#cracking open books ive had for years for the first time

[britneyshakespeare]

should i start reading russian avant-garde theater

[silencesscreams]

𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞

james potter x reader

“inescapable, im not even gonna try, and if i get burned, at least we were electrified.”

a/n: maybe (just maybe) this was inspired by dress - taylor swift 🫡 also, ive had this in mind for AGES now, pls tell me about any grammar mistakes, english isn’t my first language!! also, i made up some characters just to have something to fit into the story pls dont mind that

warnings and tags: afab!reader, angstyish if you squint, uncomfortableness??, oh my god the tension, intimate and touchy relationship between friends, james mentions other girls blablabla, kissing, stitches, open wounds, falling, body shots, hickies, slighttt choking, oral sex (f receiving), praise, degradation???????? penetration, unprotected, v soft ending, use of y/n a couple of times, slow burn?? words words words. (god how i love james potter). james is a player !! r is in the marauders group, r is v close with lily, like two years after finishing hogwarts, marauders working together on the orderrrr

it started on your third year.

you were seated with a redhead named lily in potions, she was sweet. she was friends with boys mostly, so when you started getting close she was happy to have you as a friend.

on your first trip to hogsmeade, she came a long with you and brought four boys along with her; remus, sirius, peter and james.

james potter caught your eye as soon as you saw him for the first time, he was laughing to something sirius had said, and you swore that was the sweetest sound you had ever heard.

you bonded over the same taste in candy at honeydukes, music, books and enjoying the same sorts of jokes. not much longer, you could consider him one of your best friends.

after a while, you found out james was touchy, at least he was with you. he would play with your hands when he was bored, cracking your knuckles for you.

he’d always listen about all the gossip and talk shit on mutually hated people. lily was happy you got along, and most of her girl friends and guy friends were also your friends now, which made you incredibly happy to have found yourself in a group like that. you were happy about how a great friend james was, he was so nice to you.

well, until your sixth year. that was when james started getting girls, suddenly, over the summer, everyone started to drool over him. at first, it didn’t even bother you that much, sure, you bawled your eyes out when he skipped your usual outing in hogsmeade to go on some stupid date with some stupid girl, but it didn’t even bother you that much, did it? you dont know, but it started really to bother you at some point, sure, no one else was caring about it like you were, but maybe no one else was around him like you were. maybe no one else knew him like you did, at some points you even asked yourself if you really knew him after all those years. you even spent christmas with him once, how could you not know him? maybe you only knew what he wanted you to see. god, you hated this feeling.

around october it was really pissing you off. he barely hung out with you anymore, of course you always saw him in groups, but you liked being alone with him listening to music or doing nothing at all. james was sweet to be around. he was caring, and you liked his smell. the way his arm would always be around your shoulder.

but in november, what really pushed you over the edge, was him showing up to dinner with his neck filled with hickeys, really showing them off. he sat down next to you, as sirius and remus both eyed him, pretending they weren’t seeing shit, but they would probably joke around about it when you and the girls weren’t around. and that was it for you. you got up, got your books and left, you couldn’t stand to do this on that day. not when your clothes didn’t sit right, not when you didn’t feel clean, not when your hair was not staying how you wanted it to stay. not when you figured out you might be in love with your best friend.

“where you going?” james asked as soon as you got up, you ignored him and just started walking. your eyes just might’ve started to water and god you needed to go somewhere you could be alone.

so you found yourself in the library, sat next to the window, thinking about how you were going to explain storming off like that to your friends, and worst, to james. all of it was so fucking stressing.

“hey.” you heard someone whisper, and so you quickly dry your cheeks with your sleeves, turning around to face james.

“hi.” you whisper back, he signals to the chair next to you, asking if its taken. you shake your head in response, he smiles and sits down.

“what’s going on?” he asks, staring at you with his brows furrowed.

“don’t worry about it, you can leave. i know you have a date with that ravenclaw girl, i’m just upset. its nothing.”

“you really think i care about her?” he asks, rolling his eyes. “you’ve been quite upset these days, haven’t you?”

“yeah, i guess, don’t worry, really. you should go and have your fun.” you reply, smiling empathetically.

“i dont wanna go.” he answers quickly, he looks around, trying to find something to say. and then he sees your redish eyes.

“oh y/n, com’ere” he gets up, opening his arms, you roll your eyes playfully, getting up and hugging him. you dont know why but his hugs always made you feel better. it was like he took all of the sadness from you and just threw it out. he was wearing a new perfume. he smelled like 2 in one shampoo and lavender soap.

“you can go to your date, i’m fine. i swear.” you say, still hugging him.

“i dont wanna go. i wanna be here with you, that okay? plus, i need to catch up on history of magic.” he said, sweetly kissing the stop of your head, and afterwards, pressing his chin on top of it. and you didnt know if it was the moment or something else, but that was when you knew.

when you were sure of it all. when you needed to tell someone else or you’d explode.

“lily, i need to tell you something but you need to promise me this stays just between us. really.” you whisper as she takes a sip of her butterbeer.

“what’d you do?”

“i didn’t do shit. listen, don’t judge me, alright?” you reply, frustrated. she nods a yes. “i think i might be very into james and i have no idea how to deal with it.” you blurt out, staring at your own cup, too nervous to look at her.

“oh, i already knew that.” she answers.

“no you didn’t!” you whisper-shout at her

“i mean, it was a very firm theory. i just know you and the way you get silly around him and his dates sort of made me sure of it.” she smiles.

“god. im so stupid” you whisper, facepalming yourself.

“no you’re not. you should see the way he looks at you.” she says, grinning at how red your face is.

“lily, he’s had like, 20 girlfriends this past year, he’s not into me.” you answer, rolling you eyes.

“alright then.” she said, irony taking over her voice.

“im serious!” you reply, and she nods, still ironically.

for the rest of his 6th year, james didnt have any girlfriends. and on his 7th he had a few flings, but so did you.

“i just don’t get why you’re going out with this asshole!” james said while you walked with him to transfiguration class.

“he’s not like that, james, just give him a chance.” you smile at his horrified look to your comment.

“corrigan almost made me fall off my broom once, he actually is like that, sorry sweetheart.” he emphasized the part where he says corrigan is like that.

“james, we’re not getting married, its just a date.”

“a fourth date.”

“come on, he’s fun.”

“y/n, if you wanted fun you should be dating me.” you roll your eyes at that. “where’s he even taking you anyway?”

“madam puddifoot’s, i think” you answer, knowing exactly what was about to go on.

“oh, in his dreams. he’s gonna try to bang you i just know it.”

“at a tea shop?” you laugh.

“oh please, don’t tell me you’ll let that asshole suck your face.”

“i dont talk about who sucks YOUR face. because just let me add that this gale girl you’re going out with will probably give you a disease.” james laughs at that. “im serious! shes sick all the time, every time i see her shes coughing and sniffing and all of that.”

“that reminds me i gotta break up with her.” he sighs.

“nooo, why? i thought things were going well”

“nah, we’re just not good together.”

“maybe because every time you went out with her you used it as an excuse to spy on me and corrigan.”

“just trying to protect my closest friend. thats all” he smiles, winking at you and you swear you can melt into a puddle right there.

“shut up, you’re just doing this because you hate him.”

“im serious, darling. he IS an asshole.”

“i guess i’ll just have to figure it out myself.” you wink back at him.

-

“oh would you just look at that.” james whispered, looking through the window at mrs. puddifoots door.

he could ser how corrigans face was close to yours and how suddenly he kissed you, one hand on your upper thigh and the other on the back of your neck.

“is that jealousy im sensing, prongs?” sirius laughed.

“n-no! its just disgusting, he’s a prick” james was suddenly defensive.

“y/n/n seems to like him though” remus commented.

“shut up.” james said, still watching how corrigan was gripping onto you. ‘god, i hate him so much’ he thought to himself.

and that went on until you and corrigan broke up. he did end up making james fall off his broom, he had to get 20 stitches, and you cried about it. as soon as james hit the grass you were in the field, it wasn’t even a real match, just practice. you took him to the infirmary, you even held his hand.

“its just a few stitches, don’t worry about it.” he said, as the nurse started to clean the wound.

“20 is definitely not a few, just let me stay here.”

“she’s right” the nurse added, she rubbed alcohol onto the cut and james hissed.

“told you he was an asshole, hun”

“watch your mouth, mr potter” she added as he groaned again.

after you were finished with school, most of your friends went to work at the order of the phoenix, you had a part time job as a baratender but also participated in the order. james had been trying to convince you to quit the job, specially because your ex was the manager (even though he wouldn’t admit it).

“james!” you shouted, laying down at the couch in the orders house.

“what?!” he screamed back from the kitchen, he was making those god awful scrambled eggs you said you loved because he made them with such care you were sorry for his cooking skills.

“you’re taking anyone to sirius’s birthday tonight?” you ask, hoping to god he’d say no.

“no, mia and i broke up last month, remember?”

“of course i remember!” you were all smiley about it, you could squeal if he wasn’t there. even if it was silly, you were anxious to ask lily to come over and she’d help you pick out your outfit.

you both ended up deciding on a black dress she was willing to lend you. being so excited for something as casual as a friends birthday, was a bit stupid of you, that you could admit. but you couldn’t take your mind off of james now, sure it had been that way for like four years now, but he still was your best friend and you couldn’t do much about it. what was even worse was that his hugs, his voice, his smell, was all so addictive to you. and you tried, you really did, you just couldn’t.

when you got to the party at the order, you were a like two hours late, you got held back because of work and you still needed to get ready, but you somehow made it before they sung happy birthday. you wished sirius a happy birthday, giving him his gift and a tight hug. even though you weren’t close, he was still one of the most present people in your life, and you loved that about him, and so before you could even ask, he said:

“james is in the bathroom right now, but believe me, he’s been waiting for you all night though.” you smiled.

“thank you sirius, but i have other friends took, you know?” you said.

“he’ll love the dress” he whispered, and started walking away, you knew why. him and lily have been trying to get you and james together for ages now, and so you knew that when he just walked away like that, james was coming near, probably to talk to you.

“hey” you heard, and so you turned around to face him, and honestly, he looked great. he was wearing those jeans you liked and a shirt you complimented once.

“hi” you looked at him, smiling.

“you look amazing” he said, you felt your blood rush.

“thank you, i really like that shirt.” you felt the need to say something back.

“really?” he was just teasing you at this point.

“really.” and you liked to tease him back.

“y/n! finally, come on, we’re taking body shots” said lily, pulling you with her, and james came along.

everyone was there, laughing having fun. it was all super sweet, like you were in school again.

well, that was until sirius decided he’d make you regret you were ever born.

“PRONGS!” he shouted, as james was staring at him from a safe distance “COME ON LETS JOIN THE GAME, ITS YOUR TURN!”

“i’m not so sure about that, i feel like its sort of y/n’s turn, right?” james smirked to you, you glared at him. god, you didn’t know if you wanted to kiss him or kill him.

“ah james, you know how they say, gentlemen’s first? i believe that’s the phrase” you found yourself very idiotic in that place.

“i’m not drinking tonight though” james winked, you were trying to get yourself out of the situation, though it only seemed to get worse.

“perfect way to solve it, hear me out, y/n takes one off of james, problem solved!” sirius didn’t seem to have any common sense when he was drunk.

“good idea sirius!” said lily loudly through the music, and so you glared at her. this was definitely going to be the lowest point of your year, being sure james would say no, you looked over to him and he just decided to say

“fine by me” and just like that the shirt you liked too much was thrown on the counter.

“oh, uhm, okay then” you felt hot and red and you were sure that was exactly how you looked and it did not feel good. you were hoping the lighting would mask i, until james said “no need to be nervous, princess” and somehow that made you even more nervous.

“you know how this works right? lick, shoot, suck?” james asked, and so you nodded a yes, staring at the ceiling. he slipped a lime wedge into his mouth, and so you begging for this torture to end because you already felt so wet it was scary.

his tongue fell upon the rind, and so he could taste the citric flavor as you sprinkled salt onto his skin, from his navel to his waistband. he felt himself blush but decided to just ignore it and try to focus on something else.

and so it begins, you didn’t know it, but maybe james was more nervous about that than you. he was begging to the universe, spirits, everything he could, to not get hard on that moment you leaned over him, your warm tongue sticking out and licking a stripe up the salt. he tried his best to suppress a groan, you smiled, nervously, as you took the shot from his stomach, he could hear sirius saying something loudly, lily screaming and remus’s laugh. and he just saw you.

leaning towards his face, you looked at him with your ‘i’m so sorry oh my god’ look, your lips falling and plucking the lime from his mouth, but when you were going to pull back, your lips touched around the wedge and you felt your whole body ignite as your lips brushed against his.

but as quick as you tasted him, as quick it was gone.

james quickly got up and fixed himself, putting his shirt back on.

“good job” he didnt know what else to say and just high-fived you. you smile confused.

“thanks i guess” you say, as lily pulls you to the side to discuss what happened right in front of her and wasnt just actually one of your dreams.

around three hours later the party ended, and james did actually drink, once most people were hone and you were headed to the guest room you felt a hand pulling you by your dress, holding on to the silky fabric. turning around you found yourself very up close to james potter.

“hi” you whispered.

“hi” he said lowly.

“is everything okay?” you asked, his breath smelling like mint and lemons.

“yeah” he answered, still staring “can i crash with you? ‘dont wanna go home” you nodded a yes, and suddenly his hand was on the back of your neck.

“i’m about to do something so stupid.” he whispered.

“so am i.” you answered, your eyes not really knowing where to focus, his eyes, his lips, his neck, his mouth.

“good.” he nodded, and suddenly his lips were brushing over yours, your eyes started to close and then there it was.

your lips met, softly completing one another, which involved a pulling back and crashing. his lips strong against yours, and then his tongue was brushing over your lips, and so you opened your mouth and god, you dont know for how long you waited. his hands now roaming your body, you felt the heat of his body, and he pulls back.

