#I’d just also like a semblance of coherence

[feminist-mina-harker]

As a show, TANIS is laughably bad.

The writing is terrible. The storyline is terrible. The characters are 2D at best. The showrunners clearly never had an endgame in mind, and just kept building up wild shit that will never connect in any kind of satisfying way.

But I gotta say, the Vibes it gives off are 10/10. Really wish I could find something with the same energy that isn’t poorly-conceived nonsense.

[outerwilds-events]

Tugging The Tether

(content warning- guy dies via proximity to sun and then cries a ton. also like very minor sensory overload moment)

-

“It fired, Yarrow. But it failed.”

What?

“The sun station is useless. It will never, and could never, cause the sun to explode.”

No. It- it can’t be, I-

I rush over to the Nomai calculator to see how much time I have left before the station gets consumed, desperately clinging on to whatever semblance of order I have left. 

This is moving too fast, I need to process this all, I- Shit, there’s only a minute? No, wait… But I'm not ready, I- 

I feel my body tremble, my fingers are slipping. Skies, I'm so sweaty.

The supernova, it’s- it’s natural? No, it- it can’t be. I was so sure that they did something, AND- and that I could switch it off!!

I stumble backward, unable to string my thoughts in order. Trying to regain my footing, I lean against the wall, struggling to find something stable. My thoughts are moving too fast, the sun is moving too fast, I need to pause, but there's no time, I- I can't THINK!! Shit, it’s so hot in here. 

Okay, Agate, you can do this. You just need to calm down. I definitely don't have time to leave and make it to my ship. I’m stuck here, alone with my anguish.

This can't be it, I've come so far- But if the supernova is natural, then what the HELL is this time loop FOR, then? All this struggling, all this anguish and for WHAT?

Oh, my skies, it's so unbearably hot.

 The Nomai wouldn't just- stop, right? There has to be some other answer, some place I haven't explored yet. Oh, it doesn't matter right now, I'm gonna die in a couple seconds anyways. I’ve died to a supernova countless times before, but it's never been like this. All the other times the sun has nova’d on me, it was over in an instant. With this, the sun is inching closer and closer to the instant where it consumes the station, and therefore, me. But until that instant arrives, as every millisecond goes by, the heat gets increasingly painful. There's nothing nearby that'd be a quick way out and there's no way I'm gonna be able to meditate under these conditions.

It’s starting to hurt my skin now. I feel my retinas literally burning, and I turn away from the sun in whatever feeble instincts I have left to live, to survive. I’ve never burned alive this slowly, it hurts so much. My spacesuit is all charred away, and my clothes underneath are starting to burn away as well and my skin is close to catching fire. The worst part is I can feel my organs, too- they're melting. It's getting harder and harder to breathe, I'm so dizzy, I can't stand any longer. I collapse to my knees, the ground is melting under me, and the gravity sucks me in closer and closer to the sun. I'm heaving and heaving, but I can't get any air. My skin catches fire, and I open my mouth to scream, but I have nothing left in my lungs. I can’t form coherent thoughts, everything is being drowned out by the immeasurable pain I'm in right now. All that escapes my mouth is a feeble cry in agony. The gravity mechanisms the Nomai installed in the ground finally give as the station around me crumbles and I fall into the sun, feeling for an instant the most intense, indescribable pain before I 

 Suddenly I have air again, and I gasp like it’s my first breath, but it sounds less like a gasp and more like a hollow, empty scream. I see that fucking view again. I can’t be here right now. I’d rather be literally anywhere but here, but my body doesn't want to move. My world is reeling, and even though my physical body is safe now, I can still feel my body burning like a marshmallow vividly in my memory. I can't shake the dizziness and the panic.

 I hear Slate’s skiesdamned voice, but I don't care to listen. It’s just another reminder letting me know yet again that I've failed. I look down at my hands, blinking, still heaving. Fury fills me. Despair fills me. I can’t see anything, my vision is blurring. Slate says something again, and I vaguely make out their form setting their marshmallow stick down. I can't do this anymore. I really can't. I’m shaking, I shut my eyes. 

There’s so much happening. My clothes aren't fitting right on my skin, the campfire’s heat is hitting my back and I hate it and I’m sick of the fact that I can't remember my last meal but I'm never hungry and I hate that.  I’m angry. I’m so so angry. But I’m so so sad. And so so upset. And so confused and overwhelmed and anguished and many things all at once and nothing and everything and I just need a moment to fucking process. 

I can't hold it in anymore, and everything I've been bottling in in for the past however long it's been(days? weeks? months?) exits me in a shuddering sob. Tears stream out, and suddenly I can’t stop. All of this stress, the stress of the entire universe on myself, the stress of avenging the Nomai, the stress of how long this has taken and dying over and over, it's all so much. I collapse in on myself, gasping. There’s not enough air to fill my lungs. Slate runs over to me, and suddenly I hear their voice in my ear and their arm on my back, failing to steady me. 

“Hey, calm down, kiddo, what’s wrong?” I place my hands over my eyes to try to shove the world away. I need it all to cease to exist for a moment so I can be on my own. I have nothing left for anyone else right now, I can't bear to look at them. They aren't real. This isn't real. They’ll die in a couple of minutes. And then they'll die again. And again. And again. We all will. I scream. And it feels like there will never be a way out. And I scream more. And then the scream fizzles to a sob, and then another, and another, and I can’t stop. 

What else can I even do at this point? There's no way out anyways. I lower my hands enough to see Slate’s face, and I sob even more. Everything they were passionate about was for nothing. Their work is useless now. It meant nothing. They can't understand, how could they, but I can’t do this. I feel disconnected, I am untethered, drifting further and further away from a sense of reality.

All of a sudden, I feel Slate’s arms grab me, and then they pull me into a tight hug. My head is sitting on their chest and their arms are cradling my head and torso, like a caretaker cradling a hatchling. Everything ceases for just a moment as I am pushed back to reality. I can’t help sobbing more, despite the embrace. it was as if I was pulled back down to the ground in just one instant, and the shock of it startled me.

Neither of us spoke, and instead just sat there. Eventually my sobbing quieted down and I just stared forward. Slate didn't say anything and neither did I, we sat there together in silence.

After a little while, they finally spoke. “Kiddo, what’s up? A bad dream?” Their voice was soft and gentle, their rasp present but without its usual sharpness. I choked down another cry, bracing myself to speak. I tried to think of what words I could possibly use to even begin to describe the overwhelming hopelessness I was experiencing. After a minute, I eventually decided on something, and I opened my mouth. A small voice, one I no longer recognized, spoke.

“I never wanted this.”

-

i'm not sure if I'm submitting this right, I've never done submissions before, so I'm not sure how to format this. If I need to resubmit or something, I'm sorry! Let me know and I will fix ::)

Tags- 

@sawyer-is-eepy

#campfire fest #campfire fest 2024

[takeyourcyanide]

This is going to be difficult for me to coherently put, but I’ll try.

The Mind Electric (Miracle Musical) means a lot to me - which is really saying something. I’ve been religiously listening to it for years now, and I only wish I could’ve discovered it sooner, as little me would’ve been astounded at just how relatable it was. It would’ve been a sort of comfort, just as it is now.

I don’t know if this was what they were going for when writing the song, but it is possibly the most accurate and respectful depiction of schizophrenia I have ever seen within any form of media. And it’s only more impressive if none of the members of the band happen to be on the schizophrenic spectrum themselves.

(A lot of rambling about the lyrics and shit and the song below the cut)

I don’t even know where to begin with the song itself. It is the most profound and excellent piece of art I have ever had the pleasure of listening to. It expertly tells its story through not only what are some of the best lyrics I have ever heard, as someone who listens to everything under the sun, but also through all of the background noises and conversations that even play during the singing itself. The distortions are representative of not only fading, incoherent, burning (caretaker reference), and non-chronological memories, but also the desire to possibly not think of oneself in a certain way or simply not seeing oneself in a particular light (the referring to himself as insane) but being forced to, or struggling to recall one’s memories. The way in which the song builds up, only to hit at the end is masterful. The way in which he begs, he pleads for just a semblance of sympathy and understanding - for the help he has become so utterly desperate for… There are no words that can convey what I’d like to express. The background noises can also be representative of not only the electric chair (various zaps and such), but also hearing whispers and indiscernible sounds at random times (schizophrenia). I love how they depict just how the judgmental, pompous, and stigmatizing nuns, judges, and doctors can ultimately be, especially towards those with a mental illness - like in the lyric “here in my kingdom I am your lord I order you to cower and pray.” In the lyric video, pray flashes between pray and prey, which can be interpreted as both these mental health professionals preying on their patients, especially at the time the electric chair was thought to be a good form of treatment, but can also be interpreted as your own brain preying upon you, you being the prey in its kingdom. Oh and this also goes along with the line “condemn him to the infirmary.” It is detailing how patients are treated in psychiatric wards and hospitals and such, of course. Perhaps it’s a bit of both. They wonderfully depict how cognitive decline feels - how it feels to observe as you agonizingly deteriorate before your own two eyes, and how no one seems to understand what is ultimately happening, simply settling on essentially torturing you (electric chair), not taking you seriously or listening to you because you’re below them and “insane.” I love how, at the end, he says “Doctor, I can’t tell if I’m not me.” A constant in and out, losing yourself and gaining yourself back momentarily, only to feel yourself being taken away by the static once more. You’re too distracted by the incessant noise, by how difficult it is to simply live to even bother with whatever you used to, only making it more difficult to live - a constant cycle, a constant battle. By the end, there will only be a shell of what was once you. You can either accept their “miracle cures” or die. You can tiene accept their scrutiny or face the most horrifying death imaginable. Because you have to live and watch as you still have your body, but not longer yourself. I love the line “see how your brain plays around and you fall inside a hole you couldn’t see.” Precisely. You don’t even realize when you fall into the hole. Things are just exponentially worse, but it’s as though it’s always been that way, and you know no else. “Please help me understand what’s going on inside my mind.” At this point, you’re willing to accept their medication, their torture, because you can’t fucking take it anymore. It’s a desperate plea. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why am I so different? Why I am struggling so much? You cry out for help only to be either turned away or judged throughout treatment, treated like a dog needed to be whipped into submission.

And GOD do I love “see how the serfs work the ground and they give it all they’ve got and they give it all they’ve got and you give it all you’ve got til you’re down.” BECAUSE YES. Absolutely. You give it everything, but you’re essentially fighting a losing battle. You walked into a war you knew you were going to lose and fought like hell anyway, only to end up institutionalized, or unable to simply exist anymore.

Just every single lyric. Every single fucking lyric. I could go on about this forever with anyone who would be willing to listen. I have more to say.

Not to mention nuns being involved, as religion was often viewed as its own cure if I’m not mistaken, like schizophrenics used to be thought of as demon possessed. It’s clear this is set somewhere in most likely the nineteenth century, as many source say electric chairs/electroconvulsive therapy were in use primarily from the 30s to the 70s. They declined in the 60s and 70s, but apparently saw a resurgence in the 80s. Anyway. The way it begins with the whole song in reverse? Anyway, I am done for now.

[anewnewcrest]

What mods do you use for this save, if you don’t mind me asking? I’m assuming MCCC to override the household member limit, but anything else?

And how much autonomy do you allow these nincompoops? For example: did David Johnson autonomously start flirting with Henrietta, or did you script that? I’d be very impressed if you have entire storylines written out in advance, but managing to turn sim AI into a coherent plot also takes mad skills.

Just for my own amusement: do you have a favorite family/sim atm?

Thank you for asking, please feel free to ignore my incoming ramble, I am constitutionally incapable of keeping things short (but you read the blog, so you probably already know that).

I use MCCC to override the household limit and increase the limit of sims allowed on a lot up the wazoo so I can get everyone assembled at church or the Johnsons' house. I also double the bills and half skill gains and career performance gains (and in some cases just stop career progression entirely if it doesn't suit the story), because the game makes it too easy to accumulate wealth, and them all being rich and not struggling with finances would really take the fun out of the Fundies (and really, with their education, they're not supposed to get promoted anyway).

For the religion content, I use Rambunctious Religions.

For screenshot purposes, I also have pose player and teleport any Sim (obviously), in addition to that Control Any Sim (invaluable if you have people from other households who just won't do what you want them to), Less Musical Chairs and No Stand Up to Greet from LittleMsSam, and a few mods that remove effects such as food sparkles and floor sparkles and sparkles around heads and other cosmetic things similar to that, as well as a few to turn off fade on trees and columns.

As for things peculiar to Fundie gameplay, with as often as everyone is pregnant, LittleMsSam's Pregnancy Overhaul is also a must, because if those ladies can't exercise during their pregnancies, they'll never exercise. I also got the Unlimited Jobs mod from Turbodriver because if you've got eleventy kids, one job really doesn't cut it, and you need a side job for your side job. Also a mod for them to keep their instruments in their inventory because these kids are always practicing the violin and keeping their instruments in any semblance of order is a chore. And Adults can Cry which is obviously critical for them to express their misery with their choices.

There's also a lot of modest clothing CC (even though I try to keep it rather minimal - I rarely succeed). And I recently installed Healthcare Redux to spice up the whole thing a bit, because I was getting a bit bored with gameplay lately.

As for how much autonomy they have... very little, I'm afraid! I'm a bit (more than a bit) of a control freak, and I have a large SPREADSHEET where everything is accounted for. I usually have a Sims' general life direction planned out before they're even born (so I can start giving them the personality they need for their plot starting as young as toddlers, and also so I can start dropping story hints), though sometimes they do surprise me (Chelsea leaving was not planned that way, she was set to get married and have a lot of Fundie kids, but then she rebelled so hard and I liked her so much that I just couldn't do that to her, and Sharon Graham was supposed to be a Fundie lawyer lady in a politically influential Fundie power couple... but then I couldn't do that to her parents).

