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theemporium · 2 years ago

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hiii!! would u be able to write something for remus where ur in a secret relationship and he’s your brothers best friend? maybe sirius or james sister? ty!!

here ya go, love🖤

The problem with being related to James Potter was that he was incredibly protective.

He had good intentions and you knew he truly meant well, that he just cared for you and saw it as his duty as an older brother to look out for you. But Merlin, that boy would push his limits sometimes.

That was why you decided to keep your shift in relationship a secret from him at first. You didn’t need James moseying into something that wasn’t his business so early on in the relationship.

But weeks passed and the thrill of sneaking around was still at a high—and yeah, there was just something really fucking hot knowing you were fucking one of your brother’s best friends and he had no clue.

Ironically enough, you didn’t like Remus Lupin very much the first time you met him.

His quiet nature came of as rude, he never really made an effort with you and anyone beyond your brother and his other friends didn’t seem worth a second glance to young Remus Lupin.

Not that James ever agreed with you. He was very insistent that the young werewolf was a brilliant man that you just hadn’t given a chance.

You could only laugh if James saw you now.

“Are you sure no one saw you?” you murmured against his lips as you tugged your boyfriend into your bedroom, a spell muttered under your breath to lock the door behind him. The small perks of James inviting his friends to stay with him over the course of summer.

“Positive, love,” Remus reassured you before he ducked his head down to the crook of your neck, letting out a small groan. “I’ve missed you.”

“You saw me less than two hours ago,” you mused playfully, fingers tangled in his hair.

“Yeah, but I couldn’t do this,” he grumbled as he pressed kisses along the column of your throat, teeth dragging across sensitive skin.

“Remember not to leave—“

“I know, baby. I’ll be careful.”

But Remus Lupin was, in fact, not careful. He wasn’t careful in the slightest and you blame your lack of less-than-murderous thoughts in the morning for the fact you didn’t notice anything either before you headed downstairs the next day.

“What is that?”

You didn’t bother looking up from plate, blinking away the sleepiness in your eyes. “Hm?”

“What’s that on your neck?” James repeated, his tone a little snappier and his words a little heavier.

Your whole body froze for a moment as you resisted the urge to cover your neck with your hands. “What’s what, Jamie?”

“No, don’t Jamie me,” James’ chair scraped across the wooden floor before he was beside you, tilting your head to the side. “This is a hickey! You have a hickey!”

You pulled your head from his grasp and glared at him. “Stop making a big deal out of nothing.”

“My baby sister has a hickey!” James cried out, hand on his chest like he was moments away from passing out.

“Who’s the lucky wizard?” Sirius asked from his spot at the table, smirk on his lips. “Or witch. We would never judge.”

“You’re too young to have a hickey!” James interrupted.

“That,” you said as you pointed to your brother. “Is exactly why I’m telling neither of you anything.”

Sirius pouted. “I thought we were closer than that, baby Potter.”

“You have a big mouth, Black,” you stated simply with a shrug.

Sirius grinned. “So does the bloke who gave you that ringer on your neck.”

“BLEH!” James gagged as you rolled your eyes.

“C’mon, tell us!” Sirius prodded.

James turned to you, eyes narrowed. “Yeah,” he said in his ‘big brother’ voice. “Tell us. Right now. I need to know who’s head I’m ripping off their body.”

“Stop being so dramatic!” You sighed and shook your head. “Like I said, I’m telling neither of you two anything.”

“Just us?” Sirius questioned before nodding to Remus who had been fairly quiet during the ordeal. “So you’d tell Moony and not us?”

Your eyes met his from across the table and you could’ve sworn something smug glimmered in his eyes. You could’ve sworn you could see semblances of a smirk tugging on his lips as he lifted his cup for a sip.

“I know how to keep a secret, Pads,” Remus answered casually. “Japan would know by dinner time if she told you.”

“I’m waiting on a name,” James said with a huff.

“Keep waiting then,” you said with a shrug. “I’m not telling you anything. I’m a big girl, I can have a boyfriend.”

“BOYFRIEND?!” James spluttered.

“Sit down, Prongs, before you hurt yourself,” Remus muttered.

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “Was he here last night?”

There was a pause.

“Is he still here?”

Before you could even open your mouth to respond, both boys were bolting towards the staircase, already racing towards your bedroom that you knew very well they’d find empty because the culprit they were looking for was currently grinning at you.

“You said you’d be careful,” you grumbled to your boyfriend who could only let out a small chuckle.

“Can’t help myself, baby, you’re irresistible.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Sweet talk me all you like, Lupin, but you’re on thin ice.”

His eyes glimmered with a dark promise. “You gonna punish me, sweetheart?”

“Maybe I will. Guess you gotta sneak back into my room tonight to find out.”

“I’ll be there.”

You snorted. “Yeah, good luck getting past James and Sirius tonight.”

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frannyzooey · 2 years ago

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Short Days,Long Nights: 10

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Mature (anxiety, pregnancy, grim mentions of childbirth)

Series Masterlist

A/N: thank you endlessly to @the-ginger-hedge-witch for reassuring me that this isn’t a terrible, no good, very bad piece of writing ❤️ and also, I wanna reassure you that despite the emotions in this chapter, my intention has always been a happy ending for these two. Don’t fret. ❤️

—

Something is off.

He treads carefully down the path he’s followed for months, his boots leaving pressed imprints in the soft dirt and his eyes scan for signs of life. His mind is back in the cabin where he left you sleeping, your body curled into a tight ball along the edge of his form left on the sheets, and he tried hard not to wake you, though he didn’t have to be too careful given how tired you’ve been lately.

Sleeping late, turning in early, naps in the middle of the day. You blame the heat, or the boredom, or the way reading makes you drowsy, but even he knows that’s not all it is.

You’ve been distracted, quiet. Drawing into yourself more often these last couple weeks, he tries to recall if he’s said or done anything, to remember if he himself is the cause. It’s been a long time since he cared about what anyone else thought – definitely since he cared enough to want to atone for anything he’s done – but for you, he sifts through his words and actions.

He knows you so well by now. Knows every tell, every minute shift in your mood. More molecular than reading your body language, the air between you shifts and changes when you’re upset, your face betraying nothing to someone who doesn’t know you as well as he does. You’ve been hiding your face more from him lately, because he knows you must know it’s open for him like his is now open for you.

The back of your head facing him in the garden, the peek of your forehead over the top of your book, the way you look at him like you’re about to say something, but when he gives you the space, you look away.

Even at night, you hide your face into the soft crook of his neck to sleep.

He kneels to inspect deer tracks, his fingers brushing aside growth to follow their lead and heading deeper into the forest, the air around him cools under the canopy of trees. The woods are alive with sounds: bird calls, soft chittering, the rustle and slide of leaves, the crunch of his boots as they snap small twigs underfoot.

Amidst it all, he tries to work out the puzzle of you; his bow held loose in his grip.

–

Your hands shaking with nerves as you watch him disappear beyond the treeline, you pull your bottom lip into your mouth with a bite and scold yourself for not telling him about your suspicions this morning.

Or yesterday.

Or the day before that.

You know you could probably keep your secret for at least a couple more months, but there was no point. Everything about surviving here depended on preparing; the sooner, the better, making all the difference between life and death.

Your palms turn clammy, another rush of bile creeping up your sternum as you run out the cabin door before it comes pouring out into the grass and feeling shaky after, you walk over to the rocking chair on the porch and take a seat, letting your head fall forward into your hands.

Being forced to confront the concept of your life ending more times than you would have ever imagined over the last ten years, you’d thought you’d be desensitized to it now… but this was a wholly different type of fear. Not so much the idea that you might actually die while going through with this, (which, over the course of the last few weeks has become a much more terrible, terrifying thought) but more the fear of doing it alone.

Nothing to guide you, no one to help in case something went wrong. You knew that women had been birthing children in their homes for centuries now, many of them in the same exact position you were in – but they had midwives and neighbors who came from afar to help. Other women around them who had gone through it before, advice handed down from generation to generation. Reassurance in the form of knowledge.

You would have someone, you reasoned with yourself, if you told him. Joel has always been there to take care of you, and you know this time wouldn’t be any different, but how much did he know about this? Even if he knew a little, that information was almost three decades old.

Another small part of you felt, even though you know he would never mean to make you feel this way, that you let him down. As if you could stop the science of your body and it betrayed you, or that you compromised this entire setup by foolishly ignoring the consequences of your actions. The last couple weeks a brutal reminder that you have been somewhat romanticizing this possibility, that alone carried its own humiliation.

Now faced with the confirmation of it, you were ashamed. And scared.

This odd mixture of feelings, just like the odd mix of sensations in your body, kept you from saying anything every time you had a chance. He wouldn’t be mad, you knew that, but your hormone addled brain kept conjuring images of his disappointed face and that was almost worse.

You press your fingers into your eyes, liquid warmth seeping through the digits as you think and you let the tears fall, taking deep, shaky inhales.

More than anything, you worried about fracturing the bridge that had been built between the two of you, especially given his past. He already lost one child, what if something happened to this one? His perceived failure almost ruined him the first time; a gaping, ten year wound that tore him apart and ravaged his mind and morals. Only now just beginning to heal, what will this do to him?

The thoughts are circular, never ending.

Will he even want this? Are you unknowingly forcing him into something he’s dreaded? You know he knew the far away consequences of your shared actions, but will he hate you? Will he resent the burden you are? The one you’re carrying, for the rest of his life?

How will you care for it? How will you feed it? Is there enough food prepared for something like this? How will you do this alone? What if it gets sick?

The worries expand and grow, filling your head with a relentless noise that makes you queasy. You think about telling him as soon as he gets back, and a cold sweat breaks along your hairline, running over your limbs.

Getting up, you lean over the railing and purge your nerves onto the ground below.

–

Standing in the kitchen, his back is to you and you take a moment to study the broad width of his shoulders. The dark curls that edge around the nape of his neck, the strength held in his solid frame. Cleaning his gun, he’s recounting his day in the woods to you and you are trying so hard to focus on his words, but you can’t. Not while the worries from this afternoon run rampant in your head, clouding everything.

Still, it’s the image of his back that convinces you to tell him: sturdy, solid, familiar. Those curls are the same you’ve felt in your hands for months: sliding between your fingers as you run through them at night, coiled tightly on the ground before they lifted into the air when you gave him a haircut last week, slicked smooth along his head after a swim.

You hand wash the clothes on that back, massage the tired, thick muscles of it, stroke the tanned, freckled skin in the sunlight. Dig your fingers into the meat of those shoulders, curl your legs around that torso, feel its broadness underneath you when you straddle him.

It’s guided you, carried you, the formidable strength in it has made this place a home, and the reassuring reminder of those things forces you to open your mouth.

“Joel, I –” you start, and he stops talking, turning his ear in your direction.

“Yea?” His attention is still on his task but he slows, and your gut churns with nerves and anxiety and new life. You take a deep breath and focus on his back; the one that you’ve been following for months, before you even knew who he was.

“I’m pregnant.”

He immediately stills, his frame locking up as his hands stop what he’s doing.

When he doesn’t move, you take a hesitant step closer, pushing through the urge to run into your bedroom and hide under the blankets. The air in the room is charged, your heart thundering in your chest and when you take another tiny step closer, he finally speaks.