“youre so fucking pretty” he blurted out, going back to the kiss. his hands now on your lower back, you pull him towards the guest room.

and then you were both sat on the bed, your heels off and his shoes too. your lips still attached, more and more eager by the second, and now his lips were on your neck, teasing you, as his right grabbed onto your upper thigh and your dress was riding up.

he pulled away to take off his shirt, you just stared at him, having no idea what to say next.

“hey” he was so close.

“hi”

“you wanna do this? because if you don’t that’s fine by me, really, we can just forget it and pretend we were both really drunk” he started trailing off.

“no. i want you, really, i do” you were trying not to look at him because that would make you even more nervous. just like that, his lips were back on yours, his hand on your waist, laying you down on the bed, your head on the pillow as he unzipped your dress, he was back to working on your neck, pressing kisses and nipping at it as he started to pull down your dress, his knee right between your legs, he was so so close to where you needed him.

you felt his cold hand reach for your breast, his lips trailing down to your chest, starting to suck on one nipple as his hand stimulated the other. you couldn’t help but just run your hands through his hair as you let moans escape through your mouth.

“james” you whined, as he left a trail of kissed from you chest to your inner thighs.

“yeah princess?” he looked up at you with doe eyes, right between your parted legs.

“please” you whispered.

“i cant hear you, what’s that?” he teased.

“please, i need you.” he smirked at that, pressing a kiss to the damp spot on your lace panties, your body now electrified because of the gesture.

“can i take these off?”he asked, his thumb playing with the fabric as you nod, he smiles as he pulls them down your legs. he’s using his hands to part your thighs. you can feel his breathing over your clit, he watches you as he places his thumb pad over your clit, rubbing it in slow circles and you let out a moan. his arm coming up, resting across your stomach.

embarrassment quickly turns into pleasure as he starts to kitten lick your clit.

his lips now attached as you threaded your hands into his hai, tugging and making james grunt. he’s slipping in a finger and you start to whimper.

“that feels good?” he asks, pulling his mouth off of you, you nod.

“yes, please…" he’s smiling lightly at that.

“what is it, huh? can you take another? is that it?” he teasingly asks, you whisper a yes. he watched his fingers as they slipped into you, he lets out a low groan. his fingers moving quicker as the feeling in your abdomen got stronger. his lips attach again to you clit and you whimper at the feeling. he’s flicking his tongue and his fingers are hitting the perfect spot.

“james”you whisper, he looks up at you, his fingers still going at it. “i need you now, i’m serious.”you blurt out, his fingers leave you, making you feel empty, his thumb rubs your clit as he goes up to kiss you, you’re able to taste yourself on his mouth. you moan into the kiss as he rubs you clit. his hands leave you, he starts to take off his pants, your heart races as he unbuckles his belt.

he reaches up to pin your knees up to your chest, you can feel the bulge on his underwear as he goes up to kiss you harshly. god, he did feel big.

“you sure about it?”he asks one more time.

“yes”you quickly answer.

“good girl.” you feel your soul leave your body because of the praise. he takes a moment to palm himself through the boxers,

“fuck, need you so bad” he whispers. you moan as his pulls himself out of his boxers, his erection hitting up against his stomach. he runs his hand up and down the shaft, you can feel his tip up against you.

“shit”you whisper,

“gonna be a good girl?” he’s lining himself up against you.

“yes, please, i will” you quickly answer, giving in because of how needy you were. he presses himself closer to you, stretching you around him.

“of course you are.”he says lowly, “tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”he says, and you nod. he pushes himself into you just in one stroke, the sudden stretch makes you moan breathlessly. he groans into the crook of your neck, biting down on a soft spot. “still so tight. you feel so good, princess” he praises, and wastes no time and starts to move, shallowly rolling his hips up to you. he kisses your neck as you moan.

“oh my god”you whimper. he’s thrusting harder now, starting to pick up a pace. you moan as he trusts forward, filling you up so well. you were starting to adjust to his size. your hands were back on his hair, holding on to it for dear life.

"fuck, james, harder please." he cocks an eyebrow, then pulls out to the tip, you whine at the loss,

"you asked for it, alright?” he thrusts forward roughly, filling you up with his cock, you feel him even deeper this time, the press of him against your walls making you whine louder as he thrusted even harder,

"can you take this, hun?" he fucks into you rapidly, mocking you, pushing you against the headboard, "you said you wanted it harder, didnt you?" your cheeks start to burn up. “you feel so fucking good” he groaned, the heat in your stomach building up again. you were blabbing incoherent phrases, all similar to ‘fuck please’ and ‘holy shit, oh my god james’. he’s filling you up perfectly and your walls start to tighten against him.

the sound of the slap of skin fills up the room, the base of him stimulating your clit along with his thumb, his right hand reaches up to your neck, squeezing lightly. he can tell youre close, the way your hips started to buck up, grinding needily. you yelp as he throws your legs over his shoulders, fucking you even deeper and hitting your g-spot.

“need it so bad, please” you whimper and he hums at that.

“need what?” he’s back to teasing again.

“i need to cum, please.”he’s fucking into you faster and harder than before. you clamped around him desperately, your high building up. he felt it, his hand pinching your clit as you moan in pleasure. his thrusts only getting harsher along with your whining. you just couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“you can cum princess, don’t worry” his thumb rolls on your clit faster, just like his thrusts. you came with a cry of his name, walls clenched around him as you gripped the back of his neck. seeing you, head thrown back in ecstasy, in pleasure as you cry out his name has him groaning, head dropped into the crook of your neck as his thrusts get faster and sharper, the overstimulation of it drawing out high keening noises from your throat, his cock nudging against your cervix as he spills inside of you.

"fuck, so good for me, princess," he kisses your shoulder, "such a good girl," he murmurs.

he pulls out slowly, putting himself back in his boxers, and lays you down when you mumble that you're too sore to sit up. he grins at that and you shove him, "what-? i'm just proud of myself that's all."

“you’re an idiot, you know that, right?” you tease him.

“you have no idea. i’ve loved you since i was seventeen.” he smiles, a bit nervous with his confession. and you pull him into a kiss.

“i’ve been in love with you since the first time i saw you” you whisper, and he lays down next to you, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

[badomensgoodomens]

BAD DECISIONS

CHAPTER FIVE

Noah Sebastian x Reader

Merry christmas!!!! haven't touched bad decisions in a while because ive been hella busy, but wanted to get this out before christmas. enjoy!!

taglist at the bottom

Sunlight poured through the cracks of the floral and fading curtains, illuminating Noah's sleeping form on the bed. The room was nostalgic, filled with memorabilia from his teen years, and even his first guitar. Across the hall was Nicholas’s old bedroom, the two seeking refuge here during every work break. As the town gradually transitioned into winter, the apple trees in Nicholas’s parents backyard began to lose their leaves. Christmas was approaching rapidly. 

Christmas was a particularly hard time for Noah, his strained relationship with his family being the cause of that. Sherene welcomed him with open arms during Christmas, always buying him gifts. Her kindness was very apparent in Nicholas as he grew older,   mother like son. She made a mean mint hot chocolate, and always made it a mission to bring Noah and Nicholas one every morning. 

For Y/N, Christmas was the absolute worst time of the year. No matter how hard Nevada and Dawn tried to make December enjoyable, the memories of growing up in a dysfunctional household had left a mark that couldn’t be easily erased. The holiday, meant to bring joy and warmth, only served as a bitter reminder of everything Y/N wished they could forget.

She poured her feelings into journals – a common christmas present for her. Even when life felt right, it still was such a melancholic period of her life. Her mornings were spent sitting on the windowsill, watching the snow fall. 

Sitting beside her was a pile of letters, a series of festive cards from distant relatives. Almost all of them asked ‘how are your parents?’ It seems as though her parents couldn’t acknowledge the fact they abandoned their children, much less let the rest of the family know. Tired hands scribbled relentless harsh poetry into a leather-bound book, words poured out as tears streamed down her face. 

Most Christmases ended like this, and birthdays too. 

Christmas eve she spent sitting in bed, staring at the wall. The boys gave her time off work for Christmas, mainly so they could spend it with their own family. Instead of putting up decorations, or wrapping presents or making cookies, she soaked her pillows with tears. 

It wasn’t like she necessarily had a reason to cry, seasonal depression was a real bitch. Therapy wasn’t helping anymore, the ‘urges’ were still there, it was like a hole in the heart that could not be fixed. The city was still, for the first time in a long time. 

The clock read 12:00 am. 

The ringing of her phone made her jump out of her skin, eyes wide, once full of tears. Glancing down at the phone number, immediate recognition filled her body. She could recognise that number anywhere, the same number that used to call her every evening, asking her to come over. 

She fumbled with her phone, shaking fingers struggling to unlock it. Her body froze, contradicted between accepting or declining. It disappeared just as quickly as it came, her breathing slowed down. With shaky hands she pulled up her chats with him, sobs wracking her cold body. 

Merry Christmas, please don’t call. 

Read 12:02 am. 

NOAHS POV 

Fuck. that was a complete accident i didn’t mean to call her. 

I’d almost forgotten about her, completely wrapped up in my own life. It was dark, I was tired, and her name was right next to Jolly’s contact. The soft sound of rain echoed through my childhood bedroom, the window cracked ajar. I would most likely catch a cold considering it was the peak of winter, but the freshness kept my anxiety at bay. It was roughly the 3rd night I'd spent, staying up until midnight doing nothing. What's one to do without someone to hold close? 

Matt had found this really cute girl who works at a record shop, nicholas was still head over heels for ivy, nick was all over his neighbour, and jolly liked some redhead. It was almost like I was falling behind, I mean I'd always considered poppy an option, but that girl gets into too much controversy for my liking. With a sigh, I pulled up my notes app. The screen brightness was blinding, but I typed out some 2025 new year's resolutions. 

Get over this train wreck 

Find a new girl to cry over

I fell asleep quickly after that, not even bothering to plug my phone in, just letting whatever depressing song that was playing drown out the ridiculous thoughts flooding my mind. 

The next morning I woke up to Nicholas pounding on my bedroom door, rousing me from my slumber. I fumbled to turn the music off, smooth my hair over and open the door. “Hey man, you look like shit. C'mon we need to head into town.” I shut the door with a groan, heading towards the ensuite. Turning the shower on, hot steam filled up the room, fogging up the mirror. A random sleep token playlist on shuffle echoed through the green tiled bathroom, accompanied by soft humming as I shampooed my long hair.

The smell of citrus lingered in the confined space, long after I had gotten out of the shower, mixing with the scent of my cologne. I sat on top of the bathroom counter, tying my shoes when Nicholas walked in, mumbling about buying Ivy the perfect present. Downstairs you could hear the clatter of Sherene’s utensils as she prepared for this evening's Christmas dinner. The familiarity of it was soothing, but as I got older Christmas started to lose all meaning. 

NEUTRAL POV 

The two of them cruised into the small, snow ridden town. It was rather busy for Christmas morning, small families bundled up in winter coats, rosy cheeks and presents in hand. It was bitter sweet, remnants of noah’s broken family threatened to still linger, but noah brushed them off. It took Nicholas approximately two fucking hours to pick a present for ivy, why he didn’t buy one earlier was beyond noah, especially considering ivy would be arriving THIS EVENING. He blames it on how long TDOPOM to produce, but we finished it a month ago, and it was on its way to be released. 

Eventually Y/N returned to work, needing the money more than anything, the atmosphere was sluggish and quiet, winter still being in full effect. She sat at her desk, replying to some angry emails from suppliers and whatnot, occasionally glancing outside at the snow fall. Soft music echoed through the intricately decorated office as she drew up some plans for the new album, her tongue sticking out slightly as she focused. Vessel, who unbeknownst to y/n, had been leaning against the doorway, cleared his throat. She yelped, turning around to face him, “what?!” “will you be able to work on feb the 25th?” he asked, stepping further into the room. “Uhh, hold that thought,” she replied, flicking through her phone. “Yeah i’m free, why?” He pulled out the chair next to her, sinking down into it. “Me and the boys got invited to Bad Omens release party for their new album. I'd bring you as a plus one, but we don’t have any extra staff to run the place other than you.” he explained, resting his hands on the back of his head. “No thanks, don’t like that band,” she waved him off, turning back to her drawing pad. 

“How come?” Vessel asked, straightening up. The air in the office was seemingly thick, awkward silence filling the air. “I don’t fuck with the main dude,” she responded vaguely. He quirked a brow, “come on, spit it out.”

…

“Quite the story if i do say so myself,” Vessel laughed, standing up from his spot. “Have fun though!” she called out as the door clicked shut. She turned back to her computer with a grumble, pulling up facetime and calling her sister. 

“Who the FUCK is natasha??” Her hurried typing fills the room, accompanied by her sister. “Wait wait wait have you seen the drummer hes really cute,” “who?” “his names nick folio” “okay i’m searching him up now” 

“OH MY GOD NEVADA IVE MET HIM BEFORE” 

“OH EM GEE WHERE?!?!” 

“AT WORK!!!”

“OH MY GOD SURELY HE’LL COME BACK AND I CAN GET HIS NUMBER AND-”

“WHO THE FUCK IS NATASHA???!!!!”

hi cuties!! How is everyone??

taglist @emluvsuxo @lacy1986 @lilcrazy011 @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @briefpersonenemy @niicolelynn @looney-goose @sister-sebastian @dominuslunae @supersquirrel1996 @jilliemiw86 @amelia-acero @littlebear423

[aloneandforsakenbyfateandbyman]

I don’t miss being a child because it’s boring and you’re at the whim of your family and stuck in the same routine for the first time 18 years of your life YET…

I know it sounds boomery but I miss the pre-smartphone, pre-social media era when you had to entertain yourself and the average person didn’t have a 2 second attention span and no internal monologue.

