#doubt she'd recognize herself in this

[moonchildstyles]

has Older!Harry ever had to work later than he thought, maybe running into plans he had with pretty girl?

wordcount: 3k+

—————

"What do you think, H?" 

(Y/N) twirled in front of where Harry sat on his couch, showing off the new dress he had pushed her into rewarding herself with (with his credit card, of course) after getting through midterms. He'd seen the photos online, but she wanted him to get a look at the real thing—see if he liked it on her as much as he said he would. 

Looking up from his phone, he gave her a bright smile. "Sweetheart," he crooned, appraising her with an adoring gaze, "Y'look—" 

His phone buzzed in his hand, the disturbance cutting him off as he was forced to glance down at the device. His features posed into something grim with a set line on his jaw and pursed lips. 

"What is it?" (Y/N) asked, fiddling with her nails with her purse hanging from her wrist. He'd been attached to his phone since he'd come over to pick her up, constantly going back and forth between doling out his attention to her before being taken away by his phone. 

He shook his head much like he had done every other time (Y/N) had asked what had been going on. "Jus' something at the office—trying to figure out what happened." 

"Is it bad?" she asked, sinking into the couch next to him in hopes of skimming a glance at his screen. 

"A little, if it is what I think it is," he murmured distractedly, scrolling through a report (Y/N) had no hopes of recognizing. 

Quietly, she watched as he tapped away, aware of the time ticking down towards their reservations. "Do you think you'll be done before we need to leave?" 

Seemingly suddenly realizing the time, he heaved a sigh. "I hope." 

Just as the words left his mouth, an incoming call colored his screen. 

"Hold on," he told her, rising from his seat with his phone in a tight grip, "If 'm not off the phone by the time we need to leave, come and get me, 'kay?" 

As soon as she gave a nod, Harry had his phone pressed to his ear and was heading upstairs towards his office. His voice was rumbling and low, but she could hear the curt tone even from where she sat. She watched as he disappeared up the staircase before pulling her own phone out. She'd give him ten minutes, she decided—it would be cutting it close to the reservation, but she didn't want to stress him out any more than he obviously already was. 

—————

(Y/N)'s lips thinned as she watched the time tick off one more minute.

6:45pm. 

Harry had been tucked away upstairs for the full of the ten minute timer she had set for him. She hoped the problem wasn't as bad as he had feared, but she had a feeling it was that or much worse. He hated being late for any kind of appointment, so she doubted he had just lost track of time while working. 

Rising to her feet, joints popping from being folded up on his couch while she had waited, she started for the stairs. Her heels clicked over his floors, following her up the case and towards his office. Only a few paces away, she could hear him speaking behind the door. None of the words were clear, but it definitely wasn't a good sign to hear him still on the phone.

She quietly knocked on the door, pausing for a moment before pushing it open. Peering around the wood, she found Harry just as she figured she would: sat behind his desk, features pinched and sharp as he stared at his computer screen with his phone pressed to his ear. 

He hadn't even noticed her peeking in, mumbling something to his associate with his eyes reflecting whatever he was scrolling through on his screen. Clearing her throat, (Y/N) finally gained Harry's attention. 

His features quickly softened at the sight of her. 

"H? Are you ready to go?" she peeped, hoping whoever was on the other end of the call couldn't hear her. 

Lips thinning, he murmured an excuse to his call before pulling the phone away from his ear for a moment. With the receiver pressed to his shoulder, eyes speaking apologies before he'd even shared a word.

"Sweetheart," he started, the syllables floating on a sigh, "I can't leave, yet. 'S worse than I thought." 

While she was sympathetic to whatever he was dealing with—Harry never liked to bring work home if he could help it, especially if it was problem based like this—she couldn't help the way her shoulders deflated some. "Will we still be able to make dinner? It's almost six." 

Harry glanced at the time himself then, hesitating meeting her eyes once more. "I don't know, love. 'M so sorry, I really didn't think it was going to be this complicated." 

"It's okay, it's okay," she waved him off, already creeping out of the room, "I'll call and see if they have anything later, but don't worry." 

A sad smile wormed its way onto his lips, molding into the apples of his cheeks though the curl didn't meet his eyes. "Thank you, love." 

After offering her own small smile, (Y/N) slipped out of the room with the door clicking behind her. Taking in a deep breath, she slipped her phone out of her bag before pulling up the restaurant's website. She had a feeling, just with how coveted their original reservation was, that there wouldn't be anything else available but she didn't feel like telling Harry that kind of news at the moment. 

Taking in a sigh, (Y/N) started towards the stairs with her phone pressed to her ear. 

"Thank you for calling Elio, how can I help you?" 

"Hi—um—I have a reservation in thirty minutes, but I was wondering if..." 

—————

After shooting off a text to Harry that there wasn't anything else available fore the night, (Y/N) had resigned herself to a night on the couch. Even when he'd answered with a promise that he would figure something out as soon as he fixed whatever was going on, she hadn't bet on the possibility. 

When it came to things like these—problems outside of his control, unanticipated mistakes—Harry had a hard time letting them go until they were back up to his standards. He wouldn't be able to relax enough to spend the night with her, she knew that. Instead she had only messaged him back that she'd be downstairs for him whenever he was ready with a heart emoji tacked on the end. 

That was how she found herself tucked into the cushions of his couch, shoes kicked off under the coffee table, and a fluffy blanket over her lap with one of her reality TV shows on screen. She wasn't paying much attention to the scenes, the episode one she had already seen, instead poking at her phone for entertainment. 

As the time ticked on, closer and closer to Harry having been stuck working for over an hour, part of her wanted to head upstairs and see if she could pry him away. If he finished soon, they could still at least go out somewhere, keeping her dress and makeup from going to waste. But, she could still hear his rumbling voice at times carrying through the walls—he was still stuck on the phone. She could only imagine the kind of stress he was feeling if he was still stuck on the same problem almost an hour later.

Curled on his couch, (Y/N) almost winced when her stomach growled. She had kept herself from snacking after class, knowing she was going to want to have all the room possible for the immaculate dinner Harry had planned. Now, with the time ticking well past their reservations, she was feeling the consequences of her abstinence. 

Though she wasn't particularly keen on the idea of padding upstairs and asking Harry if he would be okay with some takeaway for the night, there wasn't much else she could do. (Harry had been teaching her as much as he could when it came to the kitchen, but that didn't mean that she was particularly good yet). Especially after she had made the choice to indulge in watching too many sushi videos that popped up on her social media—she doubted she could wait for Harry to finish up before scampering off for dinner.

Moving upstairs, (Y/N) paused outside of Harry's office, her ear keen to the door in hopes of finding a good time to pop in. Though she wasn't encouraged at the stretching silence on the other side, there wasn't much of a better time, she decided when she finally knocked on the door.  A responding grumble came from the other side.

Peeking inside, he didn't look much different than when she had seen him last. Now, his sleeves were rolled to his elbows and his hair mussed, but that pinch between his brows lingered with his jaw in a strong set. He looked tired this time when he glanced up at her, the fan of his lashes becoming a drooping frame around his eyes. 

"Sorry," she started, keeping her voice low at the sight of his phone still pressed to his ear, "Um, I was thinking about ordering dinner, if that's alright with you?" 

He took a moment, pulling his phone from his ear, poking at the mute button before clearing his throat. "Are y'sure? If I finish soon, I can still take y'out," he told her, voice softer than what she was sure he was sharing on the phone. 

"It's almost eight-thirty, H," (Y/N) gently reminded him, resting her head on the doorjamb as she gazed at him, "I'm sure you're hungry, too." 

He seemingly suddenly realized there were other things going on than the emails and clients he was dealing with. He deflated after taking in a deep breath. "Right. 'M sorry, (Y/N), really."

"No, it's okay, don't worry. I under—" 

"Mr. Styles, Dean has the group scheduled for a conference call in the morning, but is—" 

"Michael," Harry said, pulling the phone to his ear with the speaker off and mute unselected, "'M going to have to call you back." 

(Y/N) was taken aback at his sudden suggestion, though she continued listening from where she stood at the threshold. She hoped he wasn't ending the call on her account. 

"Ten minutes, and I'll call y'back. Can y'handle that, or do I need to keep holding your hand?" 

Maybe it was a bit harsh, but (Y/N) had to hold back her laughter with her hand stamped over her mouth. It wasn't like her boyfriend at all to snap at anyone, including his colleagues, but she couldn't Balme him after being corralled in his office for over an hour. The man on the other end—Micheael—must have stood down seeing as Harry hung up the call with nothing else to share. 

Plopping the device face down on his desk, Harry pulled in a sigh before fixing his eyes to (Y/N) once more. "C'mere, pretty girl." 

His open arms were an offer as she padded across his office. He collected her against his chest once she had rounded his desk, pulling her as close as he could with her folded in his lap. 

"'M sorry," he murmured, voice low in her ear as she settled her chin on his shoulder with her arms looped around his middle, "I didn't mean to ruin the night, sweetheart." 

"It's not your fault," she reminded him, "And nothing is ruined. Sometimes things like this happen. I'm not mad." 

He pulsed his arms around her, tightening his hug with a kiss pressed to the side of her head. "You're too good to me, love. Thank you." 

Drawing away, (Y/N) shifted until she had his cheeks cradled in her hands. Thumbing at his cheekbones, she attempted to draw a smile out of his solemn features when she squished his cheeks with his lips forced into a puffy pout. Her responding laughter was enough to have him straining against her hands with his own attempting smile. 

"You know I'm never upset to stay home," she told him, leaning forward to peck a kiss to his puckered lips, "It's okay, H." 

"Promise?" he mushed out, words muffled against her squish. 

"Promise," she resounded, giving him another kiss before releasing his cheeks, "I think I'm going to order Chinese, so just come down whenever you're done and it'll be waiting." 

His arms were a cradle around her, one that kept her locked on his lap as he pressed forward and gave her a lingering kiss. "I love you, you know that?" 

"I do," she answered, smiling into his kiss, "I love you, too." 

Though he opened his mouth, prepping to say more, his phone began to buzz on his desk once more. (Y/N) could feel the way he deflated in response, hesitant to answer the call. 

