#climbing aster

[fl-shrike-dyke]

Chassahowitzka National Wildlife Refuge, FL

Not pictured: the juvenile bald eagle that the pair in the last picture were supervising, the 5 or 6 belted kingfishers we saw, and the Atlantic stingray we made friends with that kept visiting our beached kayak.

(I was not brave enough to bring my camera on the kayak so these were taken on mine and my partner’s cellphones)

November, 2024

[ofdreamsanddoodles]

a la mode was like what if a kitty girl & a puppy butch were the hottest girls at school and they were soooooooo into each other they made it everyone elses problem. and it rocked

[shoreline-system]

Gentle reminder, particularly to systems and Especially for larger systems or systems with a lot of background noise; you don't need to figure stuff out in your head. Write that shit down. On your phone, in a notebook, on a whiteboard, in a voice note, whatever works - if you can't think clearly, can't figure out what is on your mind, you don't need to be there trying to visualise it. Take that pressure off of yourself.

[whatnext10]

Colorful Climbing Asters Attract All Types of Little Pollinators

Aster and Skipper Climbing asters (Ampelaster carolinianus) are one of the most common and beautiful fall blooming flowers that grow in our wetlands. As their name implies, they love to climb anything that they get near, so come fall, there are carpets of bright pink flowers covering fences, trees, other shrubs, and even patches of ground if there is nothing to climb. And covering all those…

[crow-caller]

man... I forgot to mention.

you know how lightlark has gods, but has never once named how many gods there are, what they are gods of, how religion works... it just uses the word 'gods' and there's inexplicably an abbey in the first book?

well, in skyshade we finally learn about gods. Not the gods of lightlark, the gods of the otherworld (if they are the same or related concept, it is not stated)

anyway the gods of the otherworld are um.

Sky, dirt, and below.

(The sky is a place. Dirt is an object. Below is a direction. These three fit together as well as Helios, Urn, and Enya as a trio)

Getting a suspicion this book isn't very good

Lightlark3 is somehow. How do I put this. Worse. The prose is really, really bad, and Aster operates on a baseline of having 'pretty bad prose'

Gee, I wonder if writing and releasing skyshade, plus writing her new adult book, plus a new bonus lightlark book and the 4th due next year... might be resulting in even less editing?

[selineram3421]

Deer Demon Child Headcanons

Requested

Alastor & Child Reader

Warnings? ⚠

⚠ implied death, mention of blood, mention of cannibalism, weapons-gun ⚠

It was a surprise to everyone that a child wandered into the hotel.

A little deer demon.

That's you

Climbed up one of the bar stools and stared the cat man down until he finally noticed them.

"Uh..hey? Kid."

"I want juice!", you pointed at a bottle behind him that was on the shelf.

"That's not juice."

While distracting you with magic tricks and cards games, Husk called Charlie to let her know that a new guest had arrived.

The Princess ran to get to the lobby and rushed over to the bar.

"Hi! Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!", Charlie sings out before noticing the little deer. "Oh."

Everyone is called into the lobby.

"Ok!", Charlie claps her hands together and introduces you to the group. "Everyone, be nice and say hi."

Later on you are asked by Vaggie and Charlie how you got to the "red place."

Mostly everyone left and it was only you three. Four.

"Before I woke up here I was with my moma.", you said while coloring your drawing. "Dad had a shiney toy in his drawer and showed it to me a lot of times. It made fun clicking noises. I wanted to play with it, so I took it out."

As you were explaining you drew out the shape of a gun.

"I wanted to show Moma but she looked scared. And when I tried to make the clicky noise it came out different. It made a bang and then Moma fell."

You drew your mother covered in red.

"I tried to wake her up but she wouldn't get up. I got sad and started crying."

You didn't notice Charlie and Vaggie looking sad.

"Then Dad came home and started screaming at me and took the toy away. And then everything went dark for a while."

Picking up your paper, you showed the girls your drawings.

"And then I woke up to the red sky!"

Charlie hugged you after and said that she'll make sure you go to Heaven.

Oof sad backstory.

Husk literally growls at Alastor everytime he mentions venison for dinner.

Alastor has joked to others that he'll eat you but stopped once he grew fond of you.

"Little fawn.", he smiles as he greets you. "Would you like gingerbread cookies?"

To be honest, everyone is worried that Alastor might kill you. But surprise, surprise! They are shocked when he takes care of you instead.

You're the favorite hotel guest.

Anyone that tries anything will be taken care of.

Charlie did a talent show day and you sang, surprising everyone with your angelic like voice.

You're a curious little deer and the hotel guests and staff find you in odd places.

Once Angel found you upsidedown behind the couch that was against the wall.

"What are ya doing back there?", he asked after pulling you out.

"Niffty said there was treasure!", you smiled.

Alastor finds it adorable that you go to him when someone you don't know/scary person is in the hotel.

Sir Pentious is told to put all of his weapons away.

Everyone dubs you as Alastor's child. Even the Radio Demon himself.

Vaggie threatens Alastor after he jokes that you'll be a cannibal like him.

Of course he'd never do that but its funny to see Vagatha's and Husker's pissed off faces.

Alastor keeps up with the human news and learns that your father went to prison. So the Radio Demon waits for the man to fall.

Art will be provided. (Later)

~Seline, the person.

Part 2

Art

Taglist@

@ducky-died-inside @scary-noodlesblog @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @kiraisastay @faioula16 @pooplyface1423 @lbcreations-blog @+?

ML for Alastor🎙

[taylorman2274]

We Care About You

For the past couple of days, you've been sacrificing sleep to spend more time playing Genshin. The people of Teyvat take notice and do not approve.

Content Warning(s): Liyue Archon Quest Spoilers

Notes: SAGAU; GN!Reader; First Story; Inexperienced Writer

Word Count: 1.5k

Previous || Next

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

You honestly should've seen it coming.

There were too many hints that told you what was about to happen, but you either didn't notice them or ignored them entirely.

Now you're about to fall into unconsciousness against your will, all because someone within Teyvat cared about your well-being.

"How is this even possible?" you pondered before you finally fell into sweet unconsciousness.

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

The first hint happened so quick you almost missed it.

You were a couple of minutes removed from logging into the game and had just started working on your second of four daily commissions.

As you were teleporting to Dadaupa Gorge to help Wyatt look for his key, you noticed an unusual message on the loading screen.

Sleep

When night falls, make sure that you get plenty of rest!

You were lucky that you were a fast reader or else you wouldn't have been able to read that message in time.

At first, you didn't know what to think of it. Sure, Hoyoverse could've easily added it into the game, but you didn't see them ever doing such a thing. Additionally, you've never seen anyone else experience this message before.

"Probably something new," you guessed before gliding on down to speak with Wyatt.

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

The second hint was a bit more noticeable than the first.

After completing Wyatt's commission, you were on your way to Falcon Coast to defeat some hilichurls. It was approaching nighttime in Teyvat when Paimon suddenly said:

"It's getting pretty late. Paimon thinks that we should go to bed soon."

You stopped gliding forward for a brief moment in slight surprise. It only took a few seconds for you to snap back to reality before pausing the game to save what airtime you had left.

"I can see a new line of text being possible, but a new voice line?" you contemplated. Like the last hint, you really didn't know what to think of it. If it was only one new voice line that got added into the game, you guess you shouldn't see that as a big surprise.

"Today has certainly been weird," you added before unpausing the game.

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

It wasn't until the third hint that you started to think that something was wrong.

After defeating the two waves of hilichurls, your last commission had you beat up some cryo slimes near the Dawn Winery. You teleported to the Anemo Archon statue, grabbed a couple of Windwheel Asters, and began to glide down to the water.

However, just as you were about to pass the Dawn Winery, you began to hear a sweet melody coming from the building. This wasn't the theme you were used to hearing when you were near the Dawn Winery, so being the curious person you were, you took a quick detour to the building.

As you approached the building, the melody began increasing in volume. Furthermore, as you moved your camera you noticed the sound gradually shifting volume in-between your right and left ears.

"Wait, this isn't just a soundtrack? Someone's actually playing this?" you questioned, speaking aloud for the first time. You rarely speak your thoughts aloud, finding such an action to be awkward, but you felt that the situation warranted such a reaction out of you.

After a bit of wandering and camera movement, you pinpointed the source of the sound coming from the roof. Starting from the front of the building, you climbed up the wall and onto the balcony. You moved the camera around, trying to see if you could get a better view of the roof, and after a while, you found the source of the melody.

Venti the bard was currently straddling the roof beam with his back against the spire right near where the Anemoculus used to be. He had his eyes closed as he was playing the soothing melody on his lyre. If he noticed you, he took no note of it as he continued to play.

"Okay, now things are getting weird," you began to monologue to yourself. "I can somewhat explain a new loading screen message and a new voice line, but a new audio played by a character who is never supposed to be seen outside of archon quests and events? A change as big as this would've surely been advertised by Hoyoverse on social media, right? So why does it feel like I'm the first person to have discovered this? Do I consider this to be a bug or a glitch?"

However, as you continued to think to yourself, Venti continued to play his melody. As the melody dragged on and on, you began to yawn and feel your eyes growing heavy.

"Hold on. Is this melody...making me sleepy?”

Music notes began to fade in and out as they floated from Venti's lyre to your player character.

"I can't fall asleep just yet! I still need to finish my commissions!" you proclaimed before leaping off the balcony and continuing your way down to the beach. "Ooh! I also may need to travel to some domains and farm for materials."

You missed the fourth hint while you jogged away from the winery. Had you looked back at Venti, you would have noticed that he stopped playing the melody before sighing with a slight frown on his face.

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

After completing all of your dailies, you decided to take a change of scenery and meet up with Liyue Katherine.

"I still need to go to Wanmin Restaurant and trigger that Beetle event. Plus, the crafting table is just around the corner for me to craft some Condensed Resin!"

