Hanzo’s Adjustment Period

The house is old, old enough to have it’s own vioce. It creaks and groans in the night, eerie melodies just slightly off key. It send a shiver down Hanzo’s spine as he looks up from his book. He’s been reading on the couch in the living room far past their usual bedtime. 

Jesse had already shuffled off to the master bedroom, turning out lights as he went. Leaving Hanzo with the rather daunting task of making the twisting path down the hall, up the stairs and to his place of rest.

The house had been Jesse’s mothers and when she had decided to move to a warmer climate, it had seemed natural the two take it instead.

Now Hanzo was considering the likely hood of a haunting. A heavy wind buffeted the house and it groaned, tree branches tapping on the wooden siding. They would need to trim those back before the winter storms arrived.

Something darted in the corner of his vision and he wiped around, catching the tail end of one of Jesse’s cats. Or rather, the barn cats that neither of them could bare to leave outside with below freezing temperatures. 

Hanzo considered pulling the extra quilt from the back of the couch and sleeping where he was before a strange rattling came from the bookshelf. He booked it, definitely not spooked, and darted down the hall with the blanket around his shoulders.

He made it to the upstairs safely and let himself into their shared room. Jesse was a lump under the down comforter, just his wild shock of hair sticking out of the top. Hanzo begrudged the man’s ability to sleep through anything. 

Hanzo had spent too many years sleeping with a knife in his hand to be able to rest so deeply. Even with that life long past, he could not break the habit. Sighing, he sank to the closed toilet and pulled out his phone. He just wanted to check tomorrow’s weather, and the headlines.

Absently, he noted the end of his phone charger was under the door. He didn’t need it and he was sure Jesse would grouse at him for leaving his charger in the bathroom.

His thoughts were frozen as the cord moved and the scratch of claws filled the small room. It rattled the door, yanking and tugging and Hanzo’s blood ran cold. He fought down a low shameful sound and slowly stood. He watched the cord flop and writhe as whatever was on the other side tried to rip it through. The door banged and the knob rattled from the impact.

Hanzo waited, watching as claws dug at the gap under the door. Long black toes extending to dig viciously against the wood. Hanzo grabbed the knob, threw the door open and leapt straight over a startled black cat. His feet barely touched the ground before he jumped the rest of the distance to crash into Jesse. It was only fair after all.

“Oouf, darlin/” Jesse slurred, not even really waking up.

Hanzo burrowed viciously against him, disappearing into the warm comforting presence of his husband. Ignoring the frantic pounding of his heart as the lesser demon/cat scrambled to hide under the bed. They had both got a fright.

Living this way was going to take some getting used to.

(aka, I got my pants scared off by my own cat tonight and gosh darn it feel my pain)

Essays in Existentialism: Thanksgiving

Could you write one about a family thanksgiving dinner?

Day 1

The street was filled with bright yellow and orange leaves, burning bright against the deep black of the road. A beautiful sunny day, the leaves fell down like rain, glittering in the late morning light, while the breeze tossed them around, filling the almost dead lawns with another layer to add to the piles. A lone car made its way through the neighborhood, watching the canopy road become a little more bare. 

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Milestones (Slight Jake x F!MC)

Universe:  Endless Summer
Word Count: 2322 (whoops)
Rating: PG
For #ChoicesCreates Week 5, hosted by @hollyashton and @cartoonfanforlife.  The prompt for this week was: “Mirror.”
A picture speaks a thousand words.  But when you’re looking at not a still image, but what’s in front of you, the thoughts could be endless.  You tell your own story, through your own eyes, through your own parallels, and through your own reflection.

Side note: I posted another JakexF!MC earlier this week, and would love to receive feedback for it!  May or not be emotion-packed.  Check it out through this link:  http://ladysansaa.tumblr.com/post/159476264758/let-there-be-light-jake-x-fmc


-6 years old-

You stand in front of the mirror, watching the blonde pigtails that your aunt tied up bob up and down as you sway to the tempo of the pop song playing on the radio.  They were cute, but your costume isn’t.  Your puffy, cyan blue Cinderella dress seems to refuse to move with you, and because of that you groan in frustration.  It’s so itchy, and uncomfortable, you just want Halloween to be over with.  

Your aunt, Rebecca, strolls into your bedroom, tiara in hand. “What’s wrong, love? I don’t recall the part in Cinderella where she throws fits.”  She jokes, but it makes you even more upset.  

You cross your arms, trying to get the point across.  “I don’t like this costume.  It doesn’t look good on me.  I wanted to be cop.  Why can’t I be a cop?”  

“Sorry, love, I couldn’t find a police costume.  Next year, I promise.  And nonsense, you look adorable,” She tuts.  “But, if you insist, I think I might have just the solution…”  Your aunt waves the tiara ecstatically.  “I knew your dress was missing something, so I quickly drove to the store to buy you a crown, fit for royalty!”  

You stand still, arms remain folded, as she gently adjusts the tiara into your hair, careful not to poke you anywhere.  “There.  Now, you’re beautiful, princess.” 

You scoff and roll your eyes.  “I was always beautiful.” 

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Stiles Stilinski | Teen Wolf

Stiles: “Oouf! Don’t you want to open your present? Not that I’m complaining about the hug but-

Y/N: *Whispers* “I though you forgot…”

Stiles: “I would never forget you’re birthday Y/N, no matter what's happening.

Y/N: “Thank you Stiles, Thank you. I love you.

Stiles: “I love you too birthday girl, now come open you’re present.”  

Essays in Existentialism: FtWD IV

In the dark, there is nothing to see on the water. The sky melds into the ocean and the stars jump from the heavens to the sea, skinny dipping with reckless abandon and no reverence at all for the inevitable eyes upon them. The glow of the lights, the small amount of lantern glow, of solar-powered flashlights, of candles whimpering in the breeze, they all create a dome, create a universe that is impossible to truly gaze out from honestly. They shroud the inhabitants with light and they mask the dark, just a stopgap between the inevitable and stronger night.

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