#(we keep a box of hats because when we do Trick or Treat story time... not everyone gets the memo to wear costumes)

[blunderpuff]

all of my Halloween stuff is on a moving truck somewhere. the box of hats in the craft closet in the library is missing

and wouldn't ya know it-- the Party City that is WALKING DISTANCE to my house.... CLOSED ON MONDAYS

[mnoirwrites]

Ghost #2

Halloween Love Story

This is sexual fantasy about consenting adults, written for persons over the age of 21.

by MaverickNoir - Oct 31, 2024

We trailed a few steps behind Her, we two ghosts, trick or treating as Accessories. 

Mistress had me prepare a costume and I arrived fully dressed as instructed. A white sheet with holes cut for eyes, like a cartoon logo for a Halloween costume. Mistress had sent me a pink G-string and anal plug the day before, in a pink box with a bow on. Delivered by courier to my place of work. Below the sheet this was the only clothing I was allowed.

A second ghost was waiting when I arrived, also in a white sheet. I was told before not to speak, and seemingly them too. I had no idea who it was.

We were reminded to be quiet. We were to be seen, not heard. Before we stepped out into the night I had to lift the sheet and bend over to confirm I had fitted the plug. I heard the other ghost chuckle in a way that sounded familiar. Female ghost. I felt my ears glow red beneath the sheet but also got a little hard. Mistress didn’t appreciate the laughter after expressly telling us to remain quiet and took her to another room. I heard what sounded like a flat hand on bare skin.  Six times.

When they returned Mistress had me lift the sheet again. A clasp was fixed to the side of my panties, at the hip. It connected to a pink leash, that Mistress could hold as we walked. Ghost #2 two had the same, already fitted. Mistress led us into the night, dressed as a ringmaster with a top hat and a crop. For taming lions presumably.

It was warm for the season, but the road was cool under my bare feet. I was aware of the plug moving in me as we walked. I had to keep up because the leash lifted the sheet if I fell behind.

Mistress had friends join the walk. Everyone was dressed to the nines. We were praised for being great additions to Mistress’ costume but knew to hold our tongues, so said nothing. I heard Mistress discuss me with her friends. I wasn’t named but she told them about some of the ways I please her and I felt myself blush.

We visited so many houses that I lost count. After about an hour Ghost #2 had to pee. She whispered this when Mistress’ friends were out of earshot. We were close to an open field and she had to go behind a bush. As we waited in the dark Mistress slid a hand under my sheet from behind. ‘Part your legs’ she hissed. Her thumb put pressure on the plug as her she grabbed my balls. She tugged on them and whispered ‘Slut’ into my ear. Then we continued on our way.

We got to the house of a friend of Mistress, and everyone gathered in the Lounge for refreshments. Mistress told Ghost #2 to take a seat on the edge of the dining room table. She told me to kneel and eat out Ghost #2 to the best of my abilities. Then she lifted #2’s sheet and threw it over my head before I removed mine. She was naked except for a bra and my heart raced because I recognised her body. I hungrily ate her pussy, my hands on her ass. We were in our own world under the sheets. She was moaning out load as people joked and discussed ‘spook sex’. Her moaning grew louder and she gasped and asked Mistress if she could cum, please. Mistress told me stop.

Later we arrived at Mistress’ house, and she led us to her room. Ghost #2 assumed the position on her hands and knees as I knelt next to the bed. Mistress put on her strap-on over her Halloween costume and lifted Ghost #2’s sheet over her ass, her back and face still covered. ‘Lubricate my cock, Slut,’ Mistress instructed. ‘Do a good job. Make it drip for her.’  I sucked the strap with abandon. I was so hard I dripped precum and Mistress made me catch it and spread it over the strap before sucking it again. When she was satisfied, she pulled out of my mouth and slid inside Ghost #2’s cunt so easily. Moans filled the room, even louder than when I went down on her.

When she finished Mistress let me lick the strap clean. Then she fetched a bucket of ice and a chastity device and instructed Ghost #2 to ice me down and fit the cage. It seemed to take forever to get my erection to settle down. Then I drove us home in my car.

Ghost #2 was exhausted and fell asleep next to me in our bed almost instantly. Before she drifted off she kissed me and squeezed my locked cock lovingly. ‘Good night, Honey. Happy Halloween.’

[nancypullen]

MIA

Yep, I've let too many days pass without posting. I've missed the opportunity to crow about how much fun Halloween was, we're already more than a week into November! We did have a grand time though. Trick-or-treating with our little miss in her fun neighborhood ticks all of the boxes on my perfect Halloween check list. I popped on my witch hat and my sweatshirt and had as much fun as the kids.

I'm trying to be better about sharing pictures of myself (ugh!) so that when I'm dead my kids can have something to prove I was here.

Yes indeed, we gave October a fantastic send off and November arrived with chillier weather and even more color in the trees. Absolutely beautiful.

I've been busy filling a big earring order, and keeping appointments. My in-person interview at the library went well ( I thought) but I haven't heard a peep. I can't worry about that. I know I'm qualified and would be helpful and cheerful to the patrons, but I still may not be what they're looking for - who knows? If not there, I'll find something else. I had a follow up appointment after my yearly physical/ lab work because my blood pressure was up. That's really unusual for me, so I had to track it for a month and then bring my monitor in and all that. Turns out I'm normal, I just don't like going to the doctor. I'm really glad that I don't have to take meds. I'm too forgetful for that.

Then, I received a call that my mammogram results were abnormal and showed a "developing asymmetry" in the left breast. Tomorrow I have to go to Easton for a diagnostic mammogram and an ultrasound. I'm 99% sure that it's nothing, probably just normal changes, but for someone who doesn't like going to doctors and/or having procedures, enough already! If this is what getting older is like, I'm not a fan. I told a friend that it's probably a lump of cookie dough that didn't make it all the way to my hips - much ado about nothing.

When I'm not kneading clay and baking earrings, or getting poked and prodded by medical personnel, I'm trying to prepare for the upcoming holidays. I love an October vacation, and Ireland was sublime, but it tends to dump me right at the doorstep of Thanksgiving and Christmas and I'm not ready for either one! I confess to playing some Christmas tunes already, just to get in the mood. I feel like I'm way behind. I've been trying to come up with our card for this year and the creative well is running dry. They just get thrown away by the recipients, why not just pick up a couple boxes of cards at Target? That would be smarter and I could cross it off my list. I know that I'm one of the dinosaurs still sending out holiday cards, but I love getting them in my mailbox and one must give in order to receive, right? So that's my quick check in, and my apology for being tardy with this post. Tomorrow I'll ship those earrings off to Florida and go get my boob smashed again, and then my schedule will be nothing but holiday madness. I'm looking forward to it. It's time to get my jingle on!

The Edgewater gang will come over this weekend and I'll have to make sure that I have a grasp on the grandgirl's list for Santa. I have a toy catalog here that should inspire her. Everyone else is getting socks and a toothbrush. Just kidding, but that sure would be easy. When am I old enough to start doing that? They'll head to Tennessee for Thanksgiving, but will be with us for Christmas. Matt is flying in for Thanksgiving, then in December he jets off to Brugge, Belgium and Amsterdam for the Christmas markets. He'll be here for Christmas week full of stories to share. I can't wait. On that happy note, I'll head of to soak in a bubble bath and then snuggle under the covers with a book. I'm pooped. Until tomorrow, stay safe, stay well...and

You better watch out You better not cry You better not pout I'm telling you why

… Santa Claus is comin' to town! 47 days!!! XOXO, Nancy

[harknesswife]

It was you all along (Agatha HarknessxFemale reader)

Summary: This is a sweet self-insert love story between Agatha and a Westview citizen. Everything that happens follows the original events of "Wandavision" and MCU, like a parallel.

Chapter: 05/10

Word count: 1.450k

The phone rang and I was pretty sure who it would be before I even picked it up.

"So, when you say early, you really mean it, don’t you?", I said, with my eyes still closed.

"Well, I assumed you’d be up already", Agnes replied and I knew she was smiling just by the tone in her voice.

"You don’t know me at all", I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. "So, what's up?"

"I also assume you don’t have any plans for today, so I’m inviting you to some trick or treating."

I got the calendar right next to my bed. October 31st.

"Oh, I see. Agnes, dear. I’m so freakin tired these days."

"Well, I think you need to live a little", I heard a door closing on her side of the line.

"I don’t even have a costume, and I’m not sure if there’s time to buy one..."

"Well, then he’s late."

"Who's late?", I asked when my doorbell rang. "Agnes, who’s at my door?"

She giggled.

"See you at eight. Don’t you dare keep me waiting."

Dennis, the mailman, was right at my doorstep.

"Do you guys always work that early?", I yawned while signing the paper he gave me.

"Well, don’t shoot me!", he raised his hands - "I’m just…"

"The messenger. Yeah, I’m familiar with that quote."

He handed me a package before running back to the van.

It was a big silver box with a purple bow on it. I opened it and found the most beautiful dress inside. It was all white, and I could see some tiny crystals attached to it. When I turned it in front of the light, they twinkled in so many different ways. It ended right above my knees, and I had the perfect heels for that. When I was about to go upstairs and try it on, I realized that there was one more thing inside the box.

Wings. Translucent and… magical. So it was a fairy costume. I took them out and boy, they were big. That’s why the box was almost double the dress size. How on earth had Agnes found that on such short notice? Or maybe… she kept that for a while? And was waiting to give it to me?

Just like that the fatigue was gone.

It took me hours to get ready, but it totally paid off. My hair was all curly and I had some glitter in my eyes. My makeup was all white and silver, except for my red lips. I was deciding either to take a purse or not when someone honked in front of my house. The wings were already attached to my dress (which took me forever to do it on my own), and they kinda flapped around me in a lovely way.

Agnes was inside her car, in a full witch costume, with a hat and a wig. Her mouth dropped a little bit when she saw me.

"You look amazing!!", she said, while I closed the door behind me.

"You too", I said, opening the car’s door. I struggled a little bit to get inside with those wings, but I refused to take them off. "So, do you really think people are gonna give us candy? I mean, I don’t think we’re young enough for this."

She grabbed a bag full of sweets from inside the glove compartment and gave it to me.

"I’ve got the treats!", she started the car.

"Which takes us to the tricking", I replied, biting a tiny piece of chocolate. "So, where you’re taking me?"

"I thought that maybe we could escape this town for a while. What do you think?"

She actually waited for me to answer.

"Drive!",  I said, getting my seatbelt on. She did.

I couldn’t help looking at her while she drove. The way she’d look at one side and then to another, before going through the next street corner, squinting her eyes and biting her lower lip…

"So, how long do you live here?", she asked me, still looking ahead.

"Well, since I can remember", I replied, looking at her.

"No family, then?"

"No one close...", I said, sighing.

"Don’t you have any friends? Anyone?"

"I’ve been alone for a very long time", I suddenly felt really sad.  And I had no idea of why my eyes were tearing up.

"You’re a lovely girl", she looked at me while saying that. "I’m pretty sure you could make lots of friends if you try."

"I don’t feel like trying."

She stopped the car right after we passed through Ellis Avenue.

"Why did we stop?", I looked around, but there was nothing to see. The lights were out in every single house.

"Why did you keep looking for me from your window?", she said, turning her whole body to look at me.

She was, again, expecting an answer. But I didn’t have one.

"I wanted to be friends with you", I said, my eyes unable to reach hers.

"But why? You don’t even know me."

She seemed to be accusing me of something.

"What are you trying to say?", I took my seatbelt off, so I could also turn to face her. My patience was all gone. "Tell me what’s wrong! One minute you treat me just fine, and then…"

Agnes gently touched my face. I stopped talking.

"What makes you so different?", she whispered, more to herself than for me.

She moved her hand from my cheek to the back of my neck. I shivered with her touch and closed my eyes for a second. Enough time for her to let me go.

"I need to... think!", she said, getting out of her car. Something between screaming and shushing. "Please, stay inside. Ok? Stay in. I’ll be right back."

Agnes took off her witch hat and tossed it on the ground. She seemed mad and confused. Nothing about her even resembled that lovely neighbor I once knew.

I opened the door and stepped out. No way in hell I'd watch her freak out like that and do nothing. I was on my way to her when something else got my attention. It was like a glitch right in the middle of the sky. I looked again, to be sure. Without even realizing it, I kept walking towards that strange thing that reminded me of a TV with a bad signal. The closer I got, the more I could see. The details were… so weird. Like a bubble. But with some kind of energy around it. It made me wanna touch it, so I lifted one of my fingers and, feeling kinda foolish, pressed against whatever it was. I felt a little shock, but it didn't hurt.

What if I tried to cross it?

"DON’T MOVE!"

My whole body went cold. I tried to turn my head but I couldn’t move a muscle. My finger still in the air, my eyes locked on that energy field right in front of me. If I could speak, I’d have shouted. But my voice was trapped inside my throat.

Her hands burned my waist when she touched me from behind. I knew it was Agnes because there was no one else in there.

"Trust me", she whispered again, right into my ears.

She held me tighter while my body just collapsed on top of hers. We both fell to the ground. My voice was back, but I was speechless. She pulled me away from where we fell, just trying to get me as far as she could from the glitch. Then we heard it before it actually happened. A blast. The barrier got bigger, swallowing houses, cars, and people. Agnes held me, and I kept my head down on her shoulder, with my eyes closed. There was so much wind, I could feel her hair whipping my body while she kept both of her arms around me. Protecting me from whatever was happening. It ended as suddenly as it started. We stood there for a few more seconds before she made me look at her. I didn’t want to.

"Hey. HEY!", she insisted when I tried to look away. "We need to get out of here."

She got up, taking me with her to the car. I had glitter all over my face, and her hair was all tangled.

"You don’t need to be afraid", she said when we got inside. "I’m not gonna hurt you."

"Agnes… ", I tried to tell her that I wasn’t afraid, but I simply asked, "Where are you taking me?"

"It's time to set you free", she replied, speeding up.

That made no sense to me, but I buckled up.

[shhhlikeme]

“Losty Aone” / “Losty Mountain Man🏔” Series:

Outtake Collection #11:

———————————

A/N: welcome to the final post tonight!!!!!! Thanks for staying for this marathon everybody🥱🖤 I told y’all to get ready right? Lehgo:

TABLE OF CONTENTS

———————————

A 1-Year Anniversary For The Books 😳....🎡❄️🌃

over the next 6 months, you and Aone have had a remarkable relationship 💗

He’s beyond caring, attentive and sweet to you: even when you are moody on your period and dont want to talk to him he would drop off a basket at your house filled with a heating pad, your favourite treats, DVDs of your favourite movies and a note that explained how he felt about you

Your sex life was amazing, sex was insanely passionate and few and far between because you were both busy + Aone wanted you to know he wasn’t here for sex, though he loved it, of course

Takanobu listened to every story of yours, filled in at your cheer practices when you needed him, brought your team to competitions whenever some people didn’t have rides, and he attended the popular kids parties with you and let you do your own thing...

In addition, of course he was the best tutor you’ve ever had, letting you know before you started that you weren’t allowed to mess with his hormones to get out of it:

“Y/N. we have to study. No seduction tricks. They’re not fair.”

“Okay—!” You smiled.

“No cute-duction tricks either.”

You pouted.

“Want me to leave?” He asked, getting bold because he knew you were getting clingy, and even though he’d love to be balls deep between your heavenly legs, School came first. He needed you to graduate with him. It wasn’t an option.

“No no no baby please I’m sorry.” You pleaded.

He kissed your cheek. “Good.”

you attended baby’s intense volleyball games, so you saw his losses and it broke your heart

But you knew just how to comfort him: have him lay his head on you as you stroked his hair....give him lots of kisses and go to the pet store and spend hours the turtle section 💕

You got super close to his friends which was obviously incredible to Aone

And he’d been trying to get you to meet his family for a while, but you were too nervous

One day at the movies when Koganegawa was complaining yet again about how much his parents the other 2 members of the iron wall treated him like a baby, you interjected in the line for tickets. Aone had his arms around you from behind, making you feel safe

“Hey, wait a second. If Aone is ‘mom’ and Futakuchi is ‘dad,’ what does that make me???” You whined.

Kanji looked down at you like that was the most obvious question in the world. “You’re the hot side chick that Aone cheated on Futakuchi-senpai with.”

Your jaw dropped. “Excuse me—“

“Wrong.” Aone stated, glaring at Kanji. “Don’t ever associate cheating with me and Y/N. I would NEVER.”

Futakuchi rolled his eyes. “We know. Learn to take a joke,”

You turned around in Aone’s arms and got on your toes straining for a kiss. Aone smiled and leaned down to press his lips on yours. He tried to pull away but you held onto the collar of his hoodie and pulled him down again, prohibiting him from ending the kiss.

“Y/N, you better keep the same energy.” Futakuchi mumbled under his breath, walking forward as the line moved. “If my best friend ends up heartbroken I know someone else’s Cheer captain best friend who can end up being hurt just as bad in return🙃..........” he sung.