Untangling herself from his lap, she gave him a soft smile. "Finish whatever you need to do, okay? I'll be downstairs whenever you're done." 

His apology was clear on his face without a single word having to be shared. "I'll be fast," he vowed. 

"I know." 

With that, Harry pressed the phone to his ear with a sharp greeting while (Y/N) scurried out of his office. Though she was still tired and hungry, she felt better after getting a chance to talk to him. She doubted he would finish up as fast as he wanted, but she hoped he understood there was no pressure to be felt on her end. 

Chinese food kept perfectly well, anyway.

—————

"Goodnight, Micheal. Have a nice weekend." 

Harry didn't wait for a send off on the other end, hanging up on his coworker as soon as the words left his mouth. He'd heard enough of Micheal's voice to last a lifetime, especially after finding out that this entire mixup was nothing more than a paperwork error he hadn't properly checked the first time. Nonetheless, Harry was just happy to no longer be glued to his phone with his laptop lid shut for the foreseeable future. 

He dreaded to look at the time on his phone, but knew he had no choice. 

10:16pm. 

Sighing at the sight, he pocketed his phone with his joints cracking as he stood from his chair. (Y/N) had been quiet for a while now, no more padding around coming from the floor below for the better part of the last half hour. 

She had been so understanding, letting him disappear and forcing them to cancel their dinner plans only for her to give soft condolences and sweet kisses in response. He hoped she hadn't fallen asleep before he could make it up to her as much as he could. 

Making his way downstairs, the streaming service she had pulled up on his television was paused on one of her favorite shows, the program asking if she was still watching. The coffee table was set up with Chinese takeaway containers, everything clean and sectioned away with his own servings still packaged and warm. He knew what he would find when he peered over the back of the couch, but he still felt a bit of guilt when he saw her wrapped up in a too-small throw blanket on her body and a too-stiff decorative pillow under her head. 

Her hair was clean of every pin she'd used to style it, her dress replaced with comfortable pajamas, and face clean and shining in the low light. She was asleep, her breath coming in small puffs with each line and plane of her features left relaxed. 

He didn't even tell her goodnight. 

Petting his hand over her temple to push stray baby hairs out of her face, he allowed his fingertips to linger over her skin. The warmth of her was enough to thaw the strain he hadn't realized he was still carrying in his muscles. 

This would never get old, he decided. The evidence of her around his home was enough to get his heart kicking against his ribs, but to find her on his couch after a long night was something he hadn't realized he craved until he met her. Though he would prefer to have had more time with her, the stress of the night seemed worth it when he came downstairs to see this. 

If not for the fact he was just as hungry as (Y/N) had guessed by the amount of containers she left out for him, he would have tucked in beside her and slept off the stress. Instead, he settled for kicking off his shoes and heading for the linen closet for a warmer blanket to spread across her form. 

With (Y/N) snuggled under the fleece, he settled himself on the floor beside her. Though it wasn't a show he enjoyed watching without her commentary, Harry still pressed play on the episode she had left off on. He kept the volume low, reaching for the chopsticks that had come with the delivery. 

Twirling a bite of lo mein on the sticks, Harry hesitated before that first bite despite his gnawing stomach. Maybe it was the fact he couldn't get her soft face out of his head the last time she'd come to his office, or the way she had arranged all of his favorites out for him to pick through by the time he came downstairs, but it didn't feel right to have his dinner without her. 

There was no way he was going to wake her up, but that didn't stop him from reaching for the hand she had sticking out from under the blanket. Though it wasn't a particularly comfortable angle, he laced his fingers between hers. His chest warmed when she seemingly recognized his touch, reciprocating his hold as best she could in her sleep before snuggling the back of his hand to her cheek. 

Despite the cooling food in front of him, Harry let his eyes linger on the peaceful set of her features and the way she clung to his hand. A small smile thumbed a dimple into his cheek. 

He'd still be making it up to her tomorrow, but tonight hadn't turned out too bad. 

—————

thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any ideas you want to share please send them in!!! if you want to read more you can check out my patreon:)

[hgfictionwriter]

Maybe This Time

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: UCLA was a long time ago. Jessie couldn't bring herself to make a move back then and missed her chance. But now that you're back in her life, maybe things can be different.

Warning: None

A/N: A bit more fluff for y'all! And sorry for flooding the Jessie tags. I’ve got a bunch of fics just sitting around!

"Jessie?"

Jessie turned and couldn't believe her eyes. Y/N. Y/N L/N. The girl she'd pined over at UCLA; who her friends had relentlessly made fun of her for liking and never pursuing; the girl who still showed up in idle daydreams from time to time, even all these years later.

"I heard you were playing in town now. Oh my gosh - it's been so long. I was hoping I'd run into you at some point."

Here you were standing in front of her. Smiling at her. Instead of being the...relatively...confident person Jessie now was - she was national team captain, a gold medal athlete, for goodness sake - she wasn't a young girl anymore hiding behind textbooks and her friends, instead though, she felt her cheeks burn hot and her words got caught in her throat. She stood there staring speechless at you.

"Don't tell me you don't recognize me," you said, a hint of apprehension beginning to cast over you.

Finally, Jessie began to react. She closed her eyes briefly in hopes of resetting, shaking her head and allowing herself to smile.

"Of course I do," she finally managed, only stammering slightly. "I mean, I recognize you. Of course."

"Okay." You let out a small laugh of relief. "For a second I thought worldwide athletic stardom made you forget your favourite lab partner."

"Of course not," Jessie readily assured you. "I'd never forget you."

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She clenched her jaw as she reprimanded herself internally for imploding so quickly and after so much time. She cut herself some slack when you smiled again at her.

"That's comforting to hear. Well, I mean, I know you're just leaving," you gestured to the door of the coffee shop, "but, um, I don't know." You laughed nervously before settling on what to say. You offered her a resolute nod. "It was nice to see you again."

Jessie's mind whirled with ideas and options. Anything coming out of her mouth now was mere instinct.

"Nice to see you too. Um, I don't know, maybe we could chat sometime? Are you in Portland too?"

"Yeah, I work at a logistics firm in town." You cracked a smirk. "Not nearly as glamorous as being a national icon, but you know, I do my part."

Jessie chuckled and ran her fingers through her hair.

"If you call 4 am wake-up calls, jet lag, and bruises to high heaven glamourous, then sure, I guess it is."

"Sounds not too unfamiliar from your UCLA days," you teased. "I still remember when you showed up to class with a black eye. And I see you've healed fine from your recent one."

Jessie blushed. So you watched her games? And you remembered moments from uni.

You'd been friends in university, but that's all it ever was. Her friends had goaded her again and again to ask you out, but Jessie could never work up the courage. She'd doubted herself too much. And then before she knew it she'd lost her chance. You dated other girls and that was the end of it. She stepped back and time ticked on.

You remained close friends throughout uni, sharing deep conversations, hopes and fears, silly moments, too. There were moments where Jessie felt hope starting to blossom in her chest - that maybe you had feelings for her, but she'd stamp it out. She’d just be setting herself up for disappointment.

After you both graduated, that was it. She'd gone off to London and you fell out of touch. It was for the best really. Well, maybe.

"Anyway," you started again, drawing Jessie back from her thoughts. "Sure, I'd love to catch up. I'd say I'll message you on Instagram, but I know your social media is a black hole. I can give you my number if you like."

Jessie gave you a tight-lipped smile as she scratched the back of her head and let her gaze fall to the bulletin of flyers instead.

"Yeah, I'm not much for social media."

"I know," you chuckled. "You never were."

Jessie cleared her throat and looked back to you. "And sure, what's your number?"

She almost missed you telling her because her mind drifted back to class when you reached over and scribbled your number on the top corner of her paper and told her to text you about the reading. Jessie’s words had died in her throat and she had to settle for merely offering you a delayed nod as you gathered up your books and left. She’d felt light on her feet, nearly dizzy even, all day. Her hands had shaken when she texted you and her palms were clammy as she awaited your response.

That was a lifetime ago. But now here you were, and number newly confirmed. Jessie tucked her phone away in her pocket.

"Okay, I'll let you go," you told her. "And truly, if you aren't up to a chat of any kind - no pressure. You probably have so many people vying for your time. I won't be offended." You said with true earnest. "In case I don't see you again, I just want to say I'm really proud of you for everything you've achieved. And I'd say I'm impressed, but A) that goes without saying, and B) I always knew you were going to do great things. I told you time and time again. Anyway, it was so good to see you. Take care."

Before Jessie could respond, you'd turned and disappeared to the other side of the shop and into the line. She forced herself to turn and leave.

The door had barely closed behind her when she opened her phone and pulled up her messages with Teagan.

"You will NEVER guess who I just ran into."

-----

"Hi Y/N. It's Jessie. UCLA."

"Lol the one and only. How are you?"

"Well forgive me for not assuming that you would know who a random 'Jessie' is lol. I'm doing well, thanks. How are you?"

"You were always very humble. It was always very endearing, so I'm glad to see you haven't lost that. I'm doing well. Working late. Some of my vendors are shitting the bed, so I'm scrambling to find alternatives."

"Seriously? That sounds brutal. I'm sorry to hear that. Well, if it makes you feel better, the team had to run extra drills today because of how bad our last game was."

"It's the start of the season - lots of new players. Chemistry takes time. You guys will find your groove soon. I'm positive. How is Portland treating you, by the way? I'd love to hear more about your time in London too at some point."

"Well, if you still want to grab coffee, I can tell you all about it. And I want to hear about you too. Did you ever make it to the Ghibli museum?"

"Oh my gosh lolol. You remember that. And yes! I did. And it was amazing. And coffee would be amazing, too :)"

Jessie belatedly realized that she was smiling as you texted back and forth. It was an odd feeling - it was strange to be talking with you again, yet entirely natural.

To her surprise, you ended up texting every day until you met up Sunday afternoon. She'd mentioned to Teagan that you two had this scheduled and soon Jessie was hit with an onslaught of messages from all her Bruins mates stepping right back into form and teasing her.

On a scale from 1-10, how red did you blush? And why was it 20.