You were too distracted by the crafting table to notice the fifth hint of the day. Had you kept your eye at Third-Round Knockout, you would've noticed the former Geo Archon getting up from his table and walking over to you.

Having finished crafting your Condensed Resin, you began to head over to Wanmin Restaurant. But before you could...

"Traveler! A quick moment of your time, please."

Startled by the sudden attention, you flicked your camera behind you to find Zhongli approaching your player character.

"It has been a while since we last had a chat. I was hoping you would accompany me while I head to Wangsheng Funeral Parlor to retire for the night. We can catch up with each other while we walk."

Too many thoughts were running through your head for you to give a proper response, not that any prompt showed up anyway. Zhongli took your inactivity as a sign of acceptance.

"Good. Let us be on our way then."

Zhongli started to walk past you, which didn't help your thoughts at all.

When his feet hit the ground, there was no visible space between the sole of his shoes and the ground. You never saw any of his clothes clip through any part of his body. In fact, you swear you saw a few wrinkles.

"Everything about him is too detailed. The walking animation, the clothes, the collision, the hitboxes; there is no way in hell everything should be so... fluid."

You started to think whether or not you should go through with his request. However, before you could make a decision, the game decided to make one for you.

The Traveler moved... but your hands were off the keyboard.

"WOAH Woah Woah woah..." You repeated as you backed your chair away from the computer. Now you were starting to think that your game was broken. You quickly scooched your chair back closer to your computer and were about to Alt+F4 outta there before...

"I would refrain from doing that."

You stopped what you were doing and looked up at the screen. Did you miss something that the Traveler did?

"As much as we all love to have you around, we know better than to have you overstay your welcome when you are clearly tired."

...That didn't sound like he was talking to the Traveler.

"I admire your persistence, but you leave me no choice, [Y/N]."

"Oh sh-."

Before you could finish your sentence, a loud buzzing sound suddenly played from your computer speaker. Almost immediately, you could feel yourself about to fade to unconsciousness. You quickly stood up and covered your ears as you tried to fight it, wondering how in the hell this sound was affecting you despite having heard it before in Sumeru. Unfortunately, the noise continued to grow louder and louder until you could no longer stand on your own two feet. You slowly slumped to the floor as the sound began to lower in volume, sensing that its job was done.

You honestly should've seen it coming.

There were too many hints that told you what was about to happen, but you either didn't notice them or ignored them entirely.

Now you're about to fall into unconsciousness against your will, all because someone within Teyvat cared about your well-being.

"How is this even possible?" you pondered before you finally fell into sweet unconsciousness.

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

Author Side Notes: I know that I'm not the best writer in the world, but this idea for a SAGAU story I had continued to grow and grow until I felt like I could connect all of the plot points by myself.

I also have more ideas for SAGAU stories if anyone wants to hear them.

[neontiger]

valentine's night in

MDNI 18+

It's the Valentine's day special with Jason Todd! ♡ I was in a hurry to get this one out, so sorry if you find any misspellings or slightly wonky grammar ♡ Always thank you for the love ♡♡♡

~♡~

The out of order sign had been hanging on the elevator at your apartment complex for the past week, and it was the first thing that greeted you when you stepped into the lobby after a hectic Valentine's Day at work. You'd spent the past six hours trying to keep up, running through tables and doing your best to keep all the damn couples satisfied. Meanwhile you were spending the night alone, while your boyfriend was off fighting crime or whatever.

Deep breath. Jason's good, better than your previous relationships by a long mile, despite the nighttime activities that kept him preoccupied a bit too much. Strong, brave, protective, selfless…hot. And so what if it was your first Valentine's as a couple? The two of you could do something later. It was just a day. You didn't need to feed the consumerism.

Still, it stings a little in your heart – and your tired, aching feet – as you climb the stairs to the third floor and the apartment you know will be empty. You tug free the keys around your neck and unlock the door. The click is deafening, echoing off the crappy vinyl tile of the hall.

You shove the door open with your shoulder because it sticks. You're not so sad you're angry. You're not jealous of those couples at work. Nope, none of the above. You're fine. It's fine.

Light blooms through the studio apartment when you flick the light switch on your right. You freeze, a deer caught, eyes growing wider as they sweep over each new thing. The kitchen counter is gone, buried under flowering bouquets: camellias and carnations in pinks, reds, whites; baby’s breath and aster; red roses, petals falling on the floor, a path for your feet to follow.

The path takes you past the couch to the bed, where the butter soft petals cover the bed, wild and chaotic save for the heart that takes up the center. On the pillowcase is a stuffed cat, pink bows on both ears, wearing a shirt that’s too familiar with its red bat-like symbol on the chest. On either side of the plus is a heart-shaped box of chocolates, each nearly as big as the pillow. Candles sit in wait, columns of red and pink wax, on your nightstand. Then the windows – the curtains are different, not your basic black-out ones, but heavy red and decorated with ribbons around the rod. Draped over the armchair by the window – the one you sit in as you stare out the glass, wondering where Jason is, if he’s safe – is a dress in deep wine, the fabric like velvet, a bow in the back and the bodice cut low. The kind of dress you’d wear at some fancy restaurant with crisp white tablecloths and crystal wine glasses and market priced fish.

There was so much all at once. You’d missed Jason sitting on the couch, a smile plastered on his face as he watches you take it in, delighting in the way your mouth hangs open and your eyes dart around from flowers to bed to the windows and end up on the chair. He gets up to linger closer, arms crossed as he waits for you to notice him.

“Shit.” You look up at Jason, smirk on his lips and white tuft of hair curling over his forehead. “I thought…you said you were busy.”

“I was busy.” He gestured at the apartment. “I never said what I was doing though.”

“Yeah, but…all this?” You look around again, the room growing blurry, then him – your lower lip trembles and he barely has time to register the change before you burst into tears. He wraps you in a tight hug and presses his lips to your forehead as you snivel against his chest.

“I'm sorry,” you mumbled. “I'm tired. But it's…” You lift your head and clear your throat, smearing your tears on your cheeks with your palms. “Thank you. It's perfect, Jay.”

Jason lifts your chin and leans to meet you for a kiss. It's wet, tears streaking your flushed face, and his hand is hot as it strokes your cheek softly. Thankfully it's a short kiss, because you're not sure how long you can remain standing.

“I got you stuff for your bath too,” he says, straightening up. He wipes a stray tear from the corner of your eye with his thumb. “But your tub's kind of sad. I don't think we'll both fit.”

He’s right – it’s barely big enough for you to lay down comfortably, and for him it’s probably a shoebox – but you won’t sit for the slander. “Sorry it’s not Wayne manor,” you say.

Jason laughs dryly. “I guess we have to make do with what we've got, huh?”

Before you can ask, he's taking your bag and lifting the strap over your head and off your shoulder, then your hand. Leading. Your bag is left on the couch as he directs you to the bathroom. More candles sit on the tiny bathroom counter, and balanced partially over the sink is a ribbon-lined basket full of lotions and soaps, bubble baths and soaks, face masks…edible lube?

The pipes behind the shower walls rumble to life, drowning out the click of your tongue as you open your mouth to say something on the matter. Jason takes the opportunity to press another kiss on you, stealing the thoughts from your head and replacing them with a slip of his tongue over yours.

Your butt meets the bathroom counter, knocking into the basket and nearly sending it to the floor. One hand holds your lower back and keeps your body flush with his as the other begins working the buttons on your shirt. You can't tell if it's the sound of the shower or blood rushing in your ears when his kiss moved to your neck, teeth nipping at your sensitive flesh. The front of your shirt hangs open, enough for him to slip his hand inside and cup your breast still clothed in a basic cotton bra. Beige, frayed on the cup, the least supportive thing in the drawer…if you'd known, you would've dressed up underneath.

But Jason doesn't care. Doesn't seem to even notice as he tugs the fabric out of his way to envelop your breast in his large hand, to squeeze and tweak your nipple as he sucks a mark on the side of your neck. Steam gradually fills the space from the hot water running down, accelerated by your bodies grinding together.

You tug up his shirt but get caught trying to pull it off him completely, his attention held on tasting you. “Jay,” you whisper, lips close to his ear. “The shower.”

He inhales deep against your neck, before straightening up to let you remove his shirt. As soon as the dark fabric clears his head he's doing the same to you, slipping your shirt off your shoulders and removing it with as much grace as he can muster, considering how much of a hurry he seems to be in.

You undo his belt, but he takes over, so you move to shed your work shoes and pants. There's no point fighting instinct – your eyes drop to his cock, semi-erect and poking out from that neat patch of hair.

Jason grabs your chin and steers your gaze back to his. He smiles into another kiss and teases, “Did you forget the shower?”

You step into the shower and wince; the water's too hot, turned all the way up. You fix the temperature as Jason slips in after you with bottles in his hands. He sets them down on the edge of the tub and grabs your hips, stopping you from turning to face him.

“Nuh-uh.” He runs his fingers through your hair and tilts your head back, letting the water rush over. “Let me take care of you first. Close your eyes.”

You obey, closing your eyes and concentrating instead of your other senses: the feel of his fingers as they massage your scalp, the water through your hair and trickling down your back…the feel of him, twitching against your butt…the scent of sandalwood, musk, the hint of citrus, as he lathers shampoo into your hair.

“Rinse,” he whispers softly into your ear, and you let yourself be guided back a quarter step, let the water run over and wash away the shampoo bubbles. As you lean back into his chest, lips press gently to your forehead, and fingertips brush down your back and make their way lightly to your stomach. They trace each breast, the touch bare enough to leave you wanting.

“Now turn around.” His hands pull away and give you space to turn in the cramped shower. You've barely opened your eyes before Jason catches you in a deep kiss and they're closed again as you roll with the sensation of him. He grips the back of your thigh and lifts your leg, enough for him to nudge against your slick entrance with his now fully erect cock. You squeeze his biceps and rub against the tip of his cock in an attempt to impale yourself on him.