Stories shift around as they develop and I get to know them (honestly, I thought Baker and Lily would be a boring standard-issue Fundie couple together and then I wrote them and I realized all the issues they have from the way they grew up and I couldn't just not add that to their relationship dynamic!) and see how much I like them or not, and whether I'm having fun with them, whether they get along, or if it would be weird for them to end up together, and I also have a long, long list of ideas to draw from if I totally draw a blank with a kid (which does happen). As for Henrietta, she was made for having an affair with David, quite literally, the poor woman.

As for my current favorites... I really like Mark and Kathryn Graham a lot, because they're some of the very few decent folks I currently have in the game, and Mark's just living his best life right now. And on the other end of the spectrum, I'm absolutely, ridiculously excited about Priscilla Sawyer (née Johnson) starting her arc, because while she's not a good person, she will be so much fun, and rebelling hardcore against the Fundie wife mold. Max Sr. and Jr. have no idea what's going to hit them.

[unnaturalequilibrium]

I’m actually having a good time with the new Willow series. Objectively it’s not a great show, and it’s such a contrast coming off Andor which is. But the thing with Willow is that I don’t need it to be objectively good when my subjective enjoyment of it is as deep as that of Andor. However I wasn’t entirely sold until the third episode though, the first two had the right kind of tone and matched that with surprisingly likable characters, but it wasn’t until the third episode that it felt - right. Part of the charm of the original movie was that it didn’t take itself seriously and was just one long swashbuckling chaos endeavor. The movie’s idea of a plot quickly disappeared in a series of locations in which as much chaos as possible was rained down upon and by the characters. So the two first episodes of this felt a little too traditional in the sense that the plot was a little more coherent and seemed to rein in its chaos. But by the third episode they completely let those reins go and we are back into the barest of a semblance of a plot with mad chaotic adventures loosely strung together by a bunch of charming characters making questionable decisions. It’s a joy to watch really. It’s not high art, it’s just a heartwarming good time with action and adventure and so many quirky little aspects and ideas. I pretty much felt like one giant fantasy improv session - Oh you want French Brownies? Sure why not. You want two-headed troll mutations created out of  bubbling brains? Coming right up. Could you turn everyone into pigs? I guess, why not. Is there room for a sleigh ride? I don’t see why not. And whoever asked and answered those questions in the original seems to have ghost-written this episode. If I say lesbian lumberjacks inhabiting the gingerbread house? Yeah, I think Gary’s got enough denim for it. Rat king but Zombie rat king? I thought you’d never ask.

It’s silly, but it’s fucking fun. I hope the rest of the season continues like this, because in the winter dark at least Wednesday evenings will be a little brighter. Only shame is that this is the kind of old school adventure show I’d love to see a few seasons of, because it’s not about the goal, it’s all about the journey. But I  also know just like the original that it’s not the kind of thing that will find an audience upon its initial release, which is a bit of a shame. I'll enjoy the adventure while it lasts though. And if you want a reason to just smile a little give it a go.

[lamialamia]

Hi there! Secret Santa back with a second message for you.

First of all, thank you for your answers last time, they have been very helpful! I’m still in the process of outlining your fic (I randomly got a shit ton of new ideas and have spent this morning organizing them into a semblance of coherence). It’s been so fun to build this world for you. I thought it would be a struggle since it’s not territory I’ve explored before, but it’s actually been a relief with how fresh it feels to try something new!

That being said, I have a few more questions before I dive into actually full-on writing :)

1. I did some completely normal and not at all weird stalking of your profile and saw your reblog of Sledgfu headcanons, one of which was your idea that Snafu nudges Sledge’s neck. Immediately that sparked something for me and I would love to include that hc in your gift, but I wanted to ask your permission first since it was your idea! It feels a bit too much like theft for me to just use it without checking first haha!!

2. Are you at all interested in receiving the work as a gift on Ao3 when it’s published (as in I actually dedicate it to you and gift it to you)? It’s totally okay if you don’t want a gift work and would just like the link, but I just thought I’d ask in case you want it to feel more like an actual present!

3. And finally, as I’m sure you can tell, I am like…incapable of shutting the fuck up. What I mean by this is that the outline for your gift is already 1.6k words of literal bullet points of underdeveloped ideas and dialogue, so the fully fleshed out and written fic might end up being a bit lengthy (though I intend to keep it as a oneshot). Is this something you’d like me to try to tone down on? I know not everyone is interested in reading something super long LMAO. Just let me know either way, I’ll do my best!

And that’s all the questions! :)

Also, this is just something amusing that happened during this process: my original summary for the fic was almost identical to one of yours, completely by accident. I’m so glad I went and checked out your writing before I ended up leaving it like that. That would’ve been so embarrassing lmao

P.S. Your header image makes me laugh every time I see it, love it!

P.P.S Your tags on my first ask made me so happy! :)

Sorry for bombarding you once again, and I look forward to hearing from you!!! 💞

Hey Secret Santa!!!! <3

I know that feelings when a fic idea gets out of hand, I have been there, I have done that. It's a blessing and a curse lolol

Ok, about your question:

1/ Yes. My hc is not a property but like dandelion seeds I blow into the wild. Anyone can catch it and blow it away. This metaphor is weird. Anyway, yes, pls use any headcanon on my blog as you wish.

2/ Yes. You can gift me the fic on Ao3 :D

3/ As long or as short as you want to write. I love long fic, I love short fic, I love medium fic. Because fanfic is a labor of love so any length is perfect <3 I mean, the fic I'm writing for my giftee is getting long too! but it's about the story and not the WC, ya know.

Thanks for everything <3 love ya

[hannie-dul-set]

“i'll take your word for it and no one else's.” [lee jeno]

SUMMARY | maybe snooping through your friend’s phone wasn’t that much of a good idea. or maybe it was. either way, you didn’t regret it. PAIRING | lee jeno x reader GENRE | friends to something, fluff, lots of bickering JHDFJ WARNINGS | swearing, invasion of privacy (LMAO idk) WORD COUNT | 2.1k TAGLIST | @danishmiilk​ @lucyinthesunshinee​ @sehunniepot​ @nct-writers​ @czennienet​ @neowritingsnet​

a/n: i didn’t think i’d turn another one of my dreams into a fic, but here we are HAHHAHA i tweaked a few bits and pieces to make it work (setting + added some dialogue + changed the ending because i WOKE UP before it could finish hmph) but please enjoy this unscheduled fic!! <3

early summer afternoons were warm.

bright rays of the sun were showering on your skin as you lounged on the park bench, hot enough to make you feel the season but not too hot to singe your skin. it was the perfect weather to waste the day outside, and your younger brother and cousin decided to haul you outside so they can play basketball at the park.

but you didn't know why your friend jeno decided to come along.

"your brother messaged me," he grinned at you, plopping down beside you with a long, refreshed sigh. a towel was slung around his neck and he used it to wipe the sweat on his face. "what? why are you staring at me like that?"

"since when were you close with my brother?"

"am i not allowed to be friends with the little guy?" he joked, but apparently he took the unamused look on your face completely the wrong way. "oh my god, are you afraid that he'll take all my attention away from you?" to further tease, he brought his smug face closer to yours that was dumbfounded in shock, his stupidly irritating smile moving in closer.

sometimes you wondered if this was the same boy who helped you cross the street the first time you met.

but you loved him nonetheless.

"like hell i want your attention," you sneered, lightly shoving him away with a glare. he only laughed at your display of annoyance. "go back to playing with the kids or something, you goof."

the never leaving grin in his face seemed brighter against the sun, and he playfully ruffled your hair before running off to disappear into the court.

"as you wish, m'lady."

you let out a huff of air, rolling your eyes as your cheeks were involuntary tugged upwards, prompting a smile to form on your lips. you brought your hands to your hair, fixing the mess that jeno left with, and your gaze landed on the phone he left beside you. the screen flashed on. someone was calling him.

brows knitted together, you picked up the ringing phone, unable to recognize the caller id. you brought the device to your ear, standing up walking towards the court— you figured that you'd just answer whoever that was now and just pass it on to jeno once he was at reach.

"hello?"

"oh, hello there!" there was a pause from the caller "is lee jeno around, miss? would you mind giving the phone to him?"

the voice was that of a middle aged woman's, but it wasn't someone that you recognized. you assumed it was a relative of his or something because you'd know that this was his mom if it were her. "ah, give me a moment! i'll just look for him."

your feet stopped at the edge of the court, the sound of a ball bouncing into the concrete jarring against your ears. not bothering to look at the scene in front if you, you covered the mic with your hand before deciding to shout.

"jeno! someone's calling you!"

there was no usual prompt answer from your friend.

"he's not here!"

the loud voice of your brother answered instead, causing you to narrow your eyes into the court scene with a tinge of confusion masking your expression. there was indeed no mop of blue hair within the area, and you were only confused even further.

"where did he— aish, nevermind."

scratching your head, you swiveled your heels and decided to just head back to the bench. "hi, sorry. i'm not sure where he is right now. so if it's fine with you, can you call him again later? or maybe i could just tell him to call you back when he returns?"

"oh, then can you just relay this to him? it won't take that long, i promise."

you inwardly sighed, but agreed nevertheless. oh, you were definitely gonna ask him to treat you and the kids dinner later. why the fuck did he just disappear like that? now you were responsible for memorizing whatever this woman was telling you (apparently it was about an architecture summer program he was interested in— the lady was a head from his department and she was just calling to tell him that he was accepted. she says she'll be forwarding more details later through text).

"alright, thank you! i'll be sure to inform him when he gets back."

the call ended, and you groaned. you were about to close the phone, but then all of a sudden a notification appeared with a quiet ding!

[haechan 🌟 liked your retweet.]

ding!

[ohhh shit why do i feel like i know who this is.]

"huh."

you knew that you shouldn't be snooping inside your friend's phone. you knew that you shouldn't be invading his privacy no matter how enticingly juicy the bait was. you knew that it was flat out wrong. but—

"ah, just a peek," you clicked on the notification. "payback for making me deal with his stuff."

a hint of excitement rushed through you. jeno never told you his twitter. actually, you didn't even know he had one. he was always buried with studies, sports, and friends so you didn't expect him to keep up with social media— this fact enough was surprising, but the moment the screen finally loaded the tweet

you were even more surprised than you were a few seconds ago.

[@markly tweeted: "it's kind of funny how sometimes we just meet random people at the most random of moments and you don't expect it but they just end up sticking by your side until now"]

[@leejeno quoted: "yeah. a few years back, i saw this girl while i was walking. it wasn't the usual path that i took to school. i saw her having trouble crossing the street because there was a dog hanging around (she's scared of them) so i decided to help her. she couldn't even look at my face back then out of embarrassment but earlier we were calling until four in the morning. if i took a different path that day or if i didn't help her, i don't know how i'd be like right now because she's become one of the most important people in my life."]

your heart skipped a beat. two beats. three. it was running a mile a minute and you could barely even breathe to catch up.

[@do0 replied: how are you two right now?]

[@leejeno replied: "we're good haha. i'm going with her and her brother to the park later. we're still really good friends.]

[@leejeno replied: but i'm not sure if i want things to stop there."]

"hey, sorry for running off there. i went to get some— whoa. whats up?"

oh my fucking god.

you shot up, eyes wide, and you automatically turned off the phone. broken stutters left your lips, as the leaping of your heart to your throat prevented you from saying even a semblance of a coherent sentence. all you could think of when you met his worried gaze, the way he rushed to your side to check on you, was the last thing you read. your grip on his phone tightened.

but i'm not sure if i want things to stop there

you were gonna fucking lose it.

"hey, are you okay?"

quick, gentle hands landed on your cheeks, fingers brushing against your skin like a match igniting a flame. you nearly got lost and tongue-tied all over again, but you quickly slapped his hands away in a scolding fit. "jesus christ, i'm fine. you just surprised me. are you a ghost or something?" you glared at jeno, but it only lasted one second because you couldn't bear to look at him without your insides going crazy. because of that, your eyes flicked to the plastic bag he dropped onto the bench. he brought you something to eat.

"a-and before you ask—" you defended yourself indignantly when he didn't even accuse you of anything. "i wasn't snooping. the school called. it was about your summer program. you got in."

"oh? they called already?" you nodded. "ah, let's talk while walking— the kids are mad because i only got you food. they're asking me to buy the entire store for them to compensate," he released an airy laugh. you mentally scolded yourself.

keep it cool. you repeated the mantra inside your head as you strided beside jeno, your brother and cousin racing ahead of you. street lights were lighting up and the sky was fading into the night. cool cool cool cool cool. keep it cool.

the walk to the store felt way too gruelling than it normally would. it wasn't even that far. you told jeno everything the lady had told you, including the more detailed texts that she'd be sending later on. you thought that he'd be a lot more excited after hearing— he was interested, after all. but to you, he just seemed dismissive. "should i go?" he mindlessly asked.

"what are you talking about?" your brows furrowed. "yeah, of course. you wanted to, right?"

"but it's gonna last an entire month this summer," he yawed, stretching out his arms and hooking you by the neck, causing you to halt and stumble into him. you held back a squeak, and he looked at you, eyes gleaming with curious anticipation. a car sped by. "you still want me to go?"

those damned words that you read echoed inside your head again. you wondered if it resonated into the fucking nerves of your heart, as well.

"i—i mean," you stammered. "it's only one month. and it would also help you a lot in the future, right? you'd make a lot of connections during the camp. so yeah, i do want you to go."

he blinked at you. a hum sounded from his closed lips. he let go of you and resumed walking. you gaped when he left you behind.

was this karma?

"hey, what the hell?" quickly, you caught up to him, grabbing onto the sleeve of his shirt so that you could hang on to him. "why are you being sulky? i didn't do anything wrong!" technically you did do something wrong, but he didn't have to know that.

"you said you wanted me to go."

"you're a baby," you scrunched your nose is disapproval. "i only said that because you said you wanted to go."

jeno abruptly stopped. maybe you were causing a scene in front of all the passersby, but you really didn't give a fuck anymore when your head was in a looped up mess. all thanks to your extremely difficult friend who apparently doesn't want to just be your friend. you swore that he was driving you insane on purpose.

he pulled out his phone and faced the screen to you. your sweat dropped.

