

"Mewt... Mewtwoooo... God, yesss..."

Mewtwo involuntarily gulped as her moans echoed in his ears. The way she mewled his name triggered the bitter loneliness that made his core throb with every hollow heartbeat. His vision struggled between her puckering lips and puffy groin, suddenly unsure which to focus on. His curiosity went to a dark, sick place in wondering just what it was she was thinking of, in how it was she could pretend to enjoy herself without shame. And rising up from the depths was frustration he had been hoarding for a long time. He loathed that he was still around and still willing to make it up with her, and yet she refused him to instead replace him with some false image he couldn't see nor hear.

And he wondered if that Mewtwo could pleasure her tenfold than he ever could.

As her panting grew heated, Mew's tongue weakly ran across her bottom lip, her back arching and tightening in preparation. Her voice started to peter out, the sheets further rumpled in her fist, her midriff quivered when she ran her paw over her exposed teats, and tail blurred as her parted legs quaked from holding herself up. Feet firmly planted on the mattress, her body thrusted long and hard as her head tilted further back and her mouth widened with an inhale.

That all came to an abrupt halt once they made eye-contact.

Mewtwo shivered at the recognition that sparked to life in her wide, teary eyes, and noticed he hadn't been gripping the doorknob. Swiftly removing her paw and tail from between her legs, Mew rolled to sit on her knees and hide herself, her lower half visibly shaken up. The flush on her face darkened, drops of sweat clinging to her.

"M-Mewtwo..." she croaked out.

His heart painfully squeezed from the whiplash of her tone going from heated to timid. Trying to regain his composure, he just shook his head and waved his hand around. "No, no... d-do not mind me, Mew..."

"Mewtwo, I-I'm sorry!"

"Do not get up, Mew... That was rude of me to barge into our bedroom." He swallowed to find his mouth had gone dry from the strong scent that permeated the room. "If I had known you were going to be... busy..."

"Mewtwo, please! Don't be like that!" Tears cascaded down her cheeks, her sobs bursting from her chest.

He turned his head to finally avoid her gaze when his throat tightened. "I just remembered I need to be somewhere. I would like to return in an hour for breakfast, but I could always stay out longer."

"STOP IT, I'M SORRY!" she screamed over him.

"Actually now that I think about it, I may be home tonight at the latest. Do not wait for me." He then quickly pulled the door shut and rushed back to the front room, narrowly keeping his balance. His hand just touched the doorknob when Mew ran into his back, taking hold of his sides.

"NO! DON'T GO, MEWTWO! I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY!"

"I-I am late enough as it is..."

"JUST SAY IT, MEWTWO!"

"No... no, I will not..." Mewtwo pried her off, pushing her back far enough to momentarily exit the house and close the door shut, psychically jamming it.

From behind the wood, he heard her wail and claw anywhere between the knob and the boards themselves, continuing to scream for him to not leave and chanting her apology on repeat. Too caught up in her own grief, she never once teleported outside, to which the clone was glad she didn't. Gagging back his sobs as the taunting image of her orgasming rapidly flashed in his mind, he collapsed against the door when his legs gave out, twisting his body to shield his now-flaccid genitals.

*~*~*

It was one of the longest days of his life. Unable to face anyone in the community, he had left to take a breather on the farthest side of the mountain range where he'd be left alone, but his attempts to meditate were futile with the intrusive damning thoughts. What once was his safe haven for self-reflection, solitude became his self-torture and a battle of wills he had no probable chance of winning. And he didn't.

He had tried to convince himself it was normal, that in their current situation it was the only way to find temporary relief, but he knew in his heart it wasn't. Mew had never once touched herself—as far as he was aware of. He wasn't always around her, there were days he was gone for long hours, and it was rare of him to be away overnight. If she had ever gotten urges at any of those times, it was possible she may have had a way to release it.

No, he knew her long enough to know she was too reserved for such a thing, even around him. So why did she do it? When did she start doing it, and how did he not know of it? There was no way it was her first time judging from her cries and position.