“You’re sure?” he asks, resting his hands carefully on the edge of the counter.

“Yea,” you reply, letting out a breath and trying to ease the tension. “I mean, no test, obviously, but…”

He nods slowly, absorbing the information.

You stare at the back of his neck, willing him to turn around, but when he doesn’t, shame and embarrassment begin to bloom. Starting in your chest, the emotions take root and your fingers find the bottom of your sleeves and twist into the fabric, the familiar tingle of heat growing behind your eyes.

Even though you know that both of you had a hand in this, you find yourself apologizing.

“I’m sorry —“

As soon as the words leave your mouth, he turns quickly.

“Hey — stop. No, don’t say that. Come ‘ere.”

Shortening the distance between your bodies, his face is a worried expression so thoroughly earnest that you step right into his arms, tucking your face into his chest. He gathers you into his hold, his familiar scent of sweat and cotton and woods soothing your nerves, and you lean into him, holding tight.

“I told you, you don’t gotta say sorry. Not to me.” His arms squeeze tighter, his chin coming to rest on the top of your head. “I was just – I didn’t expect that. I was just thinkin’.”

“That’s all I’ve been doing these last couple weeks,” you admit. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. It’s just that I didn’t know for sure, and then I thought maybe I knew, and then I did know but I was so scared –”

“Shhh,” he soothes. “Hey, it’s okay. S’okay.”

Those words, said in his voice, bring fresh tears to your eyes, not realizing how much you needed to hear them until they were spoken out loud. Only by him, the only person you would accept them from because if he says it’s going to be okay, you know it to be true. He hasn’t failed you yet.

As if it only just occurs to him to check, he suddenly cups your face tenderly in his hands and makes you look up at him.

“You okay? You sick? How do you feel?”

“I’m….okay. I can’t tell if I’m more sick from the –” you stop short, unable to say the word out loud. Saying it makes it real and you aren’t ready for that yet. “I was pretty nervous to tell you.”

He says nothing, frowning. Searching your face for a moment, he nods as if he understands and brings you back to your place in his arms.

“I’m not mad at you, honey,” he murmurs. “If anything, you should be mad at me. I’m just as much at fault as you are. More, even.”

Your cheek staying pressed to the hollow of his shoulder, you frown. “How so?”

“I’m older than you are. I know better. I —“

“I know how sex works, Joel. I asked you for it, and I’m just as guilty —“

“I’m responsible for you.” His hand tilts your face up, so he can look you directly in the eyes and the statement is said with a finality that closes your mouth. “I gotta keep you safe — and there ain’t nothin’ safe about this.”

You feel your face start to crumple, your chest heavy with the shared knowledge.

“No,” you swallow, the edges of your mouth turning into something solemn. “No, there isn’t.”

His expression softens, his thumb stroking the fine hair at your temple and his voice softens too.

“It’ll be okay, honey. I’m right here.” His hold on your face firms, his eyes silently willing you to understand. “I would never, never let anything bad happen to you. Not ever.”

You both know that’s not a promise that he can make, but the words are like a raft in a storm; you cling to them, holding on with every fiber of your being.

“You understand?” he asks and you nod, the constant weight on your chest these last few weeks temporarily dissolving.

Your nod reassuring him, he guides your face back to his chest and with the weight of his broad hand sliding soothingly down your spine, you loosen under his touch.

Each lost in your own thoughts, the two of you stand there, wound tightly together.

–

It’s been hours, and he still can’t sleep.

A light breeze catches the curtain and the fabric waves lazily, your body still beside him in the dark room. You took some soothing to come down from the confession earlier, and he stayed by you until you went to sleep: tucked you into his side on the couch, wound himself around you in bed, took you apart only after he got your okay.

He lays naked, nothing but a thin sheet covering his form but it might as well be a weighted blanket with how his chest feels. It tightens and burns, a crushing pressure settling on top of it. Every breath becomes a pained struggle for air as he tries to stay still so you don’t wake up.

He doesn’t know anything about this.

Hazy memories: partial pieces of advice, parenting books and pediatrician visits and the day Sarah was born. Everything blends together in rapid succession: her sharp, bright wail, the team of doctors, her impossibly tiny body, featherlight in his hold.

He pictures the same thing in this room, but instead of bright lights and beeping machines, all he can picture is blood. So much blood.

Your face, twisted in pain.

Your face, crying.

Your pretty face, pleading for him to help you.

He tries to pull in air, his hand coming to push against the plane of his chest as the anxiety floods and gathers under his sternum, catching on and coating the muscles there until he’s locked in place. A cold sweat breaks out over his skin and he can barely hear the rapid, shallow pants of his own breathing under the rush of blood through his ears.

His vision tunnels, the walls of the room disappearing and self loathing creeps into his mind, as dark as the night outside.

He did this to you. You wanted it, but he knew better. He was supposed to protect you.

He closes his eyes tight and swallows hard, willing the panic away.

If something happens to you, it’s going to be his fault. He’s going to fail you, like he failed her. Fail the both of you.

Reaching out to grasp the sheet at his side as a means to anchor himself, he brushes the back of his hand against your hip and he opens his eyes, turning to face your back. Faced away from him, the soothingly slow rise and fall of your breathing catches his gaze and focusing on the pattern of it, he forces himself to match it.

In and out. In and out.

His hand splays over the slope of your waist, curving around your side and the warm give of your flesh reassures him. His vision clears, the softened edges of your shadowed form bringing him back to the room and the white noise filling his head fades, the tension in his chest slowly easing. He flexes his hold on you, his thumb sliding across your bare skin.

You turn in your sleep, rolling over to face him and lifting his hand just enough to let you move, he rests it back on your side. His thumb drags across your petal soft skin, his eyes dropping down to watch and before he can stop himself, the back of his knuckles brush delicately against the natural swell of your stomach.

He remembers the fear, but looking down at his hand, something blooms deep within that pit beneath his sternum. Something else, something that’s been lying dormant for years, but when he sees his hand against your bare stomach, it takes root and pierces through the surface of the panic.

Hesitantly, he lets himself feel those things, in the safety of the dark room.

Anticipation. Joy. Happiness, contentment. Love, that he’d never imagined he’d feel again.

He feels a version of it when he looks at you right now — a deeper version of it, a calmer one. A steady, anchoring emotion, one that he fought in the beginning but now has given in and gotten used to it.

The love that he has for you planted within your body, taking root.

His thumb drags over your belly button, and you shift in your sleep.

“There’s nothing there yet,” you mumble, the words a soft slur in the darkness. “Go to sleep, baby.”

He hums lowly, his hand splaying to cover your stomach. Fingertip to thumb, it spans from hip to hip, but when you shift again next to him, he reluctantly pulls it away.

Gathering you as gently as he can in his arms, he tilts his chin down to catch your mouth with his. Sleep warm and soft, you kiss him back and his arm winds around your waist, tugging you close.

With your belly cradled between the two of you, he falls asleep.

#joel miller/reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller/you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller tlou #tlou fanfic #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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anonymous-dentist · 10 months ago

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A tiny little merpepito au for the week

Pepito misses Apa Roier. Pepito misses Apa Roier so much it hurts, and Apa Roier is so close! He’s just on the other side of the ship, and Pepito can tug on his shirt and get picked up and held the way Apa Roier used to hold Pepito in The Ocean, but. But he’s sad, and it’s all Pepito’s fault, because Pepito is a Very Bad Pepito.

Every night, Pepito eats dinner at the same table as everybody else. He sits by Pomme, because she’s nice, and by Richarlyson, because Richarlyson is too small to sit at the adult side of the table. But Pomme sometimes leaves her seat and asks her mom to hold her, and Richarlyson always goes to bother his dads. But Pepito… can’t. Because Apa Roier looks so sad when he looks at Pepito, and Pepito might start crying if Apa Roier tells him why.

Tonight, four days after Apa Roier joined the crew, Pepito sits alone and eats Pepito’s dinner. Pomme is with Miss Baghera, and Richarlyson is with Captain Celbi, and Pepito. Is. Alone.

Pepito sits with his head down, and he picks at his food idly with a fork.

He jumps as a plate it dropped in front of him.

He looks up, and there is Apa Roier with a fish bone sticking out of his mouth.

In the Language Of The Ocean, Apa Roier says, “Ayyyy, Pepito! There you are! I’ve been looking for you all day!”

He sits, and Pepito’s hands shake.

“Have you been avoiding me?” Apa Roier gasps.

Pepito doesn’t like lying, so Pepito almost nods. But then Pepito remembers that he’s a pirate now, and pirates are evil. So Pepito shakes his head slowly.

Apa Roier nods. “Ahhh, I see. You’re just too busy for me now, I get it.”

Pepito’s stomach turns uncomfortably.

“You’re a big Pepito now,” Apa Roier says. “And I’m just an old man.”

He even puts on his old man voice- the one that he does to piss Ama Rivers off that makes Pepito laugh- when he says that, but all Pepito does is put his fork down and stare at his plate with a chilly-feeling heart. He feels bad.

Miss Mouse laughs at the other end of the table. Misters Pacandmike are arguing with Captain Celbi.

Apa Roier is quiet.

Pepito isn’t going to cry. He isn’t!!! He’s a Strong Pepito! And he’s a pirate! Pirates don’t cry, they make people cry!

…Pepito probably made Apa Roier cry. Apa Roier probably broke down the second he heard what Pepito did, all because Pepito did a Very Bad Thing because Pepito is a Very Bad Pepito and and and and-

“Pepito,” Apa Roier quietly says, “I’m not angry.”

What?

Pepito looks up with wet eyes. He makes eye contact with Apa Roier, which honestly makes Pepito feels so much worse because Apa Roier looks kinda depressed with only two eyes. The Sea Witch took his eyes because of Pepito; just one more bad thing that Pepito has done.

Apa Roier gives a small smile. “I don’t know why you ran away, but I’m not angry. I mean, I’m pissed, but I’m not angry, you know?”

Pepito doesn’t know, but he also doesn’t care, because what does Apa Roier mean, he doesn’t know why Pepito ran away? He has to know! He’s a genius!

“BadBoy might be a real fucking creep sometimes, but he brought you to a real good guy,” Apa Roier continues. He glances over at Captain Celbi, his smile turning Weird. “I mean, Cellbit is kind of an asshole and he’s probably going to Hell, but he’s a nice guy.”

“Are you talking about me?” Captain Celbi calls, the same Weird smile on his face. Huh.

Apa Roier rolls his eyes and flips him off.

Pepito’s eyes widen. Apa Roier is so brave! Everybody knows not to mess with Captain Celbi, he’s evil! Mister Mike says so at least once a day!

“But listen, Pepito,” Apa Roier says, looking back at Pepito, “if you think I swam for a month to come and get you just for me to say I hate you or something, then you really are as stupid as your Apa Mariana. Because I-” (He reaches across the table and boops Pepito right on the nose.) “-will never let any stupid human pirates bully my Pepito. Only I get to bully you.”

Pepito’s eyes are starting to water again, dang it. Pepito is a Strong Pepito!

But then Apa Roier looks at Pepito’s plate of food and sighs and starts moving stuff from his own plate to Pepito’s, saying, “Pepito, Pepito, Pepito… You’re allowed to have more than fish for dinner. We’re pirates now, have pirate food. Here.”