[@leejeno replied: but i'm not sure if i want things to stop there."]

"even after reading this," he started. "you still want me to go?"

"w-well."

he just had to be so fucking sharp. well, you weren't exactly slick either. maybe he saw a glimpse of the screen before you got to turn it off earlier. heat started to rise from your neck into your face, a grinding mixture of embarrassment and desire to be hit by a moving truck afflicting your nerves. why were you the one suffering? shouldn't it be him?

"no."

he hummed, turning off his phone and shoving the device into his pocket. arms crossed, he leaned in to your face, bearing a look of feigned innocence. "but you said i'd make a lot of useful connections."

"you can make those anywhere."

"and it's only a month, right?"

"that's thirty days too long."

"and—"

"oh, come on!" you exclaimed, balling your fists in vexation. another car sped by with an accompanied honk. jeno simply wore a look of faint amusement at your little outburst. "i don't want you to join your stupid summer program. happy now?"

"well, if you say so."

you stared at him. he patted your head, eyes disappearing into a pair of crescents with a smile.

"i'll take your word for it and no one else's."

you were left frozen and dumbfounded in the middle of the sidewalk as jeno brazenly spun his heels to chase after the runaway kids that went before you— literally leaving you behind. letting a curse slip past your breath, you also went after them. he was definitely driving you insane on purpose.

sometimes you wondered if this was the same boy who helped you cross the street the first time you met.

this was one of those times.

"you said you weren't gonna go, you asshole!"

"payback for snooping through my phone!"

but you could still love him nonetheless.

© hannie-dul-set, 2020.

[shera-dnd]

So I watched The Secret of NIMH for the first time recently and just

We really freaking need more mom protagonists

Like Mrs. Brisby is definitely not what you expect out of your action adventure protagonist, but she still goes on a whole wild ass quest to save her family, and that just makes everything so much more interesting

That adorable little rat mom just brings like a new perspective to this kind of story and I appreciate it a lot. Especially considering how samey a lot of protagonists in those stories feel

And now I'm just thinking of like

Hey what if Nora from FFXIII survived and got to join the party too

What if Willow from RWBY had also trained to be a huntress (I mean her dad is a badass and she definitely has the family semblance)

What if Inko from MHA was allowed to be a hero as well as a mom

There are so many cool moms out there in fiction that could be their own protagonists of their own cool stories. Just a bunch of people who can be both moms and total badasses, and I wish we got to see more stuff like that

and motherfuckers if I wasn't neck deep in a dozen other projects I'd be writing all those AU fanfics right the fuck now

look this isn't half as coherent as I wanted this to be, but I just woke up and I'm rambling because one cute mouse lady from an 80s movie got me thinking about shit

[tattdazn]

Becoming Obi (M Warning)

3/?

“Hello, hello gents, looking rather dashing in those uniforms this afternoon.” Obi waggles his eyebrows at the first one to look in his direction. This one’s definitely the junior of the two, Obi can see the roundness of youth still set upon his features. A twinge of mirth begins to bubble from deep in his chest.

The man looks slightly bemused and disconcerted. 

Obi chuckles, “My oh my, don’t you have the most charming eyes…” to which the gateman just shuffles his feet and looks downward. But Obi isn’t done, “... and your partner here,” he shifts his gaze to the senior gateman, “... he exudes a quiet sort of strength from under that tunic.” A wink and another waggling of eyebrows towards the gateman. 

Now both are looking at Obi, one mouth agape, the other eyes squinted and lips thinned.

“What business do you have with us… sir…?” begins the obviously agitated senior gateman. 

This gets Obi rolling back onto his heels as he places his hands on his hips. Leaning slightly forward from the waist, he says with a shake of his head, “Ah, no, not a sir, just a guy here for supplies and rest like all the others passing through,” a pause to wink at the flustered one before continuing on. 

“I just thought I’d give you gents a little compliment to brighten up your afternoon is all.” His implied shrug laced into his voice and posture. Raising a hand to wave it airily between the men, “please, carry on and keep up the mighty fine work that you do,” he chuckles, full of mirth, as he leans away from the senior gateman, hands resituating themselves now behind his head. Interlacing fingers, he rolls back to the balls of his feet, eyes half lidded, watching the men with partial smirk.

The unimpressed gateman eyes him. “I see…” sniffing as he looks Obi up and down, “very well, as there seems to be no cause for a search…” an eyebrow raises towards Obi in question with the obvious intentional delay for response. 

Obi readily pipes, “Oh,” he breathily touts, “most assuredly not, unless you feel the absolute need to get a more hands on experience,” another pause, a rise of an eyebrow as his lips quirking into a grin, “so to say… good sir?” 

Obi’s eyes dance with heated mirth, the jesting getting more and more worth every second of human interaction. Sputtering as cheeks start to tint while eyes are widening to saucers, “NO! No,” shaking of hands and head, “no, that’s… that’s not, no, not necessary… not at all…” his stuttered words cut out, the now red faced senior gateman looks to his compatriot for words, hell for any aid at all. 

The junior gateman, now mostly collected, attempting to gauge himself at how well he is hiding his own laughter speaks up, “Ah, s-sir, no…” shakes his own head, “...traveler, s-sir…”  a light snort escapes him but he presses on, “ahem, you are welcome to continue into town,” he gestures past the gates, “and welcome to Sea Port…” finally free of words, the younger gateman raises a hand to cough snicker into it, then drops it and waves Obi onward with a little gleam in his own eye.

Ah, Obi thinks to himself, perhaps I’ve made a ‘friend’ out of this one, he walks past the men and through the gate. Hmph, maybe he’ll know where I can get some good cards going tonight, Obi considers. Hand raised in a half salute against his scarred brow towards the gatemen, his grin sliding from his face once he turns fully towards the market. The disquiet has slithered back into his gut.

Obi half saunters, half dodges through the amassed crowd of people, the smells overwhelm and the sounds all but destroy his ability at coherent thought.

HOW?! How can people… people like this? His mind is thundering to itself. The swirling of discordant thoughts and feelings threatening his ability to mask into indifference. Sweat beads on his brow as his eyes dart around him. The noise also threatens to consume the small semblance of balance he managed to attain before entering the town. Obi pushes through the bustle, hand pulling his cowl up to his nose, shielding it from the afronting scents assaulting it, but it’s only a small relief. His free hand instinctively flexes towards his hip to brush at the hidden pouch of shuriken, feeling for their cold steel, a strange twisted comfort sought and found but lacking.

Obi’s eyes search through the crowd, his anxiety collapsing into his senses by the second.

It’s not his first choice, but he ducks into a darkened alley beside a stall and takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself for a moment. His lungs feel like they’re starved of air, his heart is pounding and pulsing, his blood searing hot throughout his veins, his hands are trembling. He claws at his shoulder, as the other hand shakely swipes at the sweat on his brow. His chest is tight as he pulls ragged breaths through gritted teeth, Obi is too close to an attack.

- THINK! Supplies, bed, food, drink and then I can rest… just… breath… it’s nothing. It’s not danger I’m sensing, just… just people here… too many, sure, but it’s just normal FUCKING people. I’m good; this is fine. -

He breathes deeply, chest shuddering, holds it, then a second passes as he feels his heart thump furiously against his ribcage. He lets the air rush out between his gritted teeth. Realization hits that his teeth are gritted and his jaw is clenched, that his hand bites into his shoulder and his brows are furrowed over eyes squeezed shut tight. He’s hunched against the wall and tremors are wracking his body. Sweat is dripping down his spine and speckling his skin where clothing doesn’t hide it.

When? 

“Release the clench, both hands and jaw,” Obi quietly murmurs to himself. He coaxes his own hand free of his surely bruised shoulder. “Deep breath” inhale; exhale, “and let loose my tongue, breathe and relax your face.” Inhale, he straightens himself against the wall, exhale, he’s no longer hunched. “Stand up, take another breath,” inhale, Obi pushes away from the wall, exhale, “open up your eyes, and with another breath relax your shoulders.” Inhale, he lets his shoulders drop from beside his ears and begins to open his eyes, exhale, tears unshed slide from his now open eyes, inhale, he wipes at the silent solitary tear tracks and under his chin where the tears gathered, exhale.

He’s done this dozens of times, and he’ll do it a dozen more, at the very least. “Supplies, find a tavern inn, bathe and get a hot meal. I’ll feel better. I always do.” His mental checklist now on repeat, silently he ticks off what he needs one by one, he looks out into the buzzing crowd. It’s daunting, but he’s settling into a semblance of calm, he can handle these… people.

Obi steps from the darkened alley, walks past the stall and back into the crowd. The ebb and flow tries to pull at him, but unwilling to be hauled along he stands firm, a stone in the stream. They begin to warp and slide around him instead, as water would move around the stone in its path. This adjustment suits him, he doesn’t go with the flow, because flow makes him feel like he’s drowning. No, no flow, just follow the checklist and he will be fine.

~~~

The stall he approaches is covered loosely on three sides with colorful fabric. What kind, he isn’t sure of, but it’s billowing in and out with the little puffs of the breeze blowing in from the waterfront. The air itself is now heavily laden with salt and spice, the latter of which surprises Obi pleasantly. The familiar scent of spices draws him closer to the stall. He lifts a cloth, darkened by dyes, from the table to inspect as he casually rubs the cloth between his fingers. It’s a well made wool blend, but he isn’t focused on it as he’s still trying to place the familiar smell of spices to memories shut away; lost. He stares blankly into the fabric, lithe fingers unconsciously tracing along the seams. 

The stall worker seemingly takes this as his interest in the item and whirls from where she stood off to the side to where he stands holding the fabric absentmindedly.

“A very fine choice for the handsome gentleman, would you like to see it on?” Obi startles, but quickly dons his mask of neutrality.

She proffers, hand gesturing towards a mirror hanging precariously from one side of her tented stall. Eyebrow quirked in question, Obi cocks his hip and cants his head to the side. She is undaunted and raises the question once more, “Would you like to see it on your person, good sir?” Her hand draws his eyes towards the mirror. Looking between the mirror and the cloth, he realizes it’s a heavy cloak. Eyeing it more intently he considers it for a moment then looks at the stall girl, ah but no, she’s not a girl. Before him is a woman.

Hmm, I wonder…

“Hmm, what do you ask for this fine choice?” Obi is now inspecting her; a slender figure but, hmm, she’s not… unappealing… rather, she seems a bit underfed, he contemplates the fragile appearance of the woman before him and notes the harsh lines of her cheeks and the darkened circles of her eyes. Her soft smile learned to belie the mistreatment so obviously etched into her small frame. He’s no stranger to them: servant-slaves, supposed wives that are little more than animals by way of treatment by their men… their husbands.

His fingers itch again.

“Would you not like to try it first, good sir?” her demure voice bringing him back to the conversation. She’s trying very hard for the sake of the sale; it’s the least he can do to try the damned thing on. Obi nods briskly and brushes past her towards the mirror. She shuffles to the side but follows suit, eyes cast downward, behind him ready to offer any assistance.

His gaze hardens.

She looks up silently with a solemn nod and barely there smile, asking for him to proceed. 

He’d been staring at her.

He shakes it loose and full to its intended length and admires it in front of him. The cloak is very fine indeed.

His jaw loosens.

“Did you make this, Miss?” he asks, glancing back over his shoulder at her briefly and grateful his tone is even. 

“All the items within this stall,” hand sweeping to include the tables covered with assorted clothes and wares, “are made by people from my village and myself, yes, but in answer to your question, sir…” she looks up with a small timid smile, “yes, that one was made with my own hands.” Her gaze drops as she dips her head. Hmm, Obi again thinks, I wonder…

He slides it over his shoulders and it settles comfortably. The muted gray-black suits him. He pulls the hood up and over his head and it shields his eyes just so. He doesn’t notice when she moves behind him to reach up to smooth the cloak across his shoulders and back. Distracted, his focus instead is on the filigree on the edges as the embroidery virtually blends into the cloak. 

Her hands slide across his back and he tenses then twists involuntarily to snatch the stall woman’s hands between one of his. A gasp and eyes blind with shocked alarm and fear, she looks like she’s folding into herself.  Ahh, fuck, Obi realizes what happened a second too late. He abruptly releases her hands and looks at her for a moment longer before closing his eyes and cracking his neck. She stifles an eep with her hand. 

Her hands, they’re calloused and scarred, like his own.

He sighs roughly through flared nostrils and removes the hood before unclasping the cloak. Her fear is radiating off her and it’s making it hard for him to stay calm. Inhale, he looks at her for a moment, exhale, then speaks to her as gently as he is capable. “This is very fine indeed, Miss. I will take it.” He pushes it into her hand and looks away.

“Ahha, y-yes s-sir, very fine ch-choice…” 

Eyes downcast as she folds it with deft hands, she walks to a table where she wraps it with that fluff paper and twill all these merchants seem enchanted with. He groans internally, but he allows her this. He hadn’t meant to frighten her, so this he can do, if she’ll stop shaking.

She looks up cautiously, her words come faintly, “Would the kind sir like anything else…?” 

Her voice is still strong, even if it is quiet and still tainted with fear. Obi shakes his head in the negative and looks to her hands again. Inhale; exhale. He peers into her eyes before speaking, “This is all I need, Miss; however, when you are done for the evening, would you join me for a meal? I am but a simple traveler, alone as you can see,” hands gesturing about them, “and I would like some company for my evening meal if you would be so inclined?” He tilts his head and offers her as warm a grin as he owns.

“I,” she hesitantly starts, looking stunned, “I am sure that the kind sir could find much more…” hand whirls in a small circle, “enticing company for this evening?” Her voice steady, quietly rising to a slight pitch at the end of her speech. She looks bewildered.

He chuckles, “Not what I was asking of you, Miss, just a meal and my treat. Nothing more.” 

She eyes him skeptically. It looks like the gears in her head are on full crank and steam. He wonders what she’ll say, but her face gives nothing away.

She starts to incline her head before looking back at him. 

“Sir,” less hesitant, she tells him, “the cost is 20 copper for the cloak.” She motions to the package, then begins to gesture around herself and the stall, “I am not sure when I will be done for the evening. If it pleases you, then you are most welcome to check back…” pause, “should you find a more accommodating companion, though, I should not begrudge you the fact.” Her head now in full tilt and eyes trained upon him. 

He likes that her spirit isn’t broken.

She holds out the parcel to him. Obi takes out the coin and places it within her outstretched hand while removing the package. Slowly, he tucks it into his pack, taking the time to watch her out of the corner of his eye, he then settles it against his back again. Nodding, more for himself than for her benefit, he offers again, “Understood Miss, though I certainly doubt I will.” She begins to speak but he holds up a hand to hold off her words of rebuttal. “I can come back for you later.” He raises an eyebrow now to see if she has any other words for him, but it seems she has none.

He turns and begins his saunter away from her stall, but before he’s out of earshot he hears her release the breath she had been holding. She might not have known he was listening but, he’s Obi, he’s always listening. He smirks.

Hmph, I suppose I will come back, he chuckles to himself.