Exhausted in heart, mind and body, Mewtwo carefully timed out when she would start on dinner before he would step back through the door. He kept his entrance quiet, hovering in the living room to avoid seeing her in his line of sight, not ready to confront her. What prevented him from doing so was the heavy atmosphere that still pressed on his shoulders, a sensation he couldn't shake off. As much as he wanted to forget what he had seen and done (and he was positive he could wipe out his own memory on a whim), something nagged at him that it wouldn't make a difference.

He grunted under his breath as his loins started to burn again in need, looking for a distraction from the mental images. His eyes fell upon the table by the couch, and stared at the white envelope laying there. Within moments, he felt his insides drop as a memory flashed by, remembering he had not been happy about the delivery. He shakily picked it up and held it to the dying light as the sigma glinted at him. It hadn't been opened; that tidbit left an odd taste in his mouth.

Carefully, he peeled the sticker off and pried it open. A single, laminated card was tucked inside, front facing him. Taking it out, he gaped down at it, looked it over, and reread it. Then he barked out a small laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

He received it months ago, and yet the printed date was only a few days away.

"You have got to be kidding me," he scoffed, yet couldn't stop smirking. He readied himself to rip the invitation in two—but stayed frozen when he noticed his hands were trembling.

"No, don't!"

Mewtwo snapped his head up to find Mew in the kitchen entranceway. Her face was still dark, but her eyes shone of anxiety. His brows furrowed a little that this was what she greeted him with after the events of that morning. "Why are you so concerned?"

"He thought of you, Mewtwo! Don't just throw it away like that!"

For a brief moment, he questioned how it was she knew what it was since it was left gathering dust; then it occurred to him the envelope had nary a speck on it. His heart ached at the thought Mew kept it unopened since it was he who was invited, even though she was the one who convinced him. Glancing down at the invitation, he let out a sigh through his nose.

"He will not get offended." Mewtwo tightened his grip on the card, and managed to tear halfway before Mew snatched his wrist to stop him.

"But you should respect his thoughts! You should go to the ceremony!"

Forgoing another question of how she knew it hadn't yet happened, he pulled himself away. "I cannot trust you can take care of yourself."

Her shaky hands continued to hover. "I will, I promise! If I have to, I'll stay with one of the girls while you're gone! But...," and she clenched them as her voice grew thick with melancholy, "...the nights will be lonely."

Mewtwo's core quivered from a sudden image of her curled in bed with both paws between her thighs. She ducked her head to avoid his gaze, quickly returning to the kitchen. Dropping the invitation on the couch, he followed after her, pausing by the table. She shot him a brief glance before turning her back to him and picking up a knife to chop a small bundle of celery.

"It's nothing, Mewtwo..."

As static as he was, he couldn't help shivering, sensing the uneasiness emitting from her. She had to be berating herself for stepping out of line after what happened. Staring over at the window as the last of the sun's rays dimmed, he slowly exhaled.

"Mew... please be honest with me," he muttered, noticing he sounded sober.

"I'm busy right now," was her quick response, her posture not once moving from her place by the stove. She started to chop louder, vainly making the attempt to end the conversation.

"I just want a simple response from you is all."

"Can you do it later?" Her voice was more strained and the slices even louder and rougher, as evident from the small pieces flying off the countertop.

"I have held off on this for far too long. Procrastinating will only make this more difficult."

The shunck! of the knife cutting the board pierced the air, Mew's ears flattening and shoulders rolling back. She remained in place, not moving to even crane her head for a glance. The only visible sign was the tip of her tail flicking in an irritable manner, and right arm trembling.

Silently and warily, Mewtwo strode into the kitchen to turn on the light above the stove, standing where his shadow wouldn't overlap with any part of her. He cautiously eyed the knife still in her hand, finding no reflection on its blade from the angle it had sunk into the cutting board. Then glancing at the boiling soup, he reached over to turn down the gas, keeping her and the knife in his line of sight. Though he knew she could see the movement at the corner of her eye, she remained still.

Straightening back up, he inhaled long and deep. "Do you want to stop being my mate?"