As a precocious loner, my only solace was cracking open books and absorbing the words of exceptional people who lived hundreds, even thousands of years ago, and transporting to different eras and worlds. The highlight of my youth was literally my mom taking me to the library, which to me was better than Disneyland. For me, most humans irl were disappointing and always fell below my expectations and fantasies (I still feel the same) yet it was the words of geeks like Wilde and Plath that helped me get through the day and feel understood.

There were no stupid notifications or narcissistic internet black holes to fall into, just the poetry of Shelley and Byron, the green grass of summer, solitary bicycle rides, long periods of contemplation and self-reflection, etc.

I feel for kids nowadays who will never experience a moment of peace and solitude because they’re hooked like an IV drip to mind-numbing technology since birth. I feel for the kids who think reading is boring because school ruined it for them and tiktok videos provide an easier kick of dopamine. If I have children, I want to imbue them with a sense of wonder and craving for knowledge, and I would feel personally responsible if the idea of picking up a book repelled them.

[lupizora]

(This was my entry to the @/dcmkkaishinevents server's One Prompt Challenge of 2024 with the theme: He was, unfortunately, very handsome. Things became pretty chaotic ever since I posted it on AO3 back in the end of March, so I kind of forgot to post it here too hahah 😅 Hope you have a good time reading it!)

Title: Healing Touch

Genre:  Hurt/Comfort

Pairing: KaiShin

Rating: M (TW: Hospitals, hints to Suicidal Ideation, Minor Medical Procedures)

Word Count: 2,545

Summary: [Is it a dance, if they’re both pretending?] or Kaito wakes up in the hospital after crash-landing his glider, only to find Shinichi in the neighboring bed (who, for reasons unknown, is acting as if finding an unmasked KID is nothing out of the ordinary)

Voices ebbed and flowed like waves on a distant rocky shore.

Kaito was drifting in and out of consciousness.

The steady beeping from some kind of machinery and several shoes scuffing hurriedly on the floor served as additional undertones to his surroundings. Amid this cacophony, the voices were something substantial to lock on and focus. Each individual's timbre, from high and squeaky to low and sonorous, carried its own melody and tune. Speech patterns and word choices could reveal a lot about a person’s inner world. But none of these were an exact science.

Kaito hadn’t perfected his ability to that degree anyway.

It had begun as a game with his father. Back then, Kaito had been absorbing every trick in the book—even if his application of it turned out lacking. He had to experiment and learn as much as he could before settling on his path as a magician. Mimicking voices had been just one of those skills he shelved away as a kid, deeming it useless for anything other than practical jokes and pranks.

The irony was not lost on Kaito when impersonating anyone at the drop of a hat became vital to his career as the Phantom Thief KID. He had stumbled at first, his years of idleness making his voice crack at all the wrong times. But he persisted and insisted; until the disguises were the disposable props in this equation.

Now even that doesn’t matter.

Kaito’s first coherent thought blazed through his mind like a flash fire. It startled him, dispelling the hazy murmur of voices in the background.

Awareness returning to his body, Kaito found himself lying on a soft but firm mattress. Every part of him throbbed with the dull tune of pain. His left hand, draped over the edge of the bed, had some kind of object tugging uncomfortably at the inner side of his elbow. Something warm and featherweight was pressed against the back of his curled fingers. Kaito used this sensation to ground himself in reality and took a deep breath.

The sterile smell of antiseptic filled his lungs, the conversations around him clearing up enough for him to understand solid words. Somebody was calling for a nurse. Another was complaining about how long they had been waiting. A kid wailed in the distance, akin to an ambulance’s siren.

A hospital? Kaito wondered before his memories breached the fuzzy dam of sweet bliss. Realization hit him with the same force he had smashed on the ground. A hospital!

Kaito sat up in a hurry.

His heart hammered like a caged bird in his chest.

Light assaulted his eyes, burning them with its whiteness.

Disorientated, he blindly patted his arm.

Soft tube.

Under his skin.

Probably an IV.

Just as he took hold of it, ready to pull, a foreign hand grabbed his wrist.

“Don’t yank it out!” This voice—young, male, authoritative—tickled the edge of familiarity.

Opening slowly his bleary eyes, the fuzzy figure of a person greeted Kaito.

The other guy was leaning sideways from the neighboring bed. His deathly grip on the headboard prevented him from keeling over the space between them. Attached to the arm he was using to hold Kaito’s wrist—right above the turned-up sleeve of a white shirt—he had an IV drip of his own.

“Are you stupid?” he asked, heaving. “You’ll bleed out if you pull it like that.”

Even the chewing out sounds familiar, Kaito lamented in the privacy of his head. Where’s my brilliant quick thinking? I could use some help right about now…

There was one curious detail he was starting to notice though. His previously spiked heartbeat had slowed down.

Odd.

The other gently shook Kaito’s arm. “Hey, are you with me?”

“Yeah. All my marbles are their rightful in place.” Kaito shook his head. “I mean. I’m aware and listening. Can I have my hand back?”

“If you promise me that you won’t do anything hasty, and will let me take a look at it.”

Kaito’s vision, like a viewfinder coming into focus, finally cleared. Realizing who was the altruist worrying for his health, only served to complicate things further. Since the person who had immediately jumped into action to help him was no other than the Great Detective in the flesh.

Although, upon closer inspection, Shinichi looked quite haggard himself. His suit pants were peppered with shallow cuts. If the discoloration of skin near his collarbone was any indication, more bruises were blooming under his shirt. Thankfully, his face didn’t suffer a lot of damage besides a split lower lip and a scratch on his forehead.

Shinichi cocked his eyebrow towards that exact wound. “So?”

Kaito blinked. Right. He’s expecting a reply.

“Sure, I promise.”

“Good,” Shinichi breathed out.

After going through the motions of sitting properly at the edge of the bed, he flagged down a nurse for fresh gauze and latex gloves. The nurse asked some standard questions to Kaito, but otherwise, she didn’t seem bothered by Shinichi’s request.

If anything, Kaito was the one puzzled that his name didn’t receive any reaction. So, while the Great Detective was preparing to help him out of the IV drip, Kaito took stock of his own appearance. The answer staring back at him was ridiculously simple. He was wearing his slacks and a hoodie instead of the KID outfit. No wonder he hadn’t been recognized.

But this brings another question, doesn’t it? Kaito thought. Should I play the fool?

Gloved fingers trailing against his forearm snapped him back into the present. In any other situation, this could have been part of some nightmare. Kaito had seen his fair share of quack doctors performing horror surgeries on him if he ever got his hands on Pandora.

But Shinichi sat still. His expression relaxed and open, offering an invitation for Kaito to take the initiative. It was so bizarre to be treated like a regular civilian without any mask or disguise to hide behind.

Against his better judgment, Kaito placed his arm in the Great Detective’s hands.

They were warm. His fingers gently prodded the area around the inserted tube, picking apart the dressing and the transparent tape holding it in place. Quite not as surprisingly, Shinichi was putting the same care and attention he allotted to clues and evidence onto this.

Kaito felt a little twitchy being scrutinized like that, even if it wasn’t for doing something illegal. Years of muscle memory from soccer balls flying at high velocity toward his face were hard to override.

So, he opted for some small talk. “What are you, an intern?”

“No. I’m a detective,” Shinichi deadpanned.

“What?!” Kaito made a show of trying to pull his hand away. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Yes. I may not be a physician, but I know a few key things. Waiting for the coroner to make the first call is tedious. Sometimes, I need to identify the proper cause of death and find the culprit before it’s too late.” Shinichi’s hold remained steady and gentle. “Now, stop squirming. You will aggravate it.”

“Aye, sir.”

As more skin was becoming more visible by the minute, the unpleasant kind of squirming settled in his gut.

Kaito redirected his gaze to the room around them. Their beds were occupying the corner near the end of the Emergency Room. A beige curtain separated them from the rest of the beds in their line-up and their occupants, giving them a little privacy. Not that Kaito minded. Not at all, actually. There were worse people to get stuck in the hospital with, more so having them witness his earlier freakout. He wasn’t here as KID, after all.

“Alright. I’m ready,” Shinichi said. “This is going to hurt a little. So, stay still.”

Your understanding of “a little” might be kinda skewed, Detective. Kaito nodded despite his reservations.

Furrowing his brows, Shinichi seemed to search for something in Kaito’s expression. “If it’s making you nervous, you could close your eyes.”

“Thanks, but that would have the opposite effect. I can’t leave the fate of my arm to some run-of-the-mill sleuth, can I?” Kaito crumbled the sheets with his free hand. “Put yourself in my shoes. Who are you, acting all nonchalant without a license?”

Shinichi chuckled. It was short-lived and almost unnoticeable, but the soft sound of it rattled Kaito to the bone.

“I’m kind of a big deal though,” Shinichi meekly said. “I just don’t like bragging about it anymore. Brings more trouble than it’s worth.”

Kaito wanted to laugh at this scenario reaching a new level of absurdity. Instead, he closed his eyes. “Okay, Mr. Hot Stuff. We both have places to be—stuff to do. Let's get this over with.”

He received only an agreeable hum in return. Shinichi’s fingers tightened around Kaito's elbow while his other hand started the procedure. All things considered, the pain wasn’t worse than getting shot at or whenever the belts of KID’s glider would dig deeper after a risky maneuver. Still uncomfortable, still painful. Kaito had never thought he would want to hide his emotions behind a Poker Face for something like this. But he came close, moments before it was over.

Pressing the folded gauze at the wound, Shinichi instructed Kaito how to keep applying pressure to it for a bit. “You took it like a champ,” he added with a smile. “I haven’t heard of anyone holding themselves this well together.”

“What can I say? My pain tolerance might be higher than I expected. Although—” Kaito leaned forward, scoffing— “I have to hope this wasn’t an experiment on your part.”

“Do I look like that sort of person?” Shinichi said, placing the remnants in the porcelain bowl the nurse had provided. His posture gave nothing away. Even the act of taking off his gloves, to throw them away, was done with a grace usually reserved for springing up his deductions on suspects.

What you look like right now is, unfortunately, a very handsome bastard. How did you become so smooth while I wasn’t looking for a couple of years?

Kaito’s inner complaints screeched to a halt when Shinichi took ahold of his hand again.

“May I ask what are you doing, Detective…sir?” Kaito squeaked.

“I noticed something while taking out your IV. Your arm is covered by scratches at weird angles.” Shinichi’s fingers trailed lightly along the wounds from elbow to wrist. “As if you dropped from the air into several thorny bushes and rolled down a hill full of them.”

This conjecture, while close, was not exactly accurate. Kaito had indeed crash-landed earlier amidst one of the parks still retaining its wild forest roots. But the weird angle came from the glider flying through the foliage before hitting the ground. It left Kaito wondering if the Great Detective was losing his touch or if this was the real test appearing at last.

Shinichi didn’t comment on the other’s prolonged silence. His inspection had reached Kaito’s palm and fingers. “These nicks here are more varied. Some old, some new. They are usually made from shuffling cards.” Looking up, he leveled his gaze with Kaito’s. “Are you a gambler?”

Kaito was positive he was messing with him—to what end, was still to be determined. “Sure. I've gambled my life on something that didn't matter in the end. One might say I wanted to soothe my frustrations with this daredevilish stunt today.”

Shinichi's expression darkened.

“I'm only kidding,” Kaito said with a self-deprecating laugh. “These are from practicing tricks. I'm a budding magician, as a side gig and all.”

“So, you're just an adrenaline junkie.” There it was—that troubled furrow on his brow again. “I find it hard to believe when the proof of your hard work is right in front of me.”

Offering a one-shouldered shrug, Kaito used his free hand to sweep Shinichi’s bangs away from his eyes. “Is it that hard? All great artists hit a wall they can’t overcome at some point. Inspiration dries up. Ideas aren’t working, not due to lack of trying, but from the sheer effort they need to come to fruition. Sometimes, there is nothing more you can do than give up and—”

The words stopped in Kaito’s throat. Shinichi had laced their fingers together.

“No,” the Great Detective said; a simple declaration ringing like the true final one. “You don’t get to throw down the mantle until I catch you fair and square, or you find what you’ve been looking for all along. Use me if you have to! I won’t settle for anything less.”

Laughter exploded; loud, unrestrained, and unapologetic. It took a moment for Kaito to recognize it was coming from him. He didn’t stop though. He laughed and laughed and laughed until he was running out of air. Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes and he wiped them out with the back of his free hand. All the while, Shinichi didn’t let go.

“You are truly an incomprehensible piece of work. You know that, right?” Kaito asked, after coming down from his outburst. “What sort of detective sides with the internationally wanted thief? And for what?”

Shinichi glanced at their joined hands. “The kind of selfish idiot who doesn’t want to let go of the thief that easily. Can’t have you dying on me before I solve your case.”

“I’m not—is that why you’re here? I’m pretty sure I called the ambulance myself!”

“You did, huh?” Shinichi cupped his chin in thought. “Was I that wrong in my estimate?”

“Yes. Maybe? It was a lapse of judgment on my part. I still very much like living, I’ll have you know!” A headache was building behind his eyes, so Kaito buried his face in Shinichi’s shoulder. He didn’t miss the flinch. “How did you end up here, if it wasn’t on purpose? Messed with the wrong crowd again?”

“Believe it or not, today was a lapse of judgment for me too.”

“The scandal!”

Shinichi pinched Kaito’s cheek. “I let my guard down during surveillance. Those mobsters I was following jumped me when I was least expecting it.”

“Mobsters? Wasn’t that a little out of your depth? I thought private investigators mostly deal with hunting down cheaters and marriage affairs, that sort of stuff?”

“A case is a case as long as it’s interesting.”

It was Kaito’s turn to give him a once-over. “Good thing they didn’t damage your face too badly. Your mother would have cried rivers upon rivers of tears.”

“As if you care about that. It would have been harder to impersonate me. That’s all,” Shinichi said with an eye roll.