~~~

Obi continues through the market with ease, making the rest of his purchases without incident. He tilts his head, thinking of the young woman at the stall with the cloaks and assorted fabrics, a grin teases its way across his face; she is another reason he’s feeling less agitated. Ah, I never figured out the spices, he realizes a little begrudgingly. He makes a mental note to ask her where her village is located and what he was smelling while he was shopping at her stall.

Looking at the waning crowd, he makes his way to the inn he had noticed while walking around gathering his supplies. It’s not overly large, probably only has ten rooms at best, but it has a tavern on the first floor, his nose told him so. It will suffice for the night.

The door is not ornate and the windows have seen better days, but they are clean and there isn’t a lot of rubbish outside the establishment. Someone takes pride in the upkeep of the place. Obi pushes the door open and there is a barely audible creak, it's not something most would notice if you weren’t listening for it. He’s always listening for it, a grim smirk fits his face as he saunters to the counter, eyes narrowing in the low lighting, he is greeted by a cheery face.

“Welcome sir, are you looking for a room for the night? We also have baths, both private and a map to guide you to the public ones, should you have a preference to either!” She’s quick, Obi’s smirk turns quickly into a genuine one, he quickly interjects before she can continue on.

“A single bed, one night at least,” he winks at her with a half grin, “but the private bath would be very appreciated.” He wolfishly insinuates towards her. Obi’s already noticed no ring, and she’s got a pleasant demeanor. Why shouldn’t she assist him in getting clean, he chuckles before looking her over with amber eyes and words filled with honey. “Is that something you will be handling?” His eyes linger over her ample figure as he says in a lower tone, “My private bath?” Obi’s eyebrow slowly climbs his forehead. She's become a lovely shade of pink, a blush gracing both apples of her cheeks and, he notes, is making its way down her neckline. 

“O-oh, oh, u-uhm,” her eyelashes graze her pinkened cheeks, eyes lowered and lips slightly pursed, “I… I, uhm, w-will h-have so-some-one b-bring the b-bath t-to y-your r-room f-for y-ou, s-sir.” She chances a look up at him, oh he’s enjoying this, then she swallows and looks back to her fiddling fingers. Her eyelashes flutter as she attempts to look at Obi again, she’s begun to fidget with her lower lip between her teeth. I wonder what’s flitting around in her head, Obi starts to speak…

 “I a-am… I am be-betrothed, sir.” She quickly startles out. Ah, Obi again chuckles, but of course you are, he changes tactics.

“Do not be alarmed, I do not intend to cause you distress, miss, I only tease.” Obi graces her with his most charming smile, teeth flashing whiteley against bronzed skin, his eyes dancing as he looks into hers. “I will take the room and bath. You have done more than enough to oblige my shameless flirtations and I should take my leave,” he waggles his eyebrows, winks and holds out his hand for the room key. 

“Ah! Oh, hah, of course!” Her flushed skin becoming a deeper shade of rosy pink, and my isn’t it lovely, she turns and pulls a key from a hook. Straightening her skirts she turns back to Obi and places the key in his outstretched palm. “The room is 5 Silver and the bath will be 50 copper, sir. Should we collect your clothing for washing?” She smiles shyly.

“I would appreciate that, yes, and how long before the bath?” He’s ready for a deeper wash, and soaking in a tub will make his joints feel better after the day, no, the weeks he's been out in the wilds traveling. 

“We should have it for you within half an hour, if that pleases you sir?” 

Her earnestness is almost too much, he’s tempted to tease her again.

Obi nods, “That will be just fine, I will have my clothing ready to be taken to be cleaned when you arrive with the bath.” Obi turns to leave, but stops to glance back at the entirely too innocent and sweet face once more to devilishly grin and wink, “I do hope that your betrothed appreciates what a good woman he has promised to him.” He catches the little gasp and fluttering hand that covers her mouth, the pink returning to her cheeks before resuming his walk to the stairs. He feels the laughter building in his belly but doesn’t release it until he's nearly to his room.

Obi’s beginning to like Sea Port. Laughter still dancing lightly across his features, he opens the door to his room and steps inside.

The room is the second from the top of the landing, the bed is pushed against the far wall and there is a window across from the door. Obi takes note of the small table beside the window as he walks over to it, removing his pack from his shoulders and setting it upon the surface. Rolling his shoulders and neck, he runs a hand down from the base of his hairline to his shoulder blades and lolls his head back.

A deep and almost shuddering breath fills his lungs as he contemplates the evening. He’ll bathe and return to the stall to collect the woman. Bring her here to join him for a meal. She needs better care, and he’s of a mind to give her as much as she’ll allow while he’s in town. He'd been on edge, earlier at her stall, after her reaction to him. He was still raw from his own near anxiety attack and had missed her subtle movements. She normally wouldn’t have been able to get behind him without his notice. Just thinking of her abuse makes his fingers twitch, and he wants to at least feed her a proper meal, if only just for one night.

He hadn’t gotten her name.

[acciofanfics]

Could You Shut The Door? (Newt Scamander)

Pairing: Newt Scamander x FemReader

Warnings: Not smut... but almost. A very shy Newt, and I think that’s it?

Summary: An excited Newt barges into your room and quickly becomes a very nervous Newt who got quite the eyeful. 

A/N: So this will turn into smut, I just started typing and it started to get lengthy so I figured I’d turn it into a 2 parter. Hopefully this isn’t too OOC and that’s about it! Let us know if there’s anyone else in the HP-verse that you’d like to see in a similar situation or a more wholesome one 😂 - S

(Y/N) had always been close with the Scamander’s. Her family lived right down the street for years, so she’d grown up with Theseus and Newt. And given the fact that their parents were close as well it was no surprise that she would stay with the Scamander’s for a few nights. In fact, they would be taking her to King’s Cross to board the Hogwarts Express in three days time.

What was surprising was the scene that Newt was beholding. He hadn’t meant to just barge into the room that (Y/N) was staying in; he had been just so excited about spotting the fairy they were trying to lure into the garden that he completely forgot about the concept of knocking. As excitable as he had been to come running into her room, Newt now stood frozen and wide-eyed. (Y/N) stood before him in nothing but what seemed like a smaller than average towel.

Newt didn’t mean to gawk, but he found himself unable to do anything else. (Y/N) was cut from a different cloth than Newt, she seemed to be completely un-phased by the situation, “Umm Newt would you mind just coming in and shutting the door behind you?”

Newt followed the instructions she had laid before him, although he felt like he was doing something wrong she seemed so calm. “So what has you so excited this evening, Newt?”

Newt knew that if his face wasn’t already red that it certainly was now. It wouldn’t be a lie if he were to admit he had harbored a crush on his childhood friend for a few years now, and Newt wasn’t stupid he could see that there were times he let his nervous nature shine through. However, (Y/N) and Newt were pretty much the best of friends and he didn’t usually feel shy around the girl. Now however he was having a hard time even forming a single word, “I- I.. um I mean- I saw a f-fairy in the garden.”

“Seriously?! Is it still out there?! We have to go check!” (Y/N) grabbed Newt’s hand, her towel slipping ever so slightly. One of the reasons Newt found her so alluring was her shared love for creatures, of course he couldn’t really recall many of those reasons at the moment. Only the ones on display in front of him.

Newt grabbed her other hand before she was able to swing the door open. “You’re... not dressed.” He felt weird having to remind the girl. How could she forget? Or at least not care... it was entirely odd.

“Oh! Sorry, that would definitely be embarrassing.” (Y/N) chuckled thinking about how disastrous the situation could’ve been. “Your mum, dad and Theseus seeing me naked would definitely not be appropriate.”

“What about me?” Newt managed to squeak out.

She felt terrible. Clearly the poor boy was about to faint and she remained oblivious to it until he brought it up. Something about Newt always put her at ease, she couldn’t ever think of a moment around him that she had ever felt embarrassed or insecure. Except for this one where the thought crossed her mind that she had been taking the comfort he provided her for granted. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize... and that sounds stupid. I should’ve! Of course this would bother you!”

As strange as he found (Y/N) being at ease, he didn’t much prefer her feeling uncomfortable. “I’m not bothered- I just- I mean- you’re... and I’m... I can’t help but- I’ve kinda- please make me shut up.”

They were definitely close enough for (Y/N) to know what was going on. She’d had suspicions that he returned her feelings, but she also knew of other classmates he was close with so she hadn’t wanted to assume. Of course there was probably no hope of their relationship returning to innocent, oblivious friendship. In a moment of bravery, she released his hands and dropped her towel.

Newt felt himself swallow loudly and he swore he his heart was beating so fast that he could hear the thumping in his ears. He kept his eyes locked on hers, it was quite difficult to do. He asked her to shut him up and boy did she. “You can look, Newt.”

He still hesitated for a moment, afraid it might be a trap or a dream (he’d had similar ones before). But soon his resolve broke and he looked (Y/N) up and down. He was 17 years old and he wasn’t stupid, he definitely thought about this, he just prided himself on being a gentleman enough to push those fantasies to the depths of his mind. She was gorgeous though, every inch of her exposed to him, it was hard to keep those thoughts at bay now.

“I’m hoping your silence is approval.”

“Merlin, yes...” he didn’t know if he could come up with a coherent sentence, “Can I...”

She smiled and nodded. He thanked the heavens up above that she wouldn’t make him finish; he wasn’t sure he could handle it. His hands reached out for hers slowly and she chuckled when he paused again. Newt frowned slightly, he wasn’t sure what she expected from him. This was a lot to process... he wasn’t as brave or outgoing and she was (that was probably why she was sorted into Gryffindor much to his dismay). Feeling disheartened by the laugh his grip on her hands loosened a bit, he was all but ready to drop them completely and retreat to his room or to a cold shower one.

(Y/N) meant nothing by the chuckle other than her fondness over his demeanor. Feeling his semblance of confidence wavering, (Y/N) dropped his hands and before Newt even had a moment to feel disappointed she had grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him down so she could kiss him. Newt had always been rather tall and lanky, especially compared to her so while she would’ve preferred not resorting to drastic measures like yanking his clothes it was really the only way.

Newt hadn’t minded the assertiveness after all, in fact it was comforting. He melted into her kiss and found himself unintentionally moving closer. Newt had kissed a girl before, but this was definitely different. The way she moved her lips against his was a different sensation than he’d experienced before and it was all that he could do to keep up with her and he only tore away from her when it was physically necessary to breathe.

“I’m sorry... I’m not... I haven’t had a lot of practice.” Newt admitted hesitantly, but he felt he owed her an explanation. He didn’t want to disappoint her.

“Well if that’s the case, you’re a natural Mr. Scamander.” (Y/N) offered up a reassuring smile. “Although, is if you’d like more practice we could-“

“Yes!” His cheeks reddened at his own outburst, but he smiled cheekily at her.

“You know it’d be much easier if you’d sit down. You’re a bit tall.” She led him to the bed where he sat on the edge. Newt glanced to the side where he expected her to sit beside him, but his breath got caught in his throat when she placed herself on top of him. For the first time he thought he may have seen her second guess herself, “Is this alright?”

Unable to speak again Newt just nodded lamely. He hoped that he wasn’t making her feel like she was pushing him into something he didn’t want to do. Of course she was pushing him a little, but into something he definitely wanted. This was something he imagined quite a few nights, of course in his dreams he wasn’t acting nearly as pathetic. With (Y/N) sitting literally on top of him there surely wasn’t a way she couldn’t feel that he definitely approved of her straddling him, but just in case he willed himself to not act so afraid. Newt placed his hands onto her waist.

It wasn’t quite as forward as he could’ve been, but she was dealing with Newt Scamander, the sweetest and shyest person she knew. She smiled and reconnected their mouths. Newt seemed a little more at ease this time, as strange as it sounded it was it did seem quite natural for his lips to be moving against hers. They just seemed to move in sync, occasionally their tongues would brush and her teeth scrape his lips making his grip on her waist tighten. He was prepared to apologize for the pressure, but when she broke away she attached her lips to his neck and the only thing he could do in retaliation was dig his fingers into her flesh further. She shifted her hips slightly to get better access, when she did so Newt could help but let out a small moan. (Y/N)‘s lips twitched into a smile against his skin. “Newt, your parents are downstairs. We should be quiet... I mean if you want to continue?”

Read Part Two Here.

[kimetsunoyaibawritings]

Introspection

[AO3 Version] | [Original Request]

Rating: General

Summary: When a rainstorm threatens Tanjiro's travels through the countryside, he takes refuge in the home of a kind stranger. During his stay, he discovers that not only is his host of half-demon blood, but their mother had also been a member of the Demon Slayer Corps.

Tanjiro is nothing if not curious, and learns more about the multifaceted world of demonkind, hopefully growing ever closer to undoing the curse upon his sister.