He heard a strangled gasp interrupt her breathing until she slowed it down. Her body twitching and squirming in discomfort, she continued to refuse looking at him as she quickly scooped up the celery to throw into the pot. It was a reaction he expected, but he did not want to play the quiet game.

"Answer the question, Mew."

"It's a silly question," she mumbled out, reaching for another bundle to chop.

He telekinetically slid it further down the countertop. She tensed and flattened her ears, her jaw locking up. "Fine, let me reword it. Do you want to end our relationship?"

Given where they stood, normally, Mewtwo would have disregarded the knife to drape his arms over her as he watched her make dinner. If not pouting about the teasing "keep away" game, she would be chatting about her day or anything on her mind, rolling her eyes or smirking at any joking remarks he would say. The kitchen would be livelier, more welcoming, their countenances brightening the atmosphere.

That moment had slipped past his fingertips a long time ago.

Despite the stinging silence, it was like he was the only one talking, his voice on an endless loop by reverberating off the gray walls. He remained still, numb to the growing emptiness inside as he waited for her to react, keeping an eye on the knife. Judging from how much she struggled to steady herself and breathe, she never thought he would ask such a biting question—or she was having second thoughts.

"I..." She paused to take a few more breaths. "I need time to think on it."

Mewtwo welcomed her response, knowing she was going to need it. "I will give you until after dinner," he stated, and then left for the study.

Just as he reached the door, he heard the knife sink once more into the cutting board as she sobbed. He stood in place, hand trembling on the knob, fighting back any conflicting emotions that were bubbling up. And he was losing.

*~*~*

Try as he might, as much as he wanted to, he could not convince himself that it was the right thing to do. They could talk about it all they want, even as civilly as possible, but whatever the decision was, nothing good was going to come from it. It was as if they were in a stalemate, yet were unable to, or refused to reconcile.

Such thoughts made it hard for Mewtwo to eat as he sat in the living room, waiting for Mew to finish. Where he sat, he could peek over at the kitchen to see her engrossed in her dinner, positioned so she wouldn't have to see him. The discarded invitation was still within reach, though he tried to keep it out of his peripheral each time he cast his eyes about. He didn't need anything else to add to the problem, and he hoped it would stay out of the conversation.

Mew got up to wash her bowl by the time he found the motivation to gulp the soup down. It was stone cold, but such a trivial detail didn't bother him. Whatever gave her a few extra minutes to collect her thoughts, even if it left a knot in his stomach. Just when she came into the living room, he exited to wash the rest of the dishes, avoiding looking over at her. He glanced over at her bowl on the rack, frowned at how poorly-cleaned it was, and rewashed it without a word. He tried to ignore how his hands shook, and to look past the size differences between the dishware, and not to think about how they were able to calculate the amount of food to prepare for the two of them with such normal-sized pots. It was almost pathetic how much he was stalling to reminisce about just the kitchenware. They weren't even made by his own hand like the house, yet Mew never minded.

Mewtwo forced himself to return to the living room, and briefly hesitated sitting down next to her. She made no attempt to move from her side nor stop him, which he took as a silver lining. The heavy atmosphere had lightened up some, but it still made him shift as he thought on the question once more.

There was no turning back now.

"I will ask again, Mew," he started off somberly, glancing over at her. His mate looked frail and limp, her pale skin more visible through her thinning fur. She only breathed, not a twitch to be seen on her. "Do you want to end our relationship?"

Her eyes remained distant, but she had heard him. "...I don't know..."

"Why do you not know?"

She covered the right side of her face. "I feel I should know..."

With a quiet grunt, Mewtwo turned away to pinch his brows. As much as he despised hearing the "I don't know" answer, it was her default response. It was already taking all of his willpower to remain calm and keep his thoughts on the matter at hand. If he wanted their talk to go well regardless of direction, getting into a shouting match was going to do much more harm. Though secretly, he was a bit relieved her saying "I don't know" guaranteed them an excuse to talk it over.

"...you're asking because you're not happy... isn't it." From what he gathered in her soft tone, it was more of a statement than a question. It pained his heart for her to point it out, but it was an excuse to spill his thoughts.