Jason breaks from your lips. “Little impatient, huh?” He grips your hips and moves you gently off him. You find your back against the cool tile of the wall. “Sit,” he says.

You don't know how well that will work, considering the edge of the tub is barely five inches wide and not nearly big enough for your ass, but you're too soaked not to obey him blindly. You sink down and balance on the edge as Jason lowers to his knees. The water hits his back as he grabs your thighs, supporting your weight as he spreads your legs for him.

He starts with kisses on, around your slit, coming close but not touching your clit, easing you open for him. His tongue dips inside and you gasp, clench around the intrusion. He responds by pulling out and giving your clit an experimental flick. You squirm and slip off the edge of the tub; he tightens his grip on you to hold you in place. Another flick, firmer now, before his lips close around the bud.

Your hands, attempting to hold you stable, slip on the acrylic of the tub’s edge as Jason buries his face against your cunt, sucking on your clit with a steady pressure that’s quick to knot your core. Moments of air come in the shape of him breaking away to bury his tongue inside you again, his nose pressing your clit with how deep he tries to go, how much he wants to taste you.

You whine, head bouncing back against the tile. He knows the sound – you’re close. Back to your clit, to sucking, swirling his tongue around as he traps you and lifts you up the proverbial mountain. Your feet burn and your body tenses up – and snaps seconds later.

Jason slows to bring you down gently, tasting your release as it drips slightly from your lips. Carefully he helps you lower your legs – they feel like limp noodles, and you don’t think you can stand for what you’re praying is next – and grabs you in a kiss. “So perfect,” he whispers, words brushing your lips. “I think…I think we’re clean enough. Yeah?”

You nod. You wrap your arms around his neck as he helps you to your feet again. He shuts the water off and helps you out as the strength is slow to return to your thighs. Neither of you bother getting dressed despite the chill that scrapes over your bodies as you make your way from the warm bathroom to the cool bedroom.

You hardly remember the walk. Jason’s mouth is almost glued to yours, or to your neck, tasting and biting as precum leaks from his tip. You want to reach out and stroke him, ease some of the pressure building in him, but he takes your hand before you can and brings you into the bed. He moves the chocolates, the stuffed cat, to the armchair by the window before sitting down, his back against the headboard.

From the nightstand drawer you fetch a condom; wrinkle your nose when he tries to take it from you, and you roll it down his throbbing length with almost trembling fingers – how bad you want it, want him – no. This is a need.

At first he watches below, as the tip of his cock prods your slippery entrance with ease, as you lower yourself into his lap. But then he remembers that the view elsewhere is so much better – and instead meets your heavy-lidded gaze to watch your face as it contorts with pleasure as you sink down on him. He sighs when you bottom out, hands tight on your hips.

“Good…” he swallows, his cheeks burning. “So good for me, baby. Go slow.”

You don’t want to – fucking need – but you do, dragging your cunt up and tensing around him as you sink down again, the head of his cock hitting deep inside your core. His fingers dig into the fat of your ass and his mouth hangs open as he pants and small moans escape.

You lean and kiss him, arms wrapping his neck as you pick up speed. Your breasts press into his chest, nipples pert from the friction, the excitement. Faster, slicker, walls clenching around him as you bounce in his lap. His mouth finds your neck again and his groans are broken up by kisses planted to your throat, pink blossoms sucked and the nibble of teeth.

Jason’s grip tightens; his legs move, pull up; he’s fighting his orgasm. Your fingers tangle in his hair and pull to bring his mouth back up to yours. His pupils are blown out, glazed over, cheeks red.

“Come,” you whisper.

You delight in watching him meet his end – eyelids fluttering shut, mouth open in a strained moan, fingers tight and unrelenting on your ass as you sink down a final time. His cock twitches with release inside, pumping deep, the condom working hard to keep itself together.

When he calms, you lift and lower yourself slowly a few more times, making sure he’s given you everything before resting your head in the crook of his neck. His hands loosen and move to envelop you in comfort.

Jason sighs. His heart thrums madly under your hand on his chest. “Happy Valentine’s,” he whispers.

You lift to kiss his cheek. “Happy Valentine’s, Jay.”

[monstersflashlight]

Commission for Vamp

A/N: You can find the previous part here. “The fridge?!”

Minotaur (Ambrose) x chubby fem!reader || fluff, tooth-rooting fluff, found family (kinda)

You love family dinners with your minotaur family. It always makes you extra giddy to be invited to Ambrose’s weekly family reunion, and this week wasn’t different. You had had a bit of a rough week, but right then and there, you felt cozy and relaxed. You are talking around the coffee table, everyone lounging around the sofas as the girls play around the table.

You are resting your head on Ambrose’s bicep as you talk to your sister in law about her new job. You are trying not to munch too loudly, but the dessert Cyrene made is fucking delicious and you let out a tiny noise that makes Ambrose’s hand tense on your thigh. You smile up at him, knowingly. You can see the way he’s looking at you with hooded eyes, and you know what that means… you are going to get your pussy pounded as soon as you get home.

But for now… You are content just eating some dessert and maybe a bit more alcohol than necessary when one of Ambrose’s nieces, who were playing around pointed at you and whispered to her sister.

Juniper, the older of the two, points to your leg. Your miniskirt rolled up a bit and your thigh is on full display, which meant… “Hey human-auntie,” your heart skips a beat at the cute nickname they gave you, “why do you have a boo-boo in your leg?”

“Huh?” You look down at where she’s pointing. You have a big finger shaped bruise right on your thigh. Your brain starts firing ideas on what to say. “Oh! You see…”

You try to think what to tell them that is not the truth. Because as much as minotaurs are sexually open, you can’t tell the kids that your boyfriend, his uncle, grabbed your hips so hard while he was fucking you that he left finger imprints in your thighs. You wouldn’t say that out loud in front of his family even if there weren’t any kids around, to be completely honest.

“You see… Your uncle Rose was a total hero!” Ambrose, who was looking at you with a knowing smirk almost chokes on his next breath at your statement. His eyes are big and round as he stares at you, not knowing what you were about to say.

“I am?” Ambrose asks between coughs, making you have to bite your lip not to laugh.

“Yes, silly! So, your uncle here was my hero and saved me when I fell the other day.”

“He did?!” Aster almost screams, the little one has the biggest romantic heart, and she’s already smiling, climbing the table to sit in front of you two. Her sister does the same, both of them staring at you as if you are the best storyteller in the world.

“Mmh-hm,” you hum in agreement, “I was climbing on the counter to get to the top cabinet where we store the good cereal,” you look at the kids who look a bit confused, so for their sake you add: “the cereal that tastes reeeal good, not that one that’s just bland, you know which one, right?” They nod frantically, apparently knowing perfectly what you mean even if you don’t. “So I was on the counter, but I still couldn’t get there, so I tried to climb…” You pause for dramatics, and then continue with a hand flourish: “the fridge!”

“The fridge?!” Both of them exclaim in unison, completely shocked by your story. You want to giggle so bad, but you contain, continuing with your story. The adults around the room are looking at you equally shocked.

You look around expecting to see amused smiles and knowing smirks, but everyone is nodding along your story as if it’s completely doable that you climbed a fridge and fell off it. Well, maybe they aren’t wrong, but you are lowkey offended that they all think you would fall. You have good control, you’ve been climbing on counters and furniture all your life. You are a professional. How dare they think you are clumsy? But the kids are looking at you, and there’s no way you are about to explain the adults that the story is just because of Aster and Juniper.

So you continue your tale. “The fridge. You see… I’m a bit shorter than that.” That makes them laugh, knowing full well you are a lot more than a bit shorter comparing to a minotaur-sized fridge.

“What else?” Juniper asks, her little hands resting under her chin, as if every word out of your mouth is the most interesting story she’s ever heard.

“And I was about to get the cereal, my hands were this close,” you get make a pinching motion and suppress a laughter at their surprised big eyes. “And then I slipped!” You clap hard and they let out a tiny squeal that makes everyone around the room laugh. “But don’t worry, your uncle Rose was right there, catching me before I hit the ground. Isn’t he a hero?” You ask the girls.

“YES!” Both girls yell at the same time, making everyone cheer and clap.

You smile at them, bowing to your public as Ambrose huffs bemusedly next to you. You look at him, eyebrows raised, daring him to say anything. He doesn’t, he just leans down and kisses your forehead as the girls start talking about other princesses and heroes, everyone returning to normal conversation.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur, your heart warm and cozy surrounded by your boyfriend’s family. You are more than content by the time Ambrose taps on your shoulder. “Let’s go home, sunshine,” he says in the softest voice. Your heart skips a beat at the tenderness in his eyes. It’s like staring back at the materialization of love for a second.

Your parents in law walk you two to the door as your sister in law tries to wrestle the kids into their jackets. “Try not to fall off any counters again, we’d hate to lose our new daughter,” your father in law says, ruffling your hair as you pass next to him.

Your brain stops processing information and you just stare at him confused. “What?”

“The bruise?” Ambrose’s mom hints, pointing at your leg.

But you aren’t thinking properly. A part of your brain is still trying to process that the big minotaur just said you are a part of the family, his new daughter. Oh no, you are going to cry. Oh no. Your eyes are getting misty and he’s looking at you the same way you look at tiny kittens and you… Yep, you are letting out a tear as you launch yourself to him and hug his middle. Ambrose laughs behind you, resting his back against the wall and staring at the exchange of love, his smile is so big it must hurt.

“Oh honey, why are you crying?” Cyrene, your mother in law, sounds concerned, and when you feel her strong body pressing against your back so you are in a sandwich of minotaur in-laws.

You can only let out a muffled “I love you, guys!” against your minotaur dad (?) pectorals. Ambrose keeps chuckling, and you want to hit his head before you hear a loud screech and there’s little hands grabbing your legs and hugging against you two. The kids.