And Pepito can’t help it. He missed Apa Roier so much…!

He jumps from his spot at the table and runs around to Apa Roier. He holds his arms up, and Apa Roier clicks his tongue annoyedly, but Apa Roier picks him up with a groan:

“Pepito, what the fuck? When did you get so big, eh? You’ll be taller than Mariana at this rate!”

Pepito is a growing Pepito, Pepito knows this. But he settles down in Apa Roier’s lap, anyway, and he hugs him because he can because Apa Roier doesn’t know that Pepito is a Bad Pepito. He still thinks that Pepito is a Good Pepito even if he is a Pirate Pepito now.

Apa Roier doesn’t know what happened. And Apa Roier never will.

#merpepito au #a.d.'s fics i suppose #a.d.'s fics i suppose.#no ao3 link for this one tonight I’m writing on mobile in a hailstorm

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hexcii · 2 months ago

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HIIIIIIIII I READ ALL OF THE CHAPTERS YESTERDAY AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH😸😸IM LITERALLY GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET OVER IT

i literally could not focus in third period today because of it

anway, a few questions:

have the faes actually like fell in love with the witch? or are they just sort of developing a crush by chapter 4?

when did they start falling? was it the moment they saw the witch? or was it over time?

do they even realize they’re startin to fall for them?

how often do they watch the witch? cause’ theres no way they just happened to guess when they(the witch) were out and performing that ritual (in a farm that the witch literally never went)

how does “attractiveness” work in the fae-world? do they discriminate against humanXfae? what is deemed attractive to them both lookwise and personality? do they not care about looks?

do they find humans beautiful? cause’ i think i remember faeries being incredibly beautiful, so are humans the same way to them?

OH WOW ALL OF THEM? :OOOO

EEEEE SO HAPPY YOU LIKE IT!!!!! <33333

Oki oki question time

1-3. They started falling in love with Y/N after the first time they actually talked to them, so chapter two! At that point it was very small but by the end of chapter three it has developed into a crush and they’re sort of aware of it. By the end of chapter four they’re both very aware of their feelings towards the witch and their crush is now bordering on full on love. These faeries fall fast!

4. They watch Y/N pretty often, they followed them everyday for a week after they first stepped into their ring because Sun and Moon wanted to mess with them but now they do it more out of curiosity than anything. (They absolutely followed Y/N all the way to the field-)

5. If by attractiveness you mean what makes a faerie attractive to other faeries, then that would be their fur and claws. I’ve gone into the fur part a bit before but the claws are a way to show that they can protect and provide for themselves and give safety to others. Humans and faeries getting together isn’t common, but it’s not unheard of. In general, most fae don’t care about what others get up to in their personal lives but they might be a little curious and confused about a faerie trying to court a human, and what each faerie finds attractive depends on the individual.

6. Faeries generally view humans as people they can play tricks on, a little bit like playthings, so they tend not to care about whether or not a human is beautiful to them. Some think they look a little strange since they’re similar to fae but with some very clear differences, while others think humans are really cute. As for Sun and Moon, they think most humans look a little bit silly given the differences between their species. But their witch?

Oh, they both think they’re beautiful

(Also pls ignore any typos I’m writing this kinda late so I might’ve missed something-)

#I had so much fun answering this hehehe #ask #the name game #tng au #fae au #fae sun #fae moon #witch reader #disabled reader #dca fandom #dca au

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glitziinova · 8 months ago

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General Toon headcanons

I suddenly remembered that I made these

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

🥧Baby and child toons are scared of skelecogs. They see one and immediately start busting out crying

🥧 Toons born/raised in certain playgrounds have perks

🐾Toontown Central - Jack of trades, better at making friends and building relationships with others

🐾Barnacle Boatyard - Better swimmers and fishers

🐾Ye Olde Toontowne - Witches or other magic-related skills; like alchemy. Also, they prefer to make things by hand, very handy toons

🐾Daffodil Gardens - Gardeners, green thumbs, but also bug hunters and collectors

🐾Mezzo Melodyland - Musically inclined toons, they have sharper ears than most toons. Also artists like painters, sculpture, tailors misc

🐾The Brrrgh - Have better resistance to the cold. Has thicker fur.

🐾Acorn Acres - Certified tree climbers and foragers. Tree climbing-related activities are very common

🐾 Drowsy Dreamland - Due to the playground being what it is, they all benefit from the perks of having better sleep and often do have better sleep than the other toons from the other playgrounds (Unless you’re that one toon from that Graham task)

🥧Baby toon fur/ feathers/scales are much more lighter when very young (like infant to toddler), they reach their true colors around early childhood

🐾 Mother egg layers (like ducks, other birds, and gators) lay eggs (woah that's crazy), and also assuming that they take the same time as humans, they will hold the egg for about 9 months, lay it, and then take care of the egg for about a few days until it hatches.

🐾 Brand new baby toons (I have no idea what to call it, idk the actual name) look like their newborn for their species, usually small, blind/deaf, bald, pink crying jellybeans with limbs. In around the couple of weeks or a month mark, they actually look like proper toon babies. Yes, the toon parents will take many pictures when their baby starts to explode in fur/feathers because they look hilarious.

🥧Toons of different species can have a child together, the child will mainly be the species of their mother with some features of their father (think of the hybrids from Beastars)

🐾EX: Duck (mother) and Alligator (father): The child would appear mostly duck with sharp teeth, spines, claws, and some scales on their body

🥧Speaking “proper” words is a learned behavior, baby toons often speak in their natural animal noises. “Proper” words are like a second language for toons, some toons will slip and talk in their “natural” language. Toons can understand each other animal noises even if they’re different species. (The Cogs can’t understand their natural animal language)

🥧Predator toons (I have no idea what to call them in this context) like cats, dogs, bears, alligators, hybrids, etc, have retractable claws. Most keep their claws short to keep in their gloves. More fashion-forward toons who don’t fight cogs tend to let their claws grow and keep them decorated (Like Malimew Barbie and Begothz)

🥧Cat toons can be scruffed and it’s really embarrassing for them. Most Cat toons often wear something on their neck, usually to make it harder for them to be scruffed, sometimes it's for fashion or both.

🥧Toons can temporarily change art styles. Usually for comic effect, imagine you said something stupid and the toon just looks at you like 👁️_👁️ -_- 👁️_👁️

#toontown #corporate clash #toonblr #ttcc #✮ headcanons #I have so many headcanons I need to post I'm sorry

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baxndaid · 2 years ago

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1999/lmk sun wukong x reader

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ! tbh this can be read as both 1999 or lmk OR literally anything else since this is taking place during the jttw !! SORRY FOR LONG ABSENCE </3

- you were a witch that was ordered to aid the pilgrim named Tripitaka on his quest to find the ancient scriptures

- you didn’t really know he’d have company though, even with your powers you could’ve never predicted that he’d be travelling with a monkey, a pig, and a sea wizard (not to mention their dragon horse)

- at first it was pretty rocky considering that when you revealed yourself to the group, the monkey (who was conveniently named monkey) attacked you with no hesitation

- in battle, you tried to show him the letter you received from the goddess Guan Yin, but it fell on deaf ears and he continued his attacks while calling you a liar

- he stopped as soon as the monk ordered for him to halt, with a bit of encouragement from the headband of course 😋

- you both floated down to your master

- you bowed and introduced yourself as y/n, and the group introduced themselves to you too

- pigsy took a liking to you (obviously)

- monkey did not

- sandy was neutral

- tripitaka was just glad he had another semi-sane individual in his group

- and so, you and your new companions continued with your journey to the west

- ANYWAY that brings you to where you are now 🗣️🗣️

the journey

♡ wukong didnt trust you much, even after a few months of traveling together

♡ he would allow you to do the same things he and his fellow companions did of course, but he would never let you stay and watch his master alone

♡ you did notice, but you didnt care, babysitting the monk wasnt exactly something you were dying to do as much as you respected him

♡ he did appreciate you for your skills, though

♡ Tripitaka managed to get kidnapped 4 times a week instead of 9 with you around 🥳

♡ for that, he warmed up to you

♡ just a smidge tho💔💔

♡ during the whole white bone demon/crimson witch saga; you defended monkey from the accusations of him killing a not so innocent young women

♡ you didnt feel as if he had a reason to lie, and even if you definitely werent his favourite person of the group, you still didnt want him to get punished for something that he did to protect his friends

♡ didnt work tho LMFAOO 😩

♡ he was soon banished from the group and went back to his home in flower fruit mountain in a sour mood

♡ you kinda felt bad but you kinda liked it like lmfaoo deserved 💔💔

♡ after the young monk got in trouble again, it was up to you to find monkey and get him to help you again

♡ you still don’t know why the hell pigsy made you do it, you just assumed he was being lazy and just wanted you to do all the heavy lifting

♡ you’d bully him later for compensation

♡ but for now your goal was to find monkey which was surprisingly easy considering his island was supposed to be incredibly difficult to find

♡ your task was easy, go to the island, get wukong, and come back

♡ it wasn’t easy 💯

♡ you ended up getting ambushed by a bunch of monkeys which you couldn’t take seriously since they were just so cute!

♡ they beat your ass

♡ they brought you to a stone throne with your ex-companion sitting on top of it, a dismissive look on his face and his head leaning on his hand

♡ they pushed you on your knees as the monkey king began to speak

♡ “state your name and your business here��

♡ “oh be quiet, unless you hit your head i expect you to remember me, it’s been like 2 days you dramatic ape”

♡ immediately you regret insulting him as his subjects hold you tighter and audibly chitter and gasp at your words

♡ you grunt “fine, i’m here to take you back to Tripitaka, he’s… in a tight spot” you look up at him to see his expression

♡ “why should i help him? he threw me away without a second thought!”

♡ you groaned, he had the right to be angry but you just wanted to get this over with, so you negotiated with him for a while

♡ a very long while

♡ he sighed, “fine” he got up from his throne “monkey subjects! your king is going on an important mission, you’ll have to do without me for a while” he said dramatically

♡ you playfully rolled his eyes as you watched him comfort the female monkeys, them clearly not wanting him to leave so soon

♡ after like 20 minutes you got bored, you took his hand and led him to your master, you were surprised he let you hold him for so long, he normally shoves pigsy off whenever he flings his arms around him after battle

♡ the rest of your friends rejoiced when they saw a certain monkey flying behind you, hand in hand

♡ pigsy had questions about why the two of you came back with hands intertwined and his mind immediately went straight into the gutter, and naturally, he got jealous

♡ he refused to talk to monkey for a week because of his assumption 😞

lego monkie kid masterlist

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mads-is-a-bit-strange · 7 months ago

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“You can’t skip chapters, that’s not how life works. You have to read every line, meet every character. You won’t enjoy all of it. Hell, some chapters will make you cry for weeks. You will read things you don’t want to read, you will have moments when you don’t want the pages to end. But you have to keep going. Stories keep the world revolving. Live yours, don’t miss out.”