Can I finally tell her you mumbled her name in your sleep? Several times?

Please tell me you immediately pulled out a vision board with her face all over it.

LOL the universe said, “Think you’ve suffered enough pining for this girl? Think you’re over her? Guess again!”

She still hot? Send pics.

Jessie sat in her car down the street from the coffee shop and essentially gave herself a stern, mental talking to about your get together. She was not who she was 5 years ago, and neither were you. She didn't need to be so nervous. There were no stakes at all, she could just relax, be in the moment, and reconnect with an old friend.

When she stepped into the coffee shop, her pulse picked up just so when she saw you seated at a table, but thankfully by the time she sat she'd composed herself again.

"The good news is, the rain is nothing new to me after being in London," she joked as she swept some rain off her baseball cap.

You looked up from your phone and a large smile crossed your face.

"Yeah, I hear you. And what's going on - how did we both go from sunny LA to rain central?"

Not entirely surprising, conversation flowed easily between you two. And it wasn't all reminiscing and nostalgia, it was easy to talk about current things as well. Pretty soon, you were both at the ends of your second cups of coffee and yet neither of you made a move to leave.

"So, um, you've been in Portland for a while now," the ease Jessie had felt faltered some as she broached a topic she'd been highly curious about, "did [y/gf] come with you?"

You screwed up your face and laughed.

"No," you answered easily. "We broke up like a couple of months after convocation. Let's be real - that was never going to last."

"Oh," Jessie replied, surprise showing on her face at how readily you dismissed the notion. "I had no idea. I thought you two were solid."

"Well," you drained the last bit of your drink, "I guess I wasn't entirely forthcoming then. Sure, things were okay. But, I was lying to myself if I thought that was going to be a 'forever' kind of relationship." Jessie's look of surprise lingered and you rolled your eyes, leaning in. "Jessie. She'd get distracted every time she walked by a mirror. I wish I was exaggerating, but I'm not. Come on, don't tell me you didn't notice. Her full on checking herself out anytime she caught her reflection?"

Jessie sat back and gave you a brief look of disbelief, shaking her head. "I tried not to notice."

"Smart," you retorted good naturedly. "She was nice, and we had fun, but beyond our values not exactly aligning, an equal partnership it was not."

"Well, okay, she's out of the picture. You must be with someone new, then," Jessie went on. She ignored the twinge in her chest when you shook your head 'no'. Just as quickly, she scolded herself. Why would it matter? She was getting way ahead of herself here. She supposed that old habits - and evidently dormant feelings - died hard.

"No. I mean, I dated a couple of girls since I've been here, but nothing's really stuck." You looked up from your drink to Jessie. "Now, superstar, you have to tell me your update."

Jessie mouth contracted into a tight smile and she felt her cheeks begin to burn under the scrutiny.

"That's confidential," she quipped.

You rolled your eyes dramatically and leaned forward. "That is so not fair." Jessie remained smugly silent and merely shrugged. You let out an exasperated sigh and slouched back in your chair. "Fine," you relented not wanting to push too much. "You were always tight-lipped in university, too. You could've had anyone and you - as far as I know," you said pointedly, "didn't date anyone."

"Oh come on." Jessie now rolled her eyes. "I was so shy and quiet. Even if I'd liked someone I would've never gotten up the courage to ask them out." She felt a buzzing in her head as she watched your reaction. You smiled sweetly.

"You were shy and quiet, yes. But you opened up once you were comfortable. I mean, look at us, look at you with your teammates. And you were so smart, incredibly sweet, and pretty, and you had that dry sense of humour. And, hello, captain of the football team!"

"Co-captain," Jessie interjected pointedly. You hung your head briefly with a laugh.

"I repeat - you could've had anyone."

Jessie subconsciously fidgeted with her hat and planted her feet further apart as she shifted down in her chair. "Well, didn't seem that way at the time."

"Wait - so who did you like?" You probed.

"No one," Jessie retorted, her features scrunching up as she played off the question dismissively. "I barely had time to breathe. There was no way I could date someone."

"You are so cagey sometimes," you said lightly, not being able to resist ribbing her once more. "Fine, so, what about now? Are you seeing someone?"

Jessie's composure was long gone and her face burned hot as your interrogation got her flustered. She took a subtle breath and worked to calm herself.

"No, no one's caught my eye just yet," she relayed.

You studied Jessie, discerning whether to drop the topic or not. You eventually relented as you crossed your arms and reclined in your chair.

"Well, I imagine that's not easy. There's a lot to live up to. And you're surrounded by impressive people every day, so the bar's gotta be high. Again, you can have your pick."

You grabbed your phone and looked it over quickly.

"I need to get going. I have a few errands to run still before the weekend's over," you said, a hint of regret in your voice before you offered a smile. "I had a great time though. It was so good to catch up with you."

Jessie removed her hat, running her fingers through her hair briefly before pulling the cap back down on her head.

"Yeah, I had a great time, too."

For the first time this conversation, a small lull formed and neither of you jumped to bridge it. Eventually, Jessie cleared her throat.

"Maybe we could get together again. Coffee. A drink. Whatever, really."

A mild look of surprise crossed your face, puzzling Jessie.

"Sure, I'd like that," you told her warmly as you shrugged on your jacket.

"Okay." Jessie gave you a small smile as she, too, rose from the table. "Will you be at the game next weekend?"

"I hadn't planned on it, but I could be." You smirked.

"No pressure," Jessie said as she felt that old nervousness begin to bubble up. "I could get you tickets if you ever want to go. That's all."

You smiled, looking at her in appreciation. "I'll have to take you up on that."

Jessie chuckled, but gave you a pointed look. "Honestly, you don't have to. I know you weren't a big soccer fan even in university."

"But," you started, drawing the word out and returning her pointed look, "I started going to games after becoming friends with a certain someone. I just haven't had a reason to go to a Thorns games yet."

Jessie resisted her impending blush and instead crossed her arms loosely in front of her, shifting her weight to one leg. "Okay, just let me know," Jessie said. She gave you a small nod. "And I promise these games are even better than Bruins ones."

You cocked your head, a hint of a smile on your face as you lifted a finger to your lips and narrowed your eyes in mock contemplation.

"What are they calling you these days? Midfield Maestro?"

Somehow, Jessie didn't even feel the urge to blush. Instead, she gave you a cocky smirk.

"So you really have been following my career."

She nearly grinned at how your cheeks flushed pink and you broke eye contact. You only took a moment to compose yourself and look back to Jessie with a half smirk.

"Hard not to," you simply said.

Jessie relented, feeling like she'd teased you enough. For now. She smiled and spoke earnestly.

"Offer stands - if you wants tickets, just let me know. Regardless, let's get together soon."

"Deal," you told her, your blush slowly fading.

There was a brief moment of stillness and uncertainty before you stepped forward and pulled Jessie into a hug. It only took her a moment to relax into it, her arms wrapping around you. Even though your body felt different now - so was hers - it felt natural to hold you close again.

You stayed like that for several moments, surprise and tampered excitement filling Jessie when you tightened your embrace before letting go. She noted the renewed colour on your cheeks when you stepped back.

"Text me?" You asked.

Jessie nodded. "Of course."

A\N: Part Two is available here.

[wlntrsldler]

soldier, poet, king | luke castellan

song: soldier, poet, king by the oh hellos

warnings: not canon compliant, struck by inspiration and wrote this in one sitting so it's kinda just me rambling

i. the soldier

luke grew up a gentle child. he was the type of child who showed mercy at everything, at everyone, even when he knew that he held more power than them. and he did have more power than them.

from a young age, he knew he was different. he just didn't know how or why. it wasn't like he could just ask his mother why locked doors suddenly unlocked when he touched the knob, or why he always seemed to get away with stealing an extra cookie at the lunch line, or why he seemed to understand people who gossiped in other languages. not only were these odd talents to have (and yes he used odd because that's what his classmates used to call him) and his mother would probably not know the answers anyway, but his mother was unreliable at best.

luke was a quiet child. he never talked about what life at home was like and nobody ever asked him. after all, he showed up to school showered, dressed, and fed. there were no red flags there. he didn't blame the school for not knowing his living situation. how could they know? but sometimes, nine-year-old luke castellan wished someone bothered to ask.

maybe if they did, luke would tell them about how his mother talked to herself in the middle of the night and seemed to argue with the pictures on the walls. maybe if they did, luke would tell them that his mother didn't recognize him sometimes and that she would scream at the top of her lungs until her body grew tired then she'd sit still at the kitchen table until the sun rose.

or maybe he wouldn't. he didn't want to be a bother to anyone.

luke had never hurt anything until he was nine. up until then, he used to scoop up spiders on a piece of paper and release them into the world. it felt wrong to kill them so he never did. he used to watch his steps on the way home from school in fear of accidentally killing a centipede on the sidewalk. he used to leave food on the porch for the stray animals that passed by his neighborhood.

luke grew up a gentle child. until he fled home.

the first time luke killed something was when he was roaming the forests of massachusetts. he ran out of food days ago and was surviving on the honey bun an old lady at the gas station bought for him. it wasn't the healthiest option, but she assumed that he was starving from a long day at school and took pity on him. luke said his thanks and returned to his journey.

he could see the sun beginning to set behind the trees. in another life, he'd be watching the sunset in a tent with his mom. it would've been a family camping trip. he took a bite of the now stale honey bun and imagined it was a gooey marshmallow that his mom helped him roast over the campfire. as he crumpled the plastic, he heard it-- a scream from a girl.

luke's eyes widened and he raced to where the sound came from, reaching for the pocket knife he stole from the box his mom kept hidden in the attic. she never let him up there, but as luke was packing his things to leave, something told him to disobey his mother.

he found you with your back against a tree, terrified, with a dog-like creature snarling at you. it had two heads, glowing eyes, and what seemed like a million teeth. it turned its heads to look at luke, and the smile that dawned on its face was haunting. luke fumbled with the pocket knife and watched in amazement as it grew into a sword, both silver and gold, and seemed to illuminate underneath the descending rays of the sun.

luke stumbled in his steps as he held the sword tightly in his small hands and he swung. the dog barred its teeth, no doubt upset that luke was putting up a fight. his technique was nonexistent. he just swung and swung until he managed to lay a blow on the creature, and when he'd done enough damage, luke pierced the sword between the dog's two heads and watched it vanish into thin air.

luke dropped the sword by his feet, trying to catch his breath. he'd almost forgotten that you were there, that he did all that to save someone else. it wasn't until you placed a hand on his shoulder that luke was pulled back to life.