“We love you human auntie!” Your heart melts a little more if it was even possible.

[geopsych]

It's that time again, time for the late November poem of all time. It really is like this here now.

Reluctance Out through the fields and the woods And over the walls I have wended; I have climbed the hills of view And looked at the world, and descended; I have come by the highway home, And lo, it is ended.

The leaves are all dead on the ground, Save those that the oak is keeping To ravel them one by one And let them go scraping and creeping Out over the crusted snow, When others are sleeping.

And the dead leaves lie huddled and still, No longer blown hither and thither; The last lone aster is gone; The flowers of the witch hazel wither; The heart is still aching to seek, But the feet question ‘Whither?’

Ah, when to the heart of man Was it ever less than a treason To go with the drift of things, To yield with a grace to reason, And bow and accept the end Of a love or a season. —Robert Frost

[lostinlovingrevery]

Hands

Logan Howlett X Reader

You spend a lot of time in your garden

A/N: This may or may not be something that I've become self conscious over lately. this is more of a self-indulgent short piece :)

Warnings: A bit angsty, reader has a bit of self loathing over their hands, could be read as a metaphor for different things? or taken literally. Logan being supportive <3

Fingers break through the soil.

Soil, a mixture of sand, silt, clay. Minerals, rocks, organic matter. All form together a messy composite that nurtures life. Both soft and rough, wet and dry. 

You dug through it, creating space after space to plant the very life that the soil would nurture. Asters, trilliums, wild geraniums. Pleasant scents that wafted to your nose and give you an eerie feeling of peace.

Brows creased as you stared at the soil and mulch the you spread and dug apart with your fingers. You had tools available, trowels and rakes and shovels- but you chose to use your hands instead. Toiling over the soil, repeated actions and movements that you don't stop.

 The sun shined in your eyes, rays shooting down and hitting you with an intense heat that made your skin burn and sweat bead on your forehead.

 You turned, grabbing another tulip- sticking the bulb securely into the hole you dug and pushing the dirt over it securely. You pat the dirt, firming it around the pink tulip you set in place- stopping as you stare at your hands that are placed on the ground.

They were covered in dirt. Brown and black specks, a dark dust layered over your skin. Small clumps that climbed up to your elbows. 

Closer observation, dirt was buried under your nails and in the crevices of them. Your nails are short, broken, and cracked. Your fingers were crooked- they always were like that. 

You turned turned your hand, noting the dryness of your palm. The dirt had taken in the moisture of your skin, sucking it dry. The life, health, and love line of your hand was pronounced and dark from the soil that buried itself into your skin. Callouses were forming from the work you do every day. 

You should probably wear gloves.

Your hands weren’t pretty. They weren’t dainty and thin like Jeans. They weren’t smooth and perfectly manicured like Ororos. 

It didn’t matter how much lotion you wore, how often you filed your nails, or painted them. They would never look feminine, pretty, delicate. They looked awful. 

A frown set on your face as you stared at your hands, sinking deeper into the pit of your mind. 

“Looks nice.” 

You blinked, a small inhale as you realized you’d been holding your breath. You turned your hand to look at Logan. He tilted his head, a sweet smile on his face as he looked down at you.

“You alright bub?” He asks in concern. 

“Yeah.” You finally say, your voice hoarse. You’ve been out here for hours. Digging through the soil. Dirtying your hands. You’d been lost in thought, barely moving your position kneeling into the grass and dirt. 

“Something bothering you?” He asks, kneeling next to you. You cleared your throat, staring down at your hands once more, now resting on your thighs. “You’ve been at it out here for a while sweetheart.” 

It was your escape, the gardens. Even if there was nothing to do, there was something to do. You’d create something. Remove those shrubs, transplant some flowers, and prune the woody plants. You would water, fertilize, and look for signs of disease and pests. 

Now though, it seems that the world has finally managed to climb into your garden, poisoning your only escape. 

Logan was the only one to pick up on it. Of course, he was- he was so intuitive to your every move. He watched you begin to come out to the garden at random, spending hours upon hours working on it silently. The others thought it was a nice hobby that you decided to start as a pastime for when there was nothing to do. 

Logan knew better.

He never tried to bring it up. Knowing it was what you needed. 

Then today, he stirred at nearly 6 in the morning, finding you're gone from your shared bed already. He climbed out, walking towards the window where he watched you already in the gardens when the sun just barely peaked over the horizon. He’d come out and check on you throughout the day- never interrupting you, just making sure you weren’t pushing yourself too hard. It was now 4 o'clock, and he hadn’t seen you eat, drink, or do much of anything other than dig into the soil and plant something new. 

You stare down at your hands on your thighs. 

“Sweetheart?” Logan put a hand over yours. You look at his. The way it settled over your dirty hand. No fear, no shame, no disgust. 

He curled his fingers around your hand. You finally looked up at him. His hazel eyes gazed adoringly into yours. “You’ve been working pretty hard out here. It looks beautiful.” He says. 

You turned your head to look at the garden, the flowers and shrubs and trees. You watched a butterfly flutter past, landing on a small butterfly bush you planted a few weeks ago. Its wings softly flap before it finally rests. You spent so much time digging and digging, you never stopped to look around you. 

To see what you cultivated. 

“Maybe it’s time to take a break?” He asks. You turned to look at him again. “Take care of yourself now, yeah? Better yet, let me do it.” He smiles, bringing your dirt cover hand to his lips, and pressing a soft kiss to the back of it. 

A small quiver of your lip as you watched him. He never broke eye contact with you as he kissed your skin. His lips felt soft against your dry skin. He pressed several pecks to your hand, seemingly unaffected by the dirt, and the dryness, nothing phased him. He seemed happy to even just touch you, to be near you. 

You let out a small exhale, and nodded, allowing him to help you up from the ground. He intertwined his fingers with yours, leaning to press a kiss to your temple, and you walked away from the garden.

[ofdreamsanddoodles]

it's my job to put away the lost & found at my job, but the bucket to put it in is too high for me, so i always make my coworkers stick everything in for me instead. i'm the musuems most specialist pillow princess

[lily-wisp]

Look Outside Unimplemented Interactions

I was poking around the game files and stumbled upon some cut/unimplemented interactions between some characters. Keep in mind none of this is canon unless at some point it is implemented (which might never happen!). I just thought they were cute and wanted to share!

(If you would like to look at these yourself, you can open up the game in RPG Maker MZ. They are in Common Event#0096.)

In the game files it is implied that Lyle was at one point able to join you in your apartment, potentially as a party member? The only interaction I was able to find with him though was a few short ones with the rat baby, who I named Sam Jr in my playthrough so whenever the script would use the baby's name I will just put Junior. Lyle/Rat Baby Interaction 1

Lyle cautiously approaches Junior and takes a picture.

Lyle: "I'll develop this tonight!"

Lyle Rat Baby Interaction 2

Lyle gives Junior a little photo album with only one picture inside, on the first page.

Lyle: "Here you go, the start of some precious memories!"

Lyle/Rat Baby Interaction 3

Lyle brings Junior more pictures of things he photographed nearby and begins a little show-and-tell with the child.

It also seems like Aster was intended to be in your apartment at one time. Same as Lyle the only interactions I was able to find were with the rat baby, although Aster's are more developed.

Aster/Rat Baby Interaction 1

Aster tries to approach the child, but loses his nerve and walks away. He holds some kind of image that he wants to show it.

You can tell he feels bad for losing his nerve. He avoids your gaze for a little while.

Aster/Rat Baby Interaction 2

Aster finally summons the courage to approach the kid. He clutches an image of the solar system in front of himself... mostly to keep the child from view.

Aster: "Y-you see this? L-look."

Junior grasps the image with a tentacle and yanks it from him.

Aster is visibly startled and seems like he might flee again, but manages to keep his composure this time.

Aster: "That's the sky. You see it? L-look at the stars..."

Taking a deep breath, he sits down near the child.

He almost goes on autopilot as he blathers about the solar system and its planets. His comfort zone.

(if Joel is recruited) Joel sits cross-legged and listens in on Aster's little astronomy lecture.

(if Sophie is recruited) Sophie adds helpful trivia for each planet. Venus has giant worms on it, she says. BIG worms the size of a BUS. She seems very knowledgeable. Aster makes no effort to correct her.

The child calmy sits through the whole thing, occasionally tugging at Aster's robe. The astronomer flinches every time, but he is obviously making an effort.

When Aster is done, he looks down to see Junior has fallen asleep, swaddled in his robes and clutching his leg.

He carefully lifts it off the ground, holding the little abomination in his arms for a few moments.

Aster/Rat Baby Interaction 3

Aster approaches the kid again, this time with a little astronomy picture book.

He seems to have mostly gotten over his fear, though he still winces when Junior climbs onto his lap.

if the rat baby can talk: The child manages to stay awake for the full lecture. Aster teaches it new words, helping with pronounciation.

if the rat baby CAN'T talk, instead: The child manages to stay awake for the full lecture. It laughs and points at various images in the picture book, which Aster patiently explains in plain words.

At the end of the lecture, you notice Aster doesn't wince at all when the child gives him a little hug.

there is a lot of interesting stuff in the game files. At one point it looks like there was a whole mechanic around raising the rat baby in different ways which would influence which KIND of rat baby you'd get, similar to like. Pip from Chrono Cross? Different interactions raise different hidden attributes for the rat and depending on which ones you get it had different forms? Or presumably different combat stats and skills. Instead the rat baby we get has a single skill which is from the Baby Teeth enemy for some reason that only does anything worthwhile if the user is Teething... which the rat baby can't do. And they only get half the attack from melee weapons! I obviously still love my child and would make the sacrifice for them every single time, but I do wish Junior was a bit more interesting as a party member. Maybe something more will be implemented in the future!

anyway I've hardly used tumblr but I love this game and want to see more fanart and discussions about it thank you all byyyyye

[master-of-d1saster]

{S-5 climbs on top of you, cooing and chirping as he baps you, wanting you to pay attention to them.}

- @subject-5

Aster huffs amused, only glancing for a moment to S-5 before continuing his work.