“Am I such a despicable person in your eyes? I simply expressed my genuine worries about your health.” Cupping Shinichi’s chin, Kaito run his thumb over the split lip. “Is that too much for my reckless, handsome Great Detective?”

Slipping from Kaito’s loose hold, Shinichi pushed him back to his own bed. He quickly laid down himself. “The painkillers in your system are messing with your brain. Get some rest and we’ll talk in the morning, you weirdo.”

Although Shinichi’s back was turned, Kaito could swear he heard him say: “Take better care of yourself, idiot thief. You're not half-bad either.”

[silverofthunder]

☆ i'll wait for you ☆

Papa Emeritus IV x GN reader || AO3

summary: It was supposed to be only six months intership kind of thing. The original plan had been: go there, do you job and then leave. You weren't ready for any unwanted feelings to blossom. But then you met Copia and something changed. The walls around you started to crack little by little.

content: 3.2k words, gn!reader, hurt/comfort, fluff, romance, friends to lovers (kinda), bad attempt at humor, references to past abusive relationship (just mentioned that past has been difficult, mostly left open to interpretation)

I wasn't supposed to write for this fandom but my brain decided otherwise. 🙈 It's been about three years since I've last written anything so this isn't my best work, obviously. Nonetheless, I had missed writing so much and I really enjoyed writing this so I guess that's all that counts. ♡

”You should go!” your friend said, sounding way too excited. ”You said you wanted a change of scenery so this is your chance!”

You stared at the letter in your hand and then looked up at your friend. They nodded, smiling.

You shook your head, sighing. ”Okay, I guess I’ll do it then.”

And that’s how you found yourself standing in front of the Sister Imperator at the Ministry.

”Is everything clear now?”

”Yes, Sister,” you answered, taking a pile of books and papers from the table. ”One question --”

you were interrupted by the door opening and someone rushing in.

”You’re late,” Sister Imperator remarked, clearly a bit irritated. The man who had come in drew in a long breath, looking a bit apologetic and came to stand beside you.

”Copia, here is your assistant. I have given them short briefing, the rest is yours to decide.”

Your eyes met his mismatched ones and you smiled politely – or at least tried to smile. Copia returned the smile, then taking a slight bow.

”Pleased to meet you.”

The first few weeks were quite hectic as you tried your best to keep up with your assistant chores and stay as far from Sister Imperator as possible. There was something in her that made you feel so uncomfortable.

You were now walking in the garden outside, enjoying the short break you had been granted. It was nice to explore more of the Ministry area, and properly take it all in. You breathed in the fresh air, then slowly releasing it out.

At first you had thought that coming here had been a mistake but now it didn’t seem that bad. Copia had made you feel welcome and it was actually nice to work with him – or for him. He certainly was intriguing, and you couldn’t wait to get to know the man more.

You had also met the ghouls and they were a bit intimidating but also interesting creatures. So human-like but still not human. They hadn’t talked much, only looked at you with curiosity, and you took it that they didn’t mind you being there and working with Copia.

”Would you like to have a dinner with me today?” Copia asked quietly, and you nearly knocked over your ink bottle.

Oh shit, you cursed in your mind. It wasn’t an unusual question, so there was no need to react that way. But still, it had surprised you.

”It’s okay if you--”

”Yes, I would like that very much.”

You were afraid that you might have sounded too eager but Copia didn’t seem to notice anything. The smile was tugging at his lips as nodded slightly before burying himself in his work again. Something inside you jolted but you ignored it as you moved your gaze back to your papers, a small smile still plastered on your lips.

It became a habit, that you two ate dinner together. Soon you even started spending more time together outside of work and you could easily admit that you enjoyed Copia’s company. He was kind, funny and slightly awkward but it only made him more endearing.

You two grew closer day by day, and so grew the feeling somewhere deep within you. At first you you just ignored it, thinking it was just some temporary glitch in your system.

But you knew what it was. And you knew it most likely wouldn’t go away.

Something you weren’t yet ready for had started to blossom.

You couldn’t sleep so you decided to go to the part of the Ministry library that had become your favorite. You sat down on the chair and and switched on the lamp on the table next to it.

For a moment you just sat there and then you unlocked your phone, searching for one secific conversation. You didn’t need to read it again since it all was still clear as a day in your head but you still went through the messages.

It hurt to read them. It always did. Not so much nowadays but the pain was still there, nonetheless. You were pretty sure it would never truly go away, no matter how much time passed.

A few tears fell to your cheeks as you closed the conversation, locking the phone. Sudden rustling startled you and you almost dropped you phone.

”Sorry, tesoro, didn’t mean to scare you,” Copia’s familiar, soothing voice made you relax. You quickly wiped away the tears and turned to look at him.

”Hi,” you said, attempting to smile. ”What are you doing here?”

Copia didn’t answer straight away, he looked at you with concern and you shifted on the chair.

”What’s troubling you, my dear?”

You sighed, looking straight into his eyes. You hadn’t really spoke about your past, especially your painful past, and only a few of your friends and your parents knew what you had gone through. Copia seemed genuinely worried, he pulled another chair closer, sat down and took your hands in his.

”It’s a long story,” you stated. ”And not a pretty story.”

Copia’s brows furrowed as he squeezed your hands.

”We have all night.”

The plan had been very clear: go to the Ministry, do your job and then leave. There wasn’t supposed to be any unwanted feelings involved. Your love life had been a bitch in the past and you had sworn that you had no time for crushes or anything like that.

But it seemed that dear Satan had another plan for you and now you had to deal with an undeniable crush on Copia. The sweetest man you had ever met. Who, despite now knowing about your past, had not run as far as he could or had not called the whole internship thing off. Who still treated you with the same respect as he had done straight from the start.

Basically it seemed like nothing had changed – maybe there hadn’t on his side. But what came to you… Everything had changed.

And it scared the hell out of you.

”Keep your eyes closed,” Copia instructed and you kept your eyes closed, excitement bubbling at the bottom of your stomach. You could hear Copia moving in front of you, mumbling something and letting out some quiet funny noices every once in a while.

”Now it’s all set, open your eyes.”

You did as was told and the sight before you took you by surprise. On the ground there was a blanket with plates, wine glasses and a basket full of food on it. The lights on the trees casted a faint glow upon it and before them opened up a lovely lake view. For a moment you couldn’t do anything but stare at the whole setting.

”It might be too much but I--”

”No, it’s beautiful, I…” you trailed off and took a hold of Copia’s hands, your gaze meeting his. Copia shifted slightly, and you pulled him closer, freeing your other hand and lifting it up to brush you fingers along his cheek.

The look in Copia’s eyes softened as he leaned into your touch.

”I just want to know. Why? Why all of this?” your voice was barely a whisper.

”You really haven’t realized it yet?” Copia sounded almost hurt and you shook you head, a knot forming in your stomach.

Of course you had your suspicions. The way Copia had acted around you, the slight touches, the softness in his gaze, the moments you had caught him staring at you and the faintest of red had started to adorn his cheeks and ears.

You weren’t ready for this, voicing the feelings part. It was too hard.

”Can we just… not talk about it now?” you pleaded, cupping Copia’s face. The look in Copia’s eyes was devastating and it made your heart break a little. But you knew he understood.

”Let’s just enjoy this now,” you suggested, caressing Copia’s cheeks with your thumbs. ”I need more time.”

Copia offered you a sad smile, nodding. You really hadn’t much time since the internship was about to end in two months. But for now, you didn’t want anything to change.

”I really don’t deserve you.”

Sighing Copia wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in a hug. It felt a like comforting blanket but also like you were letting something huge go.

Why were feelings so hard?

”You did what?!” your friend basically screeched at the other end of the line. ”Oh god, you’re such an idiot!”

”Thanks, that really made me feel better,” you remarked while pacing in your room.

”Oh, sorry, but honestly, what’s the problem?”

”You know what’s this all about.”

Your friend let out an angry sigh and you tried not to laugh. They were so dramatic sometimes.

”You can’t let your past define your future. From what you’ve told, it seems like he really likes you and you definitely like him back. He’s a good man, right?”

”Yes, he seems to be. Too good even,” you answered, a small smile tugging at your lips. Your friend let out a little laugh.

”I can hear you smiling.”

”I’m not,” you tried, knowing well your friend wouldn’t buy it.

”Sure you’re not. Honestly, what’s the worst thing that could happen?”

That was a good question and you really had no sensible answer.

”He could break my heart?”

You could hear your friend try to keep it together. They drew in a long breath, slowly releasing it.

”That’s the risk you’ve got to take when it comes to love.”

”Yeah...” you said quietly, knowing that your friend was right.

For the past few weeks hadn’t been easy. Copia seemed to avoid you – or at least keep more distance – and your conversations had shortened greatly. He still seemed to be a bit hurt by your rejection, though you didn’t count it as a proper rejection. Now, whenever you two were on the same room, he looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself and it made your heart ache. A part of you wanted to just go and comfort him and the other part was holding onto the walls around you that had started to crack.

You had around six weeks left and everything was a mess. The ghouls were sending very intimidating and hard glances at you when you happened to pass them by. They were pretty protective of Copia and now you basically had given them a reason to be on the alert. They hadn’t seemed to mind about you at first and you didn’t see them that often but now a few of them seemed to keep a closer eye on you.

It was just your luck that everything had gone to south. You kicked a stone in the ground while walking on the yard and cursed in your mind.

”What did that stone do to you?”

The question made you jump and you turned around fast, meeting Copia’s slightly amused gaze. Your brain short-circuited and for a moment you just stared at him.

”Nothing”, you answer after a while, now mentally kicking yourself. Copia hummed, stepping closer to you until he was standing right in front of you. Your heart rate sped up a bit and you could feel the warmth on your cheeks.

”Tesoro mio…” Copia started quietly. ”I’m sorry I’ve been a bit distant lately.”

”It’s my fault. I…” you trailed off, shaking your head.

”I never meant to scare you. It was too much and too soon.”

Copia’s eyes were filled with emotion and your heart stung.

”It’s just… My past… I’m afraid I get hurt again.”

Copia seemed to hold back tears and it made you tear up.

”I could never hurt you. Not like that.”

You closed your eyes, tears starting to flow. Hands took a hold of yours but you didn’t dare to open your eyes.

”I’ll wait for you.”

For now, that was all you needed to hear and you took a step forward, wrapping your arms around Copia.

You were going through papers, reading some parts here and there but the text seemed blurred. It was no wonder as you had slept badly for the past few nights as the nightmares had plagued you.

”It’s third time you go through the same pile”, Copia stated, worry evident in his voice. ”You seem tired. Have you not slept at all?”

You checked the papers again and he was right, you had already organized them. No wonder everything had looked so alike. With a loud sigh you dropped your head onto the table.

”The nightmares have started again so no, I haven’t really slept.”

”Again?”

”They come and go. Usually they bother me for a few nights and then it might be several weeks before they come again”, you explained, lifting your head up and meeting Copia’s eyes. The look in them was filled with worry.

”Is it…?” Copia didn’t finish the question, he didn’t need to. You just nodded.

”Can I help somehow?”

”Maybe…” you started, hesitating a bit. ”...if you could stay the next night with me?”

The look in Copia’s eyes softened, a small smile tugging at his lips.

”I can do that, though I’m not sure if that actually helps.”

You shrugged, flashing Copia a slight grin. ”Well, we won’t know if we don’t try it, right?”

Copia laughed.

”I guess the floor is mine, then.”

Your eyes widened as Copia grinned and you grabbed some trash from the table and threw it at him. He pretended to be offended by that.

”You… old man! You’re definitely sleeping on the floor.”

Copia shook his head in amusement before standing up and coming to you. You had no time to react as he pulled you up and lifted you up. You grabbed onto his shoulders as he spun you two around, your laughter echoing in the room.

This was it. This was how you wanted everything to be. Or at least a part of you wanted.

As Copia finally let you down, your eyes met again. The warmth in his eyes made your heart soar, awakening the part you had wanted to keep asleep.

The part that wanted to kiss him so badly.

You stepped away from him, still smiling, and the moment was gone.

Even thought it wasn’t supposed to happen, that night you still ended up sleeping in the same bed. Copia’s arms where wrapped around you, his breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck.

There was no nightmares that night, only cozy warmth, peace and safety.

”So are you two now together or what?” your friend sounded confused on the phone.

”No, we’re not together,” you said. ”It’s complicated but everything is well now. We can have fun and just be us like we used to be before… you know.”

”Okay… But you just said that you have been sharing a bed with him? And you’re just friends?”

”Yes and yes.”

”Alright… That’s really confusing,” your friend stated. ”But I’m happy that you seem to be doing better now.”

”Me too.”

There was a short moment of silence before your friend spoke again.

”Have you thought about what’s gonna happen when your internship ends? There’s only like… three weeks left, right?”

”Three weeks, yes,” you confirmed. ”No, I haven’t really thought about it.”

Your friend let out a long sigh.

”You should think about it. And goddammit, make your move already or I will come there and kick your stupid asses!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that threat.

”I was about to make a move some time ago,” you admitted and your friend screeched so loud your ear hurt.

”What?! What do you mean?”

”We had a… moment and we were pretty close and I almost… kissed him. I mean I wanted to kiss him, but didn’t.”

”Dammit, you oaf! Oh god, I’m probably gonna get a heart attack before anything happens between you two.”

”That’s possible,” you laughed. ”Okay, I need to go now, I will call you again at some point.”

”Yeah, go to your man! Bye!”

Shaking your head smiling you said your goodbyes and hung up.

The days went by fast and ending of the internship had now come. You had spent as much time with Copia as possible and it had been amazing. It was hard to explain how you felt with him. Even though you hadn’t been easy to be with, he had stayed. If something would have made people run away from you, it would have been your past.

But not Copia. He had taken your past as a part of you, understanding the weight of it on your shoulders.