"thank you," you whispered. luke got a good look at you then. tear streaks down your face, hair a mess in two thick braids on either side of your head, and eyes that seemed hollow, though the will of wanting to survive fought to keep the traces of you there. "you saved my life."

luke looked down at his feet to find the pocket knife back in its original form. he bent down to pick it up, hands still trembling as he stuffed it in his back pocket. he wiped his sweaty palms against the fabric of his jeans, "i-i've never killed something before."

"me either," you gulped, nodding. "i'm y/n."

luke brushed his stray curls from his forehead, "luke."

ii. the poet

life at camp half blood became repetitive after a while. training, dinner, offerings, and repeat. luke was excited when he became the head counselor of the hermes cabin because at least he had something new to do. he no longer needed to follow you around to fill his time, though he'd be lying if he said he didn't miss spending so much time with you.

you'd been promoted as the head counselor of your own cabin months before luke, which was overdue in his opinion. you'd grown dependable, strong, and fearless over the years at camp. sometimes luke couldn't believe that you were the same girl who cowered against a hellhound all those years ago.

the life he had before he met you seemed like a lifetime ago, and in some ways, it was. eight years had gone by since he arrived at camp half blood. he's seventeen now. time had taken away many of his memories from his childhood.

"hey soldier," you greeted, bumping his shoulder with your own. "done with your list yet?"

"soldier," he greeted with a bright smile. "just about. want to tag along while i finish up?"

the nickname grew out of a morbid conversation the two of you had a few years ago. it was after you'd just gotten claimed by your parent, the night before you were due to move out of the hermes cabin. luke had found you sitting in the middle of the arena, your sword tossed carelessly on the floor. when you didn't show up to the cabin after lights out, luke knew he had to look for you.

"hey," luke approached you gently, taking the spot beside you. "everything ok?"

you lifted your head, craning your neck to look at him. you shook your head, "no."

his eyebrows furrowed in concern, "what's wrong?"

"i have a quest," you mumbled, tears welling up in your eyes. "that's why she claimed me."

for years, you found home in the hermes cabin. year by year, you admitted defeat, thinking that your parent would never claim you as theirs. it was painful, watching new arrivals get claimed by their parent while you watched on the sidelines, clapping in celebration. you faked smiles and niceties, but luke knew how much it hurt you.

he'd walk with you back to the hermes cabin and kept you company until you felt better. if he had it his way, he'd stay beside you forever, but he'll be content if he got to stay with you until you didn't want him to anymore. thankfully, that time hadn't come yet.

luke felt anger bubbling in his chest as he scoffed, "all these years... i'm sorry y/n. that's fucked up."

"it's okay, luke."

"it's not, though," he shook his head, "it's not okay that she only wants to claim you because she needs you. what about when you needed her, huh? all those years that she ignored you."

your shoulders deflated. luke was saying all the things you'd been repeating in your head since you've been claimed. "i know, luke, but that's just how the gods are."

"maybe that's the problem," he said. his anger kept increasing, his voice sharpening after each word. he thought about the worst-case scenarios if you left. you could get hurt. you could get trapped somewhere. you could die. the thought of it made luke sick. "maybe the gods need to get a taste of their own medicine. tell me you're not going on that quest."

"i have to."

"then i'll come with you."

you placed a hand on his thigh, "i can't ask you to do that."

"you're not asking. i'm offering."

"no, luke," you sighed, "as much as i would like you there, someone needs to stay here. someone needs to look after annie and the rest of the kids."

"and who's gonna look after you?"

"i'll be okay," you managed to smile, "i can hold my own now. i have the best teacher, remember?"

luke's eyes softened at your words. he'd been teaching you fighting techniques since he was dubbed the best swordsman of camp in centuries. everything he learned, he passed onto you. the life of a demigod was unpredictable outside the walls of camp half blood, and if there came a time when he wouldn't be around, he wanted to make sure you could fend for yourself.

he took your hand in his, tugging on your arm to pull you closer. once you were close enough, he wrapped an arm around you and placed his chin on the top of your head. "i know you can."

there was a silence that fell upon the two of you after that. the two of you sat there beside each other for a beat before you spoke again, "do you think they will ever change?"

"no," luke answered honestly. "we are not their children. we're soldiers to them."

as time passed, the truer those words became. he watched his friends, his siblings, return as a shell of themselves after their quest. he often wondered when he'd be called for his, though he was in no rush. some people were gone for weeks, months, sometimes years, and he couldn't fathom being apart from you for that long.

as he snapped out of his thoughts, you laced your fingers with his, "i'd love to join. i miss your siblings."

luke laughed, "they miss you too. i'm no longer their favorite now that i'm head counselor."

"that's because you never let them have fun," you joked, "fun is good. in moderation."

"hermes kids don't understand the word moderation."

"true," you giggled, running your finger across his knuckles. "chiron is looking for you, by the way. said it's urgent."

luke shrugged, placing a kiss on your temple, "i'm sure it can wait. wanna spend some time with you after finishing up. feels like i haven't seen you in ages."

"we just had breakfast and lunch together, luke," you cocked an eyebrow teasingly, though your grip on his hand tightened. "can't get enough of me?"

"you know the answer to that," he hummed, not deterred by your tone. he never kept it a secret that he'd follow you to the ends of the world if you asked. "but we haven't gotten time with just us two in a while. would like to be able to kiss my girlfriend without campers saying ew."

"the ew's don't seem to bother you that much because you do it anyway."

luke stopped, untangling your fingers so he could hold your face in his hands. he placed a long kiss on your lips, one that left you breathless. "like you said, i can't get enough of you."

iii. the king

the waters were rough tonight. princess andromeda rocked harshly against the current, but luke remained unmoving at the front of the ship. he stared out into the dark waters, thinking back on the memories he had left. kronos was slowly chipping away at all of them, but he held tightly on certain ones because he didn't want to forget.

all of the memories were of you-- the way your skin flushed red after hours training in the arena, the way your hair fell in a tangled mess when you let your hair down, the sound of your laughter when he kissed your neck and his curls tickled your skin. these were things he would fight to remember.

luke thinks a fate more cruel than death would be to forget you.

tomorrow would mark a year since he left camp half blood to lead kronos' army, a year since he last saw you. it seemed trivial to him now to think about the 'what-if's' of his quest, thinking about all that time he would spend without you, only to have it happen anyway. only this time, he knew for certain he wouldn't return again.

life on the ship was vastly different from camp half blood. luke never thought that he'd miss the boring routine, but he did. the only thing that stayed the same was that he remained in power. in camp half blood, he was respected, seen as the leader of the pack. and here, the same can be said. he was kronos' right hand, and until the titan was able to attain his physical form, luke was in charge.

he was the captain of the ship. he was the king. he would bring glory to the demigods.

in the distance, a faint light appeared. luke squinted as he tried to make out the object slowly coming closer. he turned to enter the ship, the room falling silent when he opened the door.

"there's something out there."

chris stood up, approaching luke. he was the only one who dared to address him and luke preferred it that way. chris was his brother. he didn't know the rest of them well.

chris cleared his throat, "we just got word from someone on the inside that they're sending some people to attack us."

"so that's what's out there," luke clenched his jaw, "who did they send?"

"percy, annabeth," chris gulped, "and y/n."

for a moment, luke's demeanor faltered. were you really on your way to fight him? is that what your relationship had come to? luke bit his tongue, trying to control his emotions. he crossed his arms across his chest, "change course now."

another one of the demigods stood up, a puzzled expression on his face, "what? there's only three of them. they're outnumbered. we can take them."

"did i stutter?" luke snarled, "i said change course."

"it doesn't make sense to. changing course will set us back at least. a day!"

"are you in charge?" luke questioned. in his heart, he knew he would pay for this later on. once kronos hears that luke changed the plans without his knowledge, he would suffer but he thinks that whatever torture kronos has in store for him would be less painful than seeing you again.

you were fighting the same war, but you stood on different sides. it was something luke still had trouble coming to terms with.

the boy shook his head, cowering in fear as he made his way out of the room to relay luke's orders to the others. luke turned around and pinched the bridge of his nose before walking back out to the front of the ship. he held onto the railing as the ship turned right, his body jerking with the motion. he always did seem to lose his composure when it came to you. as the ship sailed away, he watched the light he saw in the distance fade into the darkness.

[semisolidmind]

(perhaps there's a certain sign, like a flash of light or the chime of a bell, that signifies readers' appearance in the monkey's world.)

and perhaps, it's been years, decades for the now-immortal monkeys, since they've seen their dear friend; that strange little human girl who would appear on their island home and dissapear with no explanation. 

perhaps, they've pushed all thoughts of her to the backs of their minds as they've grown older and more powerful. there's more important things to attend to, such as the successful raiding of a human settlement. the victorious shouts of their demon soldiers. the valuable assets they've gained from the looting. and taking those treasures home to their people on flower fruit mountain. the scent of blood and smoke fills the air, incense of the destruction left in the monkey warlords' wake.

the monkey king is an expert at rallying the bloodied demonic troops, and he would be remiss to not thank them for their service and allow them their cut of the spoils. macaque, on the other hand, is less verbose, preferring to stand in his brother's shadow and quietly take in their victory.

his superior hearing catches everything, and he senses a change in the air.

something's coming.

but he's not sure what, and he struggles to focus over the cacophony of the war party.

macaque steps away, following a growing feeling of...something, pulling him towards the unscorched treeline beyond the village's remains.

he silences his steps, following the feeling a ways into the woods. fruit trees grow wild around here, he offhandedly notes.

the light chime of a bell, and a quick flash of golden light, a short ways ahead of him. the sound of something hitting the forest floor...and a quiet, pained groan.

macaque steps forward into the clearing.

there's a human woman, lying on her side in the leaves beneath a peach tree. she holds her head as if it's hurting her.

she seems strangely...familiar.

the shadowy simian steps silently closer, curious.

he watches as she pushes herself up, one hand still pressed to the back of her head. he steps closer still, crouching on one knee next to her. she opens her eyes. he sees and feels her entire being freeze in fear. the naturally sadistic part of him takes pleasure in it.

wide doe-eyes, filling with scared, confused tears, meet slowly widening, poisonous violet hues. recognition flashes there.