[whatnext10]

Sharing Can Often Be a Great Thing

Crescent and Bee Last week on my way home I discovered a beautiful climbing aster bush on the banks of the Wacassassa River. When I stopped to take some photos of it, I realized that not only was it loaded with flowers, but those flowers were loaded with pollinators. There were tons of bees and wasps, which I expected, but I was surprised to discover quite a few butterflies, too. It’s getting…

[comfortless]

This Time Around

König + fem! house sprite reader

content/warnings: reader wears dresses, König is soft and lonely, pining, comfort & fluff.

notes: @deltrese put the thought of König inheriting a little dollhouse from his grandmother in my head whilst i was watching Arrietty and… yknow. likely not anyones cup of tea but the idea was too cute to not write out eheh. not proofread, apologies! wc: 8.5k.

She survives on drops of honey, dew trickling from the asters springing up along the brick skirt wrapped around the lower level of the house, sips of canned soup and crumbs of bread when he forgets to clean up after a dinner prepared far too late into the night. He’s far from a messy man; he keeps his house in lovely shape, but he’s weary, more tired than any of the mice undergoing torpor she’s crossed paths with in the attic.

In her own way, she’s grown fond of this giant. Not fond enough to reveal herself in full, but she’s polite enough to sweep his crumbs from the table after he’s gone to bed, spend a day patching up an old shirt of his with a tiny thorn and scraps of thread if she notes a tear in the fabric of some ugly, dark thing he wears. She’s always amazed when he notices her busywork, too. The way he will hold the shirt in front of his face with a boyish grin after taking notice of how skillfully it’s been repaired, the way he calls out, “Danke freunden!” in that soft tone of voice that reminds her of a breeze passing through a windchime.

She knows that he doesn’t truly think that anyone else is here at all; that’s just how humans were— silly things. Something strange happens and they’ll try any way that they can to rationalize it or personify whatever may have caused it. König looked the part of a rational man, but her heart seems to swell when he gives away just how superstitious he truly is.

He’s ritualistic in some ways; covers his mouth when he yawns as though fearing that the Devil himself will come scurrying out of his windpipe, the wind chimes he has hanging up on his front porch, even knocking on the wood of the dining room table as he passes through lost in thought about something. She might be, too, because she always whispers her wishes of good favor to him when she knows he’s heading off on some grand adventure in the world outside.

She likes that she can make sure he feels less alone.

The man never has any visitors, and more often than not, he’s away. She likes to imagine he visits beautiful places, climbs mountains she will never in her lifetime see the peaks of, runs his calloused hands over the sharp edges of leaves and plucks dandelions puffed with seeds to blow wishes into. She pictures him having sweet, doting friends, all smiles when he’s around. Though, she is almost certain that the reality is nothing of the sort.

She’s seen him come home with fresh wounds, blood seeping through gauze haphazardly wrapped around his side. She’s seen the look in his eye when he stares blankly at the lifeless wall for what feels like hours, breathing out long sighs as his fingers curl and loosen in repetition at his sides. Regrettably, she’s fretted over the sight of tears welling in his eyes to the extent that she’s almost dared to come out of hiding, to console him just a little.

He’s hurting.

She’s alone too, here. There are others like her, of course. Groups of them cluster in lived-in homes chattering all throughout the night, getting into any mischief their tiny hands can fall upon to prepare. Often times, when a little sprite such as herself chooses a place, the others come flocking, too— making merry, stealing from their humans in ways hardly worthy of a second glance and starting colonies in the rafters, far out of sight.

But no one else will touch this place.

The house is a beautiful thing, meant for a family. There were so many rooms that she had yet to even explore herself. Not a pet in sight to chase after her and swallow her whole. The floors are soft carpet she often beds down in on nights she can feel he won’t be returning, plush and soft and so unused to human traffic. She loves it here, even if her kind do not. She might even understand why, too. It’s so melancholic, haunted by this miserable giant with heavy footfalls and tears perpetually unshed, held back by the grace of quivering hands in a body with too many scars.

She’s tried to count them before, once, whilst he was changing in his room. She wasn’t trying to steal a glimpse of his body, no, she only wanted to see what stories he was hiding, written on flesh. Perched on a bookshelf, she watched the giant as he pulled his shirt over his head, some tight, black cloth that didn’t look cozy at all. He had a cut running from his navel to his chest, a few penny sized keloids along his ribcage. The giant’s body was pale, as though he had never at all caught the eye of the sun, the only thing making him look still-alive and healthy were the layers of muscle across the chest, bunching down to his abdomen.

A pretty sight, undoubtedly for women similar in stature to him, but to her she sees only his fluttering pulse in the vein along his neck, the shaking of hands too large, and those horribly sad eyes that shatter her heart with only a glimpse.

She had nearly been caught then, with her palm splayed out over her chest in open awe and sympathy for this poor, cursed beast. His gaze had snapped over to the appeal of small movement on the shelf only to find nothing at all; she had tucked herself behind a copy of a Ungeduld des Herzens.

That was two months ago.

He had left the following morning, a black duffel bag thrown over his shoulder as he meticulously walked through the home shutting off lights and closing doors. Except… he left two lights on this time; the kitchen and his bedroom were cast in a white glow. She thought, assuredly that the artificial suns in their glass casings will burn out by the time that he returns. She also realized how strange it is that he would do such a thing at all. The man was prone to his habits, and it welled her up with dread to think that perhaps the book hadn’t entirely concealed her shape, that he had seen her peeking out between old pages covered in thin layers of dust.

She occupied her time scrounging around for anything that may have suggested his cerulean eyes had fallen upon her, When a human catches sight, it’s best to leave as though a house sprite had never been there at all; she certainly didn’t care for uprooting from this cozy, quiet life in the presence of a man that she harbored a fluttering, sympathetic heart for.

To her relief, she found nothing of note.

— — —

It was rare for him to be gone this long. She’s lost track of the days after a quaint seventy-three. A decent meal is harder to come by when he isn’t accidentally feeding her; the cabinets and pantry are shut, and there’s absolutely no hope of her small hands prying open the big portal leading to a perpetual winter that humans referred to as a refrigerator. Dew drops, wild strawberries and blackberries get tiresome after a while, and sneaking outside is dangerous, anyway. The birds don’t think her anything more than a bug, something simple to descend upon and scoop into a hungry beak.

She gathers up a thin piece of thread and, after tossing it into the air an innumerable amount of times only to have it land in a heap at her feet, she finally manages to hook it onto one of the knobs of a cabinet where she knows he keeps brightly colored packages of store bought cookies.

Those were for rougher days, always in date because god knows the man probably had never had a day that wasn’t somewhat harrowing. She’s seen him drink jåger and munch cookies while watching the television late into the night more times than she can count.

She pulls the thread tight and takes steps backwards to fling the cabinet door wide open. It takes a lot of effort from her small size, but she prides herself on managing even without a cluster of other sprites to help her along. Her stomach rumbles when the package comes into view and she readily climbs into the cabinet, up a few cans and boxes to reach the second shelf.

The package is opened with careful precision. She’s diligent at emulating the rips and tears she’s seen on similar ones to make it look like an accident occurred on some storage room shelf. Her heart swells in utter delight as the sweet smell of sugar and cinnamon wafts up her nostrils, her mouth watering by the time she pulls one of the baked goods free from its confinement as she seats herself on the thin wooden board of the shelf with the treat in her lap.

It’s when her lips part and she lowers her head to take a bite that her ears prick to the sound of the front door opening. She missed the sounds of the turning lock, likely whilst fussing with the plastic and now… now it’s simply too late for her to haul off her spoils, shimmy down back to the linoleum floor, manage to unthread her makeshift cabinet-door-opener and shut it, leave it as though it had never been touched.

She’s never made a grave error like this. There have been close calls, certainly, but never one that set her off with the alarm of certainty that she would be discovered.

The lock clicks back into place, and there’s the sound of heavy boots being dropped to the floor before soft footfalls could be heard against the plush carpet.

… Headed straight in her direction.

Don’t come in the kitchen. Do not come in in the kitchen!

She finds herself in a tossup between petrified by her own fear and utterly entranced by the idea of being caught. Finally, after years of watching her giant from shadows and covered perches. The idea that he might crush her like a bug or capture her to marvel at like a pet crosses her mind, certainly, but a part of her wants to believe that her fondness for him wouldn’t be entirely unreciprocated.

From her perch, she can see the dark camos, the looming shadow as he trudges into the room only to stop, immediately, when he notices the little door flung wide open. He’s wearing that hood he wears often when he returns, a scrap of bleached fabric with eye holes torn out. She’s taken to stitching it more times than she can count, breathing in the scent of sweat, of strange lingering smoke as she works to fix the threading along the eyeholes. It’s difficult to make out his expression like this, but his blue eyes dart from the open cupboard to the rest of the room before landing back there.

He grunts out a noise of confusion, and she can almost hear his thoughts. He wouldn’t have left it open. The lights had been intentionally left on. That was a sign she had foolishly overlooked.

He takes careful steps toward her, so close now that only the fabric of his tight-fitting trousers filled her view. To her horror, her amazement, his knees bend and he kneels down slowly. This wasn’t the way that things should have went, she should have been more cautious. The hood comes into view all too quickly. Blue eyes widen as they land on her with that big cookie still in her lap.

“Hallo, little one.”

Ohgodohgodohgod.

He’s speaking directly to her. He sees her. He’s not afraid, yet her heart is burning with the icy touch of pure dread.

She clutcheds the pastry tight to her chest, lips pressed into a thin line as she takes a tentative step back into the shadow of the cupboard. So tense, so uncertain. She didn’t want to leave, silently willing him to close his eyes, turn away, forget about the tiny thing he happened upon stealing his food.