Falling in love was supposed to be a beatiful thing but to you it had been one of the greatest fears for several years. And now you had had to face that fear, try to open your heart and break the walls around you.

It wasn’t easy when your heart wanted one thing and the head told the opposite. But maybe, just maybe, you had started to see the beauty of falling in love again.

I’ll wait for you.

That had been a promise you never expected to hear. And it might have changed the course of everything.

As you now stood outside the Ministry, all your luggages beside your feet, waiting for your ride to arrive, you felt sad and like you were doing something you shouldn’t do. You had to admit that you really didn’t want to leave. Even though it hadn’t been easy, you still had enjoyed being there. It had been quite an experience, opening pages in your book you thought would never be opened again.

The car pulled over and the driver came to help you with the luggages.

”Trying to leave without saying goodbye?”

A small smile rose to your lips as you turned around, seeing Copia standing by the Ministry doors hands behind his back. Your heart ached as this was it.

The moment you had dreaded.

You asked the driver to wait for a moment and walked over to Copia, noticing the hint of sadness in his gaze. You two hadn’t still spoken about what you were and you knew that now was the time to make some things clear.

”Copia…” you started, cupping his face gently. He leaned into your touch, the look in his eyes changing hopeful as he set his hands on your waist, pulling you closer. You breathed slowly in, the mild, familiar scent of Copia filling your senses, comforting you.

You lingered in the moment because you didn’t want to let go. And neither did Copia, it seemed, as he just tightened his hold of you and rested his forehead against yours.

”Please…” he whispered.

Your heart made a little jump in your chest as you knew what he wanted. You pulled slightly back so you could look at him in the eyes. And that was the moment when all your doubts seemed to vanish and you let your heart make the decision.

With a fluttering heart you finally leaned in and kissed him. You felt Copia basically melt against you, his arms sliding around you, and it made you smile into the kiss.

A sudden clearing of throat broke your moment and you parted, both smiling in awe. Unfortunately it was time for you to go.

”I’ll come back”, you promised as you started to walk backwards towards the car.

Copia nodded, his face radiating happiness.

”I’ll wait for you.”

[ryetherat]

so... percy jackson rp?

i've had this idea in my mind for... years at this point, i guess, just swimming around in the back of my mind. and it Hit me again thanks to the show so here we are

i'm not looking for a roleplay partner, which seems to be the "norm" nowadays. my plan: a pjo rp forum site, hosted on jcink or proboards, whatever works. forum roleplaying was a big part of my online experience growing up and god i just MISS it

i have basic ideas, ill put them under the cut

the bulk of the rp would be character building, threads in camp and elsewhere - but i have this main gimmick idea for "quests":

they would be primarily crafted by admin (who have first dibs for playing cabin counselors too), and assigned to players who signed up to be on the quest "waiting list". admin (which would have a shared account so it didnt matter specifically Who) would play the parts of NPCS - including monster encounters. if/when gods showed up, they would also be played by admin

i'd love to implement some sort of ttrpg dice system, with quickfire threads for combat separate but linked to the main thread. monsters would have different stats, etc. and players could even consent to character deaths when signing up for quests!

demigods wouldnt be the only type of character available to make, but it would have to be the majority. satyrs, i think, would be the most numerous "side characters", maybe nymphs around camp. those details arent important rn tho

what i'm thinking:

with admin, i'm looking for people who know how to code and create custom layouts, graphics etc. ideally, 2-3 people so its not all one one person

i'd want the timeline to be vaguely post-pjo - meaning, there are more than the 12 cabins, less unclaimed demigods, etc. but its been a while since ive read the heroes of olympus and i've barely cracked open the first trials of apollo book so idk what Happened to affect the site's timeline/lore. so in my mind, it's just post-last olympian.

also, i wouldn't want to have canon characters - at the most, they'd be NPCs that are rarely used.

i know a big thing is that people have lives, and i have no idea what the forum-rp scene is like because i haven't been involved since.... god(s) idk, around 10 years???

me personally, i have the free time to be willing to overlook the site and get everything written out; admin i would want to be more active, of course, just enough to keep things running

age-wise, it wouldnt feel right to make it a 17+ forum, this is a kid's series after all. i think 13 is the limit for most if not all forums, and i'd be fine with that. player ages shouldn't be broadcasted, we could have some sort of Minor/Adult indicator but idk if even that would be necessary.

and i'd want at least a "proficient" level of writing, whatever the terms were - rp posts wouldnt need to be whole novels, but at least a chunky paragraph that the partner could work off

i'm hoping the popularity of the show will give me a chance to actually do this >:3

so uhhhh i guess if you're interested, shoot me a dm or reply to this post? let me know if you'd want to be an admin or mod, what you'd be able to do for the site, whatever you think is important to mention. if you just want to be a normal member and rp a funny lil demigod, thats fine too! maybe we could have Special Privileges for those who join at the start!

[thekuraning]

Could I please have 7, 9, 16, 24 and 27 for the fic writer ask? 💙

HFDUAIGHRQHG WOW THATS SO MANY thank you aria!!!!

as always... kura talk lots.... read more time!

7. your preferred writing fonts

For the longest time it was Arial, then basically from Covid lockdowns to maybe about a year ago I was a Comic Sans truther. But recently I've been using Optima and Trebuchet! There is something very delightfully round about them... they are soft like bunnies.... Bonus points, they're a bit of larger, thicker fonts, which makes is much easier for me to read. I have no idea if I'm dyslexic because I've never been tested but reading--while fun and one of my favorite pass-times--is like. So hard. And it feels like the longer I've been out of Lit classes the harder and harder reading gets. :') I've got a mountain of fics and books I'd like to read but it takes a lot of energy to keep track of what line im on that i gotta save it all up for writing... ive had city of dogs open in a tab for like months now bro i just wanna read.... TAT

But yeah I love me them thicker rounder weighted sort of fonts.

9. start to finish, how long did it take you to write the last fic you posted?

so the last finished one-shot i posted was Who We Don't Expect to See, which took probably about six months to a year wrestling to get the dialogue to behave. The last complete multi-chapter fic was the Baristsa on Autumnal Avenue, which took about nine months!

As for unfinished works, I'm expecting Maelstrom to probably take another year , maybe year and a half at this pace! Ideally, I'd love to have it done by December which would mean a year and two months total, but we'll have to see thinking emoji

16. favorite place to write

I'm usually either at my desk in my office or on my couch lol and that's just a question of whether I feel more like writing on my desktop or my laptop! But since I started back at my local community college, I've found INSANE productivity at the campus cafe!! I don't know what it is, but as soon as my ass is sitting at the table with a coffee I'm like fucking sonic the hedgehog the way I start pumping chapters out. Probably about 80% of Maelstrom fic's been written in that little cafe!!

24. how do you recharge when you’re not feeling creative?

banging my head against the wall until im creative again :( or until i knock myself out, whichever comes first

actually lol I spend a lot of my recharge time watching youtube or playing video games. I'm big into Splatoon and Phasmophobia! I used to be really into Fall Guys until Epic bought the game out. but mostly it's just youtube these days lolll cause once im out of creative juice thats like. it. my energy's gone and i tend to spiral, so I'll end up just snuggling my kitty and watching gamegrumps or something (i dont know why, he just really likes watching game grumps)

>:( we used to watch a lot of netflix together too but since they cracked down on account sharing and my parents managed the family account we can only get in on the desktop now... how are we supposed to snuggle like this!!! cozy kitty economy is in shambles smdh

27. your favorite part of the writing process

answered over here winky kissy face emoji

[ansibl-e]

good morning to the quarter-centennial @batmanisagatewaydrug book bingo!

i was going to make a post about my library books before this, but alas.

i am ringing in the new year in the midst of 4 books, 2 right socks, and one hat.

there are places in the world where rules are less important than kindness (carlo rovelli)

an essay collection by the physicist who wrote 7 brief lessons on physics, which i read and enjoyed in high school (if you get it from the library you probably won't know this, because of the plastic, but it's got a fantastically soft velvety matte finish on the jacket).

i am enjoying this essay collection quite a lot as well, being 206 pages into its 255-page count, and it's introduced me to some new works im quite excited to break into - bruno de finetti's work on probability, lucretius's de rerum natura, and nāgārjuna's mūlamadhyamakakārikā. unfortunately none of the other works he introduced me to appear to be avaliable in english. wish there had been a translator's note so i wouldn't have wasted the reference desk's time, but alas.

as i'm nearly finished with it, this will be considered a 2024 read.

transformer by ezra furman

part of the 33⅓ series, a booklet on an album i have never listened to written by one of my favorite artists. already, it's introduced me to the velvet underground's first album (fantastic) "suffragette city" by david bowie (banger), and inspired me to make listening to ziggy stardust a priority. ezra furman, like john darnielle, is as compelling a prosaist as she is a songwriter, and i highly recommend this book.

i have not yet gotten to the first track on the album (i'm still in "fuck you leave me alone don't read my book") so i'm going to count this as a 2025 read.

the elements of eloquence by mark forsyth

essentially a list of the figures of rhetoric with definitions and examples, but the writer is cracking snarky jokes the entire time. as soneone who read strunk & white for fun, it's fantastic.

i am on page 55 of 235, so as this does not fulfil any specific requirement of the batman book bingo ("how to write good" is not a new interest of mine) i will not be aligning it with either year in specific.

tiger at the gates by jean giraudoux (tr. christopher fry)

i read this play in high school, back when i used to hang out in the 840s during my free periods. tragically, the library made the strange decision to weed this book an many others out several years ago, replacing them with a lot of empty shelves. luckily, i don't live in that library system anymore so this was not a barrier to my reread.

this play has what i consider to be the greatest opening line in theatrical history. it is my favorite play, it holds up fantastically to my memories, and i would travel a great distance to see it performed live. the opening line, which i give you so you will understand and read this play, is:

ANDROMACHE: There's not going to be a Trojan war, Cassandra!

i read act 1 out loud in the car to my mom yesterday, and we'll be covering act 2 tomorrow (it was too dark on the way home). as this is a play in 2 acts, i will consider it a 2024 read.

tl;dr

so i will be beginning my book bingo with transformer, a nonfiction book teaching me something new (i've never listened to any of lou reed's work before, VU or otherwise). and it even has an animal on the cover! ...if you're counting lou reed.

and for my first true read of 2025, once ive finished a few more of these, i will be reading

the garden party by katherine mansfield

a short story collection from 1922 with 2 birds on the cover set in multiple countries i've never visited. and possibly at least one of them is a romance or historical fiction, too.

[theweirdspacejellyfish]

manga recs

royal fiance by asuma risai

summary: hanami kairi's fate changes when he accepted an offer from an old man to work for a rich family as a housekeeper. the low level job suddenly transforms into a wedding workout with his schoolmate, the foreign royal prince shou

crimson spell by yamane ayano

summary: in order to protect his people from attacking demons, Prince Val uses a demonic sword and curses himself in the process. he leaves his kingdom to find a cure, and his search leads him to Hallwil, the person rumored to the only one who knows how to break the curse. Hallwil agrees to help Val... for a price

junjou romantica by nakamura shungiku

summary: takahashi misaki is suddenly having some unexpected and odd problems. what started as a need for some college entrance exam tutoring has somehow led him to being romanced by a suave older man who happens to be his big brothers best friend. Confused by all of his brand new emotions, misaki struggles to deal with his suddenly very odd life. and if that wasnt enough, his suitor, usami akihiko has plenty of issues of his own. a man child who decorates his room in giant teddy bears and toys, usami is a famous novelist who also writes steamy boy love novels on the side. when misaki cracks open one of these books and reads sentences like usami licks every inch of misakis hot body will, lets just say all hell breaks loose

hatsujou animal by kamon saeko

summary: kyouichis elite high school and the delinquent school next door are separated by only a fence. one day by the fence, kyoichi meets chiba, a fearsome student known for speaking with his fists... a school story of star crossed lovers

mayday mayday mayday by gwendoline

summary: yoon yuno is a small time money launderer with a huge problem: he cant seem to escape the sexual advances of his client vasily ivanovich kaminsky, a handsome yet deadly russian mafia boss. yuno is terrified of kaminsky and determined to escape from him, but his attraction to the other man complicates matters. will yuno be able to resist kaminsky's overtures and save himself? or will he be devoured by kaminsky's unrelenting obsession?

hit on by a kinky guy by Bov

summary: " now, lets start the shoot." a sadistic cameramna x a pure tofu shop boy. he gently prepares him, driving him almost insane... is his reasoning reaching its limit..!?

hua hua you long by xing bao er

summary: in order to help their leader, Lu Cang, find a wife, bandits kidnap a woman from the mountains and offer her to him. Cang falls in love at first sight with the absolutely stunning beauty, however, on the night of the consummation

hitorijime boyfriend by arii memeko

summary: " would you like to break up with me again or be held, which would you prefer?" my former friend with the beautiful face, whom ive run into again after so long, only says things that cause me trouble. in the winter of sixth grade, kensuke was upset about having to separate from his best friend hasekura in middle school, and ended up breaking off their friendship. three years has passed since then, and hasekura comes in contact with kensuke like nothing had changed. kensuke was happy they could repair their friendship, but hasekura says something completely out of left field

[cherrybomboyfriend]

a man with a hammer sees everything as a nail. a tarantula doused in poison sees life as a box of chocolates

may 15, 2024.