- Pillow Thoughts 2 by Courtney Peppernell (found the quote on pinterest)

Hi here’s my intro post>>>

Here's what you'll find here that will hopefully pique your interest☟

~Art

~Stories (fandoms or stories im writing myself)

~memes

~vents/updates (they are really fuckin random but stay with me on this)

~reblogs

Here's some things abt me☟

Name: Madeleine

Nicknames: mads, maddie, marie, mad, maggie, em, juniper, daisy, linnie (now, some might be names of my hearttypes ngl)

Age: minor‼️

Pronouns: she/they

Sexuality: Bisexual, Demigirl/Non-binary

mbti test results: ENFJ-T (main character vibes😝✌️)

aura color: blue💙💙💙

Now some random facts abt me☟

♡here are my ocs accounts!!

@the-giver3

@b3c0m3-insan3

@lemme-die-rq666

@bibi-hates-u2

@sun-and-moon888

@talkingisntrllymything

💛i listen to music more than i should…(specifically my musical playlist with way to much heathers😆)

💛baby witch (i havent done any spells before but i do tarot a lot)

💛i love all of my friends <333 Im so lucky to have them and i would literally die for them❤️❤️❤️❤️and my mutuals idk how the hell i got those but i’m very grateful

💛i’m otherhearted!!! i have multiple hearttypes and my main ones right now are prob German Shepherd and Raccoon :3

💛cabin 10!!! (aphrodite)💗🐚

🩷 “this is modern feminism talking” “i expect to rule the world in shoes i cannot walk in”🩷

💛"Everyone's pushing, everyone's fighting. Storms are approaching, there's nowhere to hide. If i say the wrong thing, or i wear the wrong outfit, they'll throw me right over the side. On the tiniest lifeboat."💛

💞V, K, H, C, E, A, B, J, E, E, A, S, L💞

🇵🇸river to sea, palestine will be free🇵🇸

💛Fandoms☟

Owl house, Craig of the Creek, Superstore, Gravity Falls, Amphibia, Big Bang Theory, She-Ra, Adventure Time, Hazbin Hotel, Helluva Boss, PJO, etc. (ik ik i’m a nerd)

💛I do theatre and student council

💛DNI: DMs (im not allowed to talk to strangers online but if ik u irl then u can dm, or if you want to ask a simple question), Transphobes, homophobes, racist ppl, Z00s, N@Z!/neo-N@Z!, s3xists, p0rn bots (im a fucking minor), p3d0s, nsfw.

💛Links☟

𖤐Pinterest

𖤐Spotify

𖤐Tumblr Community

𖤐My post about my series i’m working on

𖤐The first chapter of The Killer Circus!

𖤐Decorate my tree for Xmas!!

𖤐My userboxes are here: (im still working on it so i dont have a link 😔😔😔 srry)

Just remember that you are amazing <3 Like literally the best and i know that hearing that from a total stranger may sound crazy and creepy, but i genuinely care about my friends and mutuals. Have fun here, so yeah byeeee :]

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6leggedhorse · 8 days ago

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I read The Witch’s Heart by Genevieve Gornichec, I am hungover.

It’s rare for me to have an emotional reaction to books. The last time I had one was when I finished You Love Me by Caroline Kepnes. To make it clear, I am also a huge fan of the You series and I fucking hate the fourth installment of the series. But, enough about that series, let’s dive into this book. Also I know I said I would see about posting often; I had a research paper and one more final that had me losing my damn mind. Luckily I passed my classes and after a second break and some job hunting, I’m here finally. Thank the gods.

Plot

I don’t know how to say this without spoiling it but in six words: Magic is desirable, emotional roller coaster. The plot was *Chef’s kiss* juicy and amazing, it was crafted at an easy to follow pace. It was so addicting and so well paced, I read this book for 2 hours in the morning and about n hour and a half at the dealership. It was that good. Basically, you read the story about and between Loki and Angrboda and how their relationship began. Now this book is inspired by Norse mythology, and it’s a young adult fantasy romance (I think). The plot is well crafted and it always leaves you wondering how things are going to play out even though you know what’s going to happen and play out. It’s the fear of the unknown and the known. This book left me in tears, I cried, hell, I loved the push and pull of the characters and the angst. Angst is my drug.

Characters & Scenes

The characters are absolutely amazing. Development was apparent obviously and descriptions of the characters and their personalities was so crystal clear, I got ATTACHED. I latched onto Loki for sure and cheered him on, and got slightly angy at him, but hey, that book makes you go through it over and over and over again. The dialogue and character interacts between each other was also very beautiful and believable. Hell, Loki was (and still is in real life) a baddie and I have his addie hehe ;).

The scenes were so beautiful, there was enough detail that you could just see how well designed they were. They also fit the characters and their world so good, that it was overwhelming. The visuals in the story are just so vivd and it blows my mind that someone harbors the skill to write something surround Loki and norse mythology with such love and attention to every little detail without fail. I was shook, I still am very much so shook.

Rating 10/10 ⭐️s

I strongly recommend this book if you too, are addicted to angst. This book also is an amazing read for fellow Lokeans who want something mild in terms of spice factor and just adore Loki in general. If you’re into slow burns, this might be a great recommendation for you too! Needless to say, if I wanted to, I could’ve finish this in one week. It’ that good. If a book could leave me in awe, tears or any emotion in general, you can bet your bippy that I will be hungover the book. I still think about some of the shocking scenes, it has that strong of an impact.

Conclusion

Please read it. I got it from the Apple Bookstore and if I recall correctly that it costs… $12 dollars…? It’s so worth it, however it is very addictive so remember to take breaks and do some self care in between.

Until next time! Hopefully tomorrow!

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cancerian-woman · 1 month ago

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really its sad that Hope never had Bonnie as a mentor/that they cut Bonnie out of Legacies so much.

the levels of “I hate black women/people” is loud in TVDU the Bennett’s are victims of that. Narratively speaking and through the fans.

A mentorship with Bonnie makes sense for Hope since she does live in Mystic Falls as of age 7 and up. Both being witches. We were never going to have that type of relationship even if it was off-screen development. The writers can use Kat refusing to appear in LGCs as their excuse for the lack thereof with “Aunt Bonnie” mentions but that’s not really where it started. Landon’s comment about Bonnie disappearing was distasteful because the writers are responsible for that. I remember them shifting the blame to Landon as if he isn’t fictional. It was a nice way to say we don’t see Bonnie as important if she isn’t being a slave.

Kat seemed receptive in some interviews to appearing in TO when both shows were on the air but shifted after it ended. Who could blame her really?

My friend @24kmagiic has nice post here about how Davina was handled that I agree with. I think Freya handed similarly only existing to be the Mikaelson’s Bonnie and Rebekah when she wasn’t there. Not really caring to develop the character either which is a disservice to them(well until late s4-5 for Freya). I’ve seen comments say Hope had a family of supernatural-beings there’s nothing Bonnie could help her with. As if Hope spent anytime with her family longer than some weeks or months any damn way. I don’t remember if Hayley and Bonnie shared a scene right now (I think the lesser) but I could see Hayley trying to find help from other witches.

Hope and Bonnie are very similar characters. A mentorship even off-screen could’ve been a nice drawback to what Ayana and Esther initially had before TO. Esther was not portrayed as this highly-skilled witch without a Bennett-witch backing her.

I could say more to this but Bonnie’s blackness is what the writers didn’t like nor want to develop. Which is why the idea of anything Bonnie/Hope was never going to narratively happen because the writers didn’t like Bonnie. As Kat said things would be different if she was white but she wasn’t.

They fought harder to keep her out the story, when things constantly came back to Bennett witch creations. Once Caroline was inserted into the Mikaelson’s dynamics and the Geminis they were never going to continue on with Bonnie’s dynamic with them. The Bennett’s have the richest lore in terms of creation but are the most disrespected.

#dria responds #people think Bonnie can only wield power to protect others never for herself and Hope is treated as a god because the narrative treats her #as such and the fandom echos those beliefs.#hope is a picture perfect example of why Bonnie should be seen as more important but alright #tvd #the vampire diaries

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stimtickle · 4 months ago

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* NOES 3: Dream Warriors - 3/1/87

* Angel Heart - 3/6/87

* Lethal Weapon - 3/6/87

* Evil Dead 2 - 3/13/87

* Street Smart - 3/20/87

* Raising Arizona - 4/10/87

* The Untouchables - 6/3/87

* The Believers - 6/10/87

* Predator - 6/12/87

* The Witches of Eastwick - 6/12/87

* Spaceballs - 6/24/87

* Innerspace - 7/1/87

* Adventures in Babysitting - 7/3/87

* Full Metal Jacket - 7/10/87

* RoboCop - 7/17/87

* La Bamba - 7/24/87

* The Lost Boys - 7/31/87

* The Monster Squad - 8/14/87

* The Whales of August - 8/19/87

* Fatal Attraction - 9/18/87

* Hellraiser - 9/18/87

* Near Dark - 10/2/87

* The Princess Bride - 10/9/87

* House of Games - 10/14/87

* Barfly - 10/16/87

* Prince of Darkness - 10/23/87

* The Hidden - 10/30/87

* Less Than Zero - 11/6/87

* The Running Man - 11/13/87

* Planes, Trains & Automobiles - 11/25/87

* Wall Street - 12/11/87

* Throw Mamma From The Train - 12/11/87

* Eddie Murphy: Raw - 12/18/87

* Empire of the Sun - 12/25/87

When I was growing up 1939 was popularly remembered (back then) as a great year for movies and it was…but it was no 1987. For the last ten or so years, 1999 has been celebrated as a great year for movies (American Beauty, The Matrix, Boys Don’t Cry, Fight Club, The Insider, Three Kings. Being John Malkovich, The Blair Witch Project, The Talented Mr. Ripley, Office Space, Deep Blue Sea, etc.) and it was, but it was no 1987.

Admittedly 1999 was a year of heightened consciousness for movies. Frustration with the status quo was palpable and the movies definitely reflected that. Pre-millennial tensions blended with existential angst to bring about a refreshing alchemy of spiritual reclamation. But still…it was no 1987.

I was thirteen going into my fourteenth year and 1987 was very formative for me. The sheer amount of modern classics released that year is mind-blowing to me still to this day. We were simply spoiled for choice. The best NOES sequel was amazing, to be quickly followed by Angel Heart and Evil Dead 2!! Read the list, it was an astonishing time for the movies.

And July of 1987 is still hands-down the best July for movies ever. Full Metal Jacket this week, fucking jaw-dropping Robocop the next. La Bamba the next, followed by The Lost Boys. HOLY SHIT!

*With Hellraiser, Near Dark, The Princess Bride, Barfly, House of Games, etc. October was pretty freaking awesome too.

1987 is the year I relish most when I think about contemporary movie classics. Compared to 1999, some of these titles might appear somewhat shallow, but I’d say look again. There is a lot of intense sociological depth to a lot of these films…but it’s not the overriding point they’re trying to make. Entertainment was thoughtful, but not in your face.

A new level of storytelling intensity was reached that year. A stunning year for genre films.

Never again will it ever be that incredible.

*While I did see them, I didn’t really care about Moonstruck, Beverly Hills Cop 2, Mannequin, or Dirty Dancing…but they certainly had their fans too.