"Neither of us are happy. I cannot remember the last time either of us smiled, or were able to be confident that we were happy together." When he glanced over, her expression was still unchanged, though an ear flicked. "We no longer talk to each other like we used to, neither do we have nice things to say about one another. We no longer do anything together such as eating at the same table and sleeping in the same bed and... dating... Hell, we do not look at each other anymore. There is no life in this house, no interaction. We are always exhausted, we reject any support our... friends have tried to give us..."

Mewtwo had to pause to breathe. "There is literally no 'we' anymore... if it was ever 'we' and 'us'. It is just two strangers who happen to live under one roof. It is possible that if this relationship was never a 'we' relationship, then everything we did was more of a 'friends with benefits', so it goes in human terms. That was not what I wanted from the start, and I hope—I plead that is not the case."

Mew had dropped her arm and hung her head, but she remained unresponsive. It was almost insulting that she was coming off as emotionless while he spilled out his heart for her to see.

"So I will ask one more time. Mew... do you want to stop being my mate? It is just a simple 'yes' or 'no' response."

Her fingers twitched in her lap. "You're going to get mad," she murmured.

"I am not going to get mad," he whispered back, fighting back a shiver.

Mew opened her mouth in attempt to speak, but her voice kept cracking. There was a hint of a tear in her eye, though he wrote it off as either tiredness or her getting frustrated at herself for choking up. He slightly turned his head away, wondering if she wasn't comfortable being looked at to answer.

"...N-No..."

Mewtwo closed his eyes and covered his face, trying to muffle his sharp inhaling. He knew she was going to say that, and it pissed him off. But as much as he couldn't trust himself to keep calm, he held it in for her sake, waiting for more of her response.

She breathed enough to raise her voice. "No, I don't want to end this relationship. But because we're not happy, it should be the right thing to end it, right? It's just that... it's going to be so awkward. I don't want to not be with you anymore, but if we end this relationship, would that mean ending our friendship?"

Once he cleared his mind, Mewtwo straightened up. "If you feel it is the right thing to do, we will go our separate ways," he muttered.

She shook her head. "I don't want to... b-because we... we did so many things together... so many happy things. And..." He caught her shyly glancing up at him, her face flushing. "...And we had sex... Many times."

Her feeble voice pricked a hole in his heart. "What are you getting at?"

Her gaze faltered as she hugged her arms close. "You can wipe memories... right? If we separate, you will have to wipe my memory of this, or I'm never going to move on."

"I refuse," he interjected, brows furrowed. "I only resort to that technique when necessary. Erasing all memory of our relationship is going to do more harm than good. That is at least five years' worth of memories, Mew."

Her grip tightened. "I don't want to be sad anymore, Mewtwo... it's just that..." Struggling to keep her voice steady, she got up. Her tail dragged on the floor when she moved for the entranceway, quivering in place. "Even if we're not in love anymore, even though we don't talk like we used to... for some reason, I don't want to leave. We were happy. I know it because you were able to smile. I... we made this place our home, put our hearts and love into it. I love being home with you, Mewtwo. E-Even if we don't ever have children, we still have each other, and that is why we were happy."

She hiccuped from her sobs and braced against the wall. "I did this... everything that went wrong here... It was a mistake to care for that... that egg. It... she ruined—no... I ruined everything. I ruined our lives."

Mewtwo got up and startled her when he grasped her head to look her firmly in the eye. "Mew, no one is at fault, not you, nor Marjorie. She made a mistake, and she wanted a solution. She thought of you and how much you wanted a child." His hands began to tremble, and he quickly swallowed down the tears when her eyes lightened up. "You happily agreed to adopt the child—we both did. It just somehow was not meant to be. No one knew it was defective, we discovered it too late."

"I discovered too late, Mewtwo!" she exclaimed, jabbing herself in the chest when she pulled away. "It was you who knew something was wrong, but I refused to listen! Everything that happened is all my damn fault! Don't pretend it isn't, Mewtwo!"

He shook his head. "No, not everything is your fault. I turned a blind eye myself, believing you were happy... but you really were not. And as your mate, I should have caught that. Everything that got worse happened because I let it happen."