Tanjiro could tell that something was off. From the moment that the man had entered into his physical perception he knew that something wasn't quite right. The man -- you -- weren't entirely human. Neither were you entirely demon, but he couldn't get much detail behind the simple fact of otherness that permeated the air around you with every shift of your body.

It wasn't a bad smell either. In fact, when you bowed in greeting, he found the gesture scented with honesty and friendliness instead of hidden malice or insincerity. He bowed in turn, and the two of you exchanged names. It didn't take long before you took note of his weapon, and much less after that to realize that the wooden case hefted against his back held something far less trivial than one would have assumed. Not something, but someone.

His nose was sharp -- for a human, at least. Yours was just as honed, though the ability came from your mixed blood than from a rare natural gift. It took but one breath with a defined focus to realize the young man you'd met was hardly a normal person.

Demon Slayer.

The words held some semblance of meaning. Nothing with coherent form; they were words passed down to you from your parents, spoken with such fearful vitriol that you had to wonder what kinds of people became such Slayers of Demons. Surely they would be bloodthirsty, heartless souls that would so willingly strike down such simple people without due thought or consideration to what their sins truly were -- assuming that existence itself wasn't a sin for a demon.

But as Tanjiro stood before your eyes, you had to reconsider the image that had built up behind the words. He did not look bloodthirsty. He didn't even seem aggressive. But he still carried the nichirin blade that you'd been warned of, and you had to wonder how many demons had been killed at the mercy of its sharpened edge.

So you, a half-demon standing before one so named a demon slayer, do the careful thing:

You invite Tanjiro to stay with you for the night.

Truthfully, Tanjiro isn’t in a position to reject the offer. he’d been traveling for several days through the rolling landscape between the mountains, and he could smell a thunderstorm coming in. For all that he couldn’t understand you or your strange scent, Tanjiro really had no reason not to trust in his kindness.

The house you called your own is humble, too far from the nearest village for anyone to randomly stumble upon you without incredible forewarning. Tanjiro is actually quite the rarity, one that you find some manner of joy in meeting — the last person you’d met was half as kind and barely a fraction as patient.

“Are you a demon slayer?” you find yourself asking barely a moment after the two of you have stepped into the narrow threshold of the front doorway. Beyond is a home consisting of a few rooms at most, minimally furnished but meticulously cared for.

Tanjiro barely has the chance to set his gear down, but he flashes an earnest smile in your direction.

“I am,” he says. There’s pride in his tone. “Though I’m a little surprised. Not a lot of people recognize us that quickly, unless…”

“No. I don’t have any connection,” you quickly dash his assumption aside. “But I recognize the uniform and weapon you’re carrying. Nichirin blade, correct?”

Tanjiro blinks, but the look of warmth never quite fades from his face even as he nods to affirm your suspicion. It sates your surface curiosity, but it doesn’t offer any sort of clue as to what is in the box he’d carried upon his back. For a moment you wonder if it would be rude to inquire about it, but shrug the notion off quickly when you remember how strange the box smells. Not weapons, not rations, but something softer.

“What’s in that box of yours?”

Tanjiro’s entire frame stiffens. In barely a breath’s worth of time, his demeanor tightens up and leaves the young man looking tense and unsure. With one hand gently laying upon the wooden surface of his cargo, he says, “Something… very important to me,” he then reaches his other hand up, fingers splayed open and shaking as if to ward off concern. “-but I promise it’s nothing dangerous.”

You can smell a soft trace of anxiety around him. While the unexpected reaction incites a spark of curiosity within your chest, it’s not without a resounding sense of restraint and mannered respect for Tanjiro’s privacy. If he doesn’t wish to share the nature of it’s contents with you — someone who is little more than a stranger to him, admittedly — then he is under no such obligation. Still, you purse your lips for a moment in disappointment before lightly gesturing for him to step further into the house with you.

“I’d been cooking food when you arrived,” you say gently. “Clean yourself up and I’ll serve us both something hot to eat.”

It doesn’t take very long before the two of you are sitting together, sipping at the brothy soup that had been bubbling away for the entirety of the earlier afternoon. Though the majority of the meal is somewhat silent, Tanjiro’s eyes move about the room, taking in every detail that raises above the floor and out from the walls. It doesn’t take a genius to realize how well he fits into the ideal of a Demon Slayer — Tanjiro is perceptive and foolhardy with at least some basic talent for the blade on his hip.

Beyond that, however, you’re not quite sure what is to be expected of him as a slayer. He’s very kind and respectful… but those are hardly the traits you’ve come to associate with the title. Everything about the young man demands curiosity, so much that you don’t realize how his gaze has settled onto one particular spot on the wall behind you. By the time you remember what is hanging openly, Tanjiro’s lips are already forming a question -

“Whose sword is that on your wall?”

You don’t even turn your eyes around to look at it. The object has taken a defined place within your memories — you can’t forget the shape of the blade, the texture of the hilt, or the soft smile of it’s previous owner even if you genuinely wanted to purge them from your thoughts.

A sigh escapes your lips after a few moments. “It belonged to my mother,” you explain after a moment. When Tanjiro’s rust-colored eyes light up, you decide to answer the question just behind his lips. “And yes, it’s what you think it is. She was a demon slayer herself.”

“Oh,” the syllable falls with a sense of understanding of was rather than is. A misjudged understanding, given the ambiguity of your answer, but a respectful one nonetheless. “I’m sorry.”

A moment passes.

“And… your father?” Tanjiro asks.

The speed at which you shake your head is almost comical. No. No. The visual image is a joke in itself, and Tanjiro doesn’t even realize why his question is so humorous to you.

“My father was not the kind of person for that line of work.” a gentle chuckle does manage to escape the poised line of your lips. “…I doubt he’d be able to wield a blade like that in the first place.”

It feels as if the conversation is going to continue out from there, a gentle rolling of waves upon the edge of a beach after the brief storm of near-realization to what was hiding just beneath the surface of half-dodged answers. But it doesn’t manage to get farther than another breath before a noise sharply echoes out from the wooden box set out near the doorway and shocks both of you into a gazing silence.

“Tanjiro,” your tone is careful and your eyes hone in on the item. Caution prickles in your fingertips and against your tongue as claws and fangs slowly emerge from behind a carefully-kept glamor. “what is in that-”

“What are your thoughts on demons?”

You blink, turning to face the man again with a look that does not hide an ounce of your confusion. It takes a few moments for some of the dots to connect to one another. The reason for him asking your opinion is hanging right above your head, a heavy reminder to half of your heritage — but it doesn’t quite match all of the points of confusion all but emanating from Tanjiro and the strange box he carried with him.

Still, his question deserves an answer. And even as your eyes settle carefully on the square shape across the room, you offer one.

“Asking my thoughts on demons is no different than asking my thoughts on humans,” you say, words careful and tone oddly tight. “Some are good, some are bad, and none-” a sharp breath passes over your lips. “-none are perfect.”

Tanjiro’s eyes linger on you for a long while, longer than what feels comfortable for the silence between you. For a few moments you wonder if his question was a test and your answer had failed it abysmally, but it didn’t change your feelings on the matter in the slightest. Nothing ever will.

Another sharp noise echoes from the direction of the box. Your eyes begin to dart towards it, but the motion of Tanjiro’s body commands your attention towards him instead, he as if ready at any moment to launch himself towards the box, but his eyes meeting yours openly and earnestly.

“So you’re saying you think some demons can be good, right?”

You watch him, but sense no malice in the young man’s gaze.

“Of course.”

Relief seems to flood across his expression. When another, more rhythmic sound comes from the box, he doesn’t so much jump towards it as he does shuffle to his feet and step across the room. Before he’s able to reach it, however, the door suddenly opens to reveal a shape of pink fabric spilling out from within. You blink and watch as the fabric moves, and ever so quickly does your mind realize that there is a person within it, wearing the kimono that reminds you of cherry blossoms in springtime.

By the time Tanjiro is at the side of the wooden box and holding out an outstretched hand, you’ve come to realize that it’s been a young girl inside of it the entire time.

A demon. The scent doesn’t escape your nose for a moment, though it lacks the underlying sharpness of iron you’d come to expect from others of her kind and yours alike.

And Tanjiro regards her with tolerance, nay, respect. It seems to take the young woman a few moments to orientate herself to her surroundings, but he smiles at her with all the same gentleness.

“It’s okay, Nezuko,” Tanjiro says brightly, pulling the woman onto her feet. “This is a safe place.”

Despite all the words that press up behind your tongue, you can’t help but stare at the young duo. Tanjiro smiles and gestures towards the young woman beside him, Nezuko.

“This is my… younger sister,” he says at last. The air settles around the room in a nonverbal confirmation of information that doesn’t take more than a heartbeat to confirm, but it leaves you equally confused and curious all the same.

“Tanjiro,” you murmur, words finally picking up a semblance of strength. “This may be a stupid question, but are you aware that your sister is currently a demon?”

Though it’s not clear what would have been more surprising of an answer, Tanjiro’s honest nod does seem to do plenty to throw you for a loop. A demon slayer traveling around with a demon at his side? The notion vexes you completely, even if the demon in question is a member of his familiy. Unless…

“Was she born a demon?”

Tanjiro and Nezuko both look at you, the former with a more defined look of confusion across his face.

“Born…?” he asks. “As in turned? Turned into a demon?”

“Ah,” you suddenly feel a bit silly and more than a little embarrassed as his confusion seems to be genuine. “I think I misunderstood a few things. I’ve got my answer in any case but, no, I did actually mean born as in physically birthed.”

While Nezuko loses interest in the conversation and begins to roam about the room, her brother slowly settles back onto his spot across from you — albeit shooting a glance to his young sister every once in a while which is admittedly endearing. The two of them seem barely old enough to be out on their own, and you’re not sure if the demon slayers even have a minimum age requirement to begin with as long as someone can hold a weapon and defend another.

“How could someone give birth to a demon?” Tanjiro finally asks. “I thought they were only created by… uh.” he pauses for a few moments, waiting as if to catch something in your eyes. Recognition perhaps? “…A man named Muzan Kibutsugi.”

He’s not bothering to conceal his befuddled expression as, behind his eyes, you can see the threads of thought and logic try desperately to put an answer together from the bits of information he already knows about demon-kind.

“Most are,” your words taste bittersweet on the tongue. “But not all of them. Some demons can create other demons if they’re strong enough.”

Tanjiro nods as the faces of both Lady Tamayo and Yushiro appear in his mind’s eye. Though she had been a demon created by Muzan, he recalled that Yushiro was created by her hand in the continuing search for a cure to turn someone human once more. It had been the only instance where he’d come across a demon not created by the demon king himself, but it’s a clear enough example that Tanjiro doesn’t need to stretch his mind very far to understand your words.

Seeing this recognition, your hand raises to gesture up towards your chest, fingertips barely skimming across the wash-worn fabric of your kimono.

“You asked before about some demons being ‘good’.”

Tanjiro nods. Even Nezuko has moved her attention towards you, though she stands solemnly in one of the darker corners of the room as her eyes glow like shimmering sakura blossoms.

Considering the nature of whom was sitting in front of you — the organization for which Tanjiro allied himself with — there was a part of you that wished to simply lie between your teeth and wait out the night until it would be socially acceptable to all but kick the young warrior out of your home. That part had good reasons to be cautious and fearful, but another part of you found something hopeful behind the young man’s eyes. You aren’t naïve enough to call it ‘trust’, but the emotion is certainly within the same pond.

“My father was a good man,” your hand lingers, stilled against your chest and all but faintly feeling the thrum of your own heartbeat. “An odd man, but a good one. Tended to the fields, took care of my mother when she fell ill, even managed to make friends with some folks of the local village. He respected everyone around him.”

Even as he remains politely silent, something starts to click in Tanjiro’s eyes, even before you finish the point of your words.

“…my father was also a demon created by Kibutsugi.”

Tanjiro blinks with wide surprise and shock stilling the words that otherwise press against the back of his lips. While there had been a growing hunch forming somewhere within his thoughts, he can’t help the suddenness of the question needed to confirm them when he finally can speak again.

“Does that mean that you are-”

“Half-demon, yes.”

"How does that even...happen...?"

You chuckle, "I'd imagine how most people go about having babies."

Tanjiro's cheeks turn a dark red, and he quickly drops that particular line of questions.

You try to offer the young man a comforting smile, but he continues to stare in a summation of awe and disbelief. He’d never even thought that a demon and human could have a child together. For the longest time since learning of their existence, Tanjiro simply thought that demons couldn’t have children at all — like an extension of the curse befallen upon them, leaving them wanting for human flesh and blood, feral and wild and-

It is then that Tanjiro’s thoughts click into place once more. No. He’s not without multiple examples to the contrary, strengthened each and every day by the knowledge that his own sister is of the same creation as many of the demons so easily vilified and hated. But, even then, it doesn’t change the fact that Nezuko is a rarity — her lack of bloodshed is, as far as he’d learned, a genuine oddity among other demons.

“… Have you killed anyone?” he finally asks. His eyes glance towards the floor, looking almost ashamed in having to speak the words.

You shake your head. The question is hardly a surprise — you actually would have been more caught off-guard if that hadn’t been the first thought on his mind. But oddly enough, the question is something of a comfort. It allows to you answer it honestly.

“I haven’t hurt or killed anyone before — since part of my blood itself is human, my diet is relatively lackluster.” with a sweep of your hand, you gesture out to the empty bowls in front of the two of you. “I can be out beneath the sun, but my skin is somewhat sensitive to it; just a short while in direct sunlight can leave me with a terrible burn.”

Tanjiro nods. He brings up a hand to his chin for a moment to ponder over the details and new information as what appears to be every thread of his thoughts devote to try and weave it all together with what he already knew. One detail into another, filling up the ever-growing sense of curiosity that he had for demons and those around them. If nothing else, it proved that there were still things that not even the Demon Slayer corps understood properly — or, if they did, they certainly didn’t admit to them. The Hashira’s response to Nezuko solidified that well enough.

After a few moments, Tanjiro’s attention flicks back up to your face.

“Your… mother was a demon slayer, right?”