it’s been a few days since my last letter; i have no clue what to call these rants except for what they are? letters to an abyss of bystanding entities. it makes me so sad that one day all of you will die. this exact fact is the thing that keeps me up every night and tickles tears out of my eyes all the time. i’m tormented and tortured by fatality. one day my mother will die. one day my uncles will die. one day my friends will die. one day my little cousins will die. one day i’ll die. i’ll be forgotten like 50’s actresses that got booked for a single role then never appeared in anything ever again. mortality has been familiar with me since i was a child. one of my earliest (yet funnest?) memories was attending two funerals in one day. the first funeral was for an aunt on my grandmother’s side, and the second was for a cousin on my grandfather’s side. i remember looking at all of the solemn faces as a 7 year old and simply enjoying the fact that all of my family members were hanging out together, understanding that someone has lost their life and will never come back yet not being phased by it. the first funeral i’ve cried at was my father’s. i’m pretty sure i spent that entire day crying. i was 12 when i woke up in the middle of the night to police standing outside of my bedroom door. i peaked through the crack to see so much commotion in the hallway, not knowing what to do or what to think. hours passed before my mother crept my door open with a weak voice telling me that she’d be leaving me in the house alone to go with my father to the hospital. years later she told me that she already knew he was dead based on a feeling in her stomach. that was the first time in my entire life that i had felt such deep and guttural emptiness. i realized that humans weren’t rubber bands that relied on their elasticity to keep their pacemakers on. i realized that i could die at 12 years old.

these thoughts haunted me well into my teenage years, with those years rounding off with my grandmother’s death. she was a stubborn old woman who didn’t want to see any doctors and yelled at anyone who offered her help. i knew that her time was coming close to running over well before she passed, which haunted me. logistically it made sense, but spiritually? it drove me mad. sometimes i manage to convince myself that i can predict people’s deaths in manic delusional states. sometimes i get “an itch”, then start sobbing thinking about how one of my friends is probably dying as i wipe tears from my eyes. i’m haunted by my own intuition and i question it every day. i question if i can control time and death. i question if life is even worth living if im gonna spend every minute of it waiting for the day that the birds chirp in slow motion and my breath hitches at an uncontrollable rate. i’m terrified.

i hate how much these thoughts control me. i would take any pill that allows me to not think about the concept of death for at least one day. at least one hour. at least one minute. why doesn’t anyone else feel the same way i do? people plan their future without any anxiety and i don’t understand it. why are you planning a cruise for 2 years from now when you could possibly crash in your car on the way there? why are you planning on attending undergrad school when you could get shot tomorrow? why are you beginning things that could abruptly end? why are we living just to die? what am i supposed to do with these thoughts? put them inside of my purse and eat them as snacks whenever the government decides that im too old for assistance? do i spit these words into a bottle douce them in alcohol then chug them back inside until i get poisoning and see the light? what do i do with the amount of thoughts that haunt me every night?

i can’t do anything. it’s the most freeing and dismal thing ive had to realize. i still don’t think i realize it because i cry at any thought of an end-of-the-world situation. i can’t do anything and i can’t escape. if there were a way to make people immortal scientists would’ve done it by now. i just have to accept my fate. these thoughts make me feel like a prisoner on death row screaming and pleading for the electric shock to implode on itself as soon as it reaches an inch away from my forehead. i don’t know what to do. i don’t know how to prevent it from making me sad every day. i want out, but i can’t get out. i don’t know how to end this letter. i just want things to get better. i want to come to terms with these thoughts instead of pushing them away. i want to be the average joe. i don’t want mortality to run my life like a big soccer game. i watch the shot clock as i hyperventilate from my bed. i don’t want to go to sleep anymore.

okay well… if there’s one positive note that i can clench onto as a send off it’s that i’m glad that we’ve invented chocolate. it’s the best creation ever. sweet treats. if humans weren’t here then there’d be no chocolate. or at least any as good as the bars i get from the grocery store. i love those. and nutella. and chocolate wafers. i’d die for one of those. i’m happy again. goodnight. sweet dreams my little mortals. we’re all gonna be alright.

[aestheticvoyage2024]

Day 135: Tuesday May 14, 2024 - "Ego Is The Enemy"

While Ive put both book 4 and 5 aside, an executive decision to soak in Ryan Holiday's Ego Is The Enemy. Book 6 was officially started almost a month ago now, in the airport as I flew to Delaware for a day long personal development that focused on the necessity to tame the ego. But a few things are special here about this book; first, I got this copy in Portland earlier this year at Powell's Books - a signature locale. And then when I cracked it open for the first time I noticed an index card. Not all that odd I suppose, book stores typically have some kind of index card in it. But this was cool - Ryan had been there, and this was very definitely his signature on the card in the inside cover. I flipped it over, and the back side of the car had his notes for me -> "want you to be: sure footed, sure headed, balanced, still. Very cool.

But even better, this book was the first I stamped with the special embosser stamp that my parents got me for my birthday last month. I thought that was fitting. Very very cool.

I am finding the stories useful - the anecdotes and writing style familiar to the author I dedicate a few minutes to every morning with my two daily readers on the stoics. But this laser focus on this topic is helpful. My ego gets me into trouble far more than I can give it credit for. And while I commit to the effort of changing tracks, starting here seems like a great place to get that block moving.

Song: Rush Sturges - Wild Places (feat. John Craigie and Shook Twins)

Quote: “When we remove ego, we’re left with what is real. What replaces ego is humility, yes—but rock-hard humility and confidence. Whereas ego is artificial, this type of confidence can hold weight. Ego is stolen. Confidence is earned. Ego is self-anointed, its swagger is artifice. One is girding yourself, the other gaslighting. It’s the difference between potent and poisonous.” ― Ryan Holiday, Ego Is the Enemy

[xaracosmia]

ꕥ — WELCOME TO NEFE COSMIA, ODILE. 🌓

ꕥ  — OOC INFORMATION;

name / alias: arte(mis) age: 24 pronouns: they / she ooc contact: smearedcanvases twt, forgedsplendor tumblr other characters in xc: getou suguru, the goddess of resentment ( and celiami malinao )

ꕥ  — IC INFORMATION;

name: odile age: 44 pronouns: she / her series: in stars and time canon point: post game app triggers: n / a

personality: she’s a fucking old lady.

technically, not really, because forty isn’t old, and more than that she doesn’t want that to be her personality, she really doesn’t— but when your entire party is, at least, two whole decades younger than you, practically half your entire life time ( and double theirs, what an awful thought ) it’s kind of inevitable. she takes the position with grace, though… and a bit of an attitude, but she deserves that at the very least.

odile’s learned some things in her forty years; not a whole lot, that’s why she’s out here traveling in the first place, has the moniker of “the researcher” in their silly little party, so on and so forth. for all her crankiness she cares for them deeply, and she’s more than happy to impart whatever wisdom she has upon them; despite her craft type, she is firmly, proudly, undoubtedly their rock.

something your muse struggles with: patience. she’s cranky.

your muse’s greatest strength:  … also patience. of the emotional type! 

history / background: 

odile was a liar by omission.

or perhaps that’s not quite right. it’d be “by omission” if isabeau had said nothing, and she continued to say nothing— but the moment he’d questioned it, she’d had the choice to lie, or to come clean.

is it possible to lie without saying a single thing? that is how odile felt that afternoon, the way the kids start verbally wrestling with each other in their attempt to crack her open; to them, this was a weakness in the shell, an opening, and it’s easy to toss them the bone and watch them fight with each other like puppies, playful and with teeth but no fangs.

she’s fond of them, more than anything. born in ka bue but here in vaugarde to learn, she finds her greatest teachers are a bunch of twenty somethings and an actual, literal child. of course, she knew from the very beginning of her journey, that little of her studies would be found in libraries, or schools, or houses— but she finds herself easily and quickly in these first strangers, then friends, now family.

mirabelle and isabeau. then siffrin. then bonnie. the search for herself is never ending, but she’s certain, with them by her side, that it’s right there— nestled between their quiet, beating hearts. all of theirs.

powers / abilities: 

CRAFT SKILLS. in stars and time’s equivalent of magic. rock paper scissors, pretty literally: odile’s a paper type, so she’s weak to scissors, resistant against rock, you can figure it out. she’s also capable of using all three craft types. craft type determines the palm shape when attacking— or is it the other way around? who knows. whichever it is, odile attacks with an open palm.

Scissors III. deals scissors damage to an enemy.

Rock III. deals rock damage to one enemy.

Paper III. deals paper damage to one enemy.

Slow IV. slows down enemies for a few turns.

Paper α V. deals big paper damage to one enemy.

Craft Buff. strengthens one friend’s resistance to a craft type for a few turns.

Craft Break. makes an enemy weaker to a craft type’s attacks for a few turns.

Craft Break α. makes an enemy weaker to all craft types for a few turns.

inherent abilities: 

EXAMINE. analyze an enemy. this just means she’s perceptive tbh but she’s in an rpg

MEMORIES. she’s got some! truthfully i’m not sure how they work considering siffrin’s the one in charge of them but these are out there somewhere in the aether…

Memory of Odile. +5 to all stats. 

Memory of Tonics. health items used by odile restores more hp.

Memory of First Strike. attack speed up at start of battle.

Memory of a Secret. +50 attack.

items / weapons: 

DENSE BOOK. book of spells. probably

GEOMETRIC GLASSES. she’s got bad eyes

OPAQUE GLASSES. boosts attack and crit chance, but lowers defence. 

starting ability: scissors iii starting item: geometric glasses

extra:

she’s afraid of heights like me and i like that

might add more but we’ll see ( explodes )

discord id: edgeoftheuniverse

passcode: hi

[killeriknik]

Killer Fish #1:

2000s Christian Metal

cleaning out some drawers, i rediscovered this album today. unfortunately, the cd and front cover have been lost somewhere in my house (hopefully). but it reminded me of a subgenre, or really a movement, that i hadnt considered fully before.

i found this cd in the basement of an odd store, half of which is a Moon Pie General Store, where you could find anything moonpie related as well as typical tourist junk. however, the other part of this business is a christian book store. on the main floor they sold new books. past the selections of bibles and christian novels/self help/anything, past the surprisingly funny secular selections of diary of a wimpy kid and Five Nights at Freddys novels, and past the section of childrens entertainment, there is a GIGANTIC basement.

scontent-atl3-1.xx.fbcdn.net

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im not sure where the basement items they sold at a discounted price came from. it was like flea market levels of unsold stock. im talkin odd sh*t. at points they had 18+ erotica from the 90s, some Star Wars Episode 1 merch i regret not buying, 14 billion copies of a political hate book about president Obama, and of course a shit ton of cds. ive found suprisingly obscure and amazing books there, but thats not what this is about.

sometime maybe 2020-2021 i found this cd for 3 bucks. being an edgy teen with a hatred of Christianity, i was enthralled to find such a cd with the album name "buried alive." at a time in my life where i had limited to no internet access but blossoming music taste (and an impressive cd collection), I listened to this shit SO MUCH. heres one of my favs.

(sorry, wish i could find a better site to link their music, but the only site they seemed to upload to was myspace, and for some reason the site is broken, idk im not familiar with myspace)

The band Inhale Exhale was a semi popular american metal(core) group, hailing from Ohio. and like so many independent rock bands with the best music youve ever heard, they promptly disbanded with only a few albums under their belt.

R.I.P inhale exhale, 2005 - 2013.

its that yummy yummy mix of metal, emo, melodic hardcore, and probably countless other labels (can you tell i have a distaste for genres?) that rocked the scene in the 2000s to early 2010s, around a time when the Jesus Freak Movement had revived and infused its 70s hippie values into the grungey, edgy and dark undertones of the late 90s-00s, delivering the gospel with a unabashed punch. truly of another era, an era i wish i had experienced. i think this was the first "metal" music i ever listened to on my own, but i found out just today that they were in fact a christian metal band.

this year ive been really into metal related music. but ive also been really into the concept of christianity. my family, really my entire community ive been raised in is "christian". going to "christian" schools, having only christian "friends", adult role models who were "christian", its always been about salvation and damnation. as i became a teenager, i evolved into a creature who despised this religion, for many good reasons im sure ill talk on another time, but also pure teenage rebellion. studying the bible this year (as a part of my last year in.. you guessed it... a christian school) has been oddly eye-opening. maybe ive matured since i last cracked open the holy bibbel. but ive found myself debating the idea of it. at its core, it seems to my mind to be the best sounding religion out there. what i love most is the rich story and the themes of love, redemption, brokenness, true evil and true good; they resonate with me.

christian metal really hits the spot. the themes i have deep history with, pared with the aggression and beauty of the screams and rage filled melodic guitar riffs, as well as my personally over powering, nostalgic/anmoiac obsession for the 00s and early 10s creates a great mix. its a movement of music i wish i could be present in.

and why did christian metalcore decline in popularity into the 10s and 20s? im sure theres not an easy answer. i mean, look at popular christian music and culture today. its

so.

BLAND.

so void of life and culture, void of our beautiful human qualities. they speak the same, often hateful, script; they water down the thought provoking concepts and stories of their religion, and they try to remove what they think isnt acceptable. a lot of these christian metalcore groups have abandoned their roots, stating their disagreements with Christianity, which of course is valid.

hey, im still not sold on christianity, im still learning. everyone has their own free will to find what idealogies or lack thereof to believe in. so i mean no hate

i do feel though, in certain circumstances perhaps, this says something disturbing abt modern christianity. its mindnumbing. its boring. its really sad and honestly, with how perfected it appears to be, its f*cking ugly.

it also seems to connect with the way life today just dosent hit like it used to, and i know im not alone in my age group thinking this. there seems to be a blandness encroaching on our art and lives today. in the music, films, internet; a corporatization and general simplification of our art has been slowly killing us.

i long for a time when christians could death growl about god. but honestly, this can be done today if we really try. fuck modern christianity, fuck modernism in general; this isnt just for the christians. go nuts. scream, riot, portray your truths how you want to, dont follow some guideline.

i might have gotten out of hand with this post, i dont want to get to philosophical here. i guess thats what this blog is for though. christian metalcore is really cool tho, check it out. you might be surprised how many popular metal bands from that era had ties to christianity. ill include some recommendations, or you can search it out yourself.

have a punk ass day,

-nikki

(yeah i decided to use my current name, fuck it)

some bands:

 A Plea For Purging.

Shiver.

Heart of a Child.

The Fall.

Malevolence.

Underoath.