"Mewtwo, no—"

"Stop pretending it was all on you, Mew!"

"No, it wasn't just the egg! I-It wasn't just that... it was before then..."

"I know, Mew."

"Then why didn't you say anything?!" she wailed. "Why did you pretend everything was okay for five years?! God, Mewtwo, I trusted you! I loved you!" She hiccuped and rapidly shook her head. "And all while I couldn't even trust myself!"

She dropped her face into her hands in a vain effort to hold back her bawls. At the risk of setting her off, Mewtwo carefully reached out for her, cradling her close when she sank into his chest without hesitation. Although concerned she was sending mixed signals, he pressed his cheek between her ears as he rocked her, finding himself glaring at the thin moonlight streaming in from the kitchen and wishing a cloud would roll over. He didn't need to be reminded of their happier moments underneath the silver rays, neither he nor Mew were worthy of it. For it to shine on a stressful moment was like the moon mockingly spit on their faces.

He tilted his head to look behind him, laying his eyes on the invitation. Then burying his face into her temple, the clone gingerly murmured, "Let us leave tomorrow."

It took a bit more of silence before Mew's reply could be audible. "You sure?"

He briefly rubbed her shoulder. "Think of it as a vacation. It will give us a few extra days to breathe."

She sniffled and squirmed in his hold. "...thank you..." She lifted her head with a hand at her nose and mouth, tears slowly slipping down her red face. "Um... can you stay with me tonight?"

Mewtwo gritted his teeth to block the sobs bursting from his throat, but managed a small nod of assurance. "Of course... dear."

A tiny beam of gratitude graced her face, and she wiped her eyes before ducking her face into the crook of his neck. He held her close for her to weep it out as he made the rounds of securing the house for the night, purposefully taking his time. As he entered the hallway, she squeezed tighter.

"Mewtwo... how big is the other bed?" she murmured, still keeping her head down.

He paused in front of their bedroom door, mulling on her question. "It is fit for one person," he answered after a few moments of silence. "Why do you ask?"

She shifted as her head turned, but didn't pull away. "I defiled our bed..."

Mewtwo shivered, staring at the door. "It is all right... it was about time to make a new one anyway."

Upon pushing the door open, she let out a shuddering breath, curling more into his arms. "Don't! Please..."

Pausing to stare at the lunar rays as she sobbed into his chest, try as he could to push the unsettling memory from mind, he could still feel the heavy weight in his stomach rooting him in place. The atmosphere was unusually stifling, and not because he hadn't stepped foot inside for months. Mew was deeply troubled by whatever she did inside, a dark curiosity he knew better than to further probe.

She relaxed a little when he pulled it closed and he changed course for the study. It was still cramped, but not as suffocating, and the bed looked more welcoming. Like custom, he gently tucked her in on her side of the bed, allowing her to use the fuller pillow, then quickly tidied up the room to open it up more. Once the curtains were drawn to shut out the night sky, he hesitated to climb in himself, gauging the width and how scrunched up she'd be against the wall if he took up residence. Her eyes gleamed from tears when she glanced up at him, a look of concern in the blue depths.

"Is something wrong?" she whispered, hugging the pillow closer.

He didn't sugarcoat his answer. "There is not going to be enough room for you if I join you. Besides, I need to do some nightly reading before I retire to bed."

She sat up and scooted closer to reach out to him, but didn't even graze an arm. "No, it's... it's okay, Mewtwo."

"Are you sure?"

Slowly, she nodded, dropping her hand and stare to the blankets. "Y... You don't have to fall asleep, but... I want you to stay."

"I am not going to leave the room."

"No..." She then smoothed out the flat pillow, shyly meeting his gaze. "Here... with me..."

He silently chewed it over, fighting off a chill creeping up his back. He watched her eyes glaze over, looking almost as though she fell into a trance while taking him in. The clone saw a glint of what he interpreted as desire, perhaps longing. She didn't appear to be aware of her change in expression, even when he heard her breath start to hitch in her chest.