You nod politely, though it doesn’t take more than a quick glance back up to the nichirin blade hanging above both of your heads on the wall behind you to be reminded of the fact.

Tanjiro’s gaze tilts ever so slightly with his head to one side. “How did your mother and father meet?”

You shrug. “I never learned much of the details, though I do know that he was at one time a demon she was sent out to kill.”

Tanjiro chuckles after a few moments.

“I think I can guess what came after that,” he says. “So was your father… around much after you were born?”

“Of course!” your expression all but beams at the gentle memories. “Just because he was a demon doesn’t mean by default he was a bad or neglectful father. Though I suppose he so often seemed sickly to others; not able to go outside during the day, having to hide himself when there was company… I admit there is a lot about my father I still don’t know.”

For but a flicker of a moment, you are absolutely certain that there is a sadness within Tanjiro’s eyes. A mutual bitterness, empathetic beyond words. But the look is gone ever so quick, so much that if your perception was but a moment slower it would have been missed entirely.

But what remains is yet a soft expression.

“Thank you,” he finally says. “I am trying to learn as much as I can about demons right now.”

“I assume as much, being a demon slayer.”

“No, no it’s-” the young man looks suddenly flushed. “I promise I’m-… I’m not going to tell anyone about you. I just, think that… there’s a lot that I don’t understand. But I would like to. You see, my sister and I-”

And so, Tanjiro tells you the story of how he and his sister began traveling together — the murder of his family, his sister being turned into a demon, his promise to himself and those he lost that he would try to right all of the wrongs that had been done to them. He explains how he joined the demon slayers, how he had met other demons who had been kind to him in much the same way that you had been. Though the names Tamayo and Yushiro held no recognition, they did bring a sense of warmth to your chest in the confirmation that being a demon didn’t truly mean one had to give up their sense of humanity and kindness.

One topic moved onto another as the night continued on and the rainstorms moved in. Through the soft pitter-patter of water against the roof, you did your best to answer as many of Tanjiro’s questions as you could despite the fact that your knowledge of Muzan went no farther than simply hearing it once or twice and having a basic understanding of his role in the origin of demons themselves. There is also something admittedly humorous in watching Tanjiro’s expression when your glamor falls just a little, revealing sharp claws at the tip of each finger and fangs barely hidden behind the press of your lips.

“Neither my father nor I had any semblance of combat ability, but they’re useful for hunting.” a moment passes. “Animals, I mean. Me and mother still had to eat something.”

Perhaps it’s the reminder of your mother, and her lack of presence in the house with you, that finally encourages the question forth, “How long have your parents been…?”

“Dead?” you don’t fear the sound of the word or the notion behind it. “It will be twenty years this coming spring.”

“Twenty years?” Tanjiro gawks. “H-how old are you then?”

“I was born in 1857, so…” you do the math in your head, giving Tanjiro several moments to try and come to terms with the fact that you barely look older than your mid twenties at most. “This year I will be fifty-five!”

Your bright, sharp grin is in hilarious contrast with the shock all but painted across the young man’s face. After giving him a breath to take in the information, you point out, “I am half-demon. Time doesn’t mean as much to my health as it does a normal demon.”

“I… see,” Tanjiro’s eyes return to normal, but there’s no hiding his lingering awe. “So will just a nichirin blade… kill you?”

You have to laugh at just how shy the question is for the severity of the words. “Trying to plan my demise already, demon slayer?”

Though Tanjiro immediately begins to shake his hand and try to babble out an apology and explanation alike, you aren’t cruel enough to let it linger for more than a moment before explaining, “A normal blade could behead me and I would die. I could drown in a lake or perish from a high enough fall. In all things but old age, I’m still very mortal, Tanjiro — for better or worse. I can’t speak for any other half-demon you may come across, but I know that much.”

A moment of silence passes between you. Tanjiro thankfully doesn’t ask about your parents or their passing. In fact, he seems rather satisfied by the amount of information he’s gotten already, so much that his mind constantly looks as if it’s rolling about within his skull, putting together a puzzle with far too many pieces missing for most people to even bother in the first place.

The rain continues to fall. It’s a gentle white noise, ceaseless, and punctured only by the dull rolling sounds of thunder as it moves across the edges of your perception. It doesn’t take long for you to realize the time either, knowing even without looking out the door or window that the moon is high into the night sky and that, furthermore, it was not hospitable of you to keep your guest from getting a good night’s rest.

“If you have no more questions, I think it would be a good idea to get some sleep.”

There were more questions — there is always more questions — but Tanjiro can’t ignore the fact that it’s late and, yes, he would need to be moving along to his next destination early in the morning. It doesn't’ take long to ready a place for him to sleep, and less so for Nezuko who seems content to simply be near her older brother. Though she doesn’t speak a single word to you, the look in her eyes seems soft and curious, perhaps even grateful.

It’s understandable why Tanjiro has such a moderate view of demons despite being among the Demon Slayer Corps himself.

That fact in itself is something of a comfort as much as it is a curiosity, one that lingers with you even when you see the young man off the next morning, so early that the sun has barely crested above the hills and mountains on the horizon.

And Tanjiro, as he leaves, finds himself renewed with energy and questions alike. Every time he thinks he has a strong grasp on the world around him, something new emerges that throws it further into perspective in an ever-growing map of knowledge. Though the edges continue to get blurrier, there’s something nice in familiarizing himself in it. To Tanjiro, it brings him further hope for the future of not only himself, but for the Demon Slayer Corps and the greater world around them.

Maybe, he hopes, he’ll run into you again one day.

And maybe then he’ll be able to introduce his sister to you as a human — or perhaps the world will have grown in such a way that, like the union of your parents and the makeup of your own blood, it won’t even matter in the first place.

[wynsnerdyrambles]

KNY Season 2 News Thoughts

OK, now that I've spent the whole day squealing about this news, I might actually be able to coherently give my thoughts on it. OK, let's go chronologically in series timeline:

Mugen Train TV Anime Edition:

I actually did not see this coming. Of course I'd heard the rumors that the beginning of Season 2 would be 'Mugen Train', but I brushed those rumors aside with the logic of: "Well, the movie didn't cover the entire arc, we still have some aftermath to go over, so that's probably what this is talking about." Well, I was completely wrong. Not only are we getting what I'm affectionately dubbing "Mugen Train Extended Edition", we also get an entirely anime original episode starring Kyojuro in the days leading up to the fateful mission aboard the Mugen Train. Words cannot convey how excited I am for this re-adaptation.

I've seen some press complain that it's simply milking the Mugen Train cash cow for all it's worth. While I do feel that, in regards to things like this, the financial side of things must be taken into account when determining causes of decisions; I feel there is more to this. It's a television re-adaptation of the singular most successful film in the entire history of the Japanese box office. Much like the Television specials that have been broadcast in the past, I feel that this is more a publicity move than a financial one. Instead of compiling many episodes into a few specials to air over the course of a couple of months, we instead are treated to an extended cut of the film split up into seven episodes, including a special episode starring the film's most popular character: Rengoku-san! That way, with each new episode airing weekly, hype and publicity builds to a climax for the premiere of the Entertainment District Arc. (We also get 2 new LiSA songs serving as a full OP and ED for the mini-cour, which my KNY playlist will gladly accept). Only time will tell which version of the arc will be my preferred version for viewing, but I am ready for this arc to hurt me again- in a serialized weekly format (maybe with Taisho secrets pls).

Entertainment District Arc:

So the Entertainment District Arc will start airing early December, which to be fair, is not unexpected for me. Aniplex and Ufotable had basically nothing final to show us regarding the arc back at the Aniplex Online Fest in July, so it was always iffy in my mind that we would actually get this arc in October like many people thought. A few of my main takeaways from the trailer will follow. (Manga Spoilers after the break)

I am excited by the prospect of an hour long premiere, although it makes me wonder whether the Mugen Train re-adaptation will include the aftermath scenes with Tanjiro's visit to House Rengoku. It seems odd to me to have an hour long premiere if we're just gonna jump right into the heat of this arc, especially if you consider the fact that there are plenty more episodes in this season to follow.

Daki's voice sounds perfect! Miyuki Sawashiro definitely captured the 'sultry and intimidating' air that Daki puts on when she's confident, but I wonder how she'll fare during Daki's tantrum, or during the flashbacks to Ume. I'm sure she'll do great, though it will be interesting to see the direction they take.

On a related note, I'm quite happy they seem to be keeping Gyutaro under wraps. Hopefully we can keep it that way until December! (On a vaguely Upper Moon 6 related tangent, I'm so hyped for Doma reveal during the flashbacks, purely for the eyes, and to finally get some semblance of a canon hair color for the guy).

I was initially a little sad to hear that LiSA would not be lending her vocal talents to the OP and ED for this arc, since the vocal consistency between seasons 1 and the movie was very appealing to me; but having heard that tiny snippet of it during the promotional reel, I think it fits. It's not at all what I envisioned though. I had initially envisioned a LiSA song, that was kind of tight, focusing on the suspenseful atmosphere of the arc, and the mystery. But wow, what we got is so flamboyant, and sure to be an earworm (it's already stuck in my head). I think it works, despite having taken the opposite vibe of what I expected, and Aimer seems to be an excellent choice for this song (I've loved pretty much every song of hers' I've heard).

The shots that we were treated to in this reel seemed up to par with what I've come to expect from this adaptation of KNY, and served a really good purpose as a trailer of things to come. It showed things and characters people should keep an eye on (I'm looking at you, shot of angry Nezuko).

While we've still been shown very little footage from the arc, I'm quite excited by it, as much like Mugen Train, it's a favorite of mine, and I'm ready to see what flashy magic tricks Ufotable has in store for us with this arc. I'm just hoping and praying that Daki VS. Nezuko gets the episode 19 treatment.

Well yeah, that's the end of my hopefully coherent ramblings about this news. This has maybe been the biggest day in this fandom since I joined a little over a year ago, and I'm glad I get to be a part of this with all of you. Here's to season 2!

[starrywhump]

Submissive nico!

Hazel and ash not understanding! asking him to stop taking it for them

SUBMISSIVE NICOO!!!!

Ok, I love the ask, I couldn't exactly fit it in at this point of the story but don't worry there will be more opportunities for Hazel and Ash to react to this later! I hope you all enjoy!

Oh also quick content warning for emetophobia, nothing actually happens but it is thought of and like it gets close.

First | Previous |

Nico retched quietly, wishing he could just throw up and get it over with.  He wanted to clear his body of this feeling.  Nausea was so disgusting set in his body, if he could just throw up, get it out, he’d feel better.  Blank concrete stared back at Nico.

giving up on expelling the sick feeling inside of him, Nico lowered himself to his side, the world around him spun as he did. With a groan, Nico rolled onto his back.  Sweat caused his hair to stick to his skin, adding to the general feeling of disgust inside him. 

Nico drew in a deep breath, trying not to focus on the suffocating heat radiating from his left side. He had yet to look at what his brand looked like today, looking at it would mean sitting up, and sitting up would move the skin around it which would fucking hurt.

Nico was not planning on looking at the wound. 

It was easier to ignore if he didn’t look at it. Yes, it was painful but if he didn't look at it he could pretend it was just some other injury, that also happened to hurt, something that would heal leaving a generic scar.  He could ignore that he was now marked like cattle as property.

Not only stuck with her name seared into his body for the rest of time, Nico had agreed to be Rhea’s plaything.  Not even just agreed he offered to. 

Nico covered his face with his hands, taking deep breaths to try and push back tears. 

The impending doom of everything Rhea would force him to do was too much to think about. Things he agreed to do, asked for.

No no you didn't ask for it, you're doing it so they can be safe.

Nico logically knew that, he did.

You begged her, isn't that asking?

"Only so Hazel and Ash can be safe," Nico responded to his own thoughts, justifying his actions.

Hazel.

Nico hadn’t seen Hazel since Rhea had forced him to hurt her, he didn’t even know if she was alive.  

If she is she hates you.  And if she’s dead it’s your fault.

Nico squeezed his eyes closed, sliding his hands down to the sides of his head he pushed in on his skull, trying to quiet his brain. 

“Stop it,” Nico muttered into the silent room. 

He took in a stuttering breath, wiping a stray tear off his face he let his head fall to the side, looking at Ash’s form across the room.  He should check on his friend, he knew that. Moving right now would be excruciating, but he should at least call out to him. 

Nico opened his mouth, pausing before making uttering a word.  Fear settled over him, what if Rhea heard him?  He didn’t want to do anything that might make her come back to torment him any sooner. 

No that’s stupid, you’re being a coward. 

Nico shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

“Ash?” He called out softly.

There was no response. 

“Ash!” Nico pitched up, hoping he could wake him. 

No response. 

Fuck.

With a groan Nico pushed himself up onto his elbows, his breath became heavy as he ignored the burning pain in his side and rolled over onto his hands and knees.

“Fuck... ow,” Nico grunted.

Slowly, painfully, Nico crawled over to where Ash lay.  He put his hand under Ash’s nose.

Nico let out a sigh of relief.

Ash was breathing. 

“I’ll let you sleep I guess, thanks for making me get up,” Nico grumbled as he lay down himself.  

“What a sweet boy checking on his friend.”

Nico, flinched the sudden voice scaring him.  He pushed himself up to his elbows with a wince. 

When had Rhea walked in?  

She quickly crossed the cell to Nico’s side, closing the door behind her. 

Nico tried to sit up fully, but Rhea stopped him with a boot on his chest,  “No, no, don’t get up on my account!  You need your rest.”

The heel of Rhea’s boot dug into his skin, as she pushed Nico down to lay flat on his back. 

Nico forced himself not to fight her, clenching his jaw and screaming curses in his brain. He didn’t speak, too unsure of his ability not to anger her. He kept his eyes down, avoiding her gaze for the same reason. 

Rhea hummed contently, “good boy.”

The words felt slimy, disgusting, covering Nico’s skin.

Rhea smirked down at him, "I gave you a compliment, what do you say darling?" She pressed down on his chest, drawing a wheeze from the boy below her.