Norma Jean.

For Today.

Impending Doom.

Wolves At The Gate.

Phinehas.

Midst of Lions.

Demon Hunter.

killer fish.

[wittyworm]

Ohoho you wanna hear about MY favorite naruto character?

Be me, just discovering manga for the first time as a extremely sheltered baptist 14 year old. I was obsessed. Naruto scratched an itch in me as a young repressed gay that veggie tales and 321 Penguins just couldn't reach. I would check out my highschool's book limit in naruto volumes, tear through them in one night, bring them back the next day, check out the next 6 volumes, rinse and repeat. Nothing would come in between me reading through these books as fast as humanly possible.

So when I was dragged out of my room to go to my new stepdad's company sponsored picnic, i was less than thrilled. But, oh well, a ninja should always be adaptable, so i grabbed my current volume and we headed off to the park.

Now I don't know if you've ever had the displeasure of experiencing the Corporate Sponsored Family Picnic, but let me tell you, even as a child it was a sorry affair. Small groups of pale middle aged men in khaki shorts and polos stood in circles clutching their solo cups full of sprite while their equally haggard looking wives wrestled wood chips out of the mouths of their redfaced toddlers.

I was more concerned about finding a quiet corner of the pavilion to read out of the reach of sticky fingered middleschoolers and curious siblings alike.

Staying quiet and undetected was the way of the ninja.

Well, wouldn't you know it, the company hired a clown to come and paint the faces of their employee's children. I loved facepaint but unfortunately being 14 meant that i was far too mature for the butterfly masks and spiderman faces of yore, so I kept reading.

That is... until i saw him.

The first time i saw Orochimaru I had two thoughts. One was gay panic, the other was complete and total assurance that this was the coolest looking character that had ever been made in the history of man. Looking back now I could probably have sited this as being the moment my egg cracked for me but u can't tell therapists that so moving on.

Right then I knew that I had to be him. Embody every bit of intimidation and power that came with his killer eyeliner. Smugly, I strode past all the unicorns and batman faces, knowing that I was about to become the ultimate ninja.

I slapped the open book onto this poor 40 something year old woman's table and just pointed.

"Are you sure?" she asked me, pleaded me, eyes squinting at the picture of a man vomiting a smaller version of himself up.

I nodded solemnly.

I stood completely still for the whole process, brimming with excitement and undiagnosed autism. When she was finished and showed me the result, I was so blinded with euphoria it didn't matter that several dads had begun to stare or that my very christian mother was already wetting paper towels as I hopped down off the stool.

For those brief few moments I was the most powerful sannin at that picnic

thank u

nattou, this is the best fucjing thing ive ever read.

i have nothing to add. its perfection.

[jangofctts]

The Slow Regard of Silent Things (mainly Thorin x (fem) Reader)

Rated: mature (no smut yet)  

Word Count: 4kish   

Warnings: none yet save for mature language, grumpy dwarves, an irritated Bilbo?? idk lmk if I miss anything for this first chapter kjkrjewh 

Summary: Tired of your life in the Shire, you seize the chance to follow the strange company of dwarves that arrive upon your doorstep to Erebor. Adventure, love, and danger are all wrapped together in this strange tale that you must navigate and untangle on your own. Good luck...

a/n: wow first time in a while that ive posted a fic here huh. this is gonna be a rewrite of the hobbit movies and I dont have a sEt pairing in mind yet it’s mostly gonna center around Thorin. WeLL enjoy wejhrkwejhr

Like any day, it begins the same as it always would in the Shire—awaking to the gentle morning light that floods through the white, woven curtains and the faint swooning of mourning doves lofted in the leaves. It is always paired with the fragrant blend of assorted teas that Bilbo took great care in amassing over the years and the bewitching smell of toast and juneberry jam. 

Mornings are always perfect at Bag End.

However, every strange day needs to have its dreary beginnings. It’s just rather unfortunate yours began with needing to arise well before the sun, a measly breakfast of lukewarm coffee, honey cakes, and a promised set of hands to help in the fields. Now, don’t be mistaken—you truly had no business plowing and seeding Master Brandybuck’s fields—not with your high social standing, no. Just a not so very selfless act of kindness in order to shirk your own responsibilities and your cousin’s pestilential nagging about Valar knows what. Doilies or maybe the cracked spine of a book you opened a little too far—you haven’t a clue. 

All that you do know is that there’s nothing like a hard days work to put your frustrations into and praying your karma won’t catch up to you. You only wish you had taken up on the Brandybuck’s offer to shuttle you back home because fuck—your entire back is a mess of knots. Your legs are a battleground of mud and bruises, and your skin is flushed from the harsh hours beneath the sun. You doubt you’ll be able to roll out of bed tomorrow.

Oh well—        

You’re nearly home anyway; accompanied by the chants of the cattails bowing to the sweet spring breeze along the edge of the Water and the cacophony of crickets and frogs chiming in with their constant hum. Only in the past fortnight or so had they emerged to sing, shaking off the frost and frigid rain from delicate limbs, heralding the oncoming sweetness of summer. 

You wish it would come sooner.  

Inhaling the crisp air laden with rain and the fleeing storm clouds, you hardly feel the chill of the patterned limestone underfoot, shining wet beneath the moon after the evening showers. Cold mud sticks to your feet like a second skin and Eru save you—Bilbo is going to have your head for making a mess out of the carpet for nearly the third time this week. You puff up your cheeks and release a long stream of air—such a worrywart that one. Not as much fun as he used to be. 

Granted, Bilbo does have about twenty or some years senior to yourself in age, but you can still recall a time when he’d readily agree to go in search of fairies and elves with you in the East Farthing Woods or play Orcs and Men till sunset. Hell—you still have the wooden sword he gifted to you on his thirtieth birthday (despite the uproar from your relatives all tittering and tripping over themselves, rushing to explain that a sword was no suitable gift for a young lady such as yourself). You scoff at the memory. They never did manage to separate you from the wooden blade, lest they desired a sharp whack to the leg and a handful of splinters.

You sigh—as much as you yearned for the simpler days of your youth, life has a tricky way of seeping through the cracks and twisting the golden threads of the past into dreary reality. Sure, as much as you scorn your cousin Bilbo’s inability to let go of all that tightly wound mess of anxiety and propriety—you’re mostly to blame for it. An unexpected burden shipped off to his parents, and after their untimely deaths, the role of caretaker rested solely on him. 

You sigh a second time, shake off the slender tendrils of guilt that weave up your spine, and shift the woven basket you hold into your left hand. A collection of jams, preserves, goat milk and cheeses you’ve acquired as payment for help in the fields. Again, exactly an ideal way to pass the time but heaps better than attending that dreadful tea party Lobelia Sackville-Baggins had been pestering you about for ages. Eru save you—you’d suffer one thousand blisters and scalding sunburns before you’d ever agree to spend an entire afternoon with the woman. Manners be damned—Bilbo will be irked upon hearing the news of your absence on the morrow but with the gifts you bring, you hope it’ll ease some of those ruffled feathers. 

Sadly, those gifts never did get delivered to your beloved cousin—

Upon arriving to the gate of Bag End, your delicate ears are greeted with the uproar of overly rambunctious dinner guests. You wince at the muffled shattering of a plate and the shadowy figures passing by the stained glass windows. Not an uncommon thing to witness in the Shire, but from your own cousin? At this hour? In the middle of April? Now that is a truly concerning thought to process. 

The worst comes to mind—thieves, vagabonds, Sackville-Baggins—all the horrors a simple Hobbit could conjure within a second it takes to draw a breath. With a newfound fire beneath your feet and not much forethought, you throw open the gate and scramble up the steps. Your big toe jams into the uneven stone due to your hastiness, you curse. Oh, stars above—you knew you should’ve been home earlier!   

Armed and ready to throw a fresh wad of gorgonzola at the nearest attacker in defense of your cousin, you charge through the front door and find a litany of…dwarves. 

It’s a downright mess—a dozen of them at least, pilfering the pantry with a jovial buzz as they swipe anything remotely resembling a chair to squeeze into the dinning room. Too dumbfounded to do anything but stare—your basket full of goods is snatched up by a floppy hatted dwarf. The fiend escapes with a devilish wink and a tip of his hat. Your mouth open and closes, tongue-tied and rushing to find a foothold to conquer your shock. The only words you manage is a pathetic, high pitched; “Hey!” 

You step after the dwarf in hopes of reclaiming your basket, but just as you do, the cheese you still hold in the other hand is plucked from your fingers and carried off. Vultures. “That’s mine!” 

All your protests are ignored and swept under the rug, lost in a sea of wild hair, unfamiliar accents, and strange clothes. You just about lose hope of finding a way out of the mass of bodies and accepting your fate as a secondary doormat when a warm hand clamps down around your wrist and yanks you into the safety of the library.              

“Where on earth have you been!”

Bilbo—

His round cheeks are alight with an irritated flush, hair mussed up from his restless hands running through it in attempt to self sooth instead of imploding. His fingers fidget with his suspenders, smoothing out nonexistent twists as he awaits your answer with the most harrowing glare he can muster. Which is, to put it plainly, as terrifying as a wee lamb dressed in a bowtie. “I’ve been worried sick all day! And don’t even get me started on this—these—these vagrants—”

Your frazzled nerves from first entering your home dim to a subtle thrum of curiosity for your surprise guests. You open your mouth to respond to Bilbo’s inquiry but your cousin has already pushed past you to peek around the corner of the wall. A younger dwarf with a mane of golden hair saunters past the library with Bilbo’s fine china stacked up to a height of well beyond reckless—Bilbo whines out a string of complaints.       

“I was helping Master Brandybuck with the fields—“ you explain, tracking your flustered cousin as he watches helplessly from afar. He groans as another dish shatters. “Bilbo, what is going on?”

“Ransacking our stores!” He cries. “I just picked those tomatoes today—they were perfectly ripe—“

Bilbo flits to the other side of the room, throws open the door and squawks in fear. “No, no no!” He shrieks. “Not my maps!”

You peak over his shoulder, witnessing the dwarf swaddled in knitted clothing commit this heinous crime of thumbing through Bilbo’s prized collection. Poor lad—he looks sweet. You stifle your giggle as your cousin barks your name, his face a wash of desperation and equal parts bewildered. “Help? Please?”

“What would you have me do, Bilbo?” You say incredulously. “Chase them off with a hot poker stick?” 

Bilbo’s lips purse, considers it, then waves his hand in dismissal. “Yes? No—no. Just-just make sure they don’t brake anything else!”

Bilbo swiftly exits the safety of the study, intent on salvaging anything he can. “And mind the door—don’t let anything else wander in!”

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose…here’s to an even longer night. 

^*^*^*^

Unlike your cousin, you quite enjoy your present company. Never had you seen such a merry bunch with a fierce distaste for table manners and a bottomless appetite that could rival a Hobbit’s. A vast change in pace from the civil proprieties the Shire encompasses—damn near stifling, if you’re being honest.

Your pinafore is stained with smatterings of airborne tomatoes and Eru knows what else—a sight to behold that would surely cause your own mother to roll in her grave. You’re exhausted, your feet hurt, and you hair is a mess—the thick curls tumbling out of the measly ribbon you’ve tied it back with. And yet…it’s the most fun you’ve had in years.  

A half eaten carrot grazes past you ear—you narrowly avoid it by sidestepping into the parlor. Taking a deep breath, you lean against the wall and fight back your fatigue. At this point in time the dwarves have calmed and moved about to infest other parts of the house, much to Bilbo’s dismay. His frazzled voice echoes through the halls, calling your name—you grimace. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, stinging from the pipeweed smoke and exertion. When you open them you startle. A young man—dwarf—had wandered into the parlor with you. You blink—he’s handsome…Raven black hair, messily pulled back with a silver clasp, a roughened swath of stubble over his cheeks and chin; paired with dark brows that rest above eyes that sparkle with a boyish gleam. Your heart skips a beat or two as his lips draw into a roughish smile.        

“Are you Master Boggins’s wife, then?”     

 Boggins?  

You bite the insides of your cheek to suppress your snicker. “Are you suggesting I’d marry my own cousin, Master Dwarf?”

His smile falters, brows shooting up to his hairline. “N-no. Forgive me, I didn’t—“

Waving away his attempts of apology, you crack a smile. “I’m only teasing—you didn’t know.”  

An embarrassed flush stains the apples of his cheeks and the tips of his abnormally large ears that poke out from his unruly hair. He smiles again. “Aye—I deserve your scorn, lass. Shouldn’t have stuck me nose in a fair maiden's business.” 

“You do it often, I presume.” You say, continuing to prod the poor dwarf. A nagging voice scolds you for speaking so freely to a stranger—a guest no less—but your ability to stop yourself from jumping headfirst into situations like these is zero to none. “Barging in and making a mess of their home?” 

This time he meets your humor leg for leg, brushing off the remaining embarrassment with another handsome grin. “Only if they are of exquisite beauty.” He wanders further into the room and extends his hand. “Will you honor me with your name, fair maiden?”

His flirtations earn him a laugh as you slide your fingers into his. They’re pleasantly calloused. “My friends call me Cricket.” 

He cradles your hand, folds at the waist into a dramatic bow that has the lapels of his overcoat brushing the floor, then shoots back up to his full height. A whole head taller than you. “A lovely name.”

You roll your eyes as the dwarf raises your hand to his mouth. If he’s even the least bit curious about the oddity of your chosen name, he shows no sign of it. Smart boy. 

Your heart flutters as his lips and rough stubble lightly scrape over your knuckles. “And do you have a name, Master Dwarf? Or are you simply here to flirt and then vanish into the night?”

His laugh is airy and bright. He returns your hand to your side. “It’s Kíli.”

“A fitting name for a flirt,” you say with a playful wink and a halfhearted curtsey. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Master Kíli.”

Kíli snorts, meaning to continue the banter, yet just as he opens his mouth to speak, his name is called. “Kíli! Where have you run off to, brother?” 