On any normal night, he would have fallen upon her without hesitation and made love with her well into the twilight. However, the differences between then and now were visible in the gap that separated them. He could lay a hand on her as he did earlier gathering her in his arms, yet he would receive no reciprocating stir in return. She could plead with her eyes, perhaps even envision the same scene as he, but she wouldn't handle any physical touch without breaking.

Mewtwo didn't deserve to be in the same bed, let alone the same room as Mew. He felt unworthy to even look at her, a broken soul he had unknowingly assisted in wrecking further when he wanted to help her. He had failed her and himself time and time again, and there was no rewarding failure.

And yet, his body disobeyed and slipped into the covers, facing her as they lay down on opposite ends of the mattress. As he thought, even when he chose to lay as close to the edge as possible, there was little wriggle room for the two of them, and they couldn't look away from each other. She didn't look uncomfortable being in close proximity to him, however, in which a cruel tease at the back of his mind reminded him that all she had to do was stretch out a paw and stroke his chin, and he'd be putty in her hands.

He blinked down at the open left hand, her delicate fingers nervously curling as if hiding themselves from his gaze. Her timid voice broke the silence, "Can... can we hold hands?"

He was going to ask, but chose to hold his tongue as he gently took her paw to lay in his palm. She grasped his thumb, shivering as his fingers brushed along the outside of her wrist. Her eyes drifted not in coyness, he realized, but in shame.

"Are you still going to be here in the morning?" she anxiously asked, pulling her tail close to her chest.

Though he had no intent to leave in the middle of the night, Mewtwo couldn't blame her for asking it. So he answered her with a nod, "I plan to."

Mew briefly crossed visions again and slightly hiccuped on a couple of breaths, tightening her hold.

#pokemon #mewtwo #mew #mewshipping #handle with care #chapter twelve #fan fiction #mature

[loveofyhwh]

October 8: Isaiah 31–33; Hebrews 13:20–25; Psalm 91; Proverbs 25:11–14

New Post has been published on https://loveofyhwh.com/october-8-isaiah-31-33-hebrews-1320-25-psalm-91-proverbs-2511-14/

October 8: Isaiah 31–33; Hebrews 13:20–25; Psalm 91; Proverbs 25:11–14

Old Testament:

Isaiah 31–33

Isaiah 31–33 (Listen)

Woe to Those Who Go Down to Egypt

31   WoeOr Ah,‘>1 to those who go down to Egypt for help     and rely on horses,   who trust in chariots because they are many     and in horsemen because they are very strong,   but do not look to the Holy One of Israel     or consult the LORD! 2   And yet he is wise and brings disaster;     he does not call back his words,   but will arise against the house of the evildoers     and against the helpers of those who work iniquity. 3   The Egyptians are man, and not God,     and their horses are flesh, and not spirit.   When the LORD stretches out his hand,     the helper will stumble, and he who is helped will fall,     and they will all perish together. 4   For thus the LORD said to me,   “As a lion or a young lion growls over his prey,     and when a band of shepherds is called out against him   he is not terrified by their shouting     or daunted at their noise,   so the LORD of hosts will come down     to fightThe Hebrew words for hosts and to fight sound alike‘>2 on Mount Zion and on its hill. 5   Like birds hovering, so the LORD of hosts     will protect Jerusalem;   he will protect and deliver it;     he will spare and rescue it.”

6 Turn to him from whom peopleHebrew they‘>3 have deeply revolted, O children of Israel. 7 For in that day everyone shall cast away his idols of silver and his idols of gold, which your hands have sinfully made for you.

8   “And the Assyrian shall fall by a sword, not of man;     and a sword, not of man, shall devour him;   and he shall flee from the sword,     and his young men shall be put to forced labor. 9   His rock shall pass away in terror,     and his officers desert the standard in panic,”   declares the LORD, whose fire is in Zion,     and whose furnace is in Jerusalem.