Without breaking your fantastic kiss, you stuck out your foot in the direction you knew Kenji was walking, making him trip.

“Ouch, fuck! Why do you invite her, Aone-san?!”

You smiled into the kiss.

Tbh: your relationship was..........perfect💘

........too perfect, you sometimes thought.

It kept you up at night sometimes .... the fact that you couldn’t really pin point anything wrong with him , even months later

How is it possible that while all your friends went through trials and tribulations.....ups and downs in their relationships and crushes ... and weird squares (*cough cough* Kenji, Katana, Koganegawa, Kusa 🤧 *cough cough*....but that’s for another outtake time) while you didn’t have to endure anything

Aone was protecting you from going through any pain . Proving to you his worth

Your boyfriend surprised you everyday making you happier than the last

Not to mention you have an adoptive son named Perdu that you adore 🐢💚

But you couldn’t shake the feeling deep within that told you that you didn’t deserve this

Yes, you have come to love Aone with all of your heart—he is literally an angel

But that conversation that Aone was so reluctant to have 6 months ago about how much he pined after you........it really affected you in various ways....

For one thing, why did someone so beautiful and pure and perfect have to fall for someone like you?

You had faults. You didn’t even notice him for years while he suffered in silence in the background, for God’s sake

It was as if, only after he defended you against the Class Snitch and did something for you, that’s when you noticed him—and then he just jumped at the opportunity

You could’ve played him, used him, and you’re pretty sure that he would let you. 😞

He was Not realizing how selfish the whole thing seemed

And then there’s the whole fact that Aone has liked you for 2 years..... and no one else? Even when you didn’t notice him?

Yeah, you couldn’t even lie about that one to yourself. He really only liked you and only had eyes for you. Even though you hadn’t even known he was even an option for you.

It broke your heart—

Yes, you loved him now.

But that conversation 6 months ago...... it made you understand how much of an amazing, absolutely unbelievable human being he is, even before you two started dating = you haven’t been able to shake this feeling of unfairness....

The feeling that you do not deserve him

Maybe you wanted him for the sex that felt so good it made you cry every time?

Or all the things he does for you because he was so whipped?

Meanwhile he endured relentless cockteasing from you because he tried not to give into his urge so you wouldn’t think he wanted you for that ...always putting you first..... what hormonal male DOES that?

He’s perfect

But Maybe that was the big pull...you know?

perhaps it was just a pull and this isn’t how it is supposed to be

Aone deserves someone as amazing and selfless as him, no?

What if he deserved better? As long as you were in the way he’d only accept you and shut out any girl who could be even better for him.

A girl that wouldn’t have ignored him for 2 years .

When you started expressing your concerns, Katana, your best friend knew this point would come.

“Do not self destruct, Y/N. Just because you get scared when y’all are getting serious. That man is crazy about you.” Katana pleaded with you at your locker one day as you shuffled through your messy locker.

“I’m not self destructing, and I know he is..... but maybe that’s the problem? I get a perfect boyfriend and what does Aone get? I just hope that this is, a fair transaction in the Universe.....”

“You love that man too. I know you do! Besides, everyone can see the way his entire demeanour has lit up and changed since you two got together. He’s like a new person and it’s almost been a whole year.... look at him.”

You found your pencil case and closed your locker, looking over in the direction Katana called your attention to. Aone was talking to Koganegawa and Kusa, laughing loudly...something no one had ever seen him do a year before now. Your heart sunk because you were the cause of that happiness. He was a new man, and he was so happy to be with you. It made your heart hurt.

Aone glanced over in your direction just then, making eye contact with you and instantly smiling brightly. He said some form of goodbye to his friends like he always did when he spotted you, dropping everything to greet you and hold your books.

What made you so special... to deserve such a man?

If you asked Aone, he’d have a list of ways he could answer that question, but, for you, you forced yourself to believe he was just taken away with your looks....and that he just convinced himself he liked you deeper because of how pretty you were. He loves sex but tries not to have it, maybe it’s because you’d catch on to him being like every other guy that just wants you and the rest of the cheerleaders for your bodies? I mean, even his best friend Futakuchi is like that!

No, he was a terrible liar.

Aone is gorgeous, tall, muscular, handsome....... girl after girl check him out and want him. Maybe one of them deserved him more than you do....

Thoughts like that whirled through your mind all the time from summer to winter...

Tonight, on the night of your 1 year anniversary, it was no different. Aone had made it clear for months to his team that he wouldn’t be attending practice on this date

🥺

Instead, he treated you to a luxurious dinner on a yacht and then you both went one of the highest Ferris wheels in the world that gave a great view of the city night lights of Japan:

It was so romantic, and Aone was just the happiest man on earth holding you closer as you leaned into his side because you loved Ferris wheels but you were chilly in this temperature.

Your boyfriend pulled your hat down for you so it was covering your ears

He took your hands in his and blew hot air on them to keep you warm, spreading the heated blanket he’d bought so it covered more of you than him.

“Still cold? Want my jacket?”

“I’m good.” You grinned.

His heart warmed.

“Y/N.”

You looked up at your boyfriend, hearing the sudden change to seriousness in his tone. Aone sported that blush that he had the first time you’d kissed him on the cheek. He was still nervous around you even after an entire year and it had to do with his strong feelings of love toward you. He was sure they’d never go away.

Takanobu dug into his pocket and pulled out two small individually wrapped boxes. One square and one rectangular. The silver boxes were wrapped in little yellow bows, yellow-your favourite colour.

“More gifts, Aone?” You asked softly, you couldn’t help but frown. He was always spoiling you beyond belief. “You promised the dinner was your only gift,”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “Happy 1-year anniversary. You make me so happy and I really hope you’ll be so kind as to bless me with more years.”

You took off your mittens and took the boxes from him, your stomach in knots the entire time.

You felt so different. Your heart hurt.

You placed the boxes in your lap and Aone tried not to smile. You delicately untied both bows, removing the lids before gasping.

“Aone..........” you said quietly. “Oh, Aone, they are beautiful.”

Mountain man smiled. “You don’t have to wear them.....I just really wanted to gift them to you because—“

You interrupted him. “You don’t think I’d wear them?” You asked, hurt. Hurt for him because you could tell that he still felt that you were too good to be true.

“Well the promise ring m-might be too flashy, or the turtle might be seen as a little juvenile by your teammates, so—“

That did it.

Your heart broke.

It couldn’t be any more clear now.

You didn’t deserve this man.

“Aone.” Your voice cracked as you spoke. You willed yourself not to cry.

But this time it wasn’t tears of joy that almost fell the day he confessed, these were the truest of all types tears..... tears of sorrow.

Aone leaned down and brushed your hair out of your face so he could see your face. “Y/N? What’s wrong? I-I can always return them if you don’t like them.... it-it’s not a problem in the slightest—“

“—We need to break up, Aone.”

Freezing, Takanobu thought he hadn’t heard that.

He paused for a good ten seconds.

“W-what?” He asked, his voice cracking.

You refused to look at him.

“I’m sorry.” Is all you could say without bursting into tears. “I can explain more on a later date, but I’ve thought about it for a while, and that’s my decision.”

Aone’s heart shattered, instantly feeling like the world had been turned upside down on him. I mean sure, Aone thought maybe one day you’d realize you deserved better—but that’s why he spent every day devoting his time to treating you well so maybe you’d choose him.

He guessed he hadn’t been trying hard enough.

“I-is it something I did?” He took a deep breath. “Something I can change? Please,”

You shook your head, feeling the cold breeze of this winter night in your core. “Nothing you did. You’re amazing, Aone-san.“

“The-Then can you please reconsider—“

“No,” you choked. “Can we get off now? Please?”

Always listening to you, Aone shakingly pressed the button that let the Ferris Wheel operator know you wanted one final spin.

Which meant Aone had about 1 minute to change your mind while his whole world fell apart. He felt dizzy. He didn’t even know how he was still functioning, running on pure adrenaline, no doubt. He felt like this was another dream—no, a nightmare.

“If-if it’s something I did, Y/N, I sincerely apologize—“ He felt stupid to think you were actually enjoying yourself in a relationship with him.

You looked out into the skyline, directing your attention to the Japan night lights. The cold air quickly dried the single tear that escaped your eye.

“It’s nothing you did............” yet. Not until you realize you deserve so much better, You wanted to say.

“Then can I have one more chance? Please?”

Your boyfriend....no, ex-boyfriend threw everything he’s every heard from Futakuchi about being cool around his crush and begged for you. You were basically his world, the reason he’s truly lived a life of happiness and not just remained quiet and stoic like he used to be before you entered his life.

Aone stayed silent for a second and raked his brain for things he might have done to upset you. He couldn’t find one, but you wouldn’t do this for no reason, so he hated himself for not figuring it out.

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

All too soon, the ride came to an end and you handed the gifts back to him before quickly scrambling out of the Ferris wheel.

Aone took a second to stare at the necklace and ring before stumbling out after you, feeling like there was an extra thousand pounds on his chest as you walked away from him in the dark night. You two were in the empty parking lot of the Ferris wheel.

“Y/N..... at least let me drive you home!” He yelled, dropping the heated blanket and gifts on the snow. He was in so much pain he couldn’t hold onto anything.

“I texted Kusa. She’s coming.” You called back, not daring to turn around because if you did you would just jump into his arms.

Aone couldn’t stop the tears that welled up behind his eyes. He’d never felt this level of pain before. He would choose to endure going through the pain of losing his last volleyball game in 3rd year everyday if it meant he didn’t have to feel what he was feeling now.

Before he started crying—something he hasn’t done since he was maybe 7 years old—Aone ran over to you, stepping in front of you to beg one last time.

“Y/N. Can I at least still be in your life? As fr-friends, even?” He asked heartbrokenly, unable to cope with not being anything to you anymore and going back to loving you from afar. He wouldn’t be able to handle that.

You walked around him, wiping your face of cold tears that luckily blended in with the pelting downfall of snow. “Okay.” You had to say, unable to refuse such a broken man. “Friends.”

The word friend stopped Aone where he stood. It was the last word he heard you say before he confessed to you at the bowling alley exactly a year ago, and now it was the last word he heard you say after you crushed his heart in front of a Ferris Wheel...

You kept walking further and further away from this mountain man that was so internally destroyed, he couldn’t take another step.

❄️ ❄️

It was 40 minutes later when Kenji had reached the empty Ferris Wheel lot. He saw a mountainous figure drenched in snow, its head slung down and shoulders dropped as if he was at a funeral. Kenji ran over and threw a blanket over his best friend’s shoulders, basically pushing him toward his car because he could barely move himself. On the drive, Kenji turned all of the hot air vents toward Aone so that the heat was blasting on him. The shell of a man just stared out the window like he had no purpose. Futakuchi couldn’t help but go in best-friend-protective-mode, tossing questions at him:

“I had to GPS your location after Kusa texted me! What happened?! Did Y/N break up with you, on your anniversary?! Really?! Ughhhh I knew this would happen. Aone, I’m here for you, big guy. Okay? It was me, you and the team before her, and it will be us after her, even though our season is over. I’m here. Okay? Can you please talk to me so that I know you’re okay?”

Aone didn’t answer his best friend that night, and Kenji knew it would be that way. As we all know, he is great at predicting things.

But what Kenji didn’t predict, however, was that it would be two and a half weeks until Aone would speak to anyone.... again.

❄️

❄️

❄️

❄️

❄️

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A/N: I cried several times. Would love to hear y’alls thoughts

Taglist: @crushzone @galagcica @chaichai-the-weeb @nairobiisqueen @bisasterrr @juminly

Outtake #12: CLICK HERE

[dusky-dancing]

The Prince and the Pirate - CH 2

For SoKai Week - Day 2

Story Summary: Sora finds himself far away from the walls of the Radiant Garden he's known his whole life, kidnapped by a rowdy group of pirates whose captain is as alluring as she is mysterious. What he thought was a simple hostage negotiation turns into an adventure that Sora couldn't have anticipated. He doesn't know which is worse, not knowing what's up ahead, or liking it that way.

Rating: T

Genre: Romance, Adventure, Pirate AU

Length: ~ 2k words

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Links for story navigation:

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

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"Kairi…"

He involuntarily breathed her name, and a playful smile grew across her face.

"That's my name," she nodded.

Despite the authority she obviously possessed, she remained kneeling at his eye-level. A show of acquaintance and equality. If she wasn't trying to intimidate him, then what could she possibly be after? Maybe she didn't want anything malicious from him, and this was nothing more than a hostage-for-money negotiation.

Or maybe it was all intentional. Nothing more than a trick, a warm and smiling cover to weaken his defenses.

"Who are you all?" he asked. "What do you want? Why me?"

"All questions I will answer in due time," she said. "What do you say we move this conversation somewhere more comfortable?"

"What, you have a cushier prison cell?"

She laughed, "Do you want to remain a prisoner?" Before he could respond, she turned to her two subordinates. "Take him to my quarters."

They both turned in surprise. "But captain-"

"It'll be fine," she nodded.

It wasn't until they hoisted him up, hands still tied behind his back, that she herself stood and led the march up the stairs. Her graceful steps didn't cause a stir from the worn wooden steps, but they creaked endlessly under every other boot.

"Don't try anything funny," Jessie mumbled in his ear.

Biggs laughed. "Where's he gonna go anyways? Swim all the way back?"

Clear blue skies soon greeted them, and the ocean air hit him in full force, not that the sensation was unwelcome.

Though Sora knew what a pirate ship was supposed to look like from stories, the true scale of a pirate ship surprised him. He craned his neck in order to see the sails, and even then he couldn't find the top of the mast from his position. The creaking and groaning of the ship were drowned out by the crew's work on the deck and the wind flapping the white sails.

All active work within Sora's eyesight, however, ceased once he emerged from his makeshift prison cell. He felt their eyes on him. Eyes of strangers, possibly more of his assailants. The bright sunlight kept him from taking in too many of their details, but he made out another woman and a few other men of varying sizes.

Sora must have been standing frozen for too long, because Biggs pushed him along. To the back of the ship they walked, where large wooden double doors stood decorated with plain glass. The Captain's quarters, where Kairi wanted to talk. Alone.

More questions clouded his mind as she pulled open both doors and disappeared into the room. It was comparatively dark inside, much easier on the eyes than the raw sunlight he'd just endured.

The room resembled less of a captain's living quarters than a decorative dining room. A single large table stood in the very center, enough to seat a dozen people. Various shelves, plants, and decorations filled the room comfortably, but Sora found himself too distracted to notice their details. The woman who'd ordered his kidnapping stood opposite of him, framed by a large glass window that put the entire ocean on display for him.

Again, she never held herself too high or with too much authority. Everything about her welcoming posture seemed intentional yet natural.

Biggs secured Sora in the chair across from her and left. Not a moment after her door closed did he begin unleashing his thoughts.

"What do you want? Why me? Is it money? Resources? Do you have any idea who you're messing with?"

Kairi held her hand up calmly. If his bombardment of questions annoyed her, she didn't show. Her dress pooled around her hips as she slowly took her seat opposite of him.

"Money is of no interest to me. I chose you, Sora, because you're the only one who can help me. Help us." She gestured around her whole ship.

"How?" he asked.

"I know who you are, Sora," she smiled. "You're the key to our success."

Her subtle emphasis on the word 'key' sent a shiver up his spine. It'd been years since he'd publicly called upon his abilities. His father had done well to keep them a secret from the outside world, but it was inevitable that someone, either the dark forces that plagued the seas or a hiring mercenary group, would find him eventually. The woman before him seemed to occupy the later group, though her methods were a bit more forceful than that of a simple business negotiation. On the off chance she belonged to the former motive, however, he instinctively scooted back. His hand twitched within his restraints.

"Don't be afraid." She said, and he was inclined to believe her despite his earlier instincts. "Our goal is for the good of everyone who lives on the ocean. You must understand that some missions don't allow the luxury of asking for help."

"What's this goal?" He thought back to rumors he'd heard within the kingdom. "Is this about the monsters in the ocean?"

She hummed, placing a finger over her lips. "I'll tell you more when we arrive at our destination, I promise."

Sora relaxed a bit in his chair, taking his eyes off of the woman before him to examine her quarters. Like the rest of the ship, the room had been carved entirely from wood, though its polish was much finer than his previous holding place. Naturally, the large window framed so intricately behind her drew his attention first. Scattered among the many shelves were various trinkets: a jewelry box, carved or sculpted animal figurines, atleast half-a-dozen plants he didn't recognize, nothing violent or overly extravagant. A small desk facing the window held an open ink well and dozens of papers secured under a large seashell weight. A discreet door off to the side likely led to her bed chamber.

The way natural light reflected off of the crystal chandelier above them made the chamber appear much brighter. It was...welcoming.

"So if I'm joining you on this secret mission, do I get a cool pirate code name? Or a pirate hat?"

He turned back to her, only to find her patience waning.

"This is serious, Sora," her eyes narrowed. "If you're to treat this like a fairytale, then it is clear you're not ready to know what we're after."

"I won't have to know," he said, "because the navy will find me first. They've got the fastest ships, you know."