Much Love, T. Stickle

*FYI: Bad Taste, Street Trash, and of course Robocop all conspired to open me up to the beautifully gross & demented joys of Splattertoons. Yet another reason why 1987 is so dear to me. 😝

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thevampiremarie · 1 year ago

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treehouse, chapter 2 🔞 (also available on ao3)

Dream of the Endless | Lord Morpheus x reader pregnancy fic

A doctor’s appointment and a dream.

i decided to prioritize putting this story up on tumblr after ao3 went down for 2 days. so here's the second chapter! i'd hate for this fic to be permanently lost

So Dream didn’t end up leaving his number. Or social media, or really any way to contact him.

You’d checked the notepad by your door, flipped through page after page on the off chance Dream hid something in the very back.

Nothing.

Except for a doodle - a hastily drawn scribble of a raven. You remember the clever little raven outside of the club the night before. Matthew. Cute.

But he was still gone without a word.

So you moped around your apartment for more than a few weeks, only leaving for groceries and whenever your friend prodded at you to leave and accompany them to a bookstore or Shakespeare in the park.

It’s been a very, very, very long time since you’d even interacted with someone with more than friendship in mind, much less gotten dicked down. A year and some months, if your memory is correct. No matter. You pull your mind away from the specifics of that.

Can anyone blame you for being hung up on someone like Dream?

He’s like your teenage Byronic hero dream on steroids. And sometimes, when you close your eyes, you feel like you’re looking in his eyes again, blazing blue fire even in your memories.

If it weren’t for the hickies lining your skin, the ache between your legs, and that little raven sketch, well. You would’ve thought you dreamed him up.

You historically don’t handle abandonment well, even though you know he did nothing wrong, and you hold no resentment. It’s not his fault you have trauma. So you keep to your room, filling the white noise in your brain with television and music and anything at all to keep yourself from thinking of him.

You’re lonely. You hadn’t realized until he’d lit up your life, just for that one night, but you’re lonely. Aimless. For some reason, that encounter with Dream reminded you of all the hopes and longings you shoved to the side in the interest of survival. Which, at the time, entailed whatever work you could get and a roof over your head. A social life was a secondary concern at best.

Well, you’ve achieved those things now.

But you still feel hollow and empty—a shell of the person you wanted to be ten years ago.

You wanted to be happy. You wanted to be surrounded by a family of your own making, one that loved you as much as you loved them.

Your friend Willow is lovely, but they have their own life, their kids. Not much room for you.

For once, you’d tasted feelings far beyond what you’d allowed yourself to feel for so long. And now, you’re not sure you can go back to an empty house and a life tinted in black and white and grey.

You keep up with your therapy appointments, and your therapist recommends you continue putting yourself out there after such an unexpected social success with your one-night stand. Maybe she’s right; perhaps you should actually just get over your issues with being a part of the world and move on with your life properly.

Unfortunately, your plans to do that today (Willow bothered you over text about some local witch faire they wanted to go to and insisted you come with and maybe make some new friends) are stalled by how shitty you feel when you wake up that morning.

Like, ‘someone hit you with a truck’ kind of feeling shitty.

You’re exhausted, which doesn’t make sense because you slept past your alarms, and your whole body aches. A migraine threatens to black out your vision when you sit up.

You’ve been taking care of yourself on your own for long enough now that typically you can manage all the things you dislike without help; making doctor’s appointments, waiting in line at the pharmacy. Phone calls suck no matter how often you force yourself to make them.

But you can’t seem to drag yourself out of bed this time.

Thankfully, Willow is thrilled to come over and help you. They text you that it’s about time you reached out and didn’t try to take on the world alone.

When they come to pick you up, you’ve successfully showered and thrown on a clean pair of sweatpants and a random t-shirt. That’s the only thing you feel up to wearing at the moment; your stomach is bloated like it does when you PMS, and these clothes feel like wrapping yourself up in a blanket.

PMS. Hm.

Willow fills you in on their kids’ latest shenanigans, then hands you the travel mug of hot tea their wife packed for you after you’ve buckled in next to them.

You’re late. You hadn’t noticed until today - but you’re about two weeks late. You’d taken your placeholder pills on schedule, per your prescription, but the depressive episode had such a grip on you that you’d completely forgotten about your period.

While Willow waits at a stoplight, you interrupt the stream of questions about your well-being. “I’m late.”

The light turns green. You guys are about ten minutes out from the nearest urgent care that takes your (admittedly shitty) health insurance. “How late?” Willow says evenly, their calm demeanor a sharp contrast to the storm raging inside your mind.

It could be nothing—just stress combined with some sort of bug. Birth control pills mess with your cycle, to begin with; that’s why you must take the placebos.

You try not to focus on the other possibility. You don’t even want to name it - irrationally, you fear that naming that outcome will make it true.

The California sun streams through the car windows. The warmth feels nice on your face, comforting and lulling you into a daze. It’s not a super convenient time to drift off, but you’re sapped of all your strength, your fight.

Willow needs to nudge you to pull you out of your car-ride-induced trance. “Um- two weeks. I think,” You reply. Then you need to repeat yourself; an ambulance driving past with its alarms blaring had blocked out what you said.

Your friend nods without taking their eyes from the road, light catching in their dyed purple hair. “I wouldn’t be worried. We’ll see what the doctor says, okay?”

“Okay.”

You can see the parking lot from here, and Willow turns in to look for a spot. “Finish your tea. You won’t feel any better if you’re dehydrated.” Neither of you acknowledges the elephant in the room - that the nurse will almost certainly order a pregnancy test.

You drain the carafe. The peppermint and honey settle your stomach and gives you enough energy to get out of the car and face urgent care. Ugh. You despise going to the doctor.

It’s not the nurse’s fault this sucks. You feel bad that you can’t muster more enthusiasm to answer her fairly-standard questions, but the fluorescent overhead lights kick your migraine into high gear.

“When was the date of your last period?”

You explain the situation; that you’re late, but you’re on the pill, and you’ve been stressed out recently, so sometimes these things just happen.

To her credit, she has a wonderful bedside manner and doesn’t blink twice. “That’s fine. We’ll get you checked out. I’ll have to ask you to provide a urine sample for me after I’m done taking down all your information if that’s alright.”

“Yeah, I can.” You fiddle with the torn edge of the paper they’ve laid out on the exam chair to focus on your breathing. Maybe you should ask for Ibuprofen or something for your headache. But it might fuck up your blood pressure or something, and then you’d have to come back. Nope. Absolutely not.

“And I assume you’ve recently been intimate with at least one male sexual partner? Did you use any other forms of contraception, and would you like us to run a full STD panel?” She’s doing her best not to sound judgmental, and you know she isn’t, but the questions still sound rude. The nurse is doing her job, you tell yourself. She needs to pry.

You sigh. “Just the one, yeah. And we were only… intimate once. Almost four weeks ago. I haven’t done anything like that in over a year, and nothing else since. We kind of, you know, forgot about other forms of contraception? We thought the pill would be enough. And a full panel would be wonderful, thank you.” You’ve learned your lesson about letting your hormones lead you astray; if there’s ever a repeat hookup like this, which you highly doubt, you will most certainly be getting a condom involved—and negotiating the encounter beforehand.

You might have been more cautious with someone else, more level-headed, but Dream had made you wild and carefree. And desired, worthy. Seen.

It was an intoxicating combination. He’s unlike anyone you’ve known, and you’re sure you won’t meet anyone like him again.

“Alright, not a problem. Are you on any medications?”

You clear your throat before continuing. “A few. For my… mental health. Um, Lamictal, Seroquel, Prozac…”

After making her last notes on her iPad, the nurse moves to one of the cupboards to pull out a clear container. “Got it. Alright, I need you to go to the bathroom down the hall…”

And with all of those tasks done, you wait.

You can hear things happening outside the examination room. Beeping, hushed whispers, footsteps on squeaky clean linoleum. Maybe they’ve forgotten about you here. Even when you close your eyes, you can’t block out the white lights reflecting off the equally white walls, blinding you even when you try to imagine that you’re literally anywhere else.

Your stomach roils, nausea knotting up your insides. Even your joints are protesting you being outside of your bed right now. God, you feel like shit.

A tall woman walks in, cloaked in neatly-pressed scrubs. She looks friendly, too, and her demeanor takes the edge off your anxiety. “Hi there, I’m Dr. Chang, the doctor on staff today. I’ll be taking a look at you if that’s alright. I’m sorry to hear that you haven’t been feeling well.”

She checks all the things you expect her to. Her stethoscope is chilly on your skin as she listens to your heart, and it sends a shiver through you. Then she checks your throat and feels your stomach. “I agree; this does appear just to be some bloating. I recommend you try some ginger tea when you get home.”

Before she can continue, the nurse from before knocks and lets herself in, handing over a paper printout with some whispered words.

“So we just received the results of your pregnancy test, and it came back positive. Congratulations. I believe four weeks along, per the date of your last period.”

Your hands press up against your stomach. You’re pregnant. Actually pregnant. There’s nothing you can feel, not yet, but the world seems to have shifted in the blink of an eye. Everything- everything is different. “Oh.”

For a moment, you just sit there in shock, completely silent and trying to wrap your head around the news. There’s a fetus growing inside of you right now, as you think of it. Before you do anything else, you quickly shoot Willow a text and set your phone to silent, knuckles white as you clench it. Almost hard enough to break the case protector, you remind yourself. You have to be careful, especially as you can’t afford to replace it right now. So you slowly relinquish your death grip. With effort.

The doctor pauses, waiting to see if you say anything else. When she realizes you’re still listening, just unable to put together coherent words, she nods and continues. “From what I understand, you aren’t currently in a relationship with the father?”

Dream. If only that asshole had left his number like he said he would.

This is all too much, too soon. Like, fuck, you still can’t believe your suspicions were right. Maybe you manifested this or some shit. Ugh.

But you can’t linger on that any further, not when you have to figure out what to do next.

There’s no sense in raging against the inevitable. You’ll be alone in this, no matter how much you wish you weren’t. So you put him out of your mind. He’s gone. “No, no, I’m not. I have no way of getting in contact with him. So he won’t be a factor in any of this.” Practicality wins your internal struggle between what priorities should be in which order.

Whatever decision you make next will be for no one but yourself. If Dream wanted a say in it, perhaps he should’ve stuck around.

It is what it is. For now, you put him away in your head. You can revisit your spite, bitterness, and panic when you’re not in public.

“Well, alright. If that’s the case, then you have two options. You can continue with the pregnancy, in which case you need to schedule an ultrasound in a month with an obstetrician, we can provide a reference if you need one, or if you’d like, you can terminate the pregnancy.”

“Terminate?”

The doctor nods. “Yes, you are early enough in gestation that we would be able to prescribe a medical abortion if you chose to terminate the pregnancy.” Her tone remains clinical and nonjudgmental. You can tell she’ll back whatever choice you settle on. You appreciate that.

You’d always wanted a family of your own. Babies of your own. This isn’t exactly what you intended when you first made that dream years ago as a small child. You dreamed of pouring all the love you never received into someone else, someone innocent and unmarked by the world. Someone you could protect and cherish.

A little one of your own, to love you and to make you proud.

Being a young single mother is hard. And if you fuck up, you’re not the one who will pay for it. They will—your baby.

You’ve begun already to think of the fetus as your baby. Damn it.

You look up at her for the first time since the doctor told you the test results. “Thank you for giving me that option. And if I decided to go through with the pregnancy? Are the ultrasound and the OBGYN everything?”