A King Will Reign in Righteousness

32   Behold, a king will reign in righteousness,     and princes will rule in justice. 2   Each will be like a hiding place from the wind,     a shelter from the storm,   like streams of water in a dry place,     like the shade of a great rock in a weary land. 3   Then the eyes of those who see will not be closed,     and the ears of those who hear will give attention. 4   The heart of the hasty will understand and know,     and the tongue of the stammerers will hasten to speak distinctly. 5   The fool will no more be called noble,     nor the scoundrel said to be honorable. 6   For the fool speaks folly,     and his heart is busy with iniquity,   to practice ungodliness,     to utter error concerning the LORD,   to leave the craving of the hungry unsatisfied,     and to deprive the thirsty of drink. 7   As for the scoundrel—his devices are evil;     he plans wicked schemes   to ruin the poor with lying words,     even when the plea of the needy is right. 8   But he who is noble plans noble things,     and on noble things he stands.

Complacent Women Warned of Disaster

9   Rise up, you women who are at ease, hear my voice;     you complacent daughters, give ear to my speech. 10   In little more than a year     you will shudder, you complacent women;   for the grape harvest fails,     the fruit harvest will not come. 11   Tremble, you women who are at ease,     shudder, you complacent ones;   strip, and make yourselves bare,     and tie sackcloth around your waist. 12   Beat your breasts for the pleasant fields,     for the fruitful vine, 13   for the soil of my people     growing up in thorns and briers,   yes, for all the joyous houses     in the exultant city. 14   For the palace is forsaken,     the populous city deserted;   the hill and the watchtower     will become dens forever,   a joy of wild donkeys,     a pasture of flocks; 15   until the Spirit is poured upon us from on high,     and the wilderness becomes a fruitful field,     and the fruitful field is deemed a forest. 16   Then justice will dwell in the wilderness,     and righteousness abide in the fruitful field. 17   And the effect of righteousness will be peace,     and the result of righteousness, quietness and trustOr security‘>4 forever. 18   My people will abide in a peaceful habitation,     in secure dwellings, and in quiet resting places. 19   And it will hail when the forest falls down,     and the city will be utterly laid low. 20   Happy are you who sow beside all waters,     who let the feet of the ox and the donkey range free.

O Lord, Be Gracious to Us

33   Ah, you destroyer,     who yourself have not been destroyed,   you traitor,     whom none has betrayed!   When you have ceased to destroy,     you will be destroyed;   and when you have finished betraying,     they will betray you. 2   O LORD, be gracious to us; we wait for you.     Be our arm every morning,     our salvation in the time of trouble. 3   At the tumultuous noise peoples flee;     when you lift yourself up, nations are scattered, 4   and your spoil is gathered as the caterpillar gathers;     as locusts leap, it is leapt upon. 5   The LORD is exalted, for he dwells on high;     he will fill Zion with justice and righteousness, 6   and he will be the stability of your times,     abundance of salvation, wisdom, and knowledge;     the fear of the LORD is Zion’sHebrew his‘>5 treasure. 7   Behold, their heroes cry in the streets;     the envoys of peace weep bitterly. 8   The highways lie waste;     the traveler ceases.   Covenants are broken;     citiesMasoretic Text; Dead Sea Scroll witnesses‘>6 are despised;     there is no regard for man. 9   The land mourns and languishes;     Lebanon is confounded and withers away;   Sharon is like a desert,     and Bashan and Carmel shake off their leaves. 10   “Now I will arise,” says the LORD,     “now I will lift myself up;     now I will be exalted. 11   You conceive chaff; you give birth to stubble;     your breath is a fire that will consume you. 12   And the peoples will be as if burned to lime,     like thorns cut down, that are burned in the fire.” 13   Hear, you who are far off, what I have done;     and you who are near, acknowledge my might. 14   The sinners in Zion are afraid;     trembling has seized the godless:   “Who among us can dwell with the consuming fire?     Who among us can dwell with everlasting burnings?” 15   He who walks righteously and speaks uprightly,     who despises the gain of oppressions,   who shakes his hands, lest they hold a bribe,     who stops his ears from hearing of bloodshed     and shuts his eyes from looking on evil, 16   he will dwell on the heights;     his place of defense will be the fortresses of rocks;     his bread will be given him; his water will be sure. 17   Your eyes will behold the king in his beauty;     they will see a land that stretches afar. 18   Your heart will muse on the terror:     “Where is he who counted, where is he who weighed the tribute?     Where is he who counted the towers?” 19   You will see no more the insolent people,     the people of an obscure speech that you cannot comprehend,     stammering in a tongue that you cannot understand. 20   Behold Zion, the city of our appointed feasts!     Your eyes will see Jerusalem,     an untroubled habitation, an immovable tent,   whose stakes will never be plucked up,     nor will any of its cords be broken. 21   But there the LORD in majesty will be for us     a place of broad rivers and streams,   where no galley with oars can go,     nor majestic ship can pass. 22   For the LORD is our judge; the LORD is our lawgiver;     the LORD is our king; he will save us. 23   Your cords hang loose;     they cannot hold the mast firm in its place     or keep the sail spread out.   Then prey and spoil in abundance will be divided;     even the lame will take the prey. 24   And no inhabitant will say, “I am sick”;     the people who dwell there will be forgiven their iniquity.