"You." he breathes.

he knows those eyes, he'd know them anywhere.

she'd called his eyes pretty, once. he'd always thought the same of hers, though his child self was too shy to say so.

he belatedly realizes what a sight he must be; armored, fresh from battle, carrying his staff (he shadows it away when her eyes dart to it). he's covered in blood, and the smell of death and ash clings to him.

and for all his acquired charm, and despite his silver tongue...macaque can think of nothing else to say. his dear reader sits before him, in the flesh. she's beautiful...though clearly terrified and failing to hold in her tears.

it's unfortunate that all his years practicing death and destruction have dulled his ability to comfort. so he just...stares, taking her in. he can't stop himself from smiling just a tiny bit. it seems she's turned him shy again.

his ears twitch, and he hears wukong coming towards them; no doubt curious as to what has captured his brother's attention.

macaque finds himself oddly excited for his brother to see who's just been dropped back into their lives.

—

reader's breath comes quick and panicked. she doesn't know where she is. but there's a monster, a demon, so very close to her. she recognizes him, in some obscure part of her subconscious, as a grown, terrifying version of one of the little monkeys from her childhood daydreams.

the shy, dark-furred one with too many ears, she recalls blearily. there's little left of that boy in the warrior next to her. the red of his mask-like markings and the two crimson lines trailing from his mouth to just under his jaw are new, unsettling additions to his visage.

reality hits reader in waves. she can't move, she can't think, not moments ago she was in her home getting ready for bed like any normal evening and now—!

she has no idea where she is.

it doesn't seem like the island paradise from her memories, and everything around her feels too real, too solid and tactile for it to be a dream. the grass and leaves shift and rustle, the wind whispers, she smells...peaches? nearby, along with smoke and the unsettling metal tang of the blood clinging to her shadowy visitor. there's the sound of many distant voices, yelling and shouting with raucous joy, somewhere ahead of her. the light of a large fire cuts through the trees, red and yellow hues illuminating the leaves and blocking out the sparse stars of twilight.

it sounds like an army. and it looks like the end of a successful raid.

it doesn't take much to deduce that that's likely where her current...visitor, came from. by the looks of him, he might even be one of the leaders. his armour isn't flashy; a wickedly sharp-looking shoulder paldron half covered by a deep red scarf and cape, simple black and gold coverings beneath with small red accents to match. it all appears very...antiquated, but reader can't bring herself to focus on what region he's supposed to be from.

not as her panic continues to rise.

reader doesn't—she can't—she can't handle this. it can't be real. she made them up, made up their world and all its magic; everyone always said so! there's no way she's actually there, and there's no way the monster beside her actually exists.

but the feeling of his tail, black and sinuous, curling around her ankle, tears a sob from her throat. it just...feels too substantial, and she can't keep herself in denial. the responding low rumble from the monkey beside her (like he's trying to comfort her, as ridiculous as it sounds) causes another cascade of tears. 

reader jolts when she feels the demon's tail tighten slightly (it's a weirdly familiar gesture). she sees his ears twitch, and his eyes dart to the woods he came from.

someone's coming towards them.

reader is unprepared for the being that emerges from the trees.

he's clad in golden armor, its shine dulled by the blood streaked across it, and a tattered cape of the same crimson hue flutters behind him. the soot-stained feathers of his crown flow in his wake. he has a mask now too, the fang-like points on his cheeks decending into the fur framing his face, reminiscent of tears. a single, thick scarlet line spills from his bottom lip and dissapears under his chin. his red and gold eyes glow in the forest gloom, reminiscent of hellfire.

his fur is a horribly familiar shade of rusty orange.

reader feels like she's going to faint.

—

wukong wasn't sure why macaque had gone into the woods. after directing his soldiers to gather up any valuables they could find and start burning or cooking bodies, he decided he'd follow his brother and find out.

past the trees, he called out into the clearing. he sees his brother kneeling next to someone.

"Hey, Mac! Did'ya find a survivor or—"

he stills. not even his tail twitches.

there's no way.

he knows this human. would know her if he were blind, deaf, and in darkness. his best friend. the only one who ever really believed in him when he claimed he'd be the strongest one day.

reader.

it's unsettling to see such a boyish look of surprised joy slowly cross a face as fierce as the monkey king's, especially when it's still spattered in gore.

"It's you," he breathes, voice far too gentle for his visceral appearance. he steps quickly closer and joins his brother in a crouch on reader's opposite side, armor clanking on his way down.

she flinches away, and he moves a bit slower. wukong reaches a hand out to her face, curling his claws into his palm to brush his knuckles across her tear-stained cheek. the motion is tender, disbelieving. one ill-suited for a hand that causes mostly pain and death.

he unconsciously follows when she tries to move away; though macaque's tail, still clasped around her ankle, prevents her escape. the shadow general is still gazing at his quarry with soft eyes.

the monkey king smiles, baring fangs. "I thought we'd never see you again," he says wondrously. wukong catalogs every feature; soft hair, longer than when he last ran his claws through it, eyes still as pretty as ever, despite being wide with terror. she's changed, same as him.

he turns to his brother, still gently stroking reader's face.

"This day just keeps getting better, doesn't it?" wukong laughs. the sound feels wrong; too light-hearted to have come from a monster like him. macaque doesn't answer, but the small quirk of his lips is an agreement.

"There's so much we have to tell you, show you! The mountain is much more than it was, the monkey yao are prosperous and thriving, we've planted new orchards, the palace—we have a palace!—behind the waterfall is full of treasures; so much has changed! You've come back at the perfect time, you're going to love it there!" wukong rambles, his bright and excited tone clashing horribly with the coppery gore oxidating on his person.

"I'll take you there," macaque murmurs to reader, now covering her trembling hand with his.

"What?" wukong squawks. "No, I'm taking her! You've already got a head start, since you found her! You've been here for like, an hour already!"

"It's been barely ten minutes. And it's not like she's been very talkative, given the circumstances."

macaque looks to reader. her scared gaze is locked on his stupid, stupid older brother who can't seem to handle anything delicately—

"Besides, does she look up to traveling by cloud?" macaque gestures at a shaky and silently crying reader. she looks like she'd run if she thought she had a chance.

wukong would never say it, but his little brother has a point. poor reader is shaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm. it's then that wukong finds some self awareness; he looks terrifying, which under any normal circumstances, he'd have no problem with. except...

reader has always been soft. she never liked when either of the brothers felt the need to hunt, never liked the sight of blood when they'd proudly show off some small animal they killed.

well. she doesn't need to know just how much blood they've stained their hands with since they last saw her.

"You should go finish up with the soldiers. I'll take her home and get her set up in the palace. She likely needs food, and a bath. Her clothes are...strange, and nowhere near warm enough. I'll be faster by shadow, anyway." macaque grouses.

he reaches under reader, gathering her in his arms as quickly and gently as he can. she shrieks, pushing against him as he stands. her breathing picks up as she struggles, tears falling harder and faster. the dark-furred demon isn't deterred, holding her closer. the difference in power is clear. there's nothing she can do to make him let go.

wukong stands as well, hands curling into fists. he wants to hold reader, too.

"Go. Do your job, your majesty," macaque drawls sarcastically. "We'll see you at home later."

the shadow general summons a portal, stepping into it. it melts closed behind him and his unwilling passenger, leaving no trace that either of them were ever there.

wukong pouts. he turns back towards the charred remains of his latest conquest and his awaiting army.

he hates it when mac is right.

—

[stardustpr1ncess]

Bonzle is 100% without a shadow of a doubt a trans allegory. People have been trying their best to say Sora isn't transcoded, but Bonzle is 2 scenes away from looking at the camera and saying "Hello. I'm a trans allegory." I shall now go into detail on every piece of evidence for this claim because fuck you.

EPISODE 5: Bonzle is afraid of how her found family will react to learning she's a spell (trans) and worries she will be rejected because of it. Easy parallel to trans people being afraid of revealing they're trans post transition. There's also her conversation with Bitch Boy Master Wu, with her saying she feels great loneliness, and only after gaining a physical form (transitioning) she feels happy and her true self. Very common trans experience. Gonna also put all of the quotes for my evidence as well since I know there's transphobes (filth) that like Ninjago and will be scrambling to deny it when people start coming to this conclusion too.

"Bonzle: I-- I was afraid of what you'd think if you knew about my past... Wu: It's called loneliness... Bonzle: I feel like, for the first time ever, I've become who I was destined to be... Bonzle: I was afraid if you found out I wasn't a real person, you wouldn't want me to be in our family anymore."

EPISODE 6: Bonzle is apprehensive about meeting with Gandalaria, seeing as how she's only known Bonzle as a spell, aka pre transition. She worries if she will respect her identity, much like how actual trans people fear how their family, more specifically a parental figure, would react. Bit of a light episode but an important aspect, here's the quotes;

"Bonzle: The Sorceress. She only knows me as a spell. What if she doesn't believe in me as a real person?"