It will be hard. Your job is barely enough to pay rent on your shitty one-room apartment and fill your fridge, much less pay for what looks to be at least another eight months of prenatal care. Baby clothes. Toys, books. College. And you’ll have to take time off to actually have the baby.

It will be so fucking difficult.

But Dream reminded you, though unintentionally on his part, that you never wanted to be stuck like this, alone and numb inside for the rest of your life. You feel a little bit of gratitude welling up between the cracks of your fear. Perhaps you’ve been waiting your whole life for a chance like this. To finally try your hand at being happy.

You hope the baby looks like him, even if the resemblance is slight.

Dream was so beautiful. Almost inhuman. And kind. Kind to you, who needed it desperately. The baby would do a lot better with his genetics instead of yours.

Maybe you’ll try to find him. You’d hire a private investigator if you had the money, which you most certainly do not, but you want to see him again. At least to tell him about the baby. No expectations for him to be involved; you won’t be beholden to any man who doesn’t want you, but at the very least, you want to look in his eyes one more time.

He’s haunting you. It’s more than a little pathetic of you, longing for a pretty stranger. But you miss him.

“Uh, no, unfortunately, there’s a little bit more to it. If you carry the pregnancy to term, you will have to come off all the medications you have listed here. Ideally, as soon as possible - you should make an appointment with your prescriber to begin a taper.”

“All of them?” You ask hesitantly.

“Yes. All of what you have listed below can increase the risk of birth defects and complications, and the Prozac, if continued through your third trimester, can result in your baby being born with neonatal abstinence syndrome, or what is better known as neonatal withdrawal.”

You haven’t been off those medications in a year and a half. They’ve kept you stable and functional. Safe. “I see.” You don’t like the person you remember being before you started taking them. That person was a terror to others and to yourself. It’s a good balance of mood stabilizers, antipsychotics, antidepressants. You need them.

But they could hurt the baby.

Withdrawal sucks, majorly, so you’ve heard. It’s not something you want to undergo for at least another few years; when you have a better job and maybe someone else to see you through it.

But you don’t have another option if you want this child. You’ll have to do it alone, and broke, and vulnerable.

You almost start crying in the examination room, but you wipe away the tears before they fall. Good. It would be so humiliating to break down in front of this stranger.

You can’t go back to the way you were before the medication, the therapy. You wouldn’t survive that. And you have a duty to be a good mother, beyond just the mechanics of having the kid. Good mothers don’t make their children suffer for their issues.

Your mind wanders back to Dream, regardless of your efforts to put him aside. You have to keep telling yourself that you know literally nothing about him. You don’t know his last name or his favorite color. But it sure would be nice if he was here with you now.

No. This is for you.

“You don’t have to make a decision today. I just wanted to provide you with all the information you need to choose. You still have time, so let us know whatever we can do to support you. Do you have any questions?”

Your voice rings out clear and strong when you answer her. “No, no. It’s okay. I’ve made my choice. I’m going to keep the baby.”

You can do it. This is something good and pure and worth fighting for.

You promise yourself that you’ll survive this. And you don’t need him. You’ve survived worse - and while you don’t believe in any gods or spirits, you’d like to see even them try and stop you.

“Alright, if you’re sure.”

“…yes. I am.”

You leave with a referral for an obstetrician appointment in a month and an armful of different leaflets of various things the urgent care wants you to know.

You didn’t tell Willow of your decision, but they take one look at your face as you get in the car, and they know. “You’re keeping the baby.”

You shouldn’t be nervous telling them - this is your best friend, the closest thing you have to family. “Yes.”

They smile, bright and proud. “Well, I always hoped you’d make Diana and I aunties one day.”

Willow promises to be there through your pregnancy and after. But they remind you not to be so proud, to not wait for things to get dire before asking for help. “We’ve always considered you one of us, but we can’t support you if you don’t tell us you need supporting.”

And for the first time, you plan to follow through on your promise to reach out. Things are looking up, and you feel hope unfurling in you, hesitant and paper-thin.

You lock your front door behind you tightly, checking once, then twice to ensure it’s secure. You’re alone, just like before. But not truly alone anymore.

It will be some time before the baby shows up on an ultrasound, and you remember the doctor telling you that the first trimester is particularly vulnerable and miscarriages are frequent. That would ruin you. You close your eyes, and you hope against hope that the little one will make it through.

And now that you’re barefoot on your old living room carpet, all the feelings you’ve been holding down come out. You sob and scream yourself hoarse, hot tears tracking down your cheeks.

You’re not sure who you’re crying for; yourself, or your baby who won’t get to have a father, or for the possibility that even if Dream knew, he would still walk away. Or worse.

You want more than anything to tell him.

Weeping is more exhausting than it seems. After you stop sniffling so loudly, you stumble into your room and quickly peel off your clothes. The nest of blankets on your mattress seems to be the optimal place to tuck yourself into, dark and soft and warm.

Sleep drags you under fast.

Full-on dreams, like this one, are rare for you. Especially ones where you find any consciousness at all. Some people are just like that; dreamless. If you’ve ever been plagued with nightmares, you never remember them.

The world around you is grey and misty. You can feel fog dampening your skin and clinging to your hair as you turn in search of a horizon. Nothing. Just an expanse of clouded sky with no end or beginning.

For the first time since you tumbled into this vision, you notice the ground beneath you. Or maybe the ground didn’t truly exist until you realized it was there. It’s solid, bits of fresh grass and stubborn weed growing together out of dark, rich soil, their brilliant green leaves bursting with dew.

It’s been a while since you’ve seen that shade of green, so full of life that you wish you could carry it with you wherever you go. Since you moved to the city, all you see now are brown, sun-baked palm trees and dead front lawns.

You feel the urge to open your hands, and when you do, sprigs of young dandelion blossoms lie in the center of your palms. Their bright, cheery yellow blooms are surreal, stolen from an Impressionist painting and plopped right in the middle of a Realist landscape.

This is a good dream. You’d happily spend the rest of the night here curled up on the earth, cushioned by young clovers as the sweet smell of wild violets washes you clean.

Admittedly, it could be better.

“You called out for me.” You turn at the sound of his voice. Dream, in the distance. Of course.

He looks more real than anything else in this place, including you, and simultaneously out of focus. Try as you might, you can’t concentrate on him enough to see him as you would in real life. He belongs here, and you don’t.

You blink, and suddenly he stands before you in the same outfit, of course; tall and proud in the dream your mind built out of memories.

You know he’s a person just like you, but Dream barely looks human here. That’s the way dreams are about other people, you think. Always a reflection of your perception and never objective.

Here his skin is pale as bone, with what looks like the North Star itself split into two and set in the hollows of his eye sockets. Dream’s mouth remains stained red, and this isn’t the time to think about him like that, to picture biting down on his flushed mouth until you draw real blood.

But this is your dream, so if you think about it, you should be able to do as you please.

His hair remains messy. Even your sleepy mind gets that correct, and you admit he looks perfect this way. Terrifying. And perfect.

It takes you a second to decide that he most closely resembles what you think a god should look like - powerful and commanding in every facet of his being. Even the way his brow furrows when you fail to answer his question is intimidating.

You have a healthy sense of self-preservation, though you ignore it most of the time. And that instinct kicks in suddenly; people on the Internet call it ‘uncanny valley.’ Dream is strange, unknown, and those qualities make you want to turn and run. But you don’t - this is your dream painted by your mind. “Hello.”

His face is more expressive in the real world. Hell, one of those statues you compared him to would emote more than he does in your dream. “You called for me.” You can hear an odd, alien tone in his voice, an out-of-place harmony.

“You didn’t leave a number behind.”

“What is it that you want?” Dream’s mouth is a furious line that grows more menacing the longer you go without saying anything. He seems about ready to unhinge his jaw or something. It shouldn’t be hot. It shouldn’t.

It is.

Of course, the version of him that lives in your imagination jumps straight to the point.

You laugh, the sound bubbling up inside of you. It spills out, loud against the silence enveloping the two of you. With it spills all your anxiety and that animal hindbrain caution. Fuck it. “Well, since I probably won’t ever find you in the real world and I’m just talking to a figment of my subconscious, it doesn’t matter. Maybe it will feel good to tell you here, though it won’t do much. I’m fucking talking to myself.” He watches you closely like you’re a threat. “I’m pregnant.”

Shock looks so out of place on his regal countenance, usually as implacable as the deep ocean. It’s comical. “You’re…”

Now, you know he heard you the first time, but you’re in the mood to be annoying. It’s not like he can do anything about it. “Pregnant. Yeah. With a fetus. A baby. Your baby. There hasn’t been anyone else, and no one since. I know it’s yours. And you’re part of my dream, so you should know that too.” The ground below your feet rumbles, and you almost lose your footing. Thankfully, you avoid faceplanting in the grass without too much flailing. Weird. When you look around, the fog seems alive, pulsing and swirling through the air in a fury. Almost like sand.

Then everything settles as if nothing happened. “I see,” He says. And the starlight in Dream’s eyes dims until he looks precisely like he did when you first met. A human, just like you. You hold back the urge to step closer and run your fingers along the arch of his cheekbone, to inhale and fill your lungs with the salt and smoke and warmth of his scent. He’s so pretty that it seems unfair. You still want him. Maybe it was a good thing he left without a word - it would be so easy to wrap your mind, life, and heart around a man like Dream.

You don’t move closer.

All it takes is a split second for your fears to roar back to life. Your dream responds in kind, conjuring up menacing, shapeless forms. Nightmares. “I’m going to keep the baby. If I see you again, you don’t need to be involved, if you don’t want. I won’t ask for child support or anything; you could be part of our child’s life. But I’m going to keep them. I’m just afraid you’d take it badly or that you’d try to take them from me. I don’t want to fight you, but I will if I must.”

You can be realistic; you likely would lose a custody battle if he decided to fuck with you. Dream’s clothes seemed ridiculously high quality and expensive, and you remember how power trailed in his shadow where he walked. You have none of that.

But you’d give the fight your all.

Your mind gives you a break and doesn’t make you get into it with him in your sleep. Your dream stays sweet and easy as one of his hands gestures towards the shadows. The nightmares flee before you realize they’re gone. “Do you wish for me to be involved?”

You still don’t fully know your answer to that.

You want what’s best for the baby. That became your priority the moment you decided to go through with the pregnancy.

“I mean. Yeah. Probably. Again, only if you want, in whatever capacity you want. I’m not exactly set up to be a single parent. But you’re me, so you should already know that. I don’t need to explain further. I won’t force you to do anything, though. This is my choice. You can’t make me change my mind.”

In your dream, he hesitates, then looks you over. “And that is all you wish? Truly?” He asks, his resonant voice echoing in your ears, overlapped with the sound of wings fluttering and the hiss of sand in the wind.

“Uh- yeah. Yeah.”

“This dream is over.”

You wake up alone. It’s tomorrow; you must’ve slept straight through yesterday after getting back from urgent care. You can’t remember what you dreamed about. Hopefully, it was something good.

friendly reminder that this does also exist on ao3 if you'd like to read ahead! you can find it here.

thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!