Instead, he stares down at her as though he had just found a will to keep living, a reason to stick around despite his bloodied wardrobe and the ever-present loneliness.

“Kleine engel… you are safe, please don’t look at me like that…”

He’s so much kinder than she had ever anticipated, his heart laid bare between the red rings of flesh lining his eyes. Her giant is nothing but gentle, cooing at her in such a quiet voice as though she were a wounded baby bird. Those eyes were filled to the brim with such wonder and hope that she couldn’t turn away now even if he was some rotten carnivorous animal.

“Please don’t look at me.”

The words fall from her lips despite her defenses lowering, shoulders relaxing and her eyes filling with that same look of hope he held.

It’s strange, how someone so massive doesn’t seem to send her scurrying for the hills. He’s huge, but that tenderness in his eyes that makes her feel comforted, reminds her of the gentle lull of streams and the sky filled with puffy clouds like castles in mid-morning.

“Ach… But you are so…”

Tiny, strange, a myriad of words hanging on his tongue, and she feels every one of them with each flutter of her pulse.

“… so pretty. Kleine puppe.”

She drops the cookie at that and it falls to the floor of the shelf with a soft thud that makes her jump in place.

The other sprites have their stories. It’s nice to sit and listen from the comfort of a canopy of grass when another passes through. They speak of the humans that they’ve encountered just as they speak of beasts, keen-eyed cats with sharp claws bared ready to feast upon those like herself. Dangerous things not meant to be associated with. Not one of them has ever mentioned encountering one that looks at them like… this, as though they were something breathtaking, something to be protected.

He huffs out a laugh at her shocked expression, his fingers drumming upon his knees as he watches her.

“I am not a ‘puppe’.”

“A fairy, then?”

She sighs, heavy and exasperated as she sorts out her dress and bends down to retrieve her meal. A pretty thing she had sewn herself from a vintage napkin, blue blossoms and thin lace.

“Are you going… to tell anyone?”

Her giant shakes his head with a laugh, and of course he does— who would he tell?

“I will keep you a secret, puppe.”

“Good, or I’ll curse you!” She warns, trying to puff her chest to seem bigger, more intimidating. She’s too cute to seem anything more than a frightened bunny, and his eyes are swimming in mirth at the sight of her. He’s like a giant child, finding out the fairytales in his books were true all along, only… not the ones about boiling folks like him down to bones to teach a lesson, just the ones where true love and sweet princesses existed.

He asks her a million things in rapid succession then— where she came from, how long she’s been here, what she’s doing, why she never came out before, how she can even exist. They make her head swim and she doesn’t answer a single one. He makes no move to touch her, doesn’t move any more than his nervous fingers and his beautiful eyes. They crease at the outer corners with each wide smile he undoubtedly has beneath that hood and her heart stutters each time like the flapping of little bird wings desperately seeking safe wind to coast in a storm.

She decides that she likes him as she brings herself to sit on the edge of the shelf, nibbling at her cookie whilst he tells her his name, that he works as a soldier— a colonel, sounding prideful despite the fact she has no clue just what that entails. He speaks to her in an energetic whisper, drops his shoulders and lowers himself further as though trying to appear her size, despite the vast disparity between their statures.

“Do you have a place to sleep?” König asks her suddenly, glancing over his shoulder as he looks out towards the den with a pinched brow. It was almost as though he expected a castle fit for her to appear from thin air, white gates and a shimmer of fairy dust surrounding it all.

“The floor is soft… sometimes between the sofa cushions, too. You’ve nearly sat on me before.”

“Nein. That will not do.”

He stands to his feet before she can protest and leaves the room. A part of her still teeters on the edge of running off, escaping before they became too familiar, and yet a more impulsive part wills her to wait as she hears the creak of floorboards beneath his feet whilst his footfalls ascend up into the attic.

She pictures the mice scurrying away in fright, just as she should, while she kicks her feet and waits patiently. The taste of cinnamon and sugar remains on her tongue as she places the remnants of the cookie aside and licks her fingers clean of sweet dust.

König returns a few moments later, a large box cradled in his arms.

“Close your eyes, puppe.”

It doesn’t make sense for her to leave herself vulnerable so soon after their impromptu meeting, and she doesn’t want to, but she does as he asks anyhow with a soft smile on her tiny face. Feels her chest pool with a mixture of excitement and fear as she hears him shuffling about the kitchen, the thump of something heavy being placed on the counter encourages her to flinch. She can hear small objects being set down carefully, the water running from the tap for a moment before the sound of something soft meeting wood fills her ears. It all quiets after a moment and she feels a gentle nudge at her side.

Her eyelids flutter open to see König’s finger gently pressed against her waist, his blue eyes beneath the dark hood fill her vision entirely. He’s so close, too close. As if sensing her apprehension, he raises his head back to look down at her instead.

“It is alright. I have a gift for you.”

König nudges her once more before she realizes that he’s inviting her to climb onto his massive hand. Her breath catches as she glances from the calloused flesh to his eyes and back.

Her kin would scold her severely if they were here, tell her she’s gone too far that there’s no way she will ever come back from this if she accepts. She stinks of human already. That’s how she justifies the way she climbs into his palm with her hands folded into the lap of her dress. His other hand curves around her, not touching, but hovering closely enough to keep her in place as he slowly rises to his full height and carries her over to the counter where he immediately allows her to clamber off before dropping his hands to his sides again.

The sight she’s met with dissolves any lingering fear she had harbored against him.

On the counter sits a wooden dollhouse, painted a lovely shade of blue, the roof a quiet shade of gray. It’s a stately thing, speaking of yesteryear’s Victorian styled homes with its vaulted roof, even a small turret beside the upstairs balcony. Expertly crafted and far too beautiful, perhaps even prettier than König’s empty home. Her eyes are welling with tears as she slowly ascends the three sturdy steps to the front door.

“You like?”

She can’t bring herself to respond immediately. She’s too caught up in this, opening the door with a gentle pull as she wanders into the house. It’s furnished in a hurry, some of the furniture misplaced, but… everything is here, as it would be in a normal, human home. A couch that seemed almost tailored for her size sits beside a little rattan shelf, a small table before it, a little hearth, a full kitchen and upstairs she finds a bedroom complete with a canopy bed. The curtains hanging off of it are blue like the outside, like the floral wallpaper adorning the dollhouse. She tests the bed with a gentle hand, marveling at how soft it was, how the sheets bunch beneath her palm.

Then, she approaches the window in admiration of all of the small details, little etchings of plant life carefully scrawled along the wood. The lock even clicks open as she pushes the little sheet of plastic framed by white to rise.

“It’s perfect,” she chirps out to her giant. “It’s so beautiful…”

��Oma gave it to me when I was a boy.” König’s reply sounds bittersweet, but his eyes are shimmering, as though the fact he had made this small woman so happy had been the height of his year, perhaps even an entire decade of his life. She’s seen him quietly weep to himself long into the night, only a breadth away from him as she tucks herself further into couch. He’s seemed gentle, less of a titan and more battered then, but he’s never seemed this sweet. “And now I am giving it to you.”

— — —

Sleeping in a bed is different. It’s quiet and soft with no worries of getting crushed by a heavy boot or threats of having a presence too large finding out about her existence. Those things do absolutely nothing to lull her to comfort as a dull the throbbing in her chest blossoms and continues all throughout the night ceaselessly. She tucks the blanket a little tighter around herself as she tosses and turns on the small mattress.

Mornings are different now, too. When König wakes, he taps at her front door to pull her from her restless dreaming. He has a ritual, expecting her to come out in one of the dresses from the dollhouse’s wardrobe rather than her scrapped clothing with a small mug and a plate in hand. He gives her a drop or two of coffee and food from whatever breakfast he’s pieced together. Sometimes it’s a cookie from the cabinet. She feels like a contented housepet these days as he leans over the counter to speak to her.

It’s painful how attentive König is. His eyes don’t leave her when she speaks and he consistently asks her if she needs anything, if there is anything that he could do to make her feel more comfortable as if he hasn’t already provided her with refuge and companionship, things she hadn’t even realized she had been longing for. As if he hasn’t already made her feel things for a human that no sprite should! Really, the way he loiters about with the stupid grin plastered across his face while she stumbles out of her abode to greet him does nothing to make the flutter in her chest feel warranted. It’s there no matter how much she turns her head away from him and barks out her warnings of curses and other mischief; gnaws at her every time she hears his laugh or he tells her yet another stupid story of things she knows nothing of.

She listens, anyway, utterly mesmerized when he speaks of rescuing hostages or tearing through men like a rampaging bull. He explains to her what guns are, shows her and lets her run her tiny hands over polished metal. She should think him violent and obscene, but the way he looks at her as though she’s all he has stifles any judgements before they can leave her lips.

It quickly froths to a point that she realizes she’s come down with a terrible crush. She worries for him after hearing his tales each time he steps foot out of the house on another deployment, rushes from whichever corner she’s occupied with hurried little steps to greet him. She lets him carry her around on his shoulder sometimes, even leans over his arm when it’s stationed on the counter just to feel him near.

She knows better, which is why she finds herself skittering through tall grass to seek another of her kind. Hoping for a reminder that she’s making too many mistakes. The trip is a short walk for a human, but takes her from morning to sunset to reach her destination, a narrow alder tree full of knotholes with sprigs of dandelion surrounding it.

“You what?!” Bellis exclaims, the very second she’s managed to spill her story and slump against a ruggedly crafted table within the trunk of the tree. Bellis’ voice was like the chirping of little nightingales, and she looks cute when she’s surprised— the other sprite’s brown eyes twinkle in such a way that it makes her think of stars falling into pools of honey.

“Yes… we spoke,” she huffs, curling her arms around her waist, her face feeling hot and her eyes dreamy. Bellis knows the look well enough, the other sprite has it every time she locks eyes with her wife, another sprite far too pretty. It’s affection, one that she graciously spares her friend from commenting on.