EPISODE 7: This episode is the sauce. Bonzle is reunited with Gandalaria and their conversation is nothing short of magical. Gandalaria immediately recognizes Bonzle, saying she was her greatest creation and had always hoped she'd come home, shattering Bonzle's fears. It's a fantastic contrast, showing how this interaction can go well for some people, while others get an interaction much more akin to Sora's parents. When she's informed of Bonzle's chosen name, Gandalaria immediately starts using it, saying it's a great name. However, for that juicy authenticity, Gandalaria accidentally says spell before quickly correcting herself saying Bonzle. IT'S LITERALLY SO FUCKING OBVIOUS BONZLE'S BONES MIGHT AS WELL BE BLUE PINK AND WHITE. Oh yeah, here's the paragraph of quotes;

"Gandalaria: It's you! My dearest! You've come home! Bonzle: You... You recognize me? Even in my boney physical form? Gandalaria: Oh, I would know your true essence anywhere. Bonzle: I was so afraid you wouldn't accept me for who I am now. Gandalaria Are you kidding? I put my heart, my soul into every spell I weave... The most complex spell I've ever woven, and the first of my creations to ever come back to me!.. Bonzle: I'm Bonzle. That's the name I chose when I became a person. Gandalaria: Well, that's a splendid name... If this Ras times it right, he could reverse the power spell-- uh, Bonzle here--."

EPISODE 9: This episodes importance comes from Jordana, who acts EXACTLY how transphobes do. She constantly calls her a spell (some sort of derogatory term), says she's playing person (like pretending to be a girl), and says she's helping her do what she was made for, like transphobes very creepy beliefs in reproduction. Literally you half expect Jordana to ask which bathroom Bonzle uses since she was a spell. THE QUOTES;

"Jordana: Settle down, spell. I don't know what you think you've been doing, playing person with your fake family, but I know your true purpose... You should thank us. We're helping you to do what you were created to do."

In conclusion the silly lego skeleton girl is one of them spooky transgenders. Lmk if there's anything I missed. Thank you for reading.

[muffinsin]

ooo i absolutely loved the bela x lycan reader! would it be too much to ask for a part three where she brings the lycan back to the castle?

and then they end up fucking in her room and almost get walked in on by her sisters (they know anyway XD)

Hi hon! Not too much at all! Let's see how quick my writer's block gonna let me write this XP We're loving the Bela smut for sure! Part 1 & Part two are linked and can also be found via the Collections post

Let's get into it!

Masterlists

Despite what an exhausted state she's in, Bela forces herself to keep going, refusing to even lean on the werewolf slowly walking next to her despite how it regularly paws at her and tries to tug her to it multiple times.

She shivers as she takes one step after another, her hand buried in soft, long fur as if to guide the beast this way.

The castle is dark, but she hopes no one is around, still. That her sisters, and mother especially, is fast asleep, for she knows they would pick up the new scent immediately otherwise.

Yes, the scent of a werewolf in the castle...an unusual one, certainly.

But that isn't even the scent she's worried about, not even the thing she's anxious to let them find out about.

No, instead it's her round, swollen stomach that gives her an almost pregnant look, the pheromones of the beast she's all but drenched in, much like the cum drooling out of her still. She holds a rag to her the second she finds one at the castle, hoping it might just keep her from drooling cum within the castle's beautiful halls.

She knows, she positively reeks of sex, and of being bred, her pussy pumped full, her body sore. Her nipples are a bright pink and, despite how she should heal up again upon consuming blood, her body is covered in not only drool, cum and sweat, but also plenty of bite marks.

One, of course, a mark that she fears won't quite heal.

The claiming bite placed on her by her mate.

She gulps at the thought, feels herself become warm and needy again as she traces it with her fingertips. No doubt an effect of the beast's pheromones clouding her judgement yet again.

At least this time, she prioritizes getting to her room. She's sure she'd die on the spot if her sisters found her like this, barely covered, belly round, body looking as if she had been used as a sex doll for the monster next to her. Her hair a mess, her body slightly dirtied from the ground she was pressed again for so long. She knows, they'd tell on her in an instant, laugh to themselves while their mother scolds her.

She wonders- how could she even keep this a secret? How could anyone keep being bred a secret, even if she manages to hide the beast within the castle..

She shudders.

Maybe, Mother will like it. Maybe, she'll like the pups she's sure she will have to birth. She did always want grandchildren, she supposes...

Continuing on, she tugs the slightly growling monster behind her, more and more, until she can finally shut the door to her room behind them.

And once again, the beast immediately has a look around, expertedly sniffing out her closet. She blushes a bright pink as it buries its head into her dresses and underwear, as though recognizing the scent. When she pops open a bottle of blood wine, its attention is fixed on her again.

"What? I have to regenerate somehow!", she claims, though gasps when the thing pounces again, right on top of her and tackling her to the bed.

She freezes as the hears the bottle fall and smash on the floor, the crashing sound loud in the otherwise somewhat quiet room. Briefly, she's scared the sound will alert her sisters, but soon her thoughts are yet again turned to mush when another wave of pleasure and pheromones hit her.

"Mhmmnm...", she groans, whimpering as a massive tongue slides across her neck, down her collarbone and to her bare chest. She feels the soft material of the mattress and blanket against her back as she's pressed into it, her legs automatically spreading when she feels a thick, large head push against her inner thigh.

When has she turned this way?

This...slutty?

She tries not to think of it, tries not to mind how her body screams to be filled yet again, tries not to focus on how she will be fucked raw and how she craves it already, how she'll be bred over and over again in her immortal life, made to birth more, and more, and more pups until the monster is finished with her- if it ever is, that is.

She gasps when a clawed hand moves to her slim hip and arches her back as the large tongue drags across her sensitive, pink nipples.

"Please....", she moans, quiet, as though worried of alerting anyone in the castle. She would never live it down if anyone saw her like this. She doesn't even know how she's supposed to be hiding her round belly, or the pups she will eventually have to birth, from her family.

She squirms when, at last, the monster's cock slaps against her privates again, its thick skin rubbing against her pink, puffy and wet pussy lips once again. She's gaped slightly, from both the cock and the knot forced into her tight pussy recently.

Much like the last time, the beast doesn't manage to push inside her just yet, her privates far too cum soaked and slippery for it to angle itself properly without the use of its clawed hands. Still, one still holds her waist in place, whereas the other is buried in the sheets, its sharp claws dragging through her pillow and ripping it open. Perhaps, if she wasn't this desperate to be full again, she would mind.

Instead, her blindly reaches down, shivering as her hand wraps around the fat tip, then slides down a little to the wet shaft of the cock and she guides it between her legs.

While growling, her mate allows this, thrusting already at the mere feel of her soft hand before, at last, the tip is pushed inside of her.

Upon noticing the tip is inside at last, the beast thrusts harder, faster, deeper. It inches closer, its fur tickling at Bela's soft, bitten skin.

She gasps as she's easily picked up by her waist, her legs dangling and barely still reaching the bed below her, her fingers curling into soft fur, her round stomach pressed up against the beast's.

She feels almost impaled, her pussy full again, her hip held tight, her body used in her own room, at her own home, by her monstrous mate that, despite herself, she's grown fond of.

A growl is heard in the room, before the slapping sounds continue, fat, heavy balls repeatedly slapping against porcelain skin, her ass cheeks jiggling with every thrust inside, her chest heaving and hand rising to her head as she tries to moan as quiet as she can manage.

And still, the sounds do alert one sister at least, who is quick to turn to the other, unsure what to do or what exactly she's hearing.

Cassandra laughs as she's brought near Bela's room. While Daniela can easily push the sounds off to some of her delusions, to things that might not be what she thinks they are- especially due to Bela's lack of bedding maidens as often as they do- Cassandra is fully aware of what must be going on.

Her face scrunches up in disgust at the scent of cum that fills her nostrils no matter how hard she tries to squeeze her nose shut. Still, she laughs; she's sure: this will be amazing in the morning!

Though, for now, as if only to keep Daniela's view of her perfect, innocent, saint eldest sister up, she turns the woman, gently guiding her sister back to her room with the promise that she'll get to sleep in her bed today and they'll hunt the following day.

And while Daniela originally wonders what's going on, stuck between wondering whether her sister is in trouble or having...a good time she wants to know nothing about at all, she does budge eventually when Cassandra assures her; it's nothing. Nothing's going on.

At the other side of the door, Bela finds herself right at the edge of an orgasm as she hears Daniela's voice, whiny, quiet and betraying how tired she is as she talks to Cassandra.

She holds onto the beast's fur a little tighter, gritting her teeth and praying that just once her younger sister will grant her this. She knows, she will be teased about the stench and the noises endlessly in the morning...!

Still, she finds Cassandra is in a seemingly good mood, for she leads her younger sister away, their voices becoming quieter and quieter as they move. She makes a mental note to thank her the following day.

And with her sisters out of the way, she at last focuses back on her mate, her golden eyes shutting as her pussy momentarily tightens again.

"M-More...!", she moans, her back arched perfectly, her legs spread wider. She feels so perfectly full, so perfectly sore, so perfectled pumped full already as cum drools from her with every thrust.

Now, as the monster picks up its pace once more, she feels almost as if she's seeing stars.

She feels the familiar sensation of her orgasm approaching, curls her toes and digs her own, sharp nails into the monster's fur and skin as she cums at last.

And while the sensation of her pussy tightening seems enough to make her mate cum, too, it seems it isn't quite done with her yet.

"A-Ah! Wha-a-ah-at?!", she shrieks, her body rocked as she's fucked harder still, her ass adapting a light pink colour from the balls slapping against parts of it.

She feels more cum drool from the sides of the cock and down to her ass, then drip down to the blankets, whereas other parts feel almost as though they're fucked into her.

While the knot's load was what impregnated her, she's sure that at least by now she would be doomed to carry out a litter of werewolf pups for her mate. She's jerked up and down roughly, her petite waist grabbed and used to help move her body to the monster's liking.

She's seeing stars by the time the monster buries itself deep inside of her again, it's cock twitching as it drools more cum into her.

She gasps as the thing pulls away and drops her onto the bed, her pussy leaking and clit pulsing, her body as if on fire.

She loves it.

Then, she shrieks, jumping as her head is cupped and she's pulled forwards a tad bit too rough, her hands flying forwards to catch herself, her fingers curling against fur. She cringes slightly as her cheek is smudged against the wet cock, the scent of cum and her own pussy right in her face.

She tries to pull away again, scowling, and jumps as she hears the monster growl above her, its claws lightly dragging through her hair as her body is pushed against it again.

Then, she understands.

Surely not!

Right?

But the monster's body language begs to differ, and it releases a low, almost moan-like sound when she swallows down her pride and drags her tongue against the massive, twitching cock.