Impatience gave way to a playful smirk as she leaned forward and rested her chin on her fingers. "Your naive overconfidence precedes you, Sora, but I wouldn't worry about them," she winked. "We've got a couple of tricks up our sleeves."

Sora sensed the pleasant tone leaving their conversation. "Don't hurt anyone," he pleaded. "We haven't done anything wrong to you."

"Relax, Sora. Our tricks are evasive, not confrontational. We won't hurt anyone who doesn't get in our way."

"And if I get in your way?" He smirked.

A soft playful smile pulled at her lips. "You are our way, Sora. None of this can be done without you."

Sora avoided her gaze. He was inclined to believe her again, though he didn't have much of a choice.

"What about after? When I've helped you with whatever this quest is."

"Well, we can return you safely to your castle be long gone before anyone notices. But I sense we won't be doing that, Sora."

"Why not?"

"Because I think you're not satisfied as being a trophy for your king, playing a hero prince but with nothing heroic to fight for." She leaned forward intently. "I understand, because I too have a gift."

Sora straightened, his heart stuttering. "You mean-" he looked to her hands, picturing her wielding a magical sword herself. It would explain why she hadn't carried one on her hip like the rest of her crew. "I thought I was the only one."

She shook her head and laughed, "You are one of a kind, Sora, that much is true. While your gift is more combative, mine is more…" she glanced to the side in thought, "elemental in nature."

Sora remained still, taking her and her words in. Even if their magic was the same, to meet another with an unnatural gift felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. Perhaps that was why he'd been drawn to her from the start, how she'd found him in the first place. Had she been like him, kept within the confines of some kingdom or government, or used as a show of power?

He relaxed in his seat before meeting her gaze again. She watched him, waiting for an answer or a reaction.

"Well," he said, "you can't just drop that bomb on me without atleast showing me."

Her smile brightened. "I was beginning to fear you'd never ask." She then rose from her seat, made her way to the door, and gestured outside. "You'll see soon enough."

At her command, Biggs stepped through the doorway and lifted Sora to his feet.

"Is this really still necessary?" Sora asked. He looked towards Kairi, sure that she'd order his hands freed, but she'd already made her way to the deck.

"For now, it is," the man said as he led him along.

On the upper layer of the deck where the helmsman was positioned, The full size of the ship revealed itself. About half-a-dozen crew members, both men and women, worked away all around the deck. Sora's eyes followed the central mast to the crow's nest, where another man focussed through a looking glass out to sea.

"Are we all set, helmsman Wedge?" Kairi asked, though it was more of an affirmation than a question.

"Aye, Captain," the man nodded.

Just on cue, the man in the crow's nest shouted, "Captain! Kingdom ships in sight!"

She quickly shot Sora a knowing glance. "I guess you weren't bluffing about your navy." Her playful smile and wonder-filled eyes held no hint of fear or worry. "What say you to a little demonstration?"

Every crew member around them jumped, and they soon filled the air with excited cheers. Biggs patted Sora's back and said, "This never gets old."

Kairi made her way to the railing that separated the two levels of the deck. Meanwhile, several crew members began loosening the lines to close the sails.

"Wait," Sora said. "I don't know anything about sailing, but aren't you supposed to, you know," he gestured wide with his hands, "expand the sails to move quickly."

Jessie joined his other side. "Aye," she said and held up a finger, "if you're using the wind to move."

Sora raised an eyebrow. "But what else would you-"

His voice caught in his throat when a sudden swell in the gentle waves rocked the ship with more force than usual. After catching his balance, his attention turned back to Kairi.

She stood tall with her hands outstretched to either side, palms facing up. Her eyes remained closed, but the rest of her face expressed pure bliss. The waves seemed to follow the direction of her hands, and Sora thought he'd begun to understand her gift.

Mine is more...elemental in nature,

When the ocean felt calm and steady, she slowly brought her palms forward. Sora was too mesmerized to notice the rest of the crew bracing against whatever they could hold onto.

In one fluid motion, not unlike the very waves she commanded, she thrust her arms behind her, and Sora went flying onto his back.

The sudden speed of the ship would've sent Sora back into the captain's quarters if it weren't for Biggs and Jessie stopping him. The embarrassment tempted him to stay hidden and red-faced, but his newfound fascination with the captain won out. He stood to look over the side, and sure enough the navy ship pursuing them was now a shrinking form on the horizon.

Kairi was focussed, though he swore she shot him a side-eye smirk. Jessie stepped in his way and broke the trance.

"Okay, newbie, enough staring. Let's put you to work?"

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A/N: Thank you for reading! We've reached day 2 of SoKai Week, and I hope you're enjoying it so far.

Kairi's design, abilities, and motivation were inspired from a number characters, including Avantika from Critical Role, Captain Amelia from Treasure Planet, and the historical Irish figure Gráinne Ní Mháille (Grace O'Malley), 'The Pirate Queen'.

[yourkeeperoftherunners]

All Treats No Tricks

Plot: AU Instead of going to your friend’s party, you decided to compile a stash of candy to share with your merman friend. He’s not too familiar with human candies, so it’s a real hoot watching him try different things and react accordingly.

Rating: PG (Mention of grandparent falling)

Characters: Merman!Baekhyun x Reader (Any gender), plus mention of other characters.

Notes: I know many hoped I’d write more for merman!Baekhyun, but I didn’t want to write something where I wasn’t happy with the end result or the concept didn’t fit. This idea came to me after celebrating Halloween yesterday and I finally had a chance to sit and type it out. This is the same universe as the original two part series I wrote for Baekhyun some years ago – this is more of a slice of life story.

Tagging @shesdreaminginoverdose and @myeoning-call who wanted me to share any updates or additions to this storyline.

                                          -----------------------------

“Done already?” a co-worker asked as you slung your bag over your shoulder.

You nodded and tapped your watch, explaining that you had come in early today, so you could get home at a decent hour.

“Halloween party?” she guessed.

“No,” you answered. Although it was funny she mentioned a party, as an old friend from high school had invited you to their house for a huge Halloween bash. Everyone had to wear a costume and bring something, whether it be drinks, food, or something Halloween-inspired. But you opted to decline the invitation, remembering that you weren’t as close as you used to be. Plus you weren’t in the mood to dress up in a cliche or sexy costume tonight.

“Handing out candy?” your co-worker guessed.

“Yeah and stay in with Mom,” you offered. You took this moment to bid her goodbye as you headed home to change clothes and grab your skateboard. 

Once you got back, you called out for your mom, looking from room to room to see if she was there. You paused by the kitchen and frowned when you saw a note laying on the counter that you hadn’t seen there this morning. You put your keys down and picked up the sheet.

Y/N,

I know we planned to order takeout and hand out candy to the kids, but I got an emergency call from your grandpa – he took a nasty fall this morning and no one else can take care of him. I’ve got my cell with me if you need to reach me for anything. I left money for takeout and you can either hand the candy to the kids, or leave a bowl out with a note.

I’m really sorry about this – I’ll make it up to you!

Love,

Mom

You put down the note and noticed the neat stack of crisp bills lying on the counter with a paper clip. Part of you felt bummed that the plans changed, but you knew that grandpa lived alone and he refused to have a caretaker, arguing it was too expensive.

Your eyes drifted to the colorful bags of candy you and mom bought from the drugstore with a coupon, all mixed with different types of candy. Next to the bags was the Halloween themed bowl your mom made when she was pregnant with you. That became the designated candy bowl you used every year you handed out candy to the trick-or-treaters.

Your eyes drifted to the staircase and you decided to put your stuff down so could change out of your work clothes, then make a decision about your plans. Once in your room, you glanced at the shell, given to you by a merman you met a few summers ago. You tried keeping in contact with him when possible, but both of you got busy, you with university and work, him with his duties as a royal prince in his realm.

You reached for the shell, then hesitated. Would it be rude to bug him on a night like this? Surely he had to be busy, right? You stared at the shell for a few minutes and decided to give it a try.

“Ah what? Who is this? Did I know a human by the name of Y/N?” a familiar voice teased once you connected.

“Very funny,” you remarked. “Sorry about the radio silence, school has been kicking my butt. How are you?”

He shifted his shell to the other ear and smiled. “Oh fine really. I finally managed to convince my parents to stop planning a marriage for me. It took a while to persuade them, but I did it!”

You smiled as you remembered meeting him when he was escaping the talk about an arranged marriage to a princess he didn’t like. It seemed surprising his parents would change their minds on something like this, but you guessed that they finally concluded that their son was old enough to make his own decisions.

“I’m really happy for you, really I mean it,” you replied. “Um hey, if this isn’t too last minute, would you by any chance like to hang out tonight? My mom said I’m on my own tonight, and I don’t wanna sit at home and hand out candy to the trick-or-treaters.”

The merman paused and tilted his head at the mention of your offer. He was excited to see you again after so long, but he wasn’t super familiar with all of the human customs and behaviors, seeing as his school skipped that bit of information growing up.

“What do you mean by ‘trick-or-treaters’? What’s candy?” he asked.

You glanced over at the door and an idea popped into your head. “If I’m taking this to mean you’re free tonight, then why don’t I bring some candy and show you? Oh and by the way, I was gonna order a pizza – did you want me to order half for you?”

“Pizza?!” the merman declared with a giddy smile. “I missed pizza! Oh yes, you know what I like – thank you!”

                                         -----------------------------

It was quite a challenge juggling a pizza box and trying to move fluidly on your skateboard. A couple of times you heard some people crack jokes about this being the new wave of delivery transportation, but you ignored them as you made your way to the beach. Napkins were stuffed in one pocket and a bag of candy was in the other. You slowed down as you neared the area of the beach that split between the sands and the dock where boats were tied up.

Your eyes scanned the area and you whipped your head around when you heard someone softly call your name. You scanned the dock and saw a guy in a bucket hat waving to you.

Your brows creased as you tried to get a better look at the guy. You rolled closer to the entrance to the dock and saw it was Baekhyun. In addition to the bucket hat, he was wearing a vest with multiple pockets down the front, the zipper tugged 3/4 of the way up.

“What’s with the outfit?” you asked as you put the pizza box down and caught your skateboard before it rolled to his arm.

He grinned and spread his arms out proudly. “Ta-dah! Chanyeol-ah told me I should wear a costume, because I guess you humans do that tonight. Also, it’s a good disguise, no?”

You laughed as you shook your head and took a seat on the dock next to him. You removed the napkins from your pockets and unclipped your water bottle from your belt loop, placing it on the dock beside you.

“Hot and fresh out of the oven. Should be perfect temperature by now and you won’t burn your tongue like the last time,” you said as you flipped open the pizza box.

                                         -----------------------------

The merman almost reached for another slice and you held up a free hand to stop him. With the other, you removed your zip bag of candy from the other pocket and placed it between the two of you.

“You asked what candy was, so I brought you some,” you explained. “There’s different types, but they are mostly made with sugar and other ingredients, which make it taste sweet. Tonight, you give it out to children in costume. Don’t worry, the kids back home will have enough – I grabbed a couple of pieces to share with you.”

Baekhyun beamed and closed the pizza box lid. He picked up the bag and took a closer look at the contents with a curious look.

“There’s a lot,” he mused. He looked at you and asked if there were any that tasted like that chocolate nutty dip he had once with pancakes.

You bit your lip and shook your head. “I don’t think there’s anything with chocolate and hazelnuts in there, but there are chocolate candies in there. What do you want to try first?”

Baekhyun shook the bag and noticed a slender roll of circular candies in pastel colors stacked in their cellophane wrapper. He pointed to it and you helped him open the bag. He reached in and plucked the roll out, turning it in his fingers.

“Smarties,” he read. “Will they make me smarter?”

“They didn’t work on me,” you shrugged.

“Ah but you’re already really smart!” he insisted as he twisted the cellophane wrapper to open it. He blinked as the cellphone crackled, amused by the noise it made. The cellophane loosened and the rounded candies began to tumble out of alignment. He quickly caught a few and popped them in mouth. His eyes went to his fingers, which were coated with a light powdery dust.

He squinted and pouted as the candies dissolved in his mouth. “These are...kind of weird and they’re a little tart?”

You held your hand out for the rest and he dumped them into your hand. You dug around in the zip bag and selected an individually wrapped red licorice rope.

“Try a Twizzler,” you said once he swallowed the Smarties. You tore the top of the wrapper for him and he thanked you as he took it from your hand.

“Do I need to untangle it, or can I bite it?” he asked as he looked at you.

“Whatever you want, there’s no right or wrong way,” you replied with a shrug.

Baekhyun hummed and dove in, chomping off a good-sized bite and chewing it thoughtfully. He hummed and waved his hand side to side.

“I like the texture, but this is kind of sweet,” he commented.

“I have lots of candy,” you told him as you held up the bag. “We’ll find one you like best.”

He grinned and flashed you a thumbs-up.

“I can’t wait – what’s next?”

[illusionlockarchive]

romeos huge rant on comedy, horror, and how they interlap

ok, so. full disclosure, what got me to make this post was this joke post right here.

so the initial premise is funny, haha okay. yeah. oh youre a kid and your punishment at school is that you have to stay at a room full of wasps. its funny because its absurd. it couldnt happen irl. youd think it wouldnt happen irl. youd hope so.

the thing about comedy and horror though? is that they actually operate on very similar concepts.

and that is, the absurd. the uncanny valley. what youre expecting the least. what youre not seeing and not registering. jumpscares are effective if at least to get you to jump, even if they are cheap. meanwhile, jokes where they completely twist your expectations to get you to laugh do the same thing.

it may be hard for you to believe me, but in the end, the bad ending of tattletail is the other side of the same coin as a joke that goes “i swallowed a tablet with some water. everyone on the apple store was terrified of me.”

i have not read the wasp story, but i can guaranteee you, i CAN imagine it being scary, if the right tones are used and suspense is built up nicely. with the right twists and turns, knowing when to keep things quiet and when to blow things out of proportion.

OR it can end up being unintentionally hilarious, if the characters in it are way too cliche to be real and feel more like caricatures of teachers and students, if things are rushed and details lose their meaning and value, if we are just to focus on being an audience watching a kid get chased around by a swarm of wasps, instead of putting ourselves in their place.

im neglecting to mention something though. horror is not the TRUE other side of the coin to comedy. no, thats tragedy. and im sure many more people have heard of that. the two masks used in theater, one happy, the other sad.

and now we come to two very interesting modifiers. im sure youve heard of the term ‘horror comedy’ to refer to a subgenre of horror that does have jokes and silly things still happening, and may not take itself all that seriously. but why is it a specified subgenre? because MOST horror is tragedy.

this is why, despite liking many horror games or even stories, in the end i still dont consider myself someone who actually likes horror as a general genre. most horror focuses on the seriousness of the faults of humans, on our fragility, on all we can lose or are even bound to lose, on the fear that what we feel so confident about having close to us can be snatched away in a second, that our sense of reality can crumble. most horror? doesnt end well.

comedies in general tend to focus on the absurdity of life, on how many silly, strange, or even uncanny situations can happen that can challenge us, but not in a harsh way, but in a way that, despite so many bad things happening, we still get to point and laugh it off and be okay at the end of the day.

literally, all it takes for a tragedy to become a comedy, and vice versa, is a tonal shift. when i told of my idea to create this post to my boyfriend, he backed me up, and told me “the difference between horror and comedy is in the soundtrack and silly sound effects”. hes right.

of course, there are things that you should have the decency to not laugh at, still. to keep your mouth shut and know when to reject. but good comedy knows how to stray away from that, and good tragedy knows how to handle it respectfully without making it torture porn.

so, as horror hinges on tragedy, on the fear that we all know we must face in our lives, because a scream is as natural as laughter, so horror comedies are born as an interesting paradox.

a year or so ago, i got the opportunity to watch the banana splits syfy movie. i was a huge fan of the banana splits as a kid, and would often watch their reruns. those silly furries meant a lot to me. but im not stupid, i know thats a horror movie, i went in kinda knowing what to expect.

it was a gore fest, and for about two or three nights i had trouble getting to sleep. i wasnt actually scared of my childhood friends in animal costumes, as i knew how absurd and irrational my fear was, but just the images of the massacre being fresh in my mind were enough to send me into a panic if i lingered for too long, which can happen, you know, when youre about to sleep.

(TW FOR DESCRIPTION OF A MANS DEATH AND GORE, IF YOURE SQUEAMISH JUMP TO NEXT PARAGRAPH)

i think a scene that perfectly blurs the lines between comedy and tragedy, as well as just plain horror in it, is the scene where a man gets killed by being put in a magicians box and sliced in half as a ‘magic trick’ by fleegle, the dog. as he pleads for his life, and his soon to be wife watches in horror and pleads for the robot dog to stop (yeah theyre robots in this, weird), fleegle continues to slice him in half and blood spurts out, until he is dead, and fleegle just happily and proudly showcases what he has done, as if he just did a real magic trick.