Footnotes

[1] 31:1 Or Ah, [2] 31:4 The Hebrew words for hosts and to fight sound alike [3] 31:6 Hebrew they [4] 32:17 Or security [5] 33:6 Hebrew his [6] 33:8 Masoretic Text; Dead Sea Scroll witnesses

(ESV)

New Testament:

Hebrews 13:20–25

Hebrews 13:20–25 (Listen)

Benediction

20 Now may the God of peace who brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus, the great shepherd of the sheep, by the blood of the eternal covenant, 21 equip you with everything good that you may do his will, working in usSome manuscripts you‘>1 that which is pleasing in his sight, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen.

Final Greetings

22 I appeal to you, brothers,Or brothers and sisters‘>2 bear with my word of exhortation, for I have written to you briefly. 23 You should know that our brother Timothy has been released, with whom I shall see you if he comes soon. 24 Greet all your leaders and all the saints. Those who come from Italy send you greetings. 25 Grace be with all of you.

Footnotes

[1] 13:21 Some manuscripts you [2] 13:22 Or brothers and sisters

(ESV)

Psalm:

Psalm 91

Psalm 91 (Listen)

My Refuge and My Fortress

91   He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High     will abide in the shadow of the Almighty. 2   I will saySeptuagint He will say‘>1 to the LORD, “My refuge and my fortress,     my God, in whom I trust.” 3   For he will deliver you from the snare of the fowler     and from the deadly pestilence. 4   He will cover you with his pinions,     and under his wings you will find refuge;     his faithfulness is a shield and buckler. 5   You will not fear the terror of the night,     nor the arrow that flies by day, 6   nor the pestilence that stalks in darkness,     nor the destruction that wastes at noonday. 7   A thousand may fall at your side,     ten thousand at your right hand,     but it will not come near you. 8   You will only look with your eyes     and see the recompense of the wicked. 9   Because you have made the LORD your dwelling place—     the Most High, who is my refugeOr For you, O Lord, are my refuge! You have made the Most High your dwelling place‘>2— 10   no evil shall be allowed to befall you,     no plague come near your tent. 11   For he will command his angels concerning you     to guard you in all your ways. 12   On their hands they will bear you up,     lest you strike your foot against a stone. 13   You will tread on the lion and the adder;     the young lion and the serpent you will trample underfoot. 14   “Because he holds fast to me in love, I will deliver him;     I will protect him, because he knows my name. 15   When he calls to me, I will answer him;     I will be with him in trouble;     I will rescue him and honor him. 16   With long life I will satisfy him     and show him my salvation.”

Footnotes

[1] 91:2 Septuagint He will say [2] 91:9 Or For you, O Lord, are my refuge! You have made the Most High your dwelling place

(ESV)

Proverb:

Proverbs 25:11–14

Proverbs 25:11–14 (Listen)

11   A word fitly spoken     is like apples of gold in a setting of silver. 12   Like a gold ring or an ornament of gold     is a wise reprover to a listening ear. 13   Like the cold of snow in the time of harvest     is a faithful messenger to those who send him;     he refreshes the soul of his masters. 14   Like clouds and wind without rain     is a man who boasts of a gift he does not give.

(ESV)