#treehouse #sandman #the sandman #sandman comics #the sandman comics #sandman netflix #the sandman netflix #dream of the endless #lord morpheus #morpheus #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless x you #lord morpheus x reader #lord morpheus x you #morpheus x reader #morpheus x you

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scorpionatori · 2 years ago

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Top 5 Backstories in Anime/Manga

5. “Cushion of Grass” - Mushishi

“In this world, every person and place has a right to exist. It’s true for you, too. Nature itself allowed you to come back. The entire world as a whole is your home.”

Although Mushishi has a more "monster of the week" structure and isn't focused on developing fleshed out character arcs, the series still gives us two wonderful backstory episodes about our protagonist, Ginko. In "Cushion of Grass", an older mushi-shi comes across a young Ginko who's collapsed in the woods, surrounded by mushi. Ginko stays for a little while, but things take a turn for the worse when Ginko accidentally drops the egg of the unborn mountain lord, killing it.

While adult Ginko is a content and capable traveler and professional, child Ginko is a lonely outcast without a home or any place he can permanently stay, given he attracts mushi. It's even revealed that other mushi-shi would take advantage of him to attract mushi to different areas so he could get them jobs.

Ginko doesn't think someone like him belongs anywhere. And then he causes the death of the new mountain lord. But despite this, he's allowed to return to the world after getting pulled into the world of mushi. The man who had been looking after him tells him that, although he can't forgive him for what he did, he needs to remember that he belongs in this world. That every living thing has a right to exist, including him. The entire world is his home. This sets off Ginko's worldview we see throughout the series. He finds contentment in his lonely life of wandering and truly does seem to feel home wherever he is. He believes that humans and mushi both deserve to exist in the world.

"Cushion of Grass" is a beautifully written backstory, and the anime does an amazing job bringing it to life.

4. “Parent and Child” - Re:Zero

“‘I don’t love you.’ ‘I disown you.’ You are not… my son.’ I wished, you’d just say that to me, and throw me away. I wished, you’d give up on me.” - Natsuki Subaru

How Re:Zero fans watched this and still thought Subaru was just some whiny annoying protagonist who never learns his lessons is beyond me. In this, we truly see how much he has grown as he undergoes the Witch's trial in the Sanctuary.

Even with this series being full of truly tragic backstories, the story of Subaru's normal childhood still made me the most emotional.

Subaru is a very smart and talented kid with skills all around and a charismatic personality. He's good at school and sports and is very popular. His father is the same way, and he grows up constantly being compared to him. His identity ends up becoming wrapped up in the image of his father. Although this may seem harmless and although his father did nothing wrong, the constant comparisons give Subaru a highly idealized view of who he's supposed to be, and he eventually becomes incredibly burnt out by all the expectations placed on him to be as amazing as his father. He starts self-sabotaging, neglecting his studies and getting into trouble with the other kids. Eventually he stops going to school altogether and locks himself in his room all day.

Despite having people who care about him and growing up being praised, Subaru truly hates himself. He even admits he wishes his loving parents would beat him and get rid of him, because he thinks that's what he deserves. It feels devastating to him that someone as low as him would receive any form of love. He intentionally tries to make himself a lazy and worthless human being, hoping it will cause people to resent him the way he resents himself.

In the trial, he finally has to confront this aspect of himself and he does so with success.

3. Twilight’s backstory - Spy x Family

“I didn’t know anything. I never did. I didn’t know the real reason the war had started. I thought there wouldn’t be a war at all. I’d been convinced they’d all died in the bombing. I hated the enemy without knowing why. I picked up a gun without knowing why. I obeyed my country without knowing why. Ignorance isn’t bliss. Ignorance is weakness. Ignorance is a sin.” - Agent Twilight

Despite being a comedy manga, Spy x Family does not shy away from the horrors of war, especially when it gives us Agent Twilight’s backstory. The arc opens up on Twilight and his friends as children playing a game about war, and Twilight is by far the most into it. As we continue and see him talk about the political conflict and clash with his father, we find out he strongly glorifies war and demonizes the enemy, the country of Ostania. He’s been fed propaganda against the enemy, even to the point where he and all the children believe the Ostanians are literal monsters. But then a war completely breaks out and steals everything from him. His town is bombed, and then the town he and his mother escape to. His mother is killed in the second bombing and he becomes a homeless war orphan. When he’s older he joins the military, determined to crush the enemy. He becomes a very capable and destructive soldier.

His life changes after meeting his now friend Frankie, an enemy soldier who thinks the war is stupid and pointless. He’s disillusioned when Frankie tells him that the Ostanian’s were fed the exact same propaganda as the Westalian’s on Twilight’s side, and that both sides are just human beings fighting a pointless war. He realizes he’s been living a life of ignorance. This is how he becomes a spy and vows to prevent another war from every happening again.

Overall, this arc is one of my favorite pieces of anti-war media I’ve seen. It depicts how dangerous and evil propaganda and ignorance is, and how it turns people against each other only to feed a political agenda. The panels depicting the aftermath of the bombings are truly chilling, and Endo doesn’t sanitize how horrible the war is, even if this is normally just supposed to be a funny manga.

2. “A World Unbent” - Natsume Yuujinchou

“If I keep going, I might find out how to get rid of this thing. Without it, I won’t have to feel so irritated. I might be able to be a nicer person. Even to my family…” - Natori

“Maybe things look distorted because you try to see through these useless things.” - Matoba

The episode that solidified Natori Shuuichi as the best character in NatsuYuu for me. This backstory depicts Natori’s introduction to the world of exorcism. The plot itself is simple enough, but it’s such a beautiful character study of the character who's sadly received too much undue hate from the fandom. We see the big contrast between present day Natori and teenage Natori watching this. The former is friendly and charming and the latter is standoffish and irritable. It truly gives us a look into his inner turmoil and psyche that we don’t get to see as often in the present day.

Natori as a teen is shown to be very detached from people and surroundings, and he describes his world as “wavering”. He meets teenage Matoba, who is sure of himself and confident and never wavers. Natori immediately finds himself unable to deal with Matoba despite him being his first peer to share his abilities. He resists his assistance, fearing his accomplishments will mean nothing if they come with the help of someone more capable. We see that Natori is desperate to become strong and good enough by himself.

Contrary to how he acts present day, we see that Natori has a very low and fragile view of himself, even feeling that he’s a bad guy. He's an outcast both at home and at school, and has no one he can lean on. He's enticed to the world of exorcism, especially after meeting Takuma, who treats him with kindness. He wants to become a stronger person who helps people, and he looks for this in the exorcist community. He also hopes to one day find a way to get rid of the ominous lizard youkai that crawls around on his body. If he gets rid of it, he wonders if this will let him become a kinder person.

While present day Natori is someone who does not wear his heart on his sleeve, "A World Unbent" allows us to see deeper into him and his character in complete vulnerability. There's a beautiful aching to the narration of this episode which rivals the rest of a series full of beautiful aching narration. It makes it clear how deeply Natori is hurting, and how much he's longing to find something he can cling to in life and how much he yearns to be a kind person. It's just overall a beautiful backstory episode that provides so much depth to an already well written character.

1. “Dark Era” - Bungo Stray Dogs

“I joined the mafia because of an expectation I had. I thought if I was close to death and violence—close to people giving into their urges and desires, then I would be able to see the inner nature of humankind up close. I thought if I did that… I would be able to find something—a reason to live.” - Dazai

“Be on the side that saves people… if both sides are the same, choose to become a good person. Save the weak, protect the orphaned. You might not see a great difference between right and wrong, but… saving others is something just a bit more wonderful.” - Oda

Are my NatsuYuu followers surprised I ranked something even above "A World Unbent"? Long before I even watched the series my brother told me that this was the best backstory he’d ever seen. He was right. Dark Era follows the last few living days of Osamu Dazai’s friend Oda Sakunosuke, a character not introduced until this arc. Despite being best friends with the violent Port Mafia executive Dazai, Oda is a low ranking member who doesn’t kill people. His reason for not killing is that he wants to become a writer. A person who takes lives has no right to write about them. However, after getting caught in the plot of a foreign ex-military group whose boss desires the perfect person to kill him in battle, he’s driven to violently eradicate the group after they kill the orphans he’s been providing for.

Although he still has his goofy moments, we get to see how terrifying and dark Dazai was as a Port Mafia executive, ordering executions and beating and threatening his then subordinate, Akutagawa. Pointing a gun at Akutagawa’s head, he contrasts himself with Oda, a man who protects orphans and doesn’t kill people, saying the light of righteousness is not on his side. We see him at the very end of his mafia career, as Oda’s death drives him to leave.

Before he leaves to fight the group, Oda hears from Dazai that the reason he joined the mafia was because he wanted to be close to the violence and bloodshed and people giving in to human desires, hoping in it he’d find some meaning in living. While he’s dying, Oda tells Dazai he’ll never find that and he’ll never be able to fill the dark lonely hole inside of him. But he goes on to say that if neither a life of helping or a life of killing will be able to bring meaning to his existence, he should choose to become a better person and live his life saving people. That’s a more beautiful way to live.

Dazai follows his dying friend’s advice and leaves the violent Port Mafia to eventually join the Armed Detective Agency where he works now. Oda’s words were a beautiful way to approach someone as nihilistic as Dazai who saw no meaning in life and abandoned ideas of what’s good or evil. If there’s no meaning in a life of killing or a life of saving, it’s more beautiful to choose the side that saves people. Dazai's nihilistic worldview isn't argued with or challenged. Oda never tries to convince him that there will be meaning in his life if he keeps searching for it. Instead, he reminds him that beauty and good can exist in life, even if it is meaningless. Good and kindhearted Oda deeply cares for Dazai despite his friend's darkness and lack of morality, and in the end he's able to find the right thing to tell him that makes him change his lifestyle to become a better person.

Dark Era, in my opinion, is the masterpiece of Bungo Stray Dogs and is a beautiful story all on its own.

#bsd #natsume yuujinchou #spy x family #re zero #mushishi #bsd dazai #bsd odasaku #natori shuuichi #matoba seiji #loid forger #natsuki subaru #ginko

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whenshesayshush · 2 years ago

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Okay okay, I need to experience Musa being left to care for Terra’s plants while she’s gone, but she’s way in over her head so she has to call in Riven (aka smug plant nerd) to rescue the plants before they die an untimely death.

“You should teach,” Musa interjects in the middle of Riven’s TED Talk about the cell regeneration properties of finely ground Nyctagina thorns.

They’re both elbow-deep in soil, every inch of her bedroom floor covered in ceramic pots, half empty bags of potting mix and dead leaves, with them sitting in the center of it all. Aisha and Stella had fled the scene over an hour ago, like caring for Terra’s plant babies while she spent a few weeks of their summer break finally introducing her father and brother to her girlfriend — accompanied by Flora’s fullest moral support — hadn’t been a responsibility entrusted to all three of them.

It had seemed like such an innocent request. The suite was home to about seven times more plants than fairies, but according to the Earth Fairy herself, all they needed to continue thriving was mindful watering, a light pruning in case of overgrowth and some gentle verbal encouragement.

Maybe they shouldn’t have left the watering to a water fairy. Or the encouragement to… well, Stella.