(END TW FOR DEATH AND GORE DESCRIPTION)

watching that was horrifying, of course it was. but at the same time, it was what i wanted and expected when i thought about “banana splits horror movie”. fleegle just did something completely absurd and entirely uncalled for. and what doubles the uncaniness of it is that it was supposed to be something harmless, a magic trick. think about this if it was in an adult swim cartoon. the same thing could still happen, but be treated as just a weird, gross joke. fleegle could even swear, say ‘heres your fucking magic trick damnit! oh you dont like it, well i quit!’ n then throw his hat on the ground and step on it.

they are essentially the same scene, but the cartoon version of it is presented in a way that shows full on just how absurd and unexpected it is, without any seriousness to it, probably without any moody music to accompany it. meanwhile the movie one focuses on the fear, grief, and horror of putting us in the shoes of a woman who just watched the man she loved be killed, with the shots being extra impactful.

in the end, the banana splits syfy movie is a horror comedy though, because most of the movie is spent finding the most creative, absurd, borderline funny ways for people to be killed off. as you watch it along, you dont know whether to laugh at the weirdness and absurdity of the events or to genuinely feel grief and fear over the bodies piling up.

i could also just go over a million other examples available to me right now. in fact, as of the time im writing this, i have the latest vinesauce corruption stream pulled on youtube. during corruptions, the most bizarre and absurd things happen, and often times, things get scary. we see the video game characters we love be deformed and twisted in ways that you can only imagine hurt, but they still act as if thats normal! so you cant help but laugh.

earlier today, i watched a gameplay video of bonbon. its a short horror game, with a very... different antagonist. i wont spoil much, because, i dont want to deter people from buying it. but i will say, there is a reveal at the end, which slaps you in the face with the realization that you have been played for a fool all along, and the developers would probably laughing at you if they saw you after youve beat the game. its a joke, and the fear that they cultivated so lovingly, is the punchline. your fear becomes a punchline. to me thats one of the highest forms of blurring horror and comedy, and one i prefer to some more gory and harsh attempts.

and i mean, i have to mention fnaf here, dont i? its a great example too, particularly because, if you look at the games by themselves, they generally take themselves pretty seriously as horror stories, minus a few odd cases or references. but they just have enough wiggle room that, if you look at them from afar, as an audience, you can take these characters youre supposed to be afraid of, and have fun with them, because it is pretty damn absurd, and even funny at the end of the day, that youre expected to be afraid of essentially big, robotic childrens toys. and thats when many fun, fan renditions that focus on lighthearted situations pop up. vanny herself is pretty funny even! the idea of a person who dresses up in a full fursuit to do crimes is pretty hilarious.

all in all, i think i just really appreciate how horror and comedy can converse with each other and how that says something about how we, as humans, are easily made impressed, made to be surprised and shocked, to jump or to laugh. and we are always looking for that thrill, it just depends on if youre looking for laughs or screams.

so yeah, maybe ‘wasp room’ can be a pretty good story. is it a horror story or a comedy? we wont know until we read it. (also if you made it to the end reading this holy shit i love you , i fully recognize i talked way too much)

[flibbertigiblet]

Jon x Sansa | Modern AU, Imi-taters need not apply

(Also on AO3)

“Sam! Put that down and come back here. No. Sam, you little brat, you need to go upstairs and change into…SAM!”

With an impish laugh, the little boy finally dashed upstairs to his room, and Jon collapsed onto the nearest chair in relief.

The thing is, when Samwell Tarly (senior) had called him two days ago, asking for a favor, Jon had agreed immediately without thinking too much about it. That’s what people do for their friends, right? And he’d known that poor Sam and his wife were both down with a nasty cold for nigh on two weeks now; agreeing to take their son trick-or-treating was no big deal. One might even say it was small potatoes.

Jon looked down at himself and winced. Okay, that phrase was maybe too on the nose. 

Jon had never before had cause to wonder how difficult it would be to chaperone a child on Halloween. The last time he’d gone trick-or-treating was when he himself was a child, traipsing around the streets of Winter Town with Theon, Robb, and the rest of the Stark brood. The last time, he’d been dressed up as a knight, waving a cardboard sword around and vowing to save all the best chocolate for his redhaired fair princess.

This time, he’s dressed as a tuber.

With a face on it.

This…was a considerable downgrade.

Little Sam was a sweet kid, really. It’s just…look, he’s six-years old, and he’s hyperactive to begin with, and they haven’t even left the house yet and Jon’s already had to run around chasing him for fifteen minutes just to get him to go put on his costume, and oh gods, he’s going to be high on candy before the end of the night, isn’t he?

“Jon Snow, you are an angel and a saint,” said the hoarse voice drifting up from the bundle of blankets on the couch, under which his friend and his wife were huddled together in all their flu-ridden misery.

There was no denying that both Sam and Gilly both looked the worse for wear. Still, Jon expelled a breath so deep and melodramatic that the curls on his forehead fluttered in the draft. “No, Sam. What I am, thanks to you, is a walking, talking…potato.”

“Potato head,” said Sansa helpfully, as she came in from the Tarly’s kitchen with two large and steaming mugs of herbal tea. Her own potato - sorry, potato head - costume was as cumbersome as his, and yet Sansa managed to look graceful as always as she navigated her way around forgotten toys and discarded sneakers in order to deliver her bounty to the invalids. 

“I’ve added a bit of lemon for the vitamin C and honey to soothe your throats,” she told them, smiling. 

Jon felt his own face ease into a goofy smile as he watched Sansa fuss over their friends – fluffing cushions and making sure the box of tissues and waste bin were within easy reach – but he quickly schooled his expression when he caught Gilly smirking up at him.

Sam cupped both hands around his drink and took a careful sip. “Sansa Stark, you too are an angel and a saint,” he pronounced with a contented sigh. “Thank you both for agreeing to take Little Sam trick-or-treating.”

“I hope you don’t mind that I asked Sansa to join you, Jon,” Gilly piped up, her shrewd eyes still on Jon. “Little Sam can be quite a handful, and I thought you might want the company. Plus, we had the costumes already, and what’s a Mr. without his Mrs.?” 

“Whose clever idea were the costumes?” grumbled Jon, even as his heart skipped a beat at her too-casual words.

“It was Little Sam’s idea, I’m afraid. Toy Story is his favorite movie, and he wanted to be Buzz Lightyear. But I wasn’t ‘allowed’ to be Woody, because his best friend is going to be Woody.” Sam looked so woebegone that Jon didn’t have it in him to continue sulking, so he nodded instead.

“Oh we don’t mind, do we Jon? We love Little Sam, and these costumes are adorable!” Looking at her reflection in the hallway mirror, Sansa adjusted the yellow bucket hat she was wearing to a jauntier tilt. “In fact,” she said, eyes sparkling as she turned to him now, “I thought your costume lacked one final piece, so I found something to complete the look.”

She reached into the bag that she’d brought with her, and with a flourish, she pulled out a bowler hat.

Jon stifled a groan.

“Now I know it’s an absolute crime to hide this gorgeous head of curls under a hat, but Mr. Potato Head needs his bowler, don’t you think?” Sansa ruffled the curls in question and Jon flushed slightly, embarrassed and pleased by the compliment. He stood still and allowed Sansa to position the hat on his head to her liking, basking as he always did in the warmth of her affection.

Theon and Robb would howl if they could see him now, but luckily that was never going to happen.

She patted his face when she finished, then turned them both towards the couch to seek their friends’ approval.

“An iconic pair,” proclaimed Gilly with a quirk of her lips.

“Hear, hear,” Sam agreed in a muffled voice as he blew his nose.

Behind them, pounding footsteps more suited to a stampeding elephant than a six-year old astronaut signaled Little Sam’s return.

“I’m ready, let’s go! I don’t want to miss all the good candy! Hurry up, let’s go!” Buzz Lightyear indeed. The kid was practically vibrating with excitement – and this was pre-sugar - but Jon was in a good mood all of a sudden, and so he smiled at him indulgently.

“Well, come on then, kiddo,” said Jon, making a move towards the door. 

“Wait-” said Sansa, grabbing his hand.

He stopped.

“We need to take a picture! When he found out we were going trick-or-treating, Theon asked me to send one to the group! And Robb was the one who was nice enough to lend me the hat in the first place!”

Those rat bastards.

“I have a better idea. How about we don’t?”

But they did. Such were the extent of Sansa’s powers. She even got him to smile and wave to the camera, because of course she did.

Their phones buzzed immediately after the pic was sent.

Theon:          OMG

Arya:             what a spud

Robb:            Sansa Starch and Jon Snowtato

Bran:             You guys do look very a-peeling together

Robb:            Truly a mash made in heaven!

Theon:          HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

Sansa:           Very punny, you guys

Rickon:          If you’re looking for potato puns, you can count on me to chip in

Gendry:         Don’t mind me, I’m just a spec-tater

Sansa:           Tuber honest, this is better than I expected from you lot

Theon:           HA!

Theon:           HAA!!!

Theon:           HAAAAA!!!!!

Jon:                Alright, that’s enough

Arya:              don’t be salty, jon

Rickon:          Taters gonna tate 

Robb:             I think we’re frying Jon’s patience

Bran:              We’ve really made a hash of things

Jon:                You know very well that Sansa and I are only doing this as a favor to Sam and Gilly

Sansa:            He’s right.

Arya:              …ok, fine

Rickon:          Sorry, Sans. Sorry, Jon :(

Robb:             Yeah, we’ll stop

Theon:           But…I haven’t even gotten to make a potato pun yet :(

Robb:             Jon, you have to admit that you guys look ridiculous though

Jon:                Sansa looks beautiful even when dressed in a literal potato sack

Sansa:           <3<3<3

Arya:              gross. now i’m definitely out.

Theon:           Damn Sansa, how’d you manage to land such a sweet potato?

Theon:           (AW YIS!)

Jon:                ��

Jon:                …

Jon:                …

Jon:                It’s just the way I yam.

Theon:           …

Rickon:          …

Robb:            …I think we’re done here.

—–

Written for the Jonsa 100 Challenge. Was tagged by @zarahjoyce with the the prompt “run” (which I only used very loosely in the fic, sorry!)

Inspired by:

“The Potato Heads, Mr. and Mrs.! You’ve gotta keep ‘em together, ‘cause they’re madly in love…”

I know I could have gone with any number of options for a Jonsa couples costume edit, but this concept made me lol so I decided to roll with it! Longtime Jonsas will know why I have to give special credit to @riahchan - years of seeing her call Jon a potato means this idea was probably percolating in the back of my head for a good long while!

Tagging @amymel86 next with “tissue”

—–

Check out my other stuff here: @flibbertigiblet-edits

[aziraphalesrarebooks]

The Halloween Nanny Ashtoreth and Warlock fic nobody asked for. Written with lots of love and an extra scoop of sugary sweet fluff to rot your teeth. 

Can be read alone here or on AO3

But is technically part of my connected oneshot collection found here: Connecting The Stars

“Nanny!” shouted the ferocious lion as he jumps into Crowley’s arms.

 Halloween is weeks away and it’s a favorite of the Dowling Matriarch. She’s busy planning a Halloween costume party for local diplomats and anyone else who’s anybody. The house is to be full of people and music and there’s even to be a haunted trail in the garden. Crowley must admit it sounds fun if he wasn’t to be otherwise occupied.

 “Look! I got you a pumpkin!” He’s 7 years old and is currently wearing a pair of lion footie pajamas his mother had bought for him earlier in the week. The hat was pulled up over his head, giving him a fuzzy mane of hair. It had been his day off and from what Aziraphale had said, the boy had been on his own for most of the day but had come out to the gardens when the boxes upon boxes of pumpkins were delivered.

 “Brother Francis said you’d like it, I picked it out myself!” He turned around and proudly grabbed the pumpkin that was hidden partially behind his bedroom door.

 “It’s perfect my little hellspawn, where shall I keep it?”

 His tiny lips pursed, then his eyes glittered with mischief. “You can keep it in my window! They are supposed to scare off evil spirits. That’s what Mama said.”

 Crowley had the decency not to laugh but hid the snort behind his hand. “Evil spirits you say?”

 He nodded his head, confident in his ability to warn his dear Nanny about all the evils of Halloween. “She said ghosts come out because the curtains have holes in them and demons and witches…” he lowered his voice, “and even bats!”

 He chortled, “Do you think your Nanny would just let any old demon get you?”

 Warlock rolled his eyes, “Of course not, Nanny. You’re too scary, they would be too scared to mess with you!”

 “And you must always remember that.”

 “I will, love you, Nanny Ash.”

 “I love you too hellion.”

 “… Nanny?”

 “Warlock.”

 “What’s a pumpkin going to do against a demon or a witch?”

 “Well, I’m sure it would hurt if you threw it at one.”

 “Na-nny!”

 “War-lock!” he mocked.

 “Stop teasing me!”

 “Well, first we will need to carve it.”

 “a Jack-o-Lantern?”

 “Precisely.”

 “And then what?” he was making that face again, eyebrows furrowed in concentration with his lips pursed.

 “Then we put a light inside of it, usually you do it a few days before Halloween; October 31st.”

 “To scare off spooky things?”

 He grinned, “To scare off spooky things.”

 “Nanny?”

 “Hm?”

 “Why can’t we go to the party?”

 Ah. That had been a sore spot. Warlock was ecstatic about the upcoming holiday and he assumed that it was a good thing. The Antichrist and all things considered, being excited for Halloween was probably a good sign. However, they were being sent to stay at a hotel for the night.

 He’d been so upset when his mother mentioned it in passing, for months all she’d talked about was the party and how much fun it was going to be, only for her to drop that bombshell earlier in the week with the promise of left-over treats the day after.

 “You and I will have our own party. Perhaps we can carve our pumpkin then?” He had a plan, Aziraphale would be off by the time the party began and then they’d meet at his flat.

   To his surprise, Warlock decided to be a demon for Halloween. His reasoning was to see if the pumpkin actually worked.

 He’d been insisting on scary stories every night before bed; and had, several times ended up sneaking into his Nanny’s bed to cuddle after a nightmare. He’d absolutely fixated on being a demon, pitchfork an all.

 So here he was, in Crowley’s flat, wearing a bright red costume with silly horns and a pitchfork, terrorizing his plants. Although, that had probably been a bad idea on his part.

 Warlock was under the impression this was just another weird hotel room.

 It was odd having the kid in his home, but it didn’t feel wrong. He was thrilled; although, he’d never admit that to anyone. He loved Warlock, often thought of him more like his son than his sort of nephew. Having him in his flat, it just felt right.

 “Pizza then pumpkin?”

 “Yes!”

 Just then, a pizza that had been planning to be eaten by a downstairs neighbor found itself being delivered to a different address. Crowley paid then shut the door.

 Warlock took a big bite of the cheese pizza, smearing sauce on his cheek as he did. “Nanny?”

 “Locky.”

 “Nanny! I’m not 3 anymore!”

 He sighed, “Yes, Warlock?” the years were going by too quickly for his liking.

 “I’ve been thinking, we shouldn’t do a face for our pumpkin.”

 “Well, what should we do?”

 Another bite, this time with sauce being wiped onto the red pants of his costume. “What about an owl or a… cat… or… Oh! What about a snake! We could do a snake like your cool tattoo!”

 It surprised him, he didn’t know what it surprised him; Warlock had often made it known how cool he thought his mark was. “A snake might be hard to do…”

 “Na, we can do it! But… maybe not as loopy as yours.”

 They set to work once they were finished eating and before long, an acceptable jack-o-lantern sat proudly in the demon’s window. The light flickering from inside the pumpkin, contrasting against a very acceptable snake.

 “Nanny?”

 “Yes, Hellspawn?”

 “Do you think we could sneak past the guards and go trick or treating?”

 He shouldn’t have encouraged it, but they both hated being tailed by the secret service agents and Crowley had learned it was easier to just redirect them than try and lose them. Tonight, for instance, both guards had found themselves remembering they were to be off tonight and had bid the other farewell and gone home. 

 “That can be arranged.”

 “Hey, Nanny?”

 “Yes, Warlock?”

 “You should be an angel for Halloween!”

 And that’s how Aziraphale found him nearly two hours later. He’d just happened to have an old angel costume laying around because when the Antichrist asks, you do it.

 “My dear, you look simply heavenly.” He giggled at the picture his friend painted standing there in a long white tunic, two white tufts of feathers hanging from his shoulders that were supposed to be wings and to top it off, a fuzzy white halo atop his fiery red curls.

 “Brother Francis!” He hugged the man tightly. “Come into our room! Look!” he said tugging Aziraphale into the kitchen of Crowley’s flat while pointing at the jack-o-lantern proudly.

 “Oh, my dear, such a marvelous job you both did! Here, why don’t you and Nanny get together with your pumpkin so I can snap a picture.”

 “Francis.” He warned.

 “Now dear, in front of the pumpkin with your sworn enemy.”

 “Nanny isn’t my enemy!”

 “But my dear Master Warlock, demons and angels are mortal enemies!” He rolled his eyes as he heard Crowley snort. “My dear, it is your Nanny’s job to thwart your evil deeds!”