“It’s alright, you know… just be safe.”

“Of course…”

She anticipated some long-winded lecture of dangers, to be beaten by words targeting her own selfish wants.

Instead, Bellis only offers comfort and the hope that her feelings are not a lost cause.

“You aren’t the only one who has ended up falling for their human, you know?”

“I thought we were supposed to avoid them, not dream of them.”

Bellis giggles and drapes an arm over her shoulder as she prattles on about sprites and glamours that could make them bigger. She tells her of a couple only a weeks travels away, a male sprite and a human woman, how he feasts upon wild berries and golden herbs under each new moon to keep himself human-sized day and night for the woman that he loves. Bellis reminds her that the other sprites frown upon it out of fear for their own safety, but she also reminds her that she’s damned to live a life far longer than the object of her affection, anyhow, and that if he already knows of her existence then what’s the harm in it?

Those words fill her with fantasies about a happy life, where she can hold her giant properly in an embrace, rather than wrapping her arms around his thumb to satiate the burning affection running rampant through her.

They also damn her to heartbreak when König returns.

He comes home after two short weeks this time, rather than months and she rushes to greet him as always. König bends down on a knee, scoops her up in his palm and brings her over to the sofa where he sets her on the opposite end from where he sits.

“How was your trip?” She asks him sweetly as she plops down onto the pillowy cushion below, fidgeting with the hem of her dress in excitement. She knows what she knows now, and she truly could not wait to tell him, to give life to the newfound feelings in her chest. She wonders what König would say; would he take her on dates? Would he dance across the room with her as she’s seen sprites in the throes of courtship do before? Would he kiss her? The thought makes her feel warm again.

König, on the other hand seems perfectly composed and lost in thought. His hands are fidgeting, but this time, not with themselves. He’s holding a device she doesn’t recognize, tapping at the little screen with the same look in his eyes that she reserves solely for him.

“It was fine.” He mumbles, and for the first time he doesn’t elaborate. She looks forward to his stories. Time away from him is difficult now. It passes slowly without their morning chatter, without his stories, without the films she watches with him late into the night. He’s taught her to use the remote, sure, but it’s not the same without him towering at her side.

“What is that?”

“A phone.”

She listens intently when he explains what this strange object is, even shows her the bright screen and lets her tap her hand against it a few times as she looks at the shifting colors with wide eyes.

“I visited a friend while you were away.”

He rests his phone in his lap and looks down at her then, his interest piqued.

“There are more like you?”

“Yes, lots.” She giggles. She tells him of Bellis who lives in the alder with her wife, of how her dark hair curls and her voice sounds like the chirping of birds. König pays rapt attention as she speaks, belays his curiosity of the prospect of there being many more like his little housemate with a tilt of his head.

“I made a friend while I was away.” He gestures toward his phone with a smirk. “Pretty, like you, but bigger.”

König explains to her what a ‘dating app’ is with a look of pure glee on his face. She’s never seen him so happy, not even when he first met her. It’s not a concept she can wrap her head around, her kind just happen upon one another, sing and dance and feast together until love blooms between them. There’s no need for little, lighted rectangles when it came to courtship.

“She’s coming to visit soon.” He pauses as his phone lights up again, his eyes scanning over the message on screen as a grin spreads over his thin lips. “I will have to hide you.”

Her face scrunches in disdain at that as she rises to her feet to pad a bit closer to the hill of his thigh, spread over into the next seat. She places her palms against the rough fabric of his pants, looking up at him with an expression of sheer bewilderment.

“But I don’t wanna hide anymore — we are friends.”

The man’s smile falters a bit then, as he nods his head in agreement.

“Ja… but she will be more.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I am taking her on a date.”

König seems so happy, and yet she feels as if she’s being bitten by a viper. All of that talk with Bellis was for naught, because the human man that’s won her heart by telling her of his creature comforts, of war and sharing his meals with her has left her to have his heart stolen away by another.

Despite the way it hurts, she doesn’t find herself upset with him. He isn’t like her, and he’s been alone for far too long. She reminds herself that König deserves to be happy, especially after all that he’s done for her.

She only lets herself cry when he brings her back to the dollhouse and she sinks into the sheets of her bed.

The following morning comes and she wakes feeling refreshed before König even begins his tapping. She bathes in the little plastic tub filled with lukewarm water König had graciously fetched for her the night before from the faucet, clothes herself in one of the many doll dresses found in the little wooden wardrobe of her home. Dainty florals like the wallpaper in the little wooden house, only this time pink rather than blue.

When König taps at her door, she’s already prepared with her tiny mug and plate in hand, a smile on her face.

“Guten morgen, puppe.” He greets her with a lazy grin as he opens his palm to take her dainty kitchenware. His yawn is cute when he turns away to begin filling the liner of the well with coffee grounds. She follows after him across the countertop with hurried steps to match his vast strides.

As he prepares their breakfast, they speak endlessly of dreams, sweet syrupy things. He tells her he dreams of flowers sometimes, like the ones on her dress, and she tells him she dreams of exploring the world outside with him.

“I will carry you to the top of a mountain one day, little one.” König says sweetly as they both sip at their coffee. He doesn’t prepare it black as often anymore, often adding sugar and milk simply because he knows that she likes it better that way.

She tells him she doesn’t need to see the tops of mountains, because she already gets a perfect view when he carries her.

— — —

“I’ll be back later.”

König is dressed strangely, she notes as she watches him from the arm of the couch. He’s dressed casually, more so than she had ever seen him, which is a large statement considering the man normally roamed around his abode in nothing more than a pair of black sweatpants. Tonight, however, he’s chosen a black t-shirt with some text scrawled across it that she can’t quite read and tough denim. It’s an odd sight when she’s grown so accustomed to the bare flesh of his scarred torso and gaudy military camos unsuited for cozy, indoor wear.

The giant crouches to lace up his boots with one hand while the other holds his phone. There’s that smile on his face again, but she easily takes notice of the way his hand shakes with it in his grip. He’s nervous, but never so with her.

It’s strange that he’s more comfortable with a little creature in his home than he is with his own kind.

“Oh… your date,” she murmurs, standing up to her full height, despite how small it may be.

“Ja, my date.”

“Can we watch another movie when you get back?”

König nods his head as he approaches the couch, slipping his phone back into his pocket before gently stroking the top of her head as though she were just a small kitten.

She doesn’t like the fact that he doesn’t see her as anything more than a cute pet any longer. Sprites didn’t keep track of their ages as humans do, celebrating the day they were born into the world with silly parties and gifts, but she would hazard to guess she’s at least a century older, maybe more. This wasn’t her first home, only, in the last she had watched that family wither away to an endless rest.

König was different; she wanted him to stay, thrive, live forever here with her. A selfish, silly wish.

When she leans into his touch, she thinks of the couple Bellis spoke of— a sprite and a human woman. It could be the same for she and König, if only he saw her for what she truly was, what she was capable of being.

“Ja, little one. As many as you like.”

She watches as the door closes behind him with her heart in her throat.

König does not keep her waiting long. If she had to hazard any sort of guess, she would assume that the moon hanging in the sky had barely moved by the time he returns. She hadn’t even left the couch, lying on her back staring up at the ceiling when the front door is flung open.

If it were possible for him to somehow look more pitiable, he does in that moment as he kicks off his boots and rests his phone and keys on the table by the door. She knows without a word exchanged that she should not ask him what’s happened. The broad shoulders were slumped, his face somehow paler. In that moment, her giant seemed even smaller than her.

She sits up and presses the buttons on the remote with her entire hand as König had shown her how to do, loading up some Austrian film he had told her was his favorite when he was just a boy. He offers her a lazy smile as he carefully places himself a respectful distance away and leans back into the couch. The movie plays while she occasionally speaks up to ask him what certain words mean, and he patiently teaches her, seeming thankful for the distraction she eagerly provides.

She doesn’t wake in her small house, in her tiny bed, this time, instead pressed against his thigh with his hand draped over her in the world’s heaviest blanket. When she raises her head up to look at him, peacefully resting with his head tilted against the back of the couch, jaw slack and dark lashes fluttering she makes a firm decision.

The golden herbs and berries Bellis had mentioned were on the far side of the forest. A long, dangerous trek, especially for someone who didn’t know the way. Rousing a mouse to treat as a steed could work, but the urgency caused her to fret. She wanted to meet his gaze and not fear stumbling back with each exhale of his breath, to be strong and capable enough to make her giant somehow feel as safe as he made her feel. There was no time to befriend a mouse and train it proper, not if she intended to do this before the new moon came and went.

She slips from beneath König’s limp palm, off of the sofa and out the small gap in the window to set off.

— — —

The early morning is alive with the chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves and calls of strange animals a distance away when she makes it outdoors. She shields herself beneath a broad fallen leaf, hunkering down to soil any time anything soars or wanders too close for her liking. Morning dew chills her to her bones, and she has herself convinced that after all of this she will most certainly craft herself a coat, perhaps one made out of a sleeve from one of König’s old shirts. He would allow it, she’s certain. The thought of him even wasting a day away to help her fills her up with another warmth to carry on.

Her little dress is filthy before she even makes it out of the yard.

Tall grass quickly morphs into a forested trail, the trees so vast and tall, filled with the chattering and singing of others. She waves to some of them, turns her nose up at a few that beckon her to join their little communes hidden beneath layers of tree bark and moss. She spots a red fox chasing after another in the midst of play, they chitter and whine as they topple over one another before bounding off into the brush.

When the sun completes a lazy crawl high up into the sky, it’s rays of warmth beaming down on to the back of the leaf, warming her fingers as they curl over it to keep it in place, she knows she should stop and rest. Tucked away in the shade of a small mulberry bush, she shoos away a vibrantly colored caterpillar before cleaning off one of the berries with a handkerchief she finds in the pocket of her dress. A small lunch that simply leaves her wishing for König’s breakfasts instead, always warm and filled with moments of soft laughter.