"Thank you," Nico bit out, trying to ignore the meaning behind his words.

"Good boy," Rhea repeated.

The words felt just as gross as the first time.

"Let's take a look at your pretty new mark, shall we?" Rhea stepped off Nico, settling over his hips to straddle him.

Nico's breath hitched as Rhea made such close contact with him. He felt so vulnerable laid out on the floor beneath her. He clenched his fists, resisting the urge to buck her off.

Rhea chuckled, “hmmm try not to look so upset pretty boy.”

Nico grit his teeth, “sorry.”

“Sorry.....?” Rhea held up a hand to her ear as one might prompt a child to read the next word in their picture book.

Forcing down bile, Nico responded as she wanted “sorry ma’am.”

Cold fingers ran along the neckline of his shirt, Nico couldn’t stop a small grimace at her touch. He clenched his jaw tighter, schooling his expression to remain neutral.

Rhea ran her hands down his chest, she went to pull at his shirt, “active participation,” Rhea reminded.

Nico turned his head to the side looking away from her. Humiliation swept over him as he lifted his torso off the ground to let Rhea pull his shirt up to reveal his stomach and chest.

“Hmmm that looks like it hurts,” Rhea grinned, placing a finger on the inflamed skin next to the brand. She glanced up at Nico’s face, “active participation means looking at me.”

"Sorry," Nico muttered, turning his head and meeting her eyes.

Rhea raised her eyebrows

"Sorry ma'am," Nico corrected quickly. His heart dropped as he realized how quickly he was falling into the exact behaviors Rhea wanted.

That's what you agreed to.

Rhea smiled, "You know, I had my own plans, the work we were doing with Hazel and such. But this," her grin grew wider, "this is much better than all that. I was so surprised when you told me how bad you wanted this. I'm so glad you did."

A copper taste filled his mouth as Nico bit down on his cheek.

"Nothing to say? You used to be so chatty."

Nico stared blankly back at her, it was easier just not to interact. If he said anything he wasn't sure he could keep it from being something that would break his deal with Rhea.

Rhea leaned down over Nico, whispering in her ear, "Ignore me one more time and I will kill your friend here."

"Sorry, ma'am," he replied, his voice held an undeniable shake.

Rhea smiled, she rested her elbows on either side of Nico's head.

Nico took in a stuttering breath, trying to ignore the growing dread in his stomach. His chest felt tight, each breath was harder than the next. Rhea's body was flush with his, her knee was pushing against the brand bringing a fresh wave of pain at even her smallest movements.

Stop, stop, stop.

This was worse than the knife, worse than the shock collar, worse than anything else she had put him through. All that had hurt, it had hurt like a motherfucker, but it was simple and understandable. It was pain, and he just had to get through it.

This, it didn't hurt. There was no physical pain. That was worse.

Rhea hadn't done anything yet to hurt him, just invaded his space. Invaded space meant for comfort, and trust.

Nico swallowed against the lump in his throat.

Rhea traced a finger down the side of Nico's face.

He squeezed his eyes shut without thinking.

"Open," commanded.

"Sor-sorry... ma'am," he opened his eyes.

nonononononono

"Are you going to cry, Nico? it's alright if you do. In fact, I'd rather enjoy it if you did," Rhea spoke softly, to her captive below her.

"N-no, ma'am."

"Why are you struggling so much with your words then? Are you afraid of me? After all I've done for you?"

"I..." Nico couldn't think of what to say, the only thing running through his mind was pure disgust at Rhea's proximity, "I-"

"Come on spit it out now," Rhea continued her idle touches over Nico's face and neck.

"I'm not," Nico said firmly, ignoring the panic growing inside him, "I'm not afraid of you ma'am."

Rhea raised an eyebrow. She seemed upset that Nico was still holding on to some semblance of control.

"I don't believe you," Rhea ran her hand up the side of Nico's head, tangling her fingers in his hair.

She leaned down, speaking softly into Nico’s ear, “I can see you flinching, see how your breath stops, just for a moment, as you try to see what I have planned for you next,” she tightened her grip Nico’s hair, twisted his neck painfully, “all that yelling, cursing, it was all just a shield for how truly scared you are. Now you can’t even do that, you feel vulnerable, humiliated I’m sure, and you’re terrified.”

“I...” Nico’s voice was choked, barely hiding his growing emotions. Coherent thought other than get off me was getting harder and harder to make.

"Be honest now, full cooperation includes not lying to me."

She's too close, it's too much, its-

"I-" Nico swallowed hard, wanting desperately to be anywhere else than where he currently was in this moment.

"Come on, you can do it, tell me how you really feel."

You have to.

You have to you asked for this so fucking do it.

Nico couldn't breathe, he took in a stuttering gasp, "s-scared," his voice was soft, almost inaudible.

Rhea's eyes lit up, "What was that darling? Is that how you feel, scared?"

Nico wanted to scream at her.

fuck you fuck you FUCK YOU

He closed his eyes, nodding as much as he could in Rhea's harsh grip.

You had to say it it doesn't mean you are.

It doesn't mean you are. It... it...

"Good boy, such a quick learner," Rhea finally released her grip in his hair, allowing Nico to move his head to a less painful position as she sat up.

Nico's face burned with humiliation. He kept his eyes shut, not wanting to see Rhea's pleased face above him.

Rhea's weight lifted off him and Nico let out a small breath of relief.

That breath was quickly stolen away as her boot slammed into his ribs.

He let of a grunt of pain, gasping for air that had been knocked from his chest. Nico curled to the side, ignoring the pain the movement caused to the inflamed brand on the other side of him.

"That's for closing your eyes," Rhea spoke in an unenthused tone.

Nico forced his eyes open at her words, he took in weak, wheezy gasps, unable to catch his breath.

"s-sor-sor," he couldn't make the words through his desperate attempt to take in as much oxygen as he could.

Rhea turned, looking down at him with a smile, "I know you're trying, trying so hard to be good for me."

Nico crinkled his nose, trying to avoid showing his disgust too clearly.

Air finally felt like it was making it into Nico's lungs, he took in deep breaths, trying to slow himself down.

"That's it, calm down."

I'm going to fucking kill you.

"Good boy,"

NO NO NO NO NO

"Thank you," Nico's voice was raspy, it hurt to talk, "thank you, ma'am."

Nico rolled over onto his hands and knees, wincing as he pushed himself to his feet. He worried for a moment Rhea was going to force him back to the ground but she just watched him.

The world spun around him as Nico tried to maintain his balance, he stumbled back to rest against the wall so he wouldn't fall. As his vision stabilized Nico's eyes fell on Ash's crumpled form below him.

"You promised to take him to a hospital."

"We never agreed on a hospital-"

"Medical center then, you promised some kind of medical care. Take him there or I'm not going to keep doing this."

Rhea raised an eyebrow, her gaze darkening, "I'd be careful how you speak to me, I can make this deal much more painful if you give me a reason to. Now, if you ask nicely I can call someone to take him over there."

Of course, it can't be easy.

Nico met her eyes, "Please, help him."

She kept eye contact as she picked her radio from her belt, "come get one of the boys, bring a stretcher."

Nico breathed a sigh of relief, "thank you."

It wasn't long before the door swung open, the two guards who had Nico had come to be familiar with carried a stretcher between them.

"Hazel?" Nico wanted to make sure who he was doing this for was safe. Otherwise, this was all for nothing.

Rhea rolled her eyes, she pointed to Ash on the ground, "take him to the medical center, get a doctor for him. The girl too, different rooms, make sure they lock."

The guards nodded and began to move Ash to the stretcher laid beside him.

The movement seemed to be enough to wake Ash, his eyes jolted open, he flinched away from the guard's hands. He made eye contact with Nico across the room.

It's ok, Nico mouthed to Ash.

Rhea crossed to Nico's side, putting a hand on his head to stroke his hair, the gesture would almost be kind if its purpose wasn't pure humiliation, "Say goodbye to your friend darling."

Nico blinked away impending tears, "Goodbye Ash."

"What.. what are you talking about?" Ash looked confused, "what did you.. what are you doing to him? Where are you taking me?" His voice was weak, slightly slurred.

"I'm not doing anything to anyone, he asked for this, didn't you pet?"

Nico looked down avoiding Ash's gaze, trying to ignore Rhea's gentle hand in his hair.

"Yes ma'am."

[randomingoftherandomness]

Fic: Oh, To Be Loved By You

Fandom: Mr Queen (2020)

Pairing: Bong Hwan x Cheoljeong

Tags: An Epic Gay Romance that WE DAMN WELL DESERVED, meet cute, THE ABSOLUTE FUCKING FIX IT WE FUCKING DESERVED

A/N: in part inspired by @littlestellagibson and also because in this house we ignore Canon and make our own coz fuck this shit ✌🏼

--

Watching the clock above the barista's head tick away into a different hour has Bong Hwan fidgeting and fussing over the water rings on the tabletop. When had he become this person who fussed over water rings?

Somehow, the thought of fussing over water causes a familiar voice to trickle down his spine as laughter tickles at the back of his skull.

Grief seizes him by the throat and just like that, being in public right now doesn't seem like the brightest idea. Bong Hwan can almost taste the sour yang of bile in the back of his throat; the panic and anguish that had taken root in him since he came back to the here and now.

It’s been a month since he returned and it has been hell. Bong Hwan spent as much time in physical therapy as he does in his condo, reading up on every single book, article, and mom’s blog post he can get his hands on about this strange and new world. Anything he can do to fill his mind and time, anything to keep him from thinking, dreaming, wishing, longing...

Everything is still the same, everything has changed.

Swallowing down the heaviness in his chest, he focuses on centering himself. Counting down the things he can hear - Blackpink wafting from the stereo, the sounds of the coffee machine and the clatter of cups and mugs, the gentle murmurs of the other patrons, the muffled rush of the morning traffic - and the way his senses of smell is slowly being overwhelmed by the jasmine tea still steaming in his cup.

It was a mistake to come out today.

He makes to stand, chair scraping as it is pushed back, Bong Hwan startles when his shoulder bumps against something solid. He turns, a quick apology on the tip of his tongue when his gaze lifts, and all semblance of coherency leaves him.

Eyes that he knows whether they’re closed in repose or open and alert. The slow tilt of those full lips. A slow dawning realisation that comes over that handsome face. That face of someone who loved him. The face of someone he loves.

“You,” The familiar stranger says, hand on his elbow to steady him and in that instance everything else falls away.

“You,” Bong Hwan breathes, the syllables tripping off his tongue and sits hanging between them in a charged pause. Before he can even stop himself, his hand moves to the stranger’s cheek, touching with his fingertips.

Gently and with an infinite tenderness that sets his entire body aflame. A quiet gasp unravels in his chest. “Cheoljeong.”

The stranger smiles, hand squeezing his elbow. “They don’t call me that anymore. Just as I’m not so sure what I should be calling you, my Queen.”

That startles a bark of laughter out of him and he stumbles a little, just to notice the way the other patrons are watching them. The stranger’s smile grows softer, private in a quiet language that lovers only speak.

“I’d rather you call me by my name.”

“And that would be?”

“Bong Hwan.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Bong Hwan. I’m Won Beom,” He says, sliding his touch into waiting hand.

Tangling their fingers together, Bong Hwan feels his world being pieced back together again.

[not-sewell]

i'd had this idea floating in bits and pieces in my mind for weeks now and i've now been able to string it together with some semblance of coherence, so here we go:

[i don't even know what this is classified as but it comes under soft hours, i guess?]

Foiled Date Plans Leading to Time Spent Better.

i imagine that the LI and the detective haven’t been able to hang out, go on a date, for ages because neither of them could find the time for it, both of them being swamped with work. so when the opportunity presented itself, they jumped at it.

only for things to swiftly go downhill at different times on the day of their date

N and the detective found that they both were to get off their duties early one day and quickly made their plans for a nice, evening together. the detective chooses to go big this time: booking a reservation at a fancy restaurant, where they could enjoy good food, sip on some wine and listen to some smooth music. yeah, that’d do. it's all pretty smooth-sailing until their plans are foiled by a pile of unfinished paperwork that they had promised to help Tina get through. as much as they would rather be someplace else, they decide to help. they’re pretty committed to fulfilling their promise. not that they can deny Tina when she’s making those puppy eyes at them anyway. making a quick call to N to let them know what’s up (and promising to be there on time), the detective gets to the paperwork. it is only when N appears at their door that they realise how late it actually is. well, shit. there is no way they'd be able to make it to the restaurant on time. they should've quit while they were ahead. but they didn't, and they may have just ruined their date plans and this day just sucks. and it's all their fault. N finds a way to fix this before the detective spirals further into whatever headspace they were getting into, though. soon, the couple is at the detective's home, cooking a homely (yet fancy, of course) meal, N pulling the detective by their hand to sway to a light melody of jazz music playing in the background, wrapped in each other's arms – whispering sweet nothings, singing softly. well, okay, maybe the day doesn't suck as much anymore.

F is all too excited to finally get to go out with the detective. the detective had a day off, so they thought of showing F around the town: the places that the detective had discovered over the years, places that one wouldn’t necessarily include in their ‘Places to Visit in Wayhaven’ list. it seemed like a cheery day – maybe they could rent bicycles and go biking around town. this was a good idea. it felt nice to be biking again – it had been a while since they’d done it. the wind gently making its way through their hair brought a soft smile to the detective’s face. but it was only a few minutes before F decided they could ride faster, and the detective followed, the Wayhaven tour long abandoned. the wind in their hair getting progressively less gentle seemed to have an effect on the detective. F’s whooping also helped, maybe. soon, the two are speeding past people, laughing, low-key trash-talking each other and— this was not a good idea. the first thing the detective registers is the nearly blinding pain in their arm and F’s extremely concerned eyes staring down at them. any movement that shifts their position sends a searing pain up and down their forearm. well, fuck. soon, they’re at the doctor’s clinic, having received medical attention. F is uncharacteristically quiet, throwing worried glances their way. it obviously takes a lot of reassurance from the detective to quell F’s worries. then a long pause. and then laughter – belly laughter that only seems to get louder. the walk back home is now far lighter and less painful than it would’ve been. F offers to stay the night, of course. what follows is a day full of F fussing over the detective’s condition, and lots of ice-cream, popcorn and trashy Netflix movies. sure, the injury part sucked but it mattered far lesser.