 “… Nanny?”

 “Yes?”

 “Please don’t throw a pumpkin at me.”

 Aziraphale spluttered.

 “No promises, hellspawn. Angel? Picture?”

 He nodded, holding up his camera and taking several photos.

 “What do you say to some snacks and a scary movie?”

 He nodded enthusiastically, running to where he’d seen the television earlier. If the couch was now large enough to fit the three of them, he didn’t notice. He was too busy digging into the popcorn and candies he found waiting for him.

 The two settled in beside him, Brother Francis pulling a warm tartan throw over the three of them as the movie began.

 Emily?

 Emily!

 Come little children, I’ll take thee away, into a land…

 He felt eyes on him, he looked over and met the blue eyes of his Angel. His heart flip-flopped, then he quickly looked away only to glance back and smile shyly back.

 He reached up and took off the fuzzy halo and placed it onto Aziraphale’s head.

 “Angel.” He said grinning.

 “You’d make a great angel Brother Francis, Nanny can be a demon with me. You can… thwart us!” he snuggled against the demon, turning his attention to the movie.

 The two smiling at the other over the head of their little demon before turning their attention towards the movie as well.

   And if years later, Adam found a scrapbook in the cottage with a photo of the three of them sitting, cuddled close on the couch. Aziraphale would just smile and reminisce while his other two boys were out pretending to collect wood for a fire.

[whirlybirbs]

Ok ok hear me out, so we know Arthur reads Miss Turner’s journal but what if Miss Turner gets her hands on Arthur’s?

a/n: oh god i gave myself a cavity writing this. it’s long, it aches. arthur takes miss turner fishing. she catches him drawing her. they make a deal, he reads her journal. this is pure romance, folks. a slow burn. it hurts. here’s the masterlist!

He’s gone for two whole days.

Two. Only two. 

But, with the way Miss Grimshaw’s been harping on you and the other girls, you can’t help but feel like it’s been a damn week. You swear your fingers are worked to the bone from the amount of stitching, washing and cooking you’ve been doing. 

It’s early evening when Arthur returns to camp from the hunting trip (alongside Lenny and Bill and Charles with a boar on each horse). He gives you a good excuse to get out for a while -- Miss Grimshaw and Dutch and Hosea don’t ask questions when it comes to the blonde outlaw. It’s just... one of those things. They trust Arthur.

Bill nudges Lenny. They’d joked on the trip how Miss Turner was makin’ Arthur soft. This is a show of it. 

“Please tell me you’re not sick ‘n’ tired of the great outdoors just yet, Mr. Morgan.”

The sound of your voice meets his ears and Arthur can’t help but grin; he moves slowly, then, lifting the bounty of the hunt from Sugarcube’s saddle and sparing you an amused look. 

“An’ if I am?”

“I’ll drown myself in the lake.”

Oh, you are quick.

He laughs -- loud and true -- and strides over to drop the carcass by Pearson’s butcher’s block. The tenderloin will make good stew. Lenny and Bill smirk at the way you watch him, enjoying the fact they’re right -- no amount of denying can hide the way Arthur brightens with you by his side. 

He leans, propping himself against the table and folding his arms. “Why?”

“Fishing.”

“Fishing.”

You roll your eyes at him, slapping his bicep in good-humor. “Jack was sayin’ how good of a teacher you are --”

“Oh,” Arthur croons, “Was he now?”

“-- And I would love to learn how.”

Arthur grins, looking mischievous. He kicks off from the table, pulling a sigh and trying to make it seem like this isn’t the nicest thing in the world -- a pretty girl like you, seeking him out for some alone time and treating him like he’s some sought after company. He tries to hide his cards, hide the pep in his step.

Mary-Beth, Tilly, and Karen can see it from a mile away.

“They didn’t teach you fishing in those high-society classes a’ yours?”

“Oh,” you chirp, “Yes, fishing and hunting were right alongside piano an’ singing.”

“Singin’?”

His brows quirk. He turns, walking backwards towards Sugarcube with an piqued interest. Blue eyes scale your face. You’ve gone sheepish. It’s rather adorable.

You clamp your mouth shut, averting your gaze. “I didn’t --”

“An’ piano -- my, my, you really are a lady --”

You shove him backwards with a blooming smile on your face, earning a deep laugh from the outlaw as he nears his horse. The Palamino Thoroughbred whinnies, bowing her head up and down in greeting. You pat her muzzle gently, cooing a bit as Arthur moves to his satchel. 

“I’ve got an extra pole you can use,” he says, “C’mon, then, daylights wastin’.”

He offers a hand, hoisting you up as you swing to sit side-saddle. He’s up in-front of you in a flash, spurs tinkering as he urges Sugarcube into a light trot. Your arms snake around his waist, palms resting against the curve of his sides. His gun holsters rattle at the pace.

You prop your chin up on his shoulder.

“Miss Grimshaw keepin’ y’ busy?” 

His voice resounds through him, deep and warm, and you can feel it in your chest. It’s satisfying.

“I would be lyin’ if I said she wasn’t the reason I wanted to get away --”

“And here I was, thinkin’ y’ wanted t’ spend some time with little ol’ me.”

You cop a grin. “You aren’t my type, remember, Arthur?”

You can feel the way his laugh rattles his ribs. His smile is contagious. The sun is still hanging in the sky, when you come to rest at a spot away from camp on the lake. The water is dancing with a yellowish-blue from the clouds above and you’re content to just... be. 

“C’mon, then. Time t’ put you t’ work.”

You grin, happily accepting his hand and hopping off of Sugarcube. 

“Now, fair warning --”

“You aren’t much of a fisherman?” you chirp, quirking a brow, “Dutch told me.”

Arthur suddenly goes sheepish, cheeks striking a rosy color as he grumbles and itches the back of his neck -- that damn story of him, twenty-one and lying about catching three, huge large-mouthed bass for dinner (when really he’d just gone and bought them) has continued to haunt him for the last fifteen years. You, though, seem to get a kick out of it and fall into a spur of giggles.

He wonders what the hell else Dutch has told you.

“Yea, yea,” he rumbles, “I was young --”

“Mhm,” you say, taking the offered pole from him, “Go ahead, make some more excuses --”

Arthur shakes his head, laughing. “You keep that up, I’m gunna have t’ ask you t’ sing.”

“Just because I had lessons,” you say as you venture closer to the water, “Doesn’t mean I was any good.”

“Fair enough... I’m still gunna make y’ sing.”

“If I’ve had a drink,” you raise a finger, “Then, maybe.”

“My, the fair lady drinks?” he chirps, “Jus’ when I’d thought I’d seen it all.”

You shove his shoulder, rolling your eyes as he moves to settle the tackle box between you both. He bends, groaning a bit, before clicking open the latch and beginning to dig through the baits. After a moment, he finally finds the container he was looking for.

Scrawled across the top reads ‘live worms’. 

You pull a face.

Arthur cracks open the container and snags his pole, straddling it between his legs and snagging the line between his fingers.

“Hold this...” he blinks up at you, “What?”

“They’re... oh, god, they’re wriggling.”

Arthur swears you’re the cutest damn thing alive -- he’d kiss you if he had the courage. Instead, he grins and shakes his head. He reaches in, moving to tie the worm around his hook before taking the container from your hands and snapping it shut.

“I’ll show you,” he says, “Then, you can have at it, alrigh’?”

And so he does. He casts the reel with a long throw and you watch, listening to the fweeeeeeeeeep, plunk! of the bait flying out and hitting the water. It’s nice -- quiet and peaceful and calm. Then, his rod pulls.

He reels in the fish and holds it up. 

“If it’s small, you can just...” he tosses the fish, “Let ‘em go.”

You fumble at first; the worm slips from the hook a few times while you try and skewer it -- and the first cast you have is atrocious. You nearly take Arthur out with your whipping of the pole. But, with a well-guided hand, Arthur pulls your arm back and shows you the right way to cast. 

You try to ignore how close you are, back pressed right to his chest.

He wanders off after that, leaving you to wiggle the pole every now and again and reel in and cast out. You lose yourself in thought for a bit, focused on the feeling of the rod in your hands and the breeze coming through. 

The sun has started to set in the west, painting the sky and lake all kind of shades of citrine and rose. The world has a rose-tinted glow at this hour. The rustling of the leaves on the trees is like a lullaby and on the far end of the lakeside, you can see a family of white-tailed deer grazing happily.

The buck raises it’s head and you smile.

It’s moments like these that make you thankful for leaving home behind. Some days, it hurts. But, out here -- free and true, you remember how nice it is to just breathe and be and live. No money, no rules, no manners. Just... the wild.

You turn your head, catching Arthur Morgan mid-study.

He ducks his eyes immediately, caught in the act of sketching you -- from his perch on the rock to your right, he quickly moves to snap close the new leather-bound journal you’d given him earlier in the week. 

“Mr. Morgan --”

“No, no,” he says, dropping his pencil into his shirt pocket, “Don’t you start --”

You reel in, propping up the rod on a nearby rock and abandoning it for his sheepish look -- he tosses his head back, sighing loudly; you grin, eyes on fire with something dizzying. You climb onto the rock beside him, leaning to try and snag the journal quickly -- but Arthur is fast and he knows this game. After all, he’d pulled the same trick on you all those weeks ago to read your journal.

“Aah, aah, ah.”

“Let me see.”

“No,” he rumbles, “It’s my journal. I’ll draw whatever the hell I please.”

“... You were drawin’ me.”

“Maybe,” he shrugs, leaning back as you reach again, “An’ you ain’t gonna see it.”

Courage surges in your chest. Rumor had it Arthur was a bit of an artist around camp. You’d spotted him here and there scribbling in that journal. You’d always assumed it was chicken-scratch. But... with the way he’d just been looking at you... that was a practiced look. 

You hold your breath.

And then it all rushes out.

“How about -- if you let me see it, I’ll let you read any page from mine,” you say slowly, “Anything is fair game -- Though my poems aren’t very good.”

“... Poems?”

Consider his curiosity piqued. 

You stick your hand out.

Arthur blinks.

“Deal?”

“Christ, sure, alrigh’.”

It’s childish, he knows, but it fills his chest with an exciting buzz that he hasn’t felt in a long time. This little game -- a tit for tat -- has his hands sweating a bit as he shakes your hand under the setting sun and -- reluctantly -- pulls open his journal and flips to the most recent spread.

He hands you the journal and your jaw drops.

To say he’s good... well, that wouldn’t do his skill justice. He’s wonderful -- and the full page sketch of you fishing has your heart hammering all the way back to camp. He’s captured you in an idyllic way, hair braided and hat hanging low; the caption beside it reads your initials with a faint heart beside them. The page opposite has a few smaller sketches -- of Sugarcube, of a boar, of a few flowers, all accompanied by the flourished script of his handwriting. 

It’s beautiful.

It’s art.

“... It’s not th’ best I’ve ever done --”

You gawk, a breathless laugh whisked from your chest as you blink up at him beside you. You cradle the journal with a newfound sense of treasure. 

When you meet his gaze, you’re speechless.

You just... flounder, a bit like a fish, for a moment.

“No one’s ever... drawn me before.”

It’s all you can say. The gesture of him going so far as to make you a home in his personal journal... is awfully romantic.

Arthur swallows, taking the journal from you and fishing the pencil from his pocket in a way that screams urgency -- his cheeks has gone rosy from the attention and he can’t help but drop his gaze from yours.

It’s like staring into the sun.

“I... I could finish it if you’d like,” he says slowly, “You can have it.”

“... Really?”

“I have others -- I mean, in... uh, I have other drawings.... in my other journal --”

“Of me...?”

You damn fool, Arthur Morgan!

He gawks. “Uh... Well...”

You can’t help the hopelessly sweet look that blooms on your face. Gently, you urge him on, hand meeting his wrist as he tries to figure out the right words to say.

“...You do, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” he says, quickly changing the subject and breaking the moment to spare his heart, “But, I believe you have yer end of th’ deal to keep, Miss Turner.”

As he turns back to his sketching, you laugh and stand -- Sugarcube has your satchel in one of her saddle bags and you make quirk work on digging out your own journal from the depths. It’s nearly full, pages tattered and weathered from it’s use. It’s smaller than Arthur’s, not as thick, but the pages are teeming with content in delicate script.

Arthur’s shading is cut short by your return to the rock.

You offer him the notebook, eyes set ahead of you.

“One page,” you say, raising a finger, “You get to read one page.”

Arthur’s signature boyish grin is back, blooming as he tucks his pencil between the pages of his journal and sets it on the rock behind him. He takes your journal gingerly, thumb gracing your name engraved on the front of it. Immediately, a pressed flower falls out the front.

It’s lilac.

He hands it your way and your fingers brush like the kiss of a match.

Blue eyes dart to yours, measuring the sheepishness on your face. 

You’re not surprised when his fingers flip to the most recent entry, written four days ago -- the night after you and him had righted your wrongs on the ride into Rhodes. It’s almost like he knows the writing there will bloom the same amount of anxiousness your admiring of his sketches did. 

He clears his throat and you cry, throwing your hands over your face.

“Oh god, no, Arthur, don’t read it out loud --”

“ -- It was worth it, the anxiety of tucking a whole journal under by sleeve in that market stall in Saint Denis. I’ve never stolen a damn thing in my life. But, Mr. Morgan deserves something good. He smiled, big and wholesome and warm, when I gave it to him and I think that’s how I like him best; he tries so hard to be bitter, not realizing how easily me and the rest of the camp would kill to see him smile like that again --”

You lunge, hands pulling the journal from him as you shriek: “One page!”

Arthur’s face is split into one of those earth-shattering grins, one that you try your best to remember, when you snatch the journal from him -- your face is flooded with embarrassment, wishing maybe he’d picked a more poetic paragraph to read. You try and brace for the jeers, but instead, he drops his head and nods. 

A beat of silence.

Your words settle neatly against his ribs. 

“You mean that?”

“... Well, yes,” you breathe, clutching the notebook close to your heart, “Every word.”

“...You’ve never stolen?” he says after a beat, face screwed up, “... Ever?”

“... God, Arthur,” you cry, laughing loudly and shoving his arm, “That’s what you --- That is the one thing you focus on?!”

He grins again, chuckling at your reaction -- his ability to not make you feel like a fool is astounding. For a few moments, you both just sit there, basking in the glow of one another under the sunset. The clouds have turned inky purple in the wake of the sharing, breeze turning cooler off the lake as the camp’s fires begin to glow in the early evening light. 

He’s a coward, though, and as much as Arthur Morgan wants to kiss you under the blinking stars, he doesn’t.

Instead, he hops down from the rock and offers you a hand; ever the gentleman.

“Best we head back t’ camp,” he drawls, “It’s nearly supper time.”

You nod, noting the permanent smile on his face. “Miss Grimshaw’s probably wondering where her favorite laundry girl went.”

Arthur gathers the fishing equipment and you tuck both of your journals back into Sugarcube’s satchels. Upon packing up, Arthur offers a hand again and you find yourself sitting side-saddle as he hauls himself upwards. 

Your hold on him is bit more confident, now. 

Your nose brushes his shoulder. Arthur’s hand pats yours on his hip. 

“Arthur?”

“Yea?”

“... Thanks for drawin’ me.”

You can’t see his face. He’s thankful. His smile is lovesick.

[balancingdiet]

Tabula Rasa

Detective Conan & Magic Kaito Characters: Shinichi/Kaito Words: 2500 ish Chapter: (1) ... (16) (17) (18)

Shinichi always finds his neighbour weird. But he didn’t expect to find his neighbour lying on a patch of grass and donned in Kaitou Kid’s costume, too.

“So... I’ve heard.”

“About the ice shard case?” Shinichi propped the phone in between his chin and shoulder while he flipped a file in his hands. “I got to admit, the murderer is smart to use it as a weapon, but he’d forgotten to—”

“I’m not talking about that,” Hattori said, exasperated. “But ok, I also think that ice shard trick was interesting when I heard it during the debrief, but it’s not da’ point why I called you.”

Shinichi raised an eyebrow, as if Hattori could see it. “Then?” 

There was a muffled sigh. ”Kazuha told me you went to find Ran-neechan.”

“Oh, right.” Shinichi placed the case file on his table and took the phone in his hand. “I did.”

“Previously I had to hear from Kazuha about your confession in London… And now this too." Hattori clicked his tongue. “You suck, Kudo.”

“It happened literally yesterday,” Shinichi said with some attempts of defence. But he leaned against his chair and stared at the ceiling, mulling over about how strange his words felt; even though it was just yesterday, it felt as though so much things had happened, and his meeting with Ran was almost like a blur...

“You still suck,” Hattori muttered. “But anyway, how did it go?”

“Toyama didn’t tell you?”

“I wanna hear your version.”

Shinichi glanced around his office and left his seat to get a coffee from the vending machine. And on his way, Shinichi explained his version of what happened (while answering some of Hattori's interjected questions too). Shinichi recounted the slight nervousness at the start, how Ran was empathetic all the time, and the eventual interruption when a new client came to look for Ran’s father. He wasn’t sure what the version Ran told Toyama was, but Shinichi still wasn’t going to mention Kaito.