She wonders what he’s spending his time doing now, almost feeling a pang of guilt for leaving him after what had assuredly been a terrible outing with a woman he had admired. Did he miss her? Was he thinking of her, too? Searching through his bookshelf and beneath his couch in an effort to find her? She hoped so.

Her journey ends when night finally comes about. The moon above is a mere sliver, but it’s enough to frame the clusters of goldenrod in a soft, white glow amidst a sea of inky darkness. She cheers in utter delight when she realizes she’s made it, that despite no map or guides her senses were keen enough to carry her on the right path. She carefully gathers a few clippings, dropping them into a neat pile before seeking out the strange berries Bellis had told her about. Her thoughts are flooded by the idea of how she and König will dance, how she will tell him in a voice as loud as his own that she’s fallen head over heels for him and that perhaps, he can even teach her to use one of his many weapons before they clamber onto the couch snug and warm to talk throughout a film.

Those thoughts keep her warm when she beds down in a nest of wild grasses.

The next night fills her with excitement. The sky is darker with the new moon hanging up above, only pinpricks of starlight break through the dark. She pictured herself human sized as she performs her little ritual, feasting on berries and swaying with a sprig of goldenrod in a little dance before she bites down into it to. There are other sprites here, doing the same. Some get bigger to move or for silly things such as being able to shop in human markets or taste meat for the first time. They sing and giggle just as she does, and she sees the face flush with love of the one she knew Bellis had spoken of. It lasts the entire night, and she’s far too excited to sleep or stay out when all is done.

She doesn’t know when she’ll change shape, not having thought to even ask, but the sight of the other sprites had solidified her belief that it would come to pass.

The way back feels far shorter than the way forward. She finds herself back in the yard just as the sky settles into mottled purples and orange and puffy white clouds. The smile on her face makes her cheeks hurt, and her chest and legs ache from exertion, but she treks on until she meets the brick foundation of the house. With and arm raised and a foot dig into the firm clay, she begins to climb up towards the window still left slightly ajar.

Only, she feels a warmth at her side that tosses her back into the grass steps away. It pulls her breath from her lungs and it takes a moment for her to force herself back up into a crouch and her vision to cease its swimming. She’s always found cats to be cute from a distance away, all soft fur and pleasant sounds. The one before her, however seems menacing, its claws are bared and its pupils blown as his mouth hangs open to scent. The orange of its fur is like fire, the yellow of irises like the sun itself.

This thing was going to kill her, she knew it before she even caught sight of the way claws had slashed through the side of her dirty dress leaving shallow gashes in her flesh.

The cat rears back, shifting on its haunches in preparation to pounce as she wails out König’s name in a near-silent prayer that he would come rescue her from this adorable little murderer.

The cat is caught in arms the size of trees mid-leap. It yowls for a moment before a hand gently begins to stroke the fiery fur behind its ears. Her giant coos to the little beast, and the vibration of a soft purr could be heard as she dusts herself off and stands.

“Are you alright, little one?”

His voice is sweet as he carefully sets the cat back into the grass and scoops her up instead. She looks pitiful— dirty, injured and panting as though she’s just escaped Hell itself. König’s expression grows horribly concerned before she can even catch her breath enough to respond.

“I’m okay,” she mumbles as she rests her weary head on the palm that feels more like rough stone than living flesh. “I was only gone for two nights, did you have to get a pet?”

König laughs at that, shaking his head as he takes her back inside the house with metered steps.

“Nein, I did not. He’s the neighbor’s.”

He shuts the door behind him, taking care to ensure the scruffy feline didn’t sneak inside.

“Let’s clean you up, hm?”

The man offers her a human bandage for the scrape along her waist before she wanders into the dollhouse to bathe, dress the wound and change into something less dirty.

After everything, she finds herself utterly exhausted. She tells König good night wishes, but her giant is hellbent on keeping her in his sight. After a close call like that, she doesn’t protest when he tells her they should sleep on the couch again instead. It’s safer, and after two days apart there’s little more that she wants than to be close to him, tucked under his palm eternally safe. König only gets through the start of a story before she’s fallen asleep curled against the side of his thigh. It doesn’t take long for the giant to follow suit, either. His soft snoring is present in her dreaming, a gentle sound accompanying the breeze of wind through a field of lavender where they sit hand-in-hand.

— — —

König does not wake her with gentle tapping the next morning. Instead, it’s a bark of surprise that jolts her from her sleeping. Her vision is blurry when her eyelids flutter. She can make out the view of the coffee table, the television beyond it, and somehow it feels wrong. She was accustomed to straining her neck to look up at things, yet seeing them now she doesn’t need to at all. In fact, it feels stranger when she notes her head is no longer resting on the cushion of the couch below, but on a broad shoulder layered in muscle instead.

König is staring at her as though he’s just encountered a ghoul. In fact, he’s trembling too. His reaction is enough to prompt her to shrink back, away from him and retreat to the arm of the couch. Only, she can’t fit the entirety of herself there as easily as she had many times before. Her legs are much too long, and making her ascent only brings her hands into view. She holds one to her face and marvels at it before her gaze trails down, down and she notices she’s nude. The little dress she had been wearing was no more than a tattered and torn mess on the couch beside König, who’s still gawking at her.

He turns his head away rigidly after a moment while she sits bewildered by her change in shape. The man returns after a beat with a large t-shirt and a pair of his boxers in hand, thrusting them towards her graciously as he keeps his face turned away. She can make out the red tint on his cheeks, the way his lips part only to slam shut when words fail him and she laughs full and giddy as she slips his clothing on and stands up to twirl about the room.

“It worked!”

Her voice sounds strange even to her own ears now. Shouting from her regular stature still resulted in a mere whisper, yet this… along with seeing all she can hear all. Just as he does, she sounds of rustling wind chimes.

She reaches for his hand to pull him along in her rhythmless swaying, and he obliges with a sigh and a shake of his head. König’s grinning, though. Even more so than when he wasted his time tapping away at the phone screen. He looks happier than she’s ever seen him as he clumsily shuffles with her.

“Little one… what did you do?”

He’s still a fair bit bigger than her, but she stands the height she feels as though she should. Her giant is still a giant no matter what silly magic she uses, but it’s fine, because he’s not looking at her as a tiny doll anymore, but in utter amazement instead. The way his pulse races and his pale cheeks burn crimson isn’t lost on her.

She explains to him just what the other sprite told her, tells him about the one she saw so in love with a human woman he did the same each month to keep himself more her size too. König halts her movement as he tugs her against him and pulls her into an embrace, the very thing she’s yearned for since the afternoon they began to speak. She knows he’s confused and entirely confused, but he bends to rest his chin on the crown of her head and squeezes her so tightly that she knows he’s grateful for this small miracle too.

She helps König prepare breakfast this time. Having watched him ready his coffee pot dozens of times by now, she knows how to operate the small, black machine. She prepared the toast too, with a gratuitous sweep of jam over each slice of the warm bread. König is still overly gentle with her, keeping his distance and not resting his hands on her unless it’s required or she prompts it. She does, often intertwine her fingers with his even as they eat, which earns her a shy smile and a gentle squeeze each time. Her giant isn’t nervous with her, their conversations are the same. He tells her that she’s pretty as often as before, cups a steady hand on her shoulder when she reaches out to embrace him after their meal.

She thinks ahead and leads König into the forest to gather a plethora of golden herb and berries to stuff into the winter box for the next time she will need to perform her little ritual, and he swears to her that he will stay up the entire night to watch over her then. The walk is so much shorter from her height now, but she doesn’t forget to tap at Bellis’ alder and flash the sprite a little smile and a wave when König has his back turned on the way back.

He still has his work, and she waits at home for him like a doting housewife. Only now, he returns with gifts. His closet is no longer dark green and black— there are patches of soft colors and whites between, floral fabric and lace, dainty things that seem comical amidst the tactical articles and denims she knows he’s scrubbed blood off of a few too many times.

They don’t share a bed, but they still cuddle against one another on the couch. Hand-in-hand as she’s always dreamt of. In fact, most nights it’s his bed that she sleeps in while he rests elsewhere, and he doesn’t mind it at all. He even tucks her in and presses a kiss to her cheek that makes her so giddy that she can’t find sleep until a half-hour afterwards before he flicks off the lamp and leaves her to her dreaming.

— — —

She’s better at keeping track of time after adjusting to a more domesticated life. König’s been out for fifty-four days, but she doesn’t have to miss him so much. He’s gifted her a phone, sends her letters with his stories scrawled out in black ink. The calls are frequent, and she finds she loves them most of all. They’re at odd hours often, and he always breathes out an apology for having woken her that pulls a giggle from her, because they both know she wouldn’t have preferred to wake any other way than from the sound of his voice.

“I miss you.”

He sounds tired when he says it, and she imagines that he is. Those weary looks from before they had ever even spoken weren’t unwarranted and she knows well enough now. His tales of his heroics were not all spoken to simply boast.

“I miss you too, König.”

He huffs out a laugh into the phone, and she imagines his smile reaching the bright eyes that she loves, twinkling in mirth.

“I should let you sleep.”

“No, it’s fine.” She pauses to chew on her lip, heart sailing up into her throat. “Will you be coming home soon?”

He grunts out his confirmation. “Tomorrow.”

“I wish to take you on a date then— a picnic, maybe. I can bake a cake.”

König falls silent for a moment, and her breathing halts entirely as she slumps back against the bed— his bed— feeling as though she were still just as small as before. Surely… she could not have misread all of those little looks, the warmth and his fluttering pulse she felt as she rested her head on his arm so many times before. She parts her lips to recant her statement, but there’s no need. The contented sigh she hears in response is all of an answer that she needs.

“Ja, please. I would be honored.”