The owner of said voice pops into the parlor, needing to bow his head to avoid nicking it upon the low arching entryway. Thick tresses of golden hair flow over his wide shoulders, decorated with intricate silver beads and stray plaits. Unlike Kíli, this dwarf sports a fuller beard and a mustache, braided and bound with matching silver beads that frame his peony pink lips. How curious…     

“There you are!” He announces. “I’ve been—oh, hello.” Upon closer inspection of his brother, his eyes slide over Kíli’s shoulder and settle on you.

“Fíli!” Kíli greets. He slaps a hand over his brother’s shoulder to steer him into your little circle of conversation. “This is Master Baggins’—“

“Wife?” Fíli helpfully supplies. 

“Cousin.” Both you and Kíli correct in unison. 

Fíli’s mouth parts in a gentle oh of understanding, cornflower blue eyes indulging in another study of your figure. In no way was it lecherous—no—more so a simple, inquisitive glance. Not many are familiar with Hobbits after all—you’ll allow the lingering gazes. 

The corners of Fíli’s eyes crinkle as his lips pull into a kind smile. Oh Valar—why are they both attractive? “I hope my brother hasn’t bothered you too much, my lady. He’s awfully good at being a pest.” 

Kíli jostles his brother’s shoulder in protest, disputing his words with a disgruntled frown and more pathetic punches. Fíli rolls his eyes, catches Kíli’s entire face in his palm and shoves him away. Kíli stumbles, steadies himself and glares daggers into the back of his brother’s head. You meet the dark haired dwarf’s eye and smirk. “Oh, yes. Quiet a pest—he ate all my tea cakes. I just baked them last night, y’know.”

“Oh, fair maiden—you wound me!” Kíli cries, ignoring the fierce stare his brother sends him. “And here I thought we were friends.” 

“Kíli—“ Fíli hisses, attempting to cuff the younger dwarf over the ear. He avoids it with a laugh and dances to the doorway. Fíli stomps after him and shoos him into the hallway before any more damage can be done. “Go help with the dishes you blockhead.”  

Kíli briefly pops back into sight to send you a wink and a little wave of goodbye. “I’ll be seeing you again, fair maiden!” 

Fíli curses his little brother. He then halts at the archway and spares a moment to face you again. He clears his throat and dips his head in acknowledgment. “Sorry ‘bout him—it, uh, was nice to meet you, my lady.” 

“You as well,” you say, placing your hands on your hips. “However, I’m serious about the tea cakes. I expect reimbursement, Master Dwarf!” 

Fíli dutifully nods and strokes at his mustache between his forefinger and thumb. He flashes you a wide smile. “You have my word, my lady.”

Before you can backpedal and inform him that you were joking, Fíli disappears around the corner in search of his brother. You smile to yourself and shake your head. What an odd pair… 

                                                     ^*^*^*^

This is the worst day of his life, Bilbo concludes. This and the time his dear, beloved cousin released a menagerie of toads, fireflies, and crickets into the house. It took them weeks to completely eradicate the infestation. He shudders at the memory.    

But no—no, this was worse. Flying dishes and reckless galavanting, all in the name of poking fun and pushing Bilbo’s nerves to the very limit. Cricket is no help either—smiling and laughing along with the impromptu signing and merry entertainment. It’s a miracle everything survived—more so that the dwarves thoroughly cleaned and stacked said plates. His bewilderment shows plainly on his face and causes an uproar of laughter to follow. But just as it starts, it fades to a grinding halt.   

Three solemn knocks echo through the house.  

“Here is here,” Gandalf utters in a foreboding tone.  

The company, Cricket and Bilbo wander to the front door. The wizard is the first to open it and with a creak, the circular door reveals yet another dwarf. Refined and filling the space with regal command, he steps into the foyer, greets the wizard and tugs at the clasp of his heavy cloak. “I thought you said this place was easy to find. I lost my way—twice.”

The dwarf hands the heavy swathes of fabric to an overeager Kîli and nods his head in greeting at the others. “I wouldn’t have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door.” 

“Mark?” Bilbo guffaws. He cranes his head to catch a glimpse of the damage, yet the door closes before he can. “There is no mark on that door. It was painted a week ago!” 

Gandalf interjects with a guilty chuckle. “There is a mark—I put it there myself.”

Valar above! He’s going to faint—

There’s no time for that, unfortunately. Gandalf places his hands over Bilbo’s shoulders and steers him in the direction of the newcomer. “Bilbo Baggins—allow me to introduce the leader of our company—Thorin Oakenshield.” 

Thorin turns slowly, looking upon Bilbo with little care. “So…this is the Hobbit.”

His manner takes Bilbo aback. Just in the brief span of seconds and the limited words exchanged—Bilbo is made well aware that he is being belittled. He scrunches his nose and adjusts his suspenders. Bilbo can’t say that he’s met any sort of royalty or nobility in his simple life, but if he were to guess, this dwarf is cut from the same cloth.  

“Tell me Master Baggins,” Thorin continues, looking down his sharp nose at Bilbo. “Have you done much fighting?” 

“Pardon?” Bilbo sputters. 

Thorin crosses his arms over his broad chest. “Axe or sword? What’s your weapon of choice?”

“Well,” Bilbo musters, “I do have some skill at conkers, if you must know—but I fail to see why that’s relevant…” 

“Thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar.”

Snickers follow Thorin’s insult. Bilbo bites his tongue, cutting off the sharp retort that even Cricket would find acidic. Uncontested, the dwarf lord’s attention shifts to Bilbo’s cousin.      

“And what of you?” He sighs as his eyes lazily skim over Cricket. “The grocer’s daughter?” 

“No,” Cricket huffs. The girl straightens her spine and brushes her hands down the sides of her pinafore. A crooked smile spreads over her lips. “That would be Marigold Proudfoot—lives about four doors down. Though, I can’t say she or her husband are very fond of dwarves. Not at this hour at least.”

Thorin lifts a dark brow at her cheek. 

“Ah,” Gandalf interjects with a fond smile. He lays a withered hand over Cricket’s shoulder and gives the girl a friendly pat. “Thorin—this here is Cricket. Our other dear host for the evening.” 

Bilbo is not fond of the way Thorin’s scrutinizing gaze studies her for a second time. 

“Strange lands make for stranger names, it would seem,” Thorin haughtily comments. Cricket’s face twists with unruly ire. 

Bilbo’s heart leaps between his teeth—now is not the time for a barbed insult catapulted back to someone of such noble stature. The same someone who has thirteen dwarves, all wielding some sort of weaponry, pledging fealty to him and who would not so much as blink before turning Cricket into a lovely, little meat skewer. Bilbo clutches at his suspenders and pulls them away from his chest as another spell of dizziness washes over him. He doesn’t fancy the imagery—not in the slightest. 

This wouldn’t be the first time Cricket’s whip tongue would land her into trouble—far from it in fact. Yet none of those instances placed her in actual danger—just threatened her reputation that Bilbo had tried so hard to carefully curate. Maybe a cuff around the ear at the very worst—not like either of those did any good. She cares more for the mud ingrained in her nail beds than the social intricacies of the Shire. A lost cause, as most would put it. 

But here, right in this moment, the both of them are offered a very real slice of what lies beyond the boarders of the Shire. A far more sinister country with little law and goodwill—a world that would not hesitate to tear through flesh and bone with the wicked teeth of harsh reality. Cricket seems to recognize this as well. The muscles in her jaw bunch from the force of keeping it shut, displaying a very rare case of mulling over her words before they spew forth in a jet of shrapnel and flame. Her eyes are ablaze, unflinching at the equally harrowing stare Thorin throws back at her. 

The tension in the room is palpable—thick enough to cut through with a knife. Bilbo and the company of dwarves shift with strained energy, unsure if the pair would crack and crumble away from the weight or dissolve into fisticuffs. Knowing his cousin, it’s likely the latter. 

A communal sigh of relief is shared as Thorin’s shoulders lift with an impartial huff. He turns away and follows his brethren to the promise of food. 

“What a pompous oaf,” Cricket mutters under her breath. 

Gandalf clicks his tongue in disapproval yet Bilbo can’t help but wholeheartedly agree. 

A pompous oaf indeed!

                                                    ^*^*^*^

It was funny at first—watching your cousin flounder and scrabble for the high standing foothold he always manages to keep. Knocked down a couple pegs from snobbish and the air of higher society Bilbo exudes. Yet when those same ridiculing attentions focused on yourself, your opinion quickly morphed. Handsome dwarf lord or no, it gives Thorin no excuse to be downright rude.   

Your irritation never quelled, only grew alongside curiosity when the company once again gathered in your dining room. Smoke from pipeweed hangs in the air, disturbed by the passionate squabbling and animated movements. They were going on a quest you and Bilbo learned—to take back the Lonely Mountain and slay a dragon. Seems a bit foolish, you think—how were they to kill it now if they weren’t able to accomplish the task back then? Hidden passages or no, simply getting to the mountain will prove difficult enough. 

Even so, excitement brews within your chest. You are a dreamer at heart, always yearning for something bigger than you. An adventure filled with danger, the wild, and everything wedged in between. The Shire is your home, always will be, but the deep thrum of your soul urges you to step beyond the boarders of the Shire and find your true place in the world. A well overdue holiday, free from the iron chains of an unforgiving community and gossiping mouths. 

“That’s why we need a burglar,” Ori states proudly. You snap to attention as Bilbo hums in agreement. 

“And a good one too. An expert, I’d imagine.”

The dwarves stare at your cousin with expecting eyes. “And are you?”

“Am I what?” Bilbo asks, sharing a look of confusion with you. You haven’t the foggiest. 

Oín slaps the table with glee. “He said he’s an expert!”

Bilbo stammers and rushes to smooth over the confusion. “No, no no. I’m not a burglar. I’ve never stolen a thing in my life!” 

It’s true. Bilbo would rather die than take on the title of something that would suggest his character to be less than unimpeachable. 

“I’m afraid I have to agree with Master Baggins. He’s hardly burglar material.” Balin sighs, tucking his bearded chin into his chest. The group descends into another fierce bout of arguing. Bilbo tries to quiet them, but your cousin’s attempts result in nothing.    

The small space suddenly darkens as Gandalf stands, slightly hunched from the low ceiling. It would look ridiculous if it were anyone else. “Enough! If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is!” The wizard bellows. 

The outburst stuns the dwarves into complacency. Warmth and the low glow of the candles return to the room once Gandalf settles back into his seat. He spares a kind glance to yourself and Bilbo and then addresses the room. “Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most, if they choose. And, while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of Dwarf... ...the scent of a Hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage.” 

“You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company and I have done so. There's a lot more to Hobbits than appearances suggest. And he's got a great deal more to offer than any of you know. You must trust me on this.”         

Silence blankets the room and a sudden, ringing thought clouds your mind. It’s a fat chance that Bilbo would agree to galavanting around the world with a bunch of dwarves. You one the other hand…

“I’ll do it. I can be your burglar.”

Well—at least no one burst out laughing. Though now that you think about it—laughing is far better than the silence you’ve curated. Yikes… 

“I’m good with maps,” you state, squaring your shoulders in hopes it would dispel some of your nerves, “and I know how to handle a bow—I’m no good with a sword but—but I’m a quick study, I swear it.” 

There’s a sea of varying opinions and hushed mutterings expressed on the faces of the dwarves as you attempt to carve out a feasible argument for yourself. You desperately look to Bilbo and then to Gandalf, but neither are of any help. The wizard quirks a bushy gray brow, puffs on his pipe and expels a tendril of wispy smoke in the shape of a ring. Your cousin on the other hand, looks about ready to keel over and faint. Typical.   

You plant your hands over your hips and huff. “You need a burglar, don’t you?”

“Well, yes—“ The white haired dwarf, Balin, begins. “But—“

“But what?” You challenge with a harsh stare. “If my cousin declines your contract, you’re left with nothing.” 

Another bout of muttering ensues. 

“The wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight or fend for themselves,” The one called Dwalin rumbles, “Especially no’ for wee hobbit lassies. S’no place at all.”   

“I believe I can manage just fine, Master Dwarf,” you snip. “Unless you have some privy knowledge to my personal upbringing that would suggest otherwise, I would recommend shutting your mouth before you find it stuffed with your own boot.”    

Bilbo sharply states your name in reprimand but the damage is already done. 

A fierce blush floods Dwalin’s cheeks and spreads all the way up to his ears—harsh snorts and jeering snickers follow, rapidly morphing into roaring laughter. The stocky warrior is left scrambling for words to retaliate, defend his pride, but finds none. Instead he mutters under his breath and folds his arms over his chest, sinking into the furs of his cloak in an attempt to disappear.      

“Oh, aye!” Bofur hoots, merriment sparkling in his eyes. “Let’s sick ‘er on the dragon! One word from that whip tongue o’ hers and old Smaug will go runnin’ with his tail between his legs.”

You bite your lip to stop a goofy grin from spreading across your face. Bofur returns the stem of his pipe to his mouth, inhales, and sends you a knowing wink. Before any of the other dwarves could cast their two cents in upon the matter, Thorin raises his hand from the table. The room quiets. 

The king’s head languidly tilts up to meet your eye. Whether he found your jab at Dwalin amusing or no—you haven’t a clue. His somber facade is difficult to read and while you aren’t frightened of him, the way he carries himself is unnerving at best. Thorin is the sort best admired from a distance and not right here, seated at your dining room table. 

“The road is long and the journey hard,” Thorin sighs. “I do not wish to burden this quest with death or injury that could be preventable—especially to those who have known no battle or hardship.”

He pauses. 

Hope flickers within your chest.

“The wizard speaks highly of your kind—“ Thorin’s eyes briefly flicker to Gandalf. “And an extra set of hands—warrior or no—could prove to be useful.” 

The group whispers amongst themselves. 

“Give her a contract.”