Three weeks in and Musa had pretty much written her eulogy, to be read at the service after Terra strangled them all with vines upon her return. The emergency meeting Aisha had called at 5:40am was only slightly less unwelcome, and mostly consisted of them listing any Earth Fairy not home for the summer they could possibly ask for a favor. It wasn’t until after her third latte that Stella had pointed out that the top botany student from her year wasn’t a fairy, sporting a grin that was only rivaled by the one blossoming onto the face of the aforementioned plant nerd at Musa’s shameless begging shortly after.

“What?”

“Remember when you told me you’re not sure yet what life after Alfea will look like for you?”

“What I said was that I had expected to be expelled and selling drugs by now, but yes.”

Musa rolls her eyes at his wry self-deprecation and rubs her forearm across an itch above her eyebrow, unknowingly wiping a smear of dirt onto her forehead. She misinterprets Riven’s snort as a reaction to her eye roll.

“You could teach,” she continues, “You should teach.”

“I hate people,” he points out, lifting the terracotta bowl planter he’s just filled with three Hyptissas to inspect the result.

“But you love bossing people around,” she counters.

The gleam in his eyes tells her exactly where his mind goes after that statement. She flicks a spare stem cutting towards his face, but it falls short and lands in his lap.

“I’m serious, Riv. You’ve been on the Training Grounds for ten, sometimes twelve hour days, making pretty much all of us better fighters. Silva would hire you in a heartbeat if you told him you’re interested. And you’re clearly still very passionate about botany as well. I think you’d be really good at either, and you have a year left to prepare.”

They know that the odds of a quote unquote normal school year are slim to none. No one knows what the Blood Witches are brewing, but they can all tell they’re in the eye of the storm. It’s ominous, eerie, and yet they don’t have specific orders right now, which is how they can be sitting on the floor of her dorm repotting her roommate’s plant collection and talking about a post-Alfea future as if it’s a given.

“Thanks, Pixie,” he shoots her a subdued but genuine smile. “But I actually figured it out already.”

She stops what she’s doing, giving him her full attention. “Really?”

“Yeah. I’m going where you go.”

It takes seven seconds before she remembers to breathe in, and when she finally does it’s a shaky thing. “Yeah?”

He shrugs one shoulder, “It’s hard to find a good fairy partner.”

Her eyes flick over the lines of his face. They haven’t really talked about it, their synchronism, their tether, the way gravity seems to be pulling them towards each other as much as to the ground, but they’re aware that they both feel it, even now, suddenly a lot closer to each other. His hand reaches up, wiping at the black smudge on her forehead with his thumb, huffing a laugh when that inevitably only makes it worse.

“Well,” he drawls, preparing to get up, “you’ve not come out of this battle unscathed, but I think we’ve managed to revive enough of them to avoid calling it a bloodba—”

She pushes up onto her knees and brushes her lips against his, gentle and hesitant, nearly over before it begins until he leans down and slots their mouths together in earnest. His hands move to cup either side of her neck, a thumb on each cheekbone, the grittiness of the soil on his palms scrubbing her skin. She runs her dirty hands up his light gray T-shirt, curling them into the fabric and pulling him closer, his body warm, steady and right against her own.

When Terra comes home four days later, hugs the three of them in thanks and asks them to plant-sit again over Christmas, Musa’s the only volunteer.

#happy random Thursday in February babe #so grateful for you #I know this probably isn't what you were expecting #but it's where they took me #ftws rivusa #rivusa #ftws riven #ftws musa #fate: the winx saga #fate the winx saga #my writing #mine

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hiraeth-witch-11 · 2 years ago

Text

Bond to Happen Part 2

Part 2: Meeting Matt Murdock

Warnings: healing injuries, fantastical racism

Word count: 1700ish

You woke up feeling sore, and thirsty. Pushing your eyelids open, you winced at the bright light streaming in through your windows. Wait a minute, you had no natural light in your apartment, where the fuck were you. The events of the previous night slowly flitted through your mind as you struggled and failed to sit up.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a voice- was that Murdock?- said to your left. Matt walked around into your view, wearing black street clothes with a scarf wrapped around the top half of his face.

“What,” you coughed at the scratchiness in your throat. “What happened after I dropped?”

“I had a friend pick us up and brought you here to treat you. I’m surprised you survived. You lost more blood than you should've been able to live without. You got any sorta explanation for that,” he asked.

“Dumb luck,” you said. Lie. “Thank you, I appreciate the assistance and I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I can stand.” You gave an awkward laugh.

“You called me Matt last night. Got an explanation for that?” Shit. That’s what this was about. You had slipped up and revealed your knowledge. You wondered what Matt would do now. You decided to lie, again.

“Did I? I don’t remember that?” You shrugged and grimaced as your stitches were tugged taught from the movement.

“You are lying to me,” he hissed. You obviously weren’t a very good liar if the blind man could see through you. Then again, you knew his other senses were stronger than they should be, so it wasn’t like he was clueless.

“Gimme a second to breathe. I’ll explain.” You didn’t really have any good options and you had no energy to try and see a better path. You took a deep breath.

“I’m a witch, or at least that’s the word most people use. I see things that others don’t. Know things I shouldn’t and try really hard to avoid getting tangled in shit like last night. I’m not going to out you, and even if I did, you could report me for unlicensed magic usage or reckless endangerment or some shit and I would be fucked. They would test me and the evidence wouldn’t lie. I’ve been trying to lie low and mind my business.” You took another breath. “I just want to go home and sleep for a week. I’m not going to do anything to harm you or the people you care about.”

Matt stood quietly for a few moments before removing the scarf from his face. “I believe you. Why did you help Karen if you are trying to lay low?””

“She came into my shop a few weeks ago and I saw danger in her future. I couldn’t pretend I didn’t so I put a sort of trace on her, I guess you might call it. To tell me if she was in real danger. It called me and I came running.”

“You put your freedom at risk for a stranger?” Matt said, just slightly incredulous.

“What was the alternative? Knowingly let someone with that much blood in their future meet their fate alone? I guess she wouldn’t have been. You seem to be her friend?” You asked cautiously.

Matt gave a small nod.

“I guess she’ll be alright then. I should’ve looked closer and not assumed-” Matt interrupted your rant as you realized your almost death would have been useless.

“No, you did the right thing. Those men were going to hurt her and you stopped them before they could get far. Thank you.” He was so sincere, his face so soft and kind.

“No problem,” you said. “ Is she okay?”

“Yeah. A couple bruises and a minor concussion, but she’s had worse. You on the other hand, almost died. I’m guessing your … abilities … are why you are still breathing and why I can hear your injuries knitting themself back together.”

“You would be correct. I’ll heal a bit faster cuz of my inherent magic.”

“You could do a lot of good with those abilities of yours. You could keep your identity hidden-”

“Let me stop you right there, my friend.” You managed to sit up. “I am on empty. I couldn’t move a fucking feather if your life depended on it. I’m going to be out of commission for a while. And even if I wasn’t, I don’t usually have enough energy to do anything on a regular basis.”

Matt looked thoughtful. “I’m sorry to disappoint,” you said sincerely.

“No, I’m sorry for being inconsiderate. If you don’t mind me asking, why are you always running so low? I thought magic users could refuel in different ways and store up their strength.”

“You would be correct. My specific type of ‘feeding’,” gods, you hated that word. “Is difficult for me to do inconspicuously and is very um… not quite intimate, but definitely not something you do with a stranger.”

“You feed on people?” Matt asked, posture stiffening and gaze hardening.

“No! I mean yes, but not like what you are thinking. I’m not a vampire or a soul sucker or anything like that. I don’t hurt people when I do it. I mean I could if I actively tried to, but I don’t do that.” You hurriedly tried to explain something you really hadn’t wanted to divulge.. There was a reason you kept yourself off the registry. It was bad enough to be a witch in this day and age. A witch who fed from people would have to have an active guardian and would live with restricted rights unless they've reached a certain age with a clean record. You never wanted that.

“Explain.”

“You know how people give off heat, right? And you can hug someone and get warm without stealing their body heat and hurting them, as long as you aren’t significantly cooler in temp than they are. It just kinda passes between you and builds up? It’s sort of like that but with life force for me. I feed through touch, mainly. People give off an aura of sorts which is just the energy they are sending into the world. It all is connected in some way and I need it to be able to use my magic and to live. So touching people for extended periods of time would give me energy without hurting them.” Gods, you hadn’t told anyone about your abilities in years. Not since your parents disowned you. You couldn’t find anything on the internet that showed a precedent for a feeding method like yours. Only things about witches draining the life from others to strengthen themselves or bleeding people in a sort of pseudo-vampiric way.

“Then why don’t you feed more often? If it is as harmless as you say, I’m sure someone like yourself could find a willing person to ‘spend some time with’ regularly.”

You blush, understanding what he meant. It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried. “I’ve tried that and it doesn’t work out well with strangers. Some of them I can handle a hug from and everythings fine. I can keep myself from hearing and seeing them in ways I don’t want to. Others are just… wrong. They don’t have good intentions or aren't good people and that is enough to push past my walls. It uh, it hurts. Physically. If I move away fast enough, it's just an electric shock. But if they don’t let go, it’s like I’m burning. I’ve spent so much time on my own and moving between places that I don’t have time or the people skills to build a long term connection with others. And I don’t try to find people because I don’t want to risk getting found out or experiencing that overwhelming attack on my senses from someone who my magic doesn't like.”

“How are you still alive then? If you avoid touching people?”

“I get a little bit of juice from what's in the air around groups of people. It's not always comfy but it doesn't hurt like direct contact. I’ll go to a club and sit somewhere for a bit and soak up the energy. Like osmosis. I call it filter feeding. It’s not much, but it keeps my heart pumping.”

You trusted Matt not to turn you in. After talking for a bit longer, you found out that he kept his abilities private as well. It wasn’t illegal in the way you were, but it gave the two of you something to connect over. He didn’t agree with restricting and registering people just because they had both magic and were human.

Vampires weren’t restricted, they managed themselves. The same with most pack shifters. Law enforcement only stepped in if the Alpha’s couldn’t manage their own people. Just about every other supernatural creature was free from documentation. The farthest mandatory registration went for them was putting their species on their driver’s license. If a new supe was made, they would be reported in the next census. Everything else was optional. Why? Because these species fall into the ageless category. Vampires, incubi, succubi, anything that fed directly on people, don’t age. Shifters age slowly, the stronger they are, the slower they age and they often have overlapping abilities or sub specifications like siren, mermaid, or hunter. When the supernatural world went public in the 1700s and later was fully integrated around the 1800s, the ageless were so deeply woven into governments and monarchies. They were the richest, most powerful people, so they made the laws in their favor. The ageless took advantage of the fact that most witches were covenless at that point in time. They turned witches into the new ‘other’ while also carefully cultivating what a witch was. Powerful, multifaceted, generally female, and unpredictable. Those with small magicks like telling the weather from anywhere in the world, hearing heart beats, even something as powerful as healing were just differentials, not real witches. Those who did spells and manipulated the world around them were the real witches.

Things had been going well for the witch community in the recent decades. You’d been hopeful about being able to come out of the broom closet fully one day. But a hateful president quickly demolished all progress and whipped the country into a witch hating frenzy. The current president was working to repair the damage, but it was too little too late. Things would only get worse from here.

Series List

#the punisher #billy russo x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #witch!reader #fluff #angst

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