She licks again, and again, her face wet already, her pussy drooling still, shivers running up and down her spine.

She finds: she likes the taste, even.

When her face is angled again, she obediently opens her mouth, gagging and breathing through her nose and flies when the large tip is forced inside her mouth. Her lips stretch wide around it, her tongue runs up and down the huge thing in her mouth.

She moans as the monster begins to thrust its hips again, albeit a little slower than before.

Her neck bulges each time the tip is forced down and her eyes shut, involuntary tears running down her cheeks as she gags and chokes until she calms again, breathing through her flies and nose once more.

Each moment that passes, she becomes more used to the scent and taste of it, her body rocking, her breasts bouncing and pussy drooling.

She feels some cum and precum drool down her throat, steadily feeding her more of it like this, too, and finds her head spinning from it. She knows, there's no way she can rid herself of the stench of cum and sex entirely, but will have to try her best before facing her family, at least, even as she fears her mother will be able to pick up the new pheromones and, of course, her soon-to-be pregnancy in an instant.

For now, though, these worries fade away again as she keeps sucking, licking, drinking.

A good girl, of course.

[angyo]

HOT DAMN ik i already said a bit abt csm 167 but i keep thinking of more extremely interesting shit here and the sheer inner turmoil in the shared body of asa and yoru

I was wrong, it's not yoru masterminding this. Maybe she is, but we've already got so many hints that yoru and asa are starting to rub off on each other, w/ yoru feeling asa's emotions and asa getting more nonchalant about death and killing. Everything until now has been a relatively clean merge, something neither of them even notices too much.

But denji is a jagged edge. Asa and yoru have very different approaches to love and interpersonal relationships. Asa being a sex repulsed and desperately lonely romantic and yoru being the embodiment of war, uninterested in love, & intimacy only being violence (because war).

The merging can't go unnoticed anymore, it's not just massaging red play doh into blue play doh anymore. Their feelings regarding denji and chainsaw man are so different and entirely irreconcilable the merge is hacking off a hand and painstakingly sewing each individual nerve and vein to the end of a fraying rope.

Here yoru is her usual uncaring self. Denji wants to lose his cock, so be it. Who cares, she's war, she's done worse and feelings never got in her way before.

When denji knocks the knife away that's a very asa face and reaction despite the scars showing it's clearly yoru. Yoru isn't this clumsy. It's not like denji peeled her hand open, he knocked it away and yoru wouldn't have such a loose grip on a weapon.

Yoru is shocked. This shouldn't feel too different from any other fight for her, why is she so shocked? I thought she was unaffected by emotion, so why would she feel even a second of confusion about hurting denji? It's like she's shocked at herself, and she reasserts herself by doubling down on the violence and gripping his balls. Doubt isn't like her, it must be a fluke. She'll finish it quick.

Once again, that is an Asa face with the yoru scar, immediately followed by yoru attempting to regain herself

And failing. This is yoru, why is she so confused? If she wanted to assault denji it wouldn't be unwarranted from War, but there's emotion in that kiss. She looks so shocked when she pulls back, this isn't yoru's idea nor is it asa's. Again it wouldn't be surprising if war decided to idk assert dominance by assaulting denji, but if that was her goal she'd be as confident and unphased as she usually is in fights. At worst she'd be angry if he didn't go along with it, but panicky? Confused? That's not like her

She's too emotionally involved to be yoru, but too sexual to be asa. This is the ugly joint of fraying rope and nerve endings. A girl neither asa nor yoru recognize as themselves and one they can't control as individuals. They are merging, but they can't merge into 1 whole person, they're so diametrically opposed in their views of interpersonal relationships that they can't fuse cleanly together and instead their jagged edges get smushed together with such force it makes a 3rd person they mutually hate and are unable to control.

Finally they split again and asa is so deeply fearful she takes over again. But despite losing the scar she keeps the horseman eyes, and the paneling splits her in half implying we are seeing both of their reactions here. And despite having seemingly been in control and making the decision to assault denji, asa and Yoru are equally terrified by what just happened.

This wasn't yoru raping denji then leaving asa to handle it. God that'd almost be better since at least then asa could blame her, but she can't. This was the ugly frankenstein joinery of yoru and asa acting here. Both individuals lost control of their shared body entirely while their desires were mangled and reshaped into something they find mutually disgusting but are forced to feel as enjoyment. Yoru experiences sensation and emotion she considers so far below her and is terrified by this loss of her devil nature. And asa is lost in indulgence of violent sexuality the likes of which she never could've previously imagined enjoying, let alone forcing onto the only person who ever gave a shit.

As a person she is so deeply concerned with morality and righteousness she won't even cross a red crosswalk with no cars around at night, but she's been forced to commit a crime so heinous as rape against the boy she likes and gain enjoyment from it.

It's so deeply violating not just of her agency but her existence as an individual it's hard to define in words, but i can only imagine asa scrambling away. Frantically she screams at yoru for fucking it all up so badly, only for yoru to be equally as scared and disgusted. This wasn't yoru's doing. This devil that has had such tight control of her for so long is completely clueless as to what the fuck even happened or why and points at asa because if it's not yoru it's asa yeah? But if they look deep inside themselves, they'll see that their reflection isn't them. Neither of them know who this is, and they can't talk to her or control her even as they get sucked into this singularity.

[house-steiner-stays-winning]

Ranna Kell breathed in once, twice, three times.

Before her was a door, one that carried the name of a woman who no doubt thought Ranna was dead.

NOVCAP T. Marten-Steiner, SLDF

CO, Royal Black Watch Regiment

It had been many, many years. Hopefully she recognizes me... But Melissa had said that Theodora would respond best to simply... what had she called it? Some Spheroid term?

"Ripping off the band-aid." That was it.

Act casual Ranna. Everything will be fine, and if nothing else, you are a Galaxy Commander, and she a Major. Hopefully that won't come into play...

She knocked, twice. She heard Theodora's muffled German reply of, "Eintreten!"

She opened the door, and stepped inside, stopping after closing the door, to look at Theodora, who was staring wordlessly. Ranna adopted a casual tone.

"So, Theodora... is Dieter here?"

@is-the-battlemech-cool-or-not

Theodora stares, slack-jawed, as a dead woman stands in her door.

After all, the last time she'd seen Ranna Kell, it had been in her last waking moments after her father's shuttle had gone down, striding out to protect the Marten-Steiners in her 'mech.

In truth, Theodora didn't remember much of anything from those days, only awaking months later in a secretive research hospital in the Belt, courtesy of the family fortune and Dieter's quick action.

When Theodora had finally read the A.A.R., after her return to the Inner Sphere at large, Ranna Kell had been listed as MIA, and given the mass death that day, She'd thought it safe to assume Ranna's death.

However, as the woman herself stood before her, Theodora found herself dumbstruck, unable to reconcile the absurdity of the woman she'd considered a friend, whom she'd mourned and grieved, standing before her and asking after her brother as though they'd seen each other last week.

After a long, heart-stopping moment, Theodora finally spoke.

"You can't be here. You're dead."

@is-the-battlemech-cool-or-not

[frickingnerd]

find me when it's all over

pairing: annabeth chase x gn!reader

summary: after a quest gone wrong, during which annabeth goes missing, you finally reunite with her a month later in camp halfblood

tags: angst to wholesome fluff, happy reunion, kissing, silly banter / teasing, annabeth calling reader 'idiot' (lovingly)

you had been waiting for weeks for annabeth to come to you. a simple quest, that should've only taken her a week, turned into something bigger. and before you knew it, a whole month had passed by, since you had heard anything from annabeth. and people started to speculate…

“i wouldn't be surprised if annabeth and her team didn't come back. even the simplest quest can lead to death for a halfblood…”

“maybe annabeth wasn't as strong as she thought she was and got herself killed by some monsters”

“i don't want to believe that she's dead… but it's been too long since we last heard from her…”

you've heard all sorts of thoughts and opinions on the matter. but no matter what anyone else said, you believed in annabeth. part of it was desperation, hoping that your girlfriend was still out there, alive and well. but you knew you weren't just telling yourself those things without anything to back it up. annabeth was a strong girl. the strongest you knew. if anyone could make it, it was her! she'd come back to you. you were sure of it!

and eventually, the day came. or rather, the night, in which you'd finally get to see annabeth again.

after two weeks of no contact with annabeth, you had begun to spend your nights away from your cabin. if annabeth were to return, you wanted to be the first to see her. and so, you waited near the barrier of camp halfblood, camping out there every night. and all that waiting paid off, when one night, you saw a group of people from the distance, that got suspiciously close to the barrier.

armed with a small weapon and a flashlight, you made your way towards the barrier. near a big tree, you waited for the group to get closer. until eventually you could hear voices. and a voice you'd recognize anywhere.

“chiron and mr. d are going to kill us for being gone for so long…”

“we shouldn't worry about them right now. more importantly, i think we all have someone at camp that we can't wait to see again. i know i have…”

that voice was annabeth's! there was no doubt about it. which meant that the person she couldn't wait to see again could only be…

“i hope you're talking about me!”

annabeth jumped as she heard your voice. she hadn't noticed you yet and only spotted you when you turned on your flashlight a couple seconds after speaking up. but when she found you, a smile spread on her lips as she ran up to you, leaving her companions a bit behind her.

“y-you're here–!”

you would've never believed you'd ever hear your girlfriend stutter. but annabeth simply couldn't believe her luck, as she wrapped her arms around you with such force that she almost knocked the two of you over, making you stumble back a few steps.

“of course i'm here! i've been here for a month, waiting for you to come home…”

your tone was playful, but you were just trying to hide how glad you were to see annabeth again. if you'd show how you truly felt about seeing her again, you'd likely cry until dawn.

“i'm so sorry i made you worry…”

“oh i wasn't that wo–”

before you could finish your sentence, annabeth gently smacked the back of your head and glared at you.

“don't act so nonchalant! i know you missed me, just like i missed you, idiot…”

you could swear you could see a faint blush on your girlfriend's cheeks. but in that darkness, it was hard to be sure. either way, you chuckled amused and leaned in, resting your forehead against annabeth's.