As much as how Hattori could be horribly clueless in love-related matters (especially with Toyama), he could be pretty sharp about all the other things.

“After so long, everything is back to normal now,” Hattori eventually said after Shinichi finished the entire story within the same trip of getting coffee and returning to his desk. ”Maybe we can finally have a double date or something.”

Shinichi pursed his lips. All things were indeed good now like Hattori said, but like the quiet life he used to live, this new life—as well as his relationship with Ran—didn’t seem any close to being back to normal. It wasn’t just about the distance or time, but…

He watched the ripples on the surface of his coffee in the paper cup, not sure what to reply.

But Hattori helped him with that. “Anyway, are you gonna move back to your old home?”

Shinichi straightened. “Why the question?”

“Just thought your place’s really hella far from everywhere. You got to change so many metro lines.”

“That’s why I have a car.”

Hattori paused. “I thought there’s also no reason for you to stay there anymore, no?”

“Well, it’s…” Shinichi cleared his throat. “It’s not fun to move houses.”

“Hmm, that make sense.“

It might make sense to Hattori, and it might make sense when Kaito said it and referred to his 63 doves, but Shinichi found his answer made the least sense. There were almost no constraints for him to move; he didn’t have to go through the trouble of selling the house; his old home was ready to be occupied anytime; he barely had much belongings besides the few things in the study room. If Shinichi had to move, it might take him less than an hour of packing, including that two potted plants in his backyard too. 

But of course, Shinichi wasn’t going to go against what he literally said, so he hummed to Hattori’s response and went along with what seemed like the flow of the conversation before they hung up shortly after Shinichi received news to be dispatched to a murder scene. 

Though it wasn’t a happy thing for the dead victim, it was a good moment to temporarily distract Shinichi, just so he wouldn’t have to wonder why Kaito started popping up in his mind.

----

The next month that followed had been mad hell for Shinichi; A homicide division from a nearby precinct was shut down due to the high level of corruptions, and eventually, all their unfinished cases were sent to Shinichi’s department to deal with. He had been working full shifts almost every day, and not just sleep, he hadn’t even had time to get coffee sometimes.

But it seemed his department wasn't alone.

Aside from challenges, like what Sonoko’s uncle used to do, being Kaitou Kid was almost like a self-employed job; he got to choose the time and date for all the heists he’d done. But at the recent rate Kaitou Kid sent his heists' notes, the Task Force was also hustling hard to keep up with the thief’s pace. There was even once when Takagi said he had argued with one of the Task Force’s member over the last bento box in the convenience store (but none of them won because they let another citizen, who strangely happened to be looking for food at one in the morning, to take it instead). 

For now, Shinichi hadn’t figured out (or more like he didn’t have the time to figure out) Kid’s reasons for the spike in activity, but that wasn’t really part of his main concerns. What he cared—so much as to take the time out of his pile of cases, bring his walkie-talkie to the rooftop and stand by the ledge for the best connection to the Task Force’s frequency—was how Kid escaped.

From the dozen over times Shinichi had dropped into the Task Force’s “conversation”, he realised Kid had a lot more ways of escaping than he thought was possible (and it made Shinichi pitied the Task Force member for having to go through them sometimes). But half of Kid’s ploys would be either blending into the crowd with a disguise or flying away in his glider…

Tonight, Kid had chosen the latter.

And it was the one that bothered Shinichi the most.

Was the flight stable? Were there turbulences? Did he take off well? Did he land well? Did he stab himself? Did he hurt himself?

Did he do this? 

Did he do that?

When the Task Force’s commands over the radio weren't beneficial to Shinichi’s observation anymore, he then returned to his desk and pour himself back into work, just to stop himself from worrying about the thing he couldn’t control. But in most instances, he would just give up, apologise to Inspector Megure that he’d finish his work tomorrow, and leave the office.

Breaking promises was one thing, but now Shinichi had transcended to breaking laws; speeding and beating a red light or two on his way home.

As he found himself in the much familiar streets and nearing towards his mailbox—which strangely marked a greater sense of home than the actual, big house that stood behind it—he saw Kaito, who was also unceremoniously digging his ear as he skipped out of his door to throw a bag of trash (Shinichi guessed had to do with what he had used at his heist).

Kaito, of course, spotted Shinichi, and he gave an incredulous look when he stepped out of his car.

“You’re back earlier than usual,” Kaito commented after taking Shinichi’s hand to look at his watch. 

“And you too.” Shinichi gestured at him mindlessly. ”I thought you have a heist today?”

“I’m already done.”

Of course Shinichi knew Kaito was done, but for the sake of the pretence, just so Kaito would never, ever suspect Shinichi to have used his radio and keep track on his activities… 

Damn, now that Shinichi stupidly realized, he had not only broke the law, but his work ethics too.

All for the man standing before him.

Shinichi irritably put out a hand. “Ok, where’s the jewel?” 

Kaito blinked. “Why?” 

“I figured if I’m not going to turn you in, I should at least do my part for the police and get the jewel back.”

“So righteous.” Kaito clapped his hands. “If I’m still in Kid’s attire, I’d definitely take my hat off to you.”

“Don’t change the subject. Jewel?”

“Aren’t you afraid that you’ll get suspected if you return my loot again?” Kaito said as he raised an eyebrow. “I mean, I’ve disguised as you before so it’s kinda on the track record.”

Shinichi put down his arm and narrowed his eyes. “Thanks for bringing up those memories.”

“My pleasure,” Kaito said before sighing wistfully into the dark sky above them. “They were good times indeed.”

Good times, huh?

Shinichi followed his gaze.

The thing was… it wasn’t just in the past.

Shinichi found this time a good time too.

But he wasn’t going to say that.

As he kept his head up and eyes still staring at the dark sky, he wondered if time would still treat them as kindly as they were now in their future.

----

“Hey, Kudo— Oh, where are you going?”

Shinichi’s hand froze, but just a millisecond too late, he’d already pressed for the lift, exposing where he wanted to go. Because given that they were on one of the few highest floors, the only place accessible, alongside with what his identity card allowed, was the roof.

Shinichi robotically turned as he watched Takagi and Shiratori approaching him, the questions still hanging heavily in the air.

Making sure the hand with the radio was behind his back, he pointed the other free hand to the lift. “Just— To the roof," he admitted.

“Did you start smoking?” Shiratori remarked. “I noticed you’ve been going to the rooftop lately.” 

Ah, it seemed his past movements weren’t that discrete after all. “No, I don’t smoke,” Shinichi clarified.

Takagi nodded understandingly. "If you’re finding a place to relieve stress and share a moment, I think the roof is an excellent choice," he added, “The view is nice at night.” 

Shiratori scoffed. “Sounds like you have lots of experiences with someone about that.”

They talked for bit until the lift came, and Shinichi believed he’d used up all his lucks in his prayers as Takagi and Shiratori left for the office and didn’t suggest on following him. But not all luck was on his side when he realized the heist had long started. He tried to switch his radio on in the lift, but the signals were bad, so he had to do it when he was by the ledge.

By the time Shinichi finished adjusting the radio’s frequency, it seemed he was much later than expected; the heist was over.

Almost over.

“zzztttt—zzztzt... Kid is on the other rooftop!” 

“Is he going to escape by air this time?”

”Wait, he’s still checking the gem, but…”

“But what?”

“What the…?

”Hey! What is going on?”

”The gem! The gem is glowing!”

“What the hell do you mean?"

"It’s literally glowing— Ah shit! Kid’s flying away!”

“Where did he go?!”

“He’s flying northeast!”

“Team C dispatch! I repeat, Team C dispatch—”

Shinichi switched off the radio. 

He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath the entire time until he released it.

Then, something pulled in his stomach, something unlike his past gastric attacks or the bullets or knives or even what the APTX pill did to him... he still wasn’t sure what, but it was just something so, so bad that it sent him running straight down the building via the emergency stairs, not bothering to inform anyone about his departure before he drove back home.

----

Shinichi shut his car door and walked over to the mailbox.

He had seen the dove—Tamago?—sitting on it countless of times, but never had he seen it standing like this now, as though it was awaiting for Shinichi’s arrival all the while.

It cooed in greeting

Shinichi bit his lip. He wasn’t sure if this was the best moment to realise the dove was actually… cute.

The sky rumbled, and Shinichi raised his head. He smelt some moisture in the air.

Yeah, definitely not the best moment. 

“Are you… Tamago?” Shinichi asked.

It stared at him.

“Whoever you are, do you know—”

Fluttering its wings, it flew off before Shinichi completed his sentence, but it wasn’t towards an aimless direction. Similarly to that time when it stole his mail, it looked like it had a purpose as it soared and curved towards the backyard behind Kaito’s house.

Once bitten, twice shy, but Shinichi would rather be bitten over five hundreds time than risk ignoring what the dove was trying to imply.

Since he couldn’t get through Kaito’s house and to his backyard, the only way was to climb over from his. He jogged into his house, past his kitchen and before climbing up the fences in his backyard.

The first thing Shinichi noticed when he jumped over was the stark whiteness across Kaito’s dim-lit garden. It didn’t just belong to the few doves that were standing around. Shinichi also found Kid’s abandoned white hat, his cape, and his white suit scattered from one spot to another.

As for Kid, he was standing before the bush of blue roses at the other corner of the backyard.

His gloves were still worn, but they weren’t white.

They were red.

Shinichi widened his eyes.

Blood?

The only remaining white on Kid was his pants.

“How sad, no one cares about Kaitou Kid’s white pants.” 

Shinichi wasn’t sure why that scene suddenly popped up in his memories, but if he had to relive one moment, he wouldn’t mind taking that than this. 

The stillness in the dense air, alongside with Kid’s stiff back and lowered head sent Shinichi’s wariness up to the sky. 

“Hey,” Shinichi called out as he trudged across the garden and towards Kaitou Kid—Kaito. 

He didn’t move, or respond.

After what seemed like an eternity, Shinichi finally neared Kaito enough and patted on his shoulder.

Kaito flinched under his hand, and that movement sent a squeeze in Shinichi’s chest. 

“Hey,” Shinichi repeated. “Kaito. Are you—”

Kaito half-turned, his hair sticking closely to his forehead. He was still wearing his monocle, but the glass was misty.

And his eye, the one that wasn't covered by the monocle… 

It brimmed with tears. 

Shinichi’s heart hurts (yes, he was sure it was the heart now) as he watched Kaito’s pitiful attempts at changing his quivering lips into a smile. 

“I destroyed it.” Kaito weakly lifted a hammer that Shinichi didn’t notice in his hand. “I finally destroyed it."

Shinichi glanced down.

The red gem, which he didn’t notice earlier either, was all shattered on the grass.

Before anything else could be said, Kaito slumped into Shinichi’s arms.

[isidar-mithrim]

Neville Longbottom, esteemed member of the D.A. and beloved professor at Hogwarts, is at home for the Christmas break. While his wife Hannah takes care of the patrons of the Leaky Cauldron, Neville is able to enjoy some alone time with his sweet daughter. They’re happily playing when she suddenly gets upset, and Neville will have to use all his tact, a clumsy Transfiguration attempt, a story, an old Chocolate Frog Card and a confession to understand what’s the problem and to make her feel better.

____________________________________

Worth twelve

“Take this!” exclaimed Neville, trying to stab his daughter Alice – six and half years in February – with his wand.

“And that!” retorted Alice, parring his blow with her own wand and counteracting.

“Ah, you’ll never beat me, young lady, I’m a wonderful duelist!” bragged Neville with mirth, dodging her attack and almost knocking over the Christmas tree they’d just finished decorating.

Alice took advantaged of that moment of distraction to press her wand again is stomach.

Or better, that was what she was aiming for, but her wand had turned in a rubber chicken a second before the fatal hit.

“Aha!” gloated Neville, pointing his wand at Alice, who laughed out loud looking at the haddock well squeezed in his hand.

“How dare you laughing at me, little malefic witch!” he complained with a grin, grabbing her in his arms and tickling her with no mercy. “When you’ll be old enough to have a proper Ollivander’s wand instead of the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes Trick Wands, I’ll have my revenge, making you puff steam from your nose for a month!”

Neville understood right away that he must have said something wrong, because Alice froze, and he could see her eyes glistening and her lips trembling.

Kicking himself for his thoughtlessness, he kneeled in front of her, but she turned, giving him her back.

“Alice, honey… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry… Have I said something wrong?”

Alice sniffed loudly and shook her head with vigor, her plait swinging in the air like a pendulum. When Neville put a hand on her shoulder with the lightest pressure, she shrugged it away. Neville then tried with the other shoulder, and this time she accepted his comforting touch.

Slowly, without pushing, he made her turn again.

Alice kept her head bend and her eyes fixed on the floor, but Neville’s heart clenched when he realised her cheeks were wet with tears.

“Love” he murmured, wiping her face with his thumbs. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

Alice kept her mouth shut, but at least she didn’t refuse straight away.

“Is it something I’ve said? Because if it’s my fault, I deserve to collect Bubotuber pus without protective gloves for a week!”

A tiny smile escaped her lips before she managed to hid it and resume a serious expression.

“See, I knew it was my fault! Poor me, mum won’t be happy at all to treat my boils again… not to mention the Muggle petrol smell that will fill the Leaky Cauldron for a month! May be… may be, if you’ll explain what I did wrong, I could try to make it up to you and leave the Bubotubers alone…”

Alice raised her reddened eyes to search for Neville’s gentle ones, then she took a deep breath, getting ready to spill the beans.

“It’s that… it’s that Ollivander will never sell me a wand, because… because I…”

She sniffed again, and Neville smiled warmly and caressed her back, not daring to outright interrupt her.

“Because I’ll never… I’ll never be a proper witch” she admitted eventually, while tears resumed running down her cheeks more copious than before.

Neville felt a rush of affection as soon he understood which was the problem, and he hugged her tightly, mindful of how much he’d suffered for not showing any sign of magic until he was almost seven.

He promised himself he was going to do his best so she wouldn’t endure the same torment, and he mentally kicked himself for not realising it sooner.

He cradled her in his arms for a while, letting her shed all her tears, letting her free to finally get out the burden that was oppressing her since who knew how long.

When she calmed down, he took her face in his hand and kissed her forehead. “Are you ok?” he asked with his sweetest tone, and relief filled him when Alice nodded.

“Come with me, now. I want to show you something” he told her, getting up and pulling out his wand – the real one, this time. He waved it in the air, and with a little bow he offered to Alice the read and white checkered napkin he’d just summoned.

Alice took it and was about to blow her nose, when she lowered it down to study it better.

“Dad…”

“Yeah?”

“I think you’ve cut a piece of a blanket of the Leaky Cauldron again…”

Neville looked with horror at the squared piece of cloth, but a moment later he couldn’t help joining her daughter’s giggles.

“Mum won’t be very happy” said Alice, amused.

“Er, no, I guess not… but I’ll remind her I’ve never taken Transfiguration N.E.W.T. levels and I hope that’ll be enough to be forgiven!”

Actually, Transfiguration had never been his strong suit, but he was happy that his clumsy spell brought a smile back to Alice’s lips.

He waited for her to blow her nose and wipe her tears on the infamous piece of blanket, then he vanished it – successfully, this time – and offered her a hand.

“Where are we going?” she asked with curiosity, taking his hand and following him.

“I told you, there’s something I want to show you.”

Her eyes widened in delight. “What is it?”

“Keep your patience, my lady, you’ll see it in a moment.”

Neville lead her in his bedroom and patted his king bed. “Hop on” he said with a smile, and Alice climbed on his bed and sat with crossed leg, clearly eager to find out what was all about.

He opened the drawer of his bedside table and opened the tartan tin that had once held McGonagall’s Ginger Newts. He moved the empty wrappers of Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum aside and picked up the little envelope at the bottom of the box with careful gestures. He then sat beside Alice, but laid the envelope behind his back, withstanding Alice’s playful attempt to steal it.

“Let me see it!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!”he said with amusement, rising a finger as to scold her. “I’m sorry, mademoiselle, but you’ll have to wait a bit longer before opening it. First, I have a story to tell you…”

“Please, dad, let me see the letter first!”

Neville put his raised finger on his lips, asking for silence, and Alice didn’t have much choice left than to sit down again. Still, she folded her arms tightly and pouted, trying to make sure he didn’t miss her disappointment – it amused him even more.

He then cleared his throat and began his tale.

“Once upon a time, there was a young boy who was called… Trevor. He lived with his brave grandmother, because his parents were very, very sick. You must know, though, that her granny, that we’ll call... Octavia, wasn’t an ordinary person. She was a witch, and a talented one, for that matter! Of course she hoped that Trevor, as his father before him, inherited her magical powers too, but the more time went by without Trevor showing any sign of magic, the more she feared her nephew wasn’t a wizard at all… Until one day, when he was eight, his clumsy Great Uncle let him fall from the window!”

Alice, that was listening enraptured, winced in horror and brought a hand to her mouth.