M has probably rolled their eyes for the hundredth time now. the detective refuses to accept that they've fallen sick. it doesn't take M their hypersenses to recognise what is beginning to sound like the start of rales in the detective's breath. it's ridiculous, the way the detective refuses to acknowledge that they're unwell, especially with the amount of effort they've been putting to even sit upright. it takes a big coughing fit from the detective for M to put their foot down and take them back to the detective’s bedroom. yeah, no, M doesn't give a shit about the date anymore. they'd like the detective to be very much alive, instead, thank you very much. glaring the detective to bed, they run their hand more fondly than they expected over the detective’s head before making their way to the kitchen and call F to relay some solid, 'how to care for a sick partner' advice from N: hot and cold compresses, some VapoRub, soup and maybe a warm glass of milk with turmeric in it and lots of care (which they would take care of by snuggling with the detective, should they ask). the detective wakes up early next morning to find M asleep on the bed – seated next to the detective, having leaned their back on the headrest – their hand in the general area of where the detective’s head is. the detective had never really pinned M down as someone who could be so tender but hell, no one’s complaining.

A admits: they were really looking forward to the date. they didn’t know what the detective had planned – they wouldn’t tell them (maybe it involved wine-tasting?) – but it would’ve been nice to finally get to spend some time with the detective. anyway, that doesn’t matter right now, does it? they were here on a stakeout in a hilly area with probably the worst partner ever: the detective. it’s got nothing to do with the detective’s skills or attitude – they’re more skilled and dutiful than most. it’s the effect their presence has on A: their focus on the scene before them is off-kilter and they’re certainly not thinking about their mission as much as they would like to. they chide themself for being so distracted. they really need to learn to maintain their focus regardless of the company they have (just the detective but okay). gah, they need to pull themself together. even as they chide themself, they find their gaze drifting towards the detective. again. this time, they find the detective’s eyes on them too. this has been going on for a while and they both know it needs to stop. and yet, they just cannot seem to. at least the evening’s been very uneventful. it’s close to dawn when N and M join them to take over. the couple is on their way back to the Warehouse when the detective gasps softly, the way they do when they think they've got a great idea (which is usually true, but they don't necessarily need to know that). they turn to A with a bright smile. "i know of a spot," they say, "come with me!" as they pull A by their hand. they're right on time to catch the most beautiful sunrise A has seen in a long, long time. and the detective turns to look at A just in time to see the softest, most carefree smile grace A's beautiful face. they're almost too lost in their thoughts to catch A whisper a small 'thank you', interlacing their little fingers together. the day is instantly brighter.

[apocalypticwafflekitten]

Northern Lights

Maul x Reader 

A/N: I’m back at it again with another Maul fic! This is a cute idea that was suggested to me by @justalittlecloud! I needed and idea and they didn’t let me down! I kind of made up a story for the Northern Lights in the Star Wars Universe since I couldn’t find anything with a quick search. Did I take beats from Romeo and Juliet? Yes. And did I take inspiration from an Estonian myth? Absolutely. I just hope it’s a good story! ALSO! If you’d like to be tagged in my Starwars, or Maul-specific writings, or any other writings that I post, feel free to let me know!

Original Imagine/Summary Kinda Thingy: Maul is curious about the Northern Lights!

Warings: None, just cute, sweet, cotton-candy fluff!

Word Count: 2,322.....this was supposed to be short.....whoops.....

“Come on Maul! It’s just a few feet further! We just have to cross this little creek, and get through that bit of underbrush ahead of us.” You explained excitedly as you all but drug Maul up the side of the mountain.  

“My love, I know that you know what you’re doing, but are you absolutely sure that we’re going to the right place? This seems pretty out of the way, and we lost the trail a while back.” Maul stopped walking and pointed behind him, taking you by surprise.  

You turned and snickered at him with a smile. 

“Of course hun! I wouldn’t just take you to some random planet and travel far off a mountain trail if I didn’t know what I was doing! I’ve done this a thousand times dear. It is my home planet after all. And my favorite place on that planet no less.” You gave Maul a smirk, and he gave you an unsure look. 

“Alright. I trust you, but if you get us lost, I’ll hold it over you until the day we die.” He joked with scrutiny, pointing an accusing finger at you. Still, beneath his uncertainty, he could feel your excitement and certainty through the force, and it sent a endeared warmth through his chest. You were so cute when you were excited. 

“We won’t get lost dear. I promise! We’re almost there!”  

You smiled as he gave in, and let you take his hand again to lead him.  

You and Maul had been married for a year now. Today was your anniversary, and you wanted to do something special for him. You had to admit that coming to your home planet was a little personal pleasure just for you, but you wanted to share it with Maul, and show him something you knew he would never forget. And where better than your favorite spot in the galaxy (besides at his side of course)?

When you pushed away the last of the underbrush Maul’s breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened. Before him lay paradise. From the top of the cliff he could see the emerald, mountainous valley for miles. The river than ran through was thin and shining like a silver ribbon under the night sky. And that sky. He had never seen so many stars in his life. Never had darkness been so beautiful. 

He was brought back to you by your chiming giggle. He didn’t even realize that you had let go of his hand, and sat on a blanket you had laid out presumably hours before you had brought him here. He closed his mouth which had fallen open at the sight of this paradise. He hadn’t realized that had happened either. 

As Maul joined you on the blanket, you smiled to him. You were surrounded by soft light from the many little candles you had lit around you. The glowing light brushed your cheek with gold, and shined off the silk dress you wore.  For a moment he forgot about the valley and the stars. You were so beautiful. Enchanting and alluring in this paradise.

You giggled again, amused by his stunned silence. 

“I was much the same the first time I saw this place. It’s gorgeous during the day, but the night makes this place indescribable. The glittering stars, and the silver river. It’s like magic. It’s paradise for me.” 

Maul was finally able to gather his thoughts into some semblance of a coherent sentence. There was so much he wanted to say, and it all wanted to spill out at once.  

“This place is...you’re...everything here is just....perfect.” He said, “Everything here is perfect.” 

He breathed out, looking from the valley, to you again with all the adoration in the galaxy.

Joy beamed through you and through your smile. Maul felt it wave through the force as you hugged him. He melted. He fell into the hug, and all but crushed you. Maybe, if he hugged you tight enough, you would be able to feel all the love, appreciation, adoration, devotion, and everything else he felt for you in it’s full measure. If only words could be passed from skin to skin.

“Thank you for bringing me here.” He murmured into the crook of your neck.  

“Of course my love. Only the best for our anniversary.”   

Maul pulled away with a suspicious look. 

“You’ve had this planned for months haven’t you?” He teased, knowing full well your meticulous tendencies.

You chuckled, and pulled away to look him in the eyes, hands slacking around his neck to rub the skin at the base of his neck.

“Perhaps.” You gave him a mischievous look paired with a smirk. 

“The cutest smirk in the galaxy.” He thought.

He laughed at your ambiguous response, though he knew the real answer.  

“Well, then I will happily enjoy whatever it is you have planned my dear.” He said as he pulled you in close beside him. You merely smiled at him in a way that said that you were indeed hiding something.

He had his suspicions about your plan. There was certainly something he wanted to do tonight, though that could wait if need be. He wondered what exactly it was that you were so excited to show him. What could make this paradise better? He never could have guessed what was in store for him. 

“Don’t worry love. That which I want to show you will show up soon.” You promised, “Until then...”   

You held his face, and turned his gaze from the stars to you. 

For the first time tonight, he really looked at you. His eyes met yours, soft and deep as he watched you, memorizing the colors of your irises and the candlelight glowing within them. His eyes wandered slowly to follow the curve of your cheek, and when he reached your lips, his thumb brushed gently against them. His eyes didn’t leave your lips until you looked down, bashful because of his intense gaze.  

“Hey,” he cupped your jaw with his hand, and gently nudged you to look up at him, “Don’t look away from me.”  

His whisper sent a shutter down your spine and sharp inhale through your lips.  

He stayed there. Staring at you with adoration and a little something more.  

There was a beat of silence before he took a shaky, laboured breath in. 

“May I?”  

His voice was breathy; desperate and he cupped your cheek, glowing with candlelight.

You chuckled a little, and looked into his wanting eyes.  

“Of course you can my love. We’re married remember. You don’t have to ask every time you want to kiss me.” Your hand held his to your face as you smiled back up at him.

His lips crashed to yours. They melded together as though they were made for each other long ago when the universe was first born. Your hands reached out to hold his handsome face. 

His touch traveled to your waist, and ran up your sides, pulling your frame in to press against him. He could feel the silhouette of your body beneath the silk of your gown. His hands wandered and rubbed at the fabric, feeling it wrinkle under his fingertips, barely protecting you from his searing touch. Oh how he wanted you to touch him. He wanted to feel your skin on his, your hands on his bare chest. Your lips on his neck. Oh he needed you to cool the burning desire in his soul. 

But before he could make his desires known, he felt you begin to pull away. His lips followed yours, unwilling to let you go. He tightened his hand around your waist and gave a disappointed whimper at your persistence. He never wanted to stop kissing you. 

You chuckled into his kiss, and held him back by his shoulder. 

“I know my love. I’d adore to kiss you more, but there’s something I have to show you...Look off to the horizon.” You whispered to him, pointing out to the edge of the world.

He pouted, but he was curious, as always, so Maul turned his head and when he saw what lay on the horizon, his eyes blew wide, and your smile grew wider. 

“Wha-what is it?” His smooth voice was filled with wonder at what he saw.  

The night sky had grown darker. Deeper. The stars were still shining, but cutting through that darkness, and through the stars were bright, beautiful ribbons of lights, cascading down to the horizon. Blues and greens danced between the mountains, and the river ran silver below. 

“It’s called Aurora Borealis. The Northern Lights.” You explained, endeared by his curiosity.    

“It’s beautiful.” He whispered. 

He was transfixed. His eyes were filled with whimsy, and for the first time in a long while, he smiled as wide he could, and he didn’t think of anything else. The hues from the sky mirrored in his eyes, and you couldn’t look away from them if you wanted to.  

 “What are they?” His voice pulled you from your state of admiration.  

You blinked and collected your thoughts. 

“Do you want the scientific answer, or the legend I was always told.” You asked. 

“Either.” His voice was breathy again, but this time it was filled with wonder; He still hadn’t looked away. He looked at the sky the way he looked at you. 

“I’ll start with the legend then.” You smiled, and scooted closer to Maul, laying your head on his shoulder, your arm reaching up to rub his back, “The story goes that there were once two lovers who were bonded by the Force. Their love ran stronger than any in the galaxy,” You noticed Maul grimace in reaction, and you huffed in amusement, knowing full well his opinion on that detail, “But despite the strength of their love, they were forbidden to be together. He was a nobleman, and she was a slave girl who served his mother. So, for many years they hid their love until the nobleman was married off to a princess whom he did not love, and made to move to her home planet. The slave girl was heartbroken, as was the nobleman, but they promised never to forget one another. And their promises held. So, as a reward, when the two had lived their lives, and passed on from this world, the Force reunited their spirits, and they were wed in the afterlife. The lights you see are their spirits, travelling together for eternity, followed by the celestial spirits, and beings that celebrated along with them. They travel the sky and bless those who see them with a love strong enough to last through life and death and beyond. You explained before releasing a happy sigh,“That’s how my parents always explained it to me. I loved that story.”  

Maul took a second to look at you, his eyes holding only admiration.

“That’s beautiful my love. It reminds me of you.”  

“Of me?” You asked, cocking your head in curiosity.

“Of course.” He stated, looking back to the ribbons of light before continuing, “The way you love me, it transcends this galaxy. Your love is that strong. That true. And you show me that every day you stay beside me. Even beside that, like the lights, getting to see you, even just once, is enough to leave one wanting for a lifetime. And getting to see you every day? Your light never dims. You could never dim.”  

Maul kept his eyes glued to the lights. He may be married to you, and tonight may be your anniversary, but when those words fell from his mouth, he couldn’t look to you. Embarrassment warmed his face. In all the time you had been together, he still had trouble letting his heart spill from his lips. But when you turned his face towards you with a gentle palm on his hand, he knew that his words were more than welcome. 

He saw tears in your eyes, but these weren’t tears of sorrow. No. He could feel your overwhelming gratitude and love and admiration for him crashing into him. He knew you could feel his love as well.  

“I love you.” You whispered before pulling him in, and kissing him with your whole heart. 

“I love you too,” He breathed between kisses, “I have always loved you. The minute I set eyes on you I needed you to be by my side. My heart begged your name when we met, and since then I have never wanted any other word to fall from my lips. You are the light in this universe. You are every star. Every sun. Every planet. You make my dark soul feel beautiful.” 

“It’s because you are beautiful my love.” You cooed, tracing his jaw with your finger, and following his tattoos with your eyes, “You’re calming like the ebbing of waves on a shore. When I hear your voice, it’s a soft lullaby. I remember, when we met, it was your voice that caught my attention. It never seemed to match your reputation. I couldn’t get enough of it, and to this day, I still can’t. WHen I hear you say my name, my world stops and everything is perfect.” You huffed a laugh as your eyes flitted from his jaw to his own eyes.  

“I can’t believe I was lucky enough to marry you.” Maul whispered to you, although you were alone. 

“I can’t believe I was lucky enough to meet you!” You smile at him through a laugh with endearment shining in your eyes.  

“You’re the world to me my love. The galaxy.” 

“And you’re the galaxy to me.” 

Maul kissed you softly before turning his gaze once more to the Northern Lights.  He loved you. His wife. His rock. And he would love you through life and beyond. That was a guarantee, and promise he would never, ever break. 

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