“Luckily, the instant Trevor touched the ground, it became clear that he was a wizard, because he simply bounced off! At the beginning all the family was very happy, but after that episode Trevor didn’t show many other sign of magic, and until his Hogwarts letter arrived, many relatives still believed he wasn’t magic enough to got in… When he finally got to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Trevor stayed several minutes with the Sorting Hat on his head before it finally decided to sort him into a House… Gryffindor.”

“As you!” Alice exclaimed with excitement.

“Exactly” said Neville with a wink before resuming his tale. “Soon enough, though, it became clear to anybody – Trevor included – that the Hat must have been very wrong, because Trevor wasn’t brave at all, and there wasn’t a day that passed by without a student of his own year, but of another House, mocking him and telling him the Sorting Hat must have taken a colossal blunder.

“One day, though, another guy of the same year of Trevor, but a fellow Gryffindor this time, told him something that gave him the strength to react. Since that moment, Trevor became every day a bit more brave, and a few years later he even joined his friend in his dangerous adventures. And do you know who that friend was?”

“Who?” Alice asked immediately, getting on her knees, eager to know more.

“Harry Potter.”

Alice held her breath, amazed.

“At his side, Trevor challenged the Death Eater more than once, and after several twists and turns, he fought at Harry’s side in the Battle of Hogwarts. And during the Battle, in the moment of greatest need, do you guess what the Sorting Hat summoned for Trevor?”

Her eyes widened in awe; he reckoned that by now she must have figured how the story was going to end…

“You’re Trevor…” she whispered, impressed.

Neville nodded, unable to held back a smile.

“So… so, you really didn’t do accidental magic, when you were little?”

“Really.”

“And the other student really thought you weren’t a real Gryffindor?”

Alice was bewildered, and he couldn’t blame her. It was common knowledge that he’d drawn Godric Gryffindor’s sword from the Sorting Hat, and everybody knew he was the Head of Gryffindor.

“They really did, and actually I was the first to believe it, at the beginning.”

“So… I’ll have a wand too?” asked Alice, filled with hope.

“Of course you will.”

“From Ollivander?”

Neville sighed. “That I can’t promise, unfortunately, because he’s very old. I’m crossing my fingers, though, because despite his age he’s still the best wandmaker out there. Hopefully his trainee will be as good as him” he added with a wink.

Then he finally took the envelope from behind his back and settled it between them. Alice squealed with excitement, and he suspected she’d already forgotten about it.

“This,” said Neville, “it’s my most valuable Chocolate Frog Card… I’d planned to give it to you before you went to Hogwarts, but since we’re here…”

Alice hugged him with enthusiasm, but just for a split second, too eager to finally opened the envelope.

“Be careful” said Neville. She nodded, taking out the Card almost with reverence.

She only needed a glimpse of it to recognise the wizard, and she didn’t hide her disappointment very well.

“Dad…” she huffed. “I’ve already got three of them…”

“I know, Alice, but this isn’t any random Dumbledore’s card…”

She kept staring at the penetrating blue eyes behind the half-moon spectacles with mild skepticism, and Neville knew it was time for further explanations.

“Do you remember the boy that kept telling Trevor – that kept telling me, I mean, that I wasn’t a true Gryffindor?”

Alice nodded.

“Well, one day he hit me with a spell that tied my legs together, and I was forced to bunny hop all the way back back to my common room… and there I met Harry Potter. I thought he’d laugh at me too, that he’d tell me that I, unlike him, wasn’t brave enough to be a Gryffindor… instead, he offered me his last Chocolate Frog, and then he told me a line I’ll never forget…You’re worth twelve of him.”

Alice lowered her gaze on the card, and she finally took it all out of the envelope with even more reverence than before.

“Exactly, love. This isn’t any random Dumbledore’s card… This is the card that I’ve found in the Chocolate Frog that Harry had offered me. I gave it to him ‘cause, as you, I had already several Dumbledore’s card, but the morning after I found it on the table Harry was studying the day before, so I decide to take it, hoping it’d give me the courage to stand up against the other boy. It worked, and since then I’ve always took it with me whenever I knew I was going to need to be brave. It’s yours, now.”

Alice looked at him with slack-jawed amazement.

“There’s one condition, though. You have to promise me that every time you’ll think you’re not good or smart or brave or magical enough, you’ll look at this card and you’ll remember that you’re an amazing person, a witch that anything is going to do in life – any magic she’ll manage or not manage to perform – is good and loyal and fair. And you have to promise me that when you’ll look at it, you’ll remember than you have a mum and a dad that love you dearly, and that will always love you, no matter what.”

“I promised” said Alice, nodding eagerly, and then she hugged him tightly yet again.

They broke apart only when they heard Hannah climbing the stairs, yelling that somehow a piece of a blanket vanished under the eyes of two clients, only to reappear few minutes later weirdly soggy and squishy.

***

{While Ron, Harry and Hermione got closed to a huge, dusty tome to read enraptured the biography of some guy named Flamel, Neville walked toward his dorm, a small smile tugging his lips at the thought that he’d just received the first, true compliment of his life.

You’re worth twelve of Malfoy. The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn’t it? And where’s Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin.

That day, the Boy Who Lived had earned Neville’s eternal loyalty.}

[huangels]

ha, that's funny cause you're in a witch costume - witch!haechan

nct dream halloween special: main menu | mark | renjun | jeno | haechan | jaemin | chenle | jisung

a/n: i was gonna write more in haechan’s POV but i didn’t want this to be too long since it’s already 3k (i say this all the time but pls ignore typos bc i’m a blind bitch)

genre: fluff + humor

word count: 3.3k

"I wonder if the ice cream shop is open this late." 

The frills of your red and black pirate costume casually sway from the winds of the late October night. You're lucky the costume set came with striped tights to keep your legs protected and warm from the biting cold weather. It would be a lot colder if it weren't for the group of three energetic friends walking beside you. Thanks walking heat bags.

"Probably closed by now, it's Halloween, Y/N," Renjun responds, pushing his glasses up. The breeze picks up once again, it blows dramatically on his black wizard's robe and blue scarf.

"That sucks, everything's closed." Jeno kicks at the loose gravel on the asphalt road, his Batman mask covering most of his vision. "What do we do now?"

"How about we play a little game I like to call, Truth or Dare?" Jaemin pops up from behind, swinging his arms around Renjun and you. The ninja sword sticking out of his back knocks into the back of your head, in which you return a playful smack on Jaemin's side.

"You dumbass, everyone calls it Truth or Dare," Renjun asserts, throwing Jaemin's limp arm off of his shoulders.

"Well, how about it, then?"

The four of you agree since almost all of the houses around are stripped of candy and ready for bed. You guys trick-or-treated for a while but only got the smallest amount of candy since apparently you guys are 'too old for Halloween.' Abandoning the traditional Halloween custom, you four walk around town, finding anything to do to pass the time. Now it is almost 10:30 PM and you are still out and about in town. Somehow, your parents are okay with this.

You rock, paper, and scissors to pick who goes first, resulting in the loss of Jeno. He chooses truth once Jaemin asks the main question.

"Where is the strangest place you have peed?"

"Jaemin, what the fuck?"

The rest of the group laughs as Jeno scowls at the younger, "I don't fucking know."

"Nope, you gotta say it," Jaemin pokes Jeno's nose with a sly smirk. Jeno looks at you and Renjun for help but the both of you shrug in response. It's truth or dare, you gotta do what you gotta do.  

Jeno grumbles before taking a minute to recall, "I think it was in a bush while I was camping last summer."

"Wait, I know this story. You have to tell the rest!" Renjun urges the already embarrassed Jeno. Jaemin and you stare with big puppy eyes, waiting for Jeno to continue the story.

"Huh... Long story short, I peed in a bush where a family of skunks was living and they sprayed me... while I was in my most vulnerable position," Jeno explains, defeated.

You choke back a snicker but the other two has already let out their heaviest laugh. Through your stifled laughter, you tease the latter, "wait, Jeno... The skunks sprayed your- dick?"

Without saying anything, Jeno replies with a slight nod, the tips of his cheeks burnt as red as Jaemin's ninja costume.

"Jeno sprayed the skunks- and they sprayed back!" Jaemin nearly has tears in his eyes, latching onto Renjun's shoulder for stability as the shorter hunches over to stop his stomach from hurting. You take refuge by a pole of a street light, gripping it with all of your might and trying not to topple over in laughter.

"Just continue with the damn game. Renjun, truth or dare."

The game continues with more embarrassing truths, since no one is brave enough to choose a dare. Your turn comes up next, high on sugar and laughter, you decide to be the first to choose a dare.

Jaemin's eyes widen in excitement as Renjun looks around the premise, coming up with a dare. "Y/N, I dare you to enter that store and buy something."

Your line of sight follows Renjun's finger, leading to a small, dark store. It stands alone in the middle of two large shopping plazas across the street. The windows, bordered with intricate lacey designs, are tinted black so that you can't see the inside. The aura the shop exudes causes a shiver to run down your backside. You wouldn't have been able to tell if it's open or closed if it isn't for the light-up sign that reads, "Mystik Hex."

"Guys...I don't think it's even opened," you lie with a nervous chuckle.

Jeno slaps your back, pushing you across the abandoned road, "You got this!"

"Don't be a pussy, Y/N!" you hear Jaemin yell as your hands land on the door handle, which is a smooth purple orb. The glass door is tinted black just like the windows, a deep purple curtain decorated on the outside. It's tied up at both ends revealing the name of the shop again, in a fancy but eerie font. Before opening the shop, you take one more glance back at your friends. In case I die in here, at least I know who to haunt.

With your eyes shut, you slowly swing open the door. You don't expect that the first thing to hit you is the warmness of the shop, compared to the harsh fall weather. After the warmness comes the obscure fragrance of the shop, lemons and roses.

You open your eyes, one then the other, to take in your surroundings. As dark as the outer appearance seems, the inside is much more welcoming. The walls are painted a dark beige and lined along them are shelves stacked with boxes and jars labeled the strangest things. In the middle of the shop sits a glass display case, revealing an arrangement of jewelry and ornaments. Hanging from the ceiling is a variety of dreamcatchers, of all sizes, designs, and colors. And in the middle of the ceiling hangs a large candle-lit chandelier. Speakers hidden somewhere around the store plays soothing 80's jazz music.

"Can you close the door, it's cold?" A voice sounds from the back of the shop. You close your mouth, not knowing it fell wide as soon as your eyes opened. You step into the shop, letting the door close behind you with a tinkle of the welcoming bell.

"May I help you with something?" the same voice calls. You slowly make your way around the glass display, eyes wandering all over the store as there is a lot to take in.

Finally, you arrive at the back counter, meeting the sight of a witch (well, someone dressed as a witch), holding a magazine in her hands with a lollipop stick hanging from her lips. The tilt of the hat restricts you from getting a good look at her face and the magazine in her hands.

"Um, what's the-  cheapest thing in here?" you hesitate, not knowing if the employee is listening. The latter lowers the magazine, eyeing you up and down as she switches the lollipop to the other side of her mouth.

Finally, the employee tilts her hat back to reveal...a male.

༄

[Earlier that day]

"Haechan!"

"Haechan!"

"Hae-!"

"What? What? What do you want?" a boy appears from the back room, pushing the beaded curtains to the side of the entryway. His hands are stained with a dark blue color.

"Remember, you're gonna be running this shop today by yourself. Open up at 12 PM and please remember to close at 12 PM. We don't want a repeat of what happened last time...," Yuta, the owner of the witch shop, lectures the younger. Small bottles of dried up leaves and colorful liquids magically enter into his messenger bag with a wave of his hands, surrounded by a haze of purple.  

"By the way, Happy Halloween. I left your costume by the cash register. You better wear it or I'm gonna fire you."

Haechan rolls his eyes away from the entrance and towards the stool behind the counter. A plastic bag sits on the chair, with a picture of a female's witch costume on the front of the bag.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Haechan picks up the bag, turning it around to see if Yuta is actually being serious.

He is.

On the back of the plastic bag is a sticky note with Yuta's scribbled handwriting on it, "I got security cameras in here."

Haehcan makes direct eye contact with a security camera to the right of the counter, pulling a middle finger out for Yuta to see later. The yellow sticky note floats above his flat palm before it burns into nothingness.

"Dressing up like a stereotypical witch is so embarrassing when you're an actual witch," Haechan thinks to himself. "But I know Yuta will give me shit for months if I don't put this on."

Entering the back room, Haechan slips into the purple and black dress, not even surprised that it fits perfectly (and that it matches the aesthetics of the shop). He ties the cheap corset around his waist and plops the bent hat on top of his head. Then, exits out of the room, back to the camera.

"Jokes on you, shithead. No one comes into this shop anyway."

༄

A male? In a female's witch costume? I mean it is 2018, and fuck gender roles.

"What did you say?" the boy squints his black-lined eyes at you. Your eyes travel down to his name tag, Haechan.

Even his name is just as intimidating as his appearance is. His dark brown eyes are smudged with black eyeliner with a touch of red shadowing. His lips are coated with a deep red tint and a sparkly gloss over them. His ears are lined with silver piercings, he even has a piercing on the right nostril of his nose. His hair is dyed a honey brown with highlights of pinks, blues, and greens. Loosely holding onto the magazine, the boy's fingers bears many intricate rings, but the uncanniest thing about them is that he has complex markings on the back side of his hand.

"Um- What's the cheapest thing in here?" you repeat with a gulp.

Haechan pulls out the lollipop with a pop noise and points it at you, "what is this, some kind of prank? Because I'm not in the mood."

"Well, actually kind of. It's a dare from my friends."

"Your friends dared you to come in here- and buy the cheapest thing?"

"Basically."

Haechan returns to his magazine, which now you can see clearly it's for magical spells, and points to the far corner of the shop, "Those rocks are $5."

You look at the small cauldron of differently shaped rocks and colored crystals, which are actually pretty cool and seem to glow in an unusual way. You dig around in the cauldron before selecting a violet-colored crystal.

"I'll have this one," you announce as you place the small gem on the table.

The latter glances at the crystal placed on the counter, "Ah an amethyst. A remedial stone."

You tilt your head in curiosity, not knowing that rocks can have meanings behind it. Haechan takes this as a sign to continue.

"The gemstone amethyst is helpful in purifying the mind and relieving it of negative thoughts. This includes the negativity of stress and anxiety, which is why many people meditate with amethyst so as to rid themselves of that darkness," Haechan explains, the magazine now forgotten on the counter as he continues to expand on the significance of the gem.

You lean in, interested to learn what other aspects the amethyst holds. As the boy talks, you feel drawn in as if compelled to keep listening to him. The way the magical words leave his tongue makes the meaning of the stone more interesting. It seems like Haechan really enjoys learning about these magical elements as his eyes ignite throughout the explanation. The more you stare, the more Haechan intrigues you. There's something about him, the burning fire and shimmering stars in his eyes, both calm and stormy.

You can't help but let out a soft, "Wow..."

Haechan chuckles at your awed state, picking up the stone. Somehow it glows even brighter in his hands. "You know, I can put this into an accessory for you."

"Oh, thank you but I only have $7 with me," you avert your eyes, feeling a slight blush form on your cheeks.

"It's alright, it's on the house. The stone, too."

"Wait no, at least let me pay for that."

But Haechan has already disappeared behind the beaded curtains into the back room. You pull out the $7 and place it between the pages of where Haechan left off in his Magazine. You feel bad if you didn't pay for it and the dare is to buy something in this shop.

A few minutes pass by as you grow bored of just standing there, waiting for Haechan to return. So you roam around the shop some more, studying the different jars, candles, potions, and crates. They all hold specific items or ingredients, an explanation plastered on a note next to them.

Couple more minutes fly by but no sight of Haechan.

You make your way back to the counter, looking through the curtains. Bright explosions of purple and white lights puff from behind a slightly opened door. Out of curiosity, you peak through the crack.

What you see causes you to let out a gasp, knocking the door open.

Haechan stands by a large black cauldron, with purple and white smoke rising from the lavender-colored liquid. Hanging above the cauldron is a lever, lowering the gemstone into the mystery liquid.

Surrounding Haechan is a cloud of purple fumes. The markings you noticed earlier on his hands glow within his skin. He looks too concentrated in the cauldron, with his eyes closed, to notice you standing by the opened door. Though, you don't know if you should leave quietly or call to him. Either way, you can't do anything since your body isn't responding, leaving you frozen before him.

The fumes of deep purple whirl around, picking up speed before it comes to a full stop. The purple glow from the liquid dissipates, leaving the room dim since its only light source is a small ceiling light. Haechan's hands return to their normal state as he picks up the amethyst necklace, back facing you.

You still haven't made a noise or movement since barging into the room, hoping whatever magic is happening here can make you disappear from the shop forever. However, no magic is able to help the situation as Haechan turns on his feet with a smile and the necklace in his hand. But as soon as he meets eyes with you, he jumps back in panic, dropping the necklace. Yet, it stays floating in the air before returning to the palm of Haechan's left hand. You don't think you've even blinked since before this incident with how wide your eyes are right now. Neither of you dares to speak as you both don't know what to say.

The silence soon breaks with Haechan's distraught voice, "How long h-have you been standing there?"

"Uh, I saw the purple cloud thingy," you answer coarsely, though you know that isn't the best answer in this circumstance. "What was that? What are you?"

"I'm nothing. A human. Just a human. Yes." The way Haechan answers exposes his true nature.

"What are you?" you repeat with furrowed eyebrows, confused and slightly frightened. Is this how I die? I knew I would die the moment I followed up with the dare. Those pesky boys are so going to get a big haunting.

Haechan sighs, "I'm a witch."

"Ha, that's funny cause you're in a witch costume," you sarcastically respond, "No seriously, what are you?"

"Seriously, I'm a witch."

Haechan holds up his right hand, the black markings turning into a lustrous white as a swirl of purple smoke transform into a flame above his palm.

You stumble back into the door, not knowing how to react.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you," the latter assures as the flame disperses into thin air.

Another silence flies by as you're still too stunned to function. A thousand thoughts squirming around in your head, trying to come up with some explanation.

Haechan moves forward to your frozen state, holding out the amethyst, "Here."

Your arm finally responds back and hesitantly raises to grasp it from his palm. You expect his palm to be burning hot from the flame but it's a normal bodily temperature. Though, you don't know what would be more unnerving. "Oh, thanks... for the necklace."

"Actually, it's not a necklace, it's an amulet."

You cock an eyebrow at the boy, "What's the difference?"

"Well, necklaces are just decoration, they hold no special abilities," Haechan takes back the amulet and connects it around your neck. "Amulets, on the other hand, are objects that are carried by or worn on a person that holds a specific energy or spell."

With how close Haechan is, you can feel his breath fan over your face as he explains the difference. Your voice drops to a whisper, "Then, what does this amulet hold?"

"Protective powers, as well as healing ones."

Your eyes meet his in awe but confusion, "protecting me from what?"

"Anything that's dangerous, Y/N."

"How do you know my name?" you break the contact between you two.

The ends of Haechan's mouth curves upwards, "I'm also psychic."  

"Wait, really?" you bolt up in interest, eyes wide again.

"Nope," Haehcan pops the p, "I just heard you and your friends yelling outside of my shop earlier."

Your shoulders slump down, disappointed. Haechan leads you out of the back room, closing the door behind him. Before you can thank Haechan and speak a farewell, a group of yells enters the shop.

"What have you done with Y/N?"

"Where is she?"

"We're gonna kill you."

You realize it's Renjun, Jeno, and Jaemin barging into the store in their lame protective stances. Renjun holds his plastic wand out just as Jaemin holds his foam swords, Jeno just has his fists in front of him as if he really is Batman.

"Guys relax, I'm fine." You hurry them away from Haechan before they can embarrass you anymore.

"Who's the girl?" Jaemin points at Haechan, a smirk plastered on his face, sending a flirty wink to the latter.

"I think that's a dude, man," Jeno punches Jaemin's shoulder, stifling a snort.

You flash an apologetic smile at Haechan, harshly whispering for the guys to wait for you outside.

"Wait, that's a guy? Holy shit man, why are you in a girl's costu-." Jaemin gets interrupted by an electric zap sent from Haechan's finger to his butt. The younger jumps up from his stance, rubbing the back of his butt with an 'ow.'

"Let's get out of here, Y/N hurry before he kills us all."

Renjun pulls along your arm as you wave goodbye to Haechan. I'll come back, you whisper in your head, hoping Haechan has some type of magical power to read it.

༄

"Is this...a jar of eyeballs?" you place the glass jar on the table with your tongue sticking out. "Gross."

"It's frog eye but yes," Haechan hums, too focused on the potion he's mixing up in the back room. You're seated by a small table juxtaposed with the caldron, handing Haechan the ingredients and herbs he needs from the shelves of mysterious items. It hasn't been long since you've started working in the witch shop.

"What do you even need that for?" you question, wiping your hands on the black apron tied around your waist.

"All sorts of things," Haechan briefly answers, mumbling for the Burdock Arctium Minus.

You hand him a jar of the purple spiky plants, "and what are you making now?"

"A love potion."

[steves-on-a-plane]

Don’t Get Attached (Pt 9)

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven/ Part Eight / 

Words: 961

Connor x Daughter!Reader

W/ Dad!Hank Anderson 

A/N: It’s been a little while since I’ve posted any Don’t Get Attached, so here it is! The next chapter will probably be out very soon. It will take place during the “Meet Kamski” Chapter of the game.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“How was your walk?” You father asked you and Connor when you returned home with Sumo.

“You know, it was dark. Kind of cold from the rain earlier.” You shrugged unclipping the St. Bernard from his leash. “Want a cookie, boy?” You asked him, walking towards the cupboard where the dog treats were kept.

“You know, I thought we were past this whole thing.” Hank said, taking a sip from his coffee.

“Past what whole thing?” You asked, making Sumo do a trick for his cookie.

“This whole, not telling me how you’re feeling thing.” He waved his mug at you abstractly. “You haven’t done that since you were a kid. I thought you were over it. That’s all.” He slurped down another sip.

“What are you talking about?” You questioned back. You crossed your arms and leaned your weight on one foot. You looked just like a sulking teenager. It was like going back in time a decade.

“Come on, my generation practically invented the whole fine on the outside simmering anxiety on the inside. You’d never fool any millennial with this act.” He scoffed. “What’s going on with you [Y/N]? If it’s that broadcast today…”

“Yeah, I mean I guess that’s part of it.” You sighed. “It’s just everything about the androids. If it turns out that we’re on the wrong side of all of this, that’s going to be pretty bad.”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Your father put his coffee mug away in the sink. “You’re worried that these androids might actually have feelings?”

“Aren’t you?” You bit your lip, not sure you wanted to hear his answer. It wasn’t like Hank Anderson was known for his kindness towards androids.

“Shit, I don’t know.” He mumbled. “It’s too late at night to talk about this. I’m going to bed. Lock the doors and get the lights, will ya?” He kissed you on the cheek and nodded in Connor’s direction before going into his bedroom.

You noticed that all the plates, cups and pizza boxes from dinner had already been cleaned up. You made sure the back door was locked and turned off the kitchen light before sitting on the couch. Connor locked the front door and sat next to you without you having to ask.

“Would you like to keep reading?” He reached for the tattered copy of Romeo and Juliet that was still sitting on the coffee table. “It might help keep your mind off of things.”

“Okay.” You yawned. “I’m not quite ready for bed yet. Where did we leave off?”

“Romeo was listening to Juliet out on her balcony.” Connor remembered. “It was Romeo’s line. By a name I know not how to tell thee who I am: my name, dear saint, is hateful to myself because it is an enemy to thee. Had I it written, I would tear the word. Is he saying that he doesn’t want to tell her his name because what it represents?”

“Exactly. He’d rather not tell her his name for fear that she’ll turn him away because of his family.” You laid your head on Connor’s shoulder, both so that you could see the book better and because it was comfortable. “So then Juliet calls him out on it. She basically says, but you’re Romeo Montague, aren’t you? And he says that he’ll be neither Romeo nor a Montague if that means she won’t like him more.”

“But if she really loves him, she wouldn’t want him to change.” Connor insisted. He was suddenly very invested in the story. “Like earlier when you said you would never want me to be something that I’m not.”

“Well, that’s sort of the whole crux of the story. Romeo is ready to throw his life away at the drop of a hat, but Juliet’s not so easily convinced. We’ll keep reading and I’ll explain.”

So, you and Connor continued reading. You explained about Juliet’s arranged marriage with Paris and how she and Romeo married in secret instead. You talked about how Juilet’s cousin killed one of Romeo’s good friends and in a fit of anger Romeo killed her cousin. This leads to Romeo being banished. You then talked about how ridiculous the later half of the story is, where Juliet faked her own death so that she could be with Romeo.

“She could just as easily have left town with Romeo!” Connor complained. “He was already banished, so it’s not like he was planning on ever going back. What was the point?”

“I think it’s more about the lengths they were willing to go to be together. Which is romantic in a way.” You yawned. “But I think it would have been all downhill for me after he killed my cousin. Murder is murder. It doesn’t matter what the reasoning is.”

“You seem tired, [Y/N]. Maybe you should go to bed.” Connor suggested as he watched you rub your eyes.

“Not yet.” You argued. “Want to watch a movie?”

“I want to do whatever you want to do, [Y/N].” He told you with a small smile.

“Okay.” You smiled back, hiding another yawn. “I’m pretty sure we have a movie version of Romeo and Juliet somewhere. Will you put in on for me?”

Connor easily found the DVD on one of your father’s dusty old bookshelves. He started up the TV and the DVD player and the movie was playing within seconds. Without thinking, you laid down on the couch and put your head in Connor’s lap. He didn’t seem to mind since he didn’t say anything. Instead he shrugged off his jacket and placed it over you like a blanket. It was toasty warm from being around the Android all day.

“Thanks, Hon.” You yawned again before closing your eyes.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

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[causeimalady-thatswhy]

Is this room getting smaller?  It feels like its getting smaller.  I hear the sound of footsteps in the apartment above.  Our window is open to try to circulate the suffocating air and I hear cars driving past, going well over the speed limit.  Our TV is on, the portable dishwasher is going, and I hear two unfamiliar voices enter the building.  Which is like sitting on your bed in the house you live in and hearing someone walk down the hallway right past the door to your bedroom, only you have no idea who the fuck they are.  We hear everything here.  All of the noise is polarizing.  And then I hear my kids.  I get lost in the noises of our musty cave.  My children find me and bring me out.  They ask for a snack.  I smile, say no.  They continue playing.  They don’t know, because this is all they know.  I continue sitting, lost in thought, dreaming of anywhere to take them that isn’t here.  

We almost rented a house. A few times.  But things came up, we decided not to, we decided to wait. Four years later we’re still where we were.  Everything is more expensive, so we fucked up. We’re trapped.  In this small apartment.  With the small rooms, that feel smaller with four people living in them. Four people.  900 square feet.  That’s not even that bad.  I hear stories of people close by and far away that have it way worse.  My mind wanders to that place, and then the guilt sets in.  I should be so lucky to live where I do.  There are people in the world who are suffering.  I don’t deserve pity.  But as much as I try to pull myself out, I am suffering.

We almost bought a house. That just happened.  We got so close to freedom.  We were denied our loan.  The details make sense now, but we were told it was a go.  We were pre-approved, our offer accepted, all inspections passed, title work done, closing costs covered.  Nope, just kidding.  A week before closing.  The closing of our hardest chapter, by far.  A week before we could get the keys to a real home, with a real yard, and a real fucking laundry room.  With neighbors far enough that if they lit a bong the smoke wouldn’t damage our mattresses and couch cushions and my innocent babies wouldn’t wake up with black boogers.  Neighbors far enough where I don’t have to explain to my young children what they’re smelling in the hallway as were walking down to do laundry.  Neighbors far enough where when there are domestic disputes until 6 am, loud enough where it sounds like they’re going to spill through our cave door, our kids wont wake up confused.  Neighbors where if the drunk idiots next to us decided to throw a fucking party, the bass from their stereos woudn’t scare my kids into thinking there are loud monsters in their room.  Privacy.  Peace. Fresh fucking air.

I live in a safe place. Safety, to me though, is relative to your mind and your thoughts.  My sister basically lived in the ghetto and mentally, was totally fucking fine.  She wasn’t scared.  My apartment has “security”.  The security guards couldn’t do anything about the drug problem but hey at least I have a number to call.  I live in a safe city.  Full of tourists in the summer, rich or poor people in the winter, but pretty much safe. This city, like most others, is completely unaffordable for people trying to start their lives.  Low paying jobs galore, expensive homes galore. Middle class?  Gone.  There are people in the world who are dieing.  I am selfish to think I deserve more than them, more than those mothers who, like me, so deeply crave a better life for their children.  But their better life is across the country, continent, ocean, world.  Mine can be almost anywhere in my county.  I am blessed and lucky to be born in America.  But am I really safe? Never.

My husband is a veteran. He went to war instead of college. When it came time for reenlistment, I was pregnant and he decided to take me home and try college again.  He does everything for me.  I say he doesn’t show me affection but everything he does, he does for me.  As I’m writing this he is talking to me more than usual, and touching me more than usual, because he knows.  I want out of here. I want my kids out of here. And hes the only one who can do that for us.  Really I should be fine, the pressure is on him.  But my mind betrays me.  He works hard. He deserves a house more than me, but my kids deserve a house the most.

Theres a park down the street with a playscape and a cute beach on the bay.  My kids basically grew up there.  No backyard, remember?  Once when we were at this beach, my kids were playing on the playscape.  Two men were sitting on a bench looking out at the water. They both got up and walked towards the parking lot, towards us.  One man was holding his phone, and as he got close I saw that his camera was on.  He smiles at me, looks up at my son, takes a fucking picture of him, and says “cute kid”.  Safe my fucking ass.  No where is safe.  I could kill myself for not ripping the fucking phone out of his hand, and shoving it up his weird old fucking ass.  I called the police, because I am who I am.  And the person on the phone seemed concerned, but my husband said everything was probably fine.  Except I read about pedophilia and weird fucking people on the internet all the time. In my mind, one of those people might now have a picture of my son. Because we don’t have a backyard.

Theres a splash pad downtown where I live.  It was shut off and my kids were too little but I try to get them outside when its sunny. I try to take them places and give us all some fresh air, a break from our cave.  So I got the double-jogging-stroller and we walked.  I have a stroller for every occasion, my parents think that’s weird.  But when you live in an apartment its necessary.  I always have to pack, and plan, and prepare when I want to go outside. We were walking back to the car from this splash pad, looking out at the water.  A man starts walking toward me.  He has a phone in his hand but I didn’t notice until he took a picture of us.  He told me “You belong in Hollywood”.  I smile and quickly walk toward my car.  He gets into a green truck with branding on the side.  At least this time the kids were bundled in hats and blankets.  They probably weren’t visible in the picture.  Safe.

Once I was at my friends house. She owns her house all by herself.  She is not afraid, ever.  At least I don’t think.  We got out of the car and started walking to her front door when a man on a bicycle rode by really slowly, and stared into our eyes the entire time without saying hi or anything.  When he got to far and had to break the stare, he turned his head around the other way to keep staring as he kept riding his bike.  Eventually he stopped looking.  My friend told me, “Ive never seen anything like that here before”.  I know….its me.  But I digress.

I packed a lot of stuff already.  Each box is labeled with it’s contents and what room of the house the stuff was going to go.  I printed out the dimensions of the house so I could have them with me if I decided to go into home depot and plan.  I planned how I would arrange every room.  I thought about where I would put a Christmas tree, how the tree in the front yard would be perfect for a tire swing. I thought about how cute it would be to put pumpkins outside and what it would be like to take my kids trick or treating without driving them somewhere else.  I thought it would be fun to build a teepee in the backyard for the kids to play in, and what it would be like to actually be able to have bonfires.  Once I dreamt that we pulled up the carpet to reveal hardwood floors, just like in Fixer Upper.  Now that we’re staying I might as well throw away the stuff in the boxes.  I packed almost half of our apartment and we still don’t have any space.

My family could have stayed with us.  There were two rooms in the basement.  One for a guest room and the other for a playroom.  Perfect.  We live 4 hours from our families.  My husband and I both work.  He works a lot more, so im home a lot more.  He has always been good at making friends.  I guess its probably me...I think im nice, friendworthy?  Maybe im too nice.  Either way, I was going to try to convince my mom to live with us in the summer.  Then I would be safe, and have company.

I grew up in a suburban middle-class subdivision.  I played outside with kids in my neighborhood all the time.  I was born in 91, so I am one of the last generations that remembers a time before the internet.  We didn’t even get a VCR until DVD players were a thing.  I loved my childhood.  I had fun. I had a happy and healthy childhood with parents who loved me and a safe, happy home.  I was spoiled for that.  I know now, that is rare.  And that is to be treasured.  And I must do that for my children, as soon as I possibly can.  They are loved, and we laugh, but only inside.

I have to mourn the loss of this home, the memories never to be made.  Painting my kids rooms.  Watching them play in the leaves. Watching them ride their bikes.  Reading books by the fireplace. Picnicking in the backyard.  My kids playing with our neighbors, who are the same age.  Planting a garden.  Going on adventures without going somewhere unfamiliar.  Opening the back door and letting them run.  Just run and run.  I want to let them out and let them run until their little legs get tired.  And then bring them inside for a sandwich.  I feel like Sandra Bullock in Birdbox.  I don’t want to have to tell them to slow down, that they will die because cars are driving by too fast, or people are doing drugs on their balconies, or to tell them they cant play on the sidewalk because the creepy guy above us will linger out there too long.  I have to mourn the loss of my kid’s almost first childhood home. And pray, pray, pray it will come sooner than later.  But hey, at least we have somewhere to live, and to everyone else it’s probably safe.