“i've missed you too, idiot~!” you whispered softly. “you can't even imagine how much…”

annabeth was just about to lean in for a kiss – one that was much needed, after being apart for so long – when her two companions finally caught up to her.

“annabeth–!”

they called out her name, making your girlfriend sigh quietly, as she pulled away from you.

“yes?”

“we want to speak to chiron as soon as we can! are you coming along?”

annabeth hesitated to reply, clearly wanting to stay with you for a bit longer, after being apart for so long. but you made the decision for her, gently kissing annabeth's forehead, before pulling away from her.

“go ahead, i can wait. i've gotten pretty good at waiting for you, you know~?”

annabeth rolled her eyes, as a small smile hushed over her lips. she pressed a quick kiss onto your lips, before jogging up to her companions, as she called out to you:

“i promise, i'll be back soon! you won't have to wait another month for me again~!”

[asherbakugou]

When You First Meet

Jiang Kai | Kai Kalama

Reader rushed around the room with the other designers, placing the models clothes in their respective dressing rooms as they prepared for them to arrive. They hadn't yet been informed of their models so the room was filled with a nervous energy.

"So, who do ya think you're gonna get?" Alyssa asked, wiggling her brows teasingly.

"How am I supposed to know?" Reader retorted, bumping their hips together. Alyssa looked around conspiratorially, leaning in closer as Reader continued organizing her models chosen clothes.

"Well, from what I've heard–"

"Overheard, you mean."

"Hush. From what I've heard one of the ninja are coming to model for the company, to help raise money for that Charity you like so much."

"The Charity for Rebuilding?"

"Yeah, that one."

Before Reader could ask if she'd heard anything else they were called together.

"Alright! Listen up! Here is the list of designers and who your model is," Directin Lin announced, holding up said sheet. Alyssa leanes forward eagerly as Reader snickered at her friends eagerness. As the youngest designers it was doubtful either of them would get the higher ranking models.

Everyone surged forward to look at the paper but Alyssa and Reader held back for a moment. They both noticed how people kept glaring back at them for some reason but . . .

Shrugging it off they finally got a chance to see the list. And right beside Readers name was Kai Kalama, the Fire Ninja.

Freezing, both her and Alyssa just stared at the name. "I knew I had an effect on the ladies, but I never realized just how bad it was."

Whirling around they found Kai standing behind behind them with a smug look. And that was all it took for Reader to know how the rest of the day was going to go.

The entire session was filled with flirts and compliments that made her cheeks darken even when they didn't give him an actual response. Kai was not one to give up, but they liked his charm and hoped she'd get to see him model again.

Zane Julien

Reader sat in the shade of one of the large trees of the park, leaning back against its trunk as she sketched a rough outline of the beautiful fountain just across the way. Humming to herself she finished up for the day before carefully putting her sketchbook in her bag.

Done for the day, Reader wondered if they should have brought the car since she needed to go grocery shopping soon. As her mind wandered, she did not realize someone was heading right for her until she was slammed into and her bag ripped from her hands.

"Hey!" Reader shrieked, stumbling for a second before taking off after him. "Get back here!"

The man outpaced her but she didn't stop, her sketchbook was far too expensive for her to stop. Ice suddenly formed on the grass, and the man lost his balance tripping over his own feet and faceplanting into the ground, much to Reader's delight and shock.

Stopping before the ice, she doubled over as a stitch tugged painfully at her ribs. Another man, her age wearing a sweatervest surprisingly, came and retrieved her bag to hand to her.

"Are you alright, miss?"

"Umm, yes, thank you . . ." Reader trailed off, unsure of his name. She recognized him as one of the ninja but she'd never had any reason to remember their names.

"Zane, the White Ninja."

"Oh, well then thank you, Mr. White Ninja," Reader thanked, swinging her bag up onto her shoulder.

"I shall take him into custody and inform the police of his attempted crime. I do not believe it shall require your attention," Zane stated, turning to do so. "I hope the rest of your day is well."

"Uhh, yeah, I hope you have a good day as well," Reader said, taking a step away as Zane went to sling the man over his shoulder.

'Damn, love to watch 'em walk away,' Reader thought, before shaking her head. 'Oh my dragon, what am I thinking? That is so rude of me!'

Reader rushed away before she could become even more mortified by her thoughts, quietly hoping to see the very handsome man again one day.

Cole Brookstone

Reader smiled at the group who had just walked into their store, nodding for Miya to take their orders. The new hire gave them an anxious look, but they were not deterred. The best way to learn was through experience and this was a good start for her.

"Hello, welcome to Fairy Tale's Cakes and Stories, how can I help you?" Miya chirped, smiling through her nerves.

The group of teens was a little rowdy, but they didn't cause any trouble even when they spoke over each other, causing Miya to falter. Once she had finished up their order, the group of seven dispersed and Miya hurried back over to Reader's side.

"How did I do?"

"Really well, Miya. By next week you should be able to man the register without any issue, I just want to make sure you know how to handle any problematic customers," Reader stated, having seen Miya's face drop a little.

"Okay, thank you for this!"

"Of course. Now, why don't you go clean up some of the tables, I'll take the register till you're done."

A customer had walked in while they spoke, a young man on his own who was eagerly looking at the cake display case.

"Hello, welcome to Fairy Tale's Cakes and Stories, how can I help you?"

"Oh, uhh, what's in the Grimm Cake?"

"Its a milk chocolate base, dark chocolate glaze, orange zest buttercream, and a book made of chocolate and filled with orange cream," Reader explained, watching as the man practically salivated at the thought.

"I'll take a whole one!"

"A whole cake?" Reader asked, surprised. Most people only wanted a slice.

"Yes, please!"

"Coming right up."

When he was still there, over an hour later, Miya wondered over to Readers side.

"Is he going to sit there and eat an entire cake?"

"If thats what he wants to do," Reader answered, focused on the grocery list they were working out. The man came up to the counter where Reader was working so they paused in their writing, offering a smile. "How can I help you?"

"I just wanted to come up and say that that was really good! I don't think I've ever had a cake so good! I'll definitely be coming back!" Waving, the man headed back out the door with a bounce in his step.

"Holy shit," Miya whispered, jaw on the floor.

"Miya," Reader warned.

"Did you not recognize him? That was Cole, the Earth Ninja. One of the saviors of Ninjago."

Reader paused in their writing. They had not recognized Cole but they knew of him and his team.

"So, I just had one of the ninja in my shop?"

"Yes!"

"Huh."

They hoped he visited again, and not just because a ninja buying their cakes would boost business.

Jay Walker

Reader was heavily focused on the project Nya had shared with her, working to rebuild this engine piece for one of the ninja's vehicles. She heard Aaron talking to someone, leading them through the garage, but she ignored them for the moment.

"And this is Reader, I believe she was the one you were looking for?" Aaron asked, stopping just before her station, making her pause.

"Yep, thank you!"

Nodding, Aaron left, leaving Reader and the strange man alone. "So, is there something you need me specifically for?"

"Oh, uh, well, heh, Nya actually sent me," He said, smiling awkwardly.

"Nya did? So then you're one of the ninja," Reader realized. He lit up, striking a pose.

"The Lightning Ninja, at your service!" Jay announced proudly, making Reader giggle though she tried to hide it.

"Well then Mr. Lightning Ninja, what did Ninja send you up here for?"

"Oh, she wanted me to check up on the engine for Lloyd's new bike."

"Oh, yeah. I told I'd probably have it done by today, but I ended up having to help with some rich guys car." Reader shook her head at the memory of the rich asshole.

"She said she gave you free reign?"

"Yep. All she wanted was a fast engine for a bike, my specialty." Reader winked making Jay giggle as he went a little red. A good hour passed with them discussing the different engine choices and Jay happily lending a hand.

When he left, Reader couldn't help but miss his presence already. Very few people shared her passion, work ethic, and sense of humor, so Jay was, in her mind, a godsend. She hoped he'd come back one day so they could continue their converaation.

Lloyd Garmadon

Reader was hiding behind one of the numerous sheleves of comics as they put the comics back in their place. She'd noticed Ryker walking in the door and had hurried away to stock the sholves with the new comics.

For the past two weeks Ryker had been stalking them at her job, waiting for her to get off with the excuse that he wanted to walk them home. It was creepy and gross, and Reader wanted nothing to do with him.

"Hey Reader," Ryker said, having found them while they sorted through the massive amount of Starfarers comics to place on the shelves.

"Ryker, I'm working."

"I just wanted to say hi. You've been ignoring me, and leaving at different times. I haven't been able to walk you home," Ryker complained, his greasy voice sending shivers down her spine.

"I don't need you to walk me home, I'm just fine on my own," Reader snapped, feeling a bit like a chihuahua barking at a rottweiler.

"Oh come on, Reader." Ryker stepped closer, boxing them in, and making her heart rate pick up. "Just give me a chance. Just one date."

"I already told you, no. I'm not going on a date with you," Reader said, trying to sound stronger than she felt.

Rykers face twisted into something ugly, hand reaching out to grab them by the waist. "Really, is that really how you're going to be? A nice guys asks you out and you're gonna be a bitch!"

"Hey!" Someone grabbed Rykers wrist, the one attached to the hand squeezing Readers hip uncomfortably tight, and easily pulled him off. Now, Ryker isn't a small man, nearly 5'11 and 200lbs but the one who'd tugged him off was easily the same height but seemingly thinner. "When someone tells you to back off, you back off."

"Who the fuck are you?!" Ryker demanded, trying to tug his wrist away.

"Lloyd Garmadon, the Green Ninja."

Reader couldn't help the hot flush that spread across her face at the realization of who this was. While her personal favorite ninja had always been Jay, she liked his jokes and attitude, she did admire the Green Ninja. Ryker, on the other hand, seemed to lose all his coloring.

"That-why-what?! Why would a ninja give two shits about some ugly bitch?!"

Reader immediatley lashed out, slapping Ryker with an open palm. She felt a bit more confident with the Green Ninja right there, because what could Ryker do to them with him here. "Don't you ever call me a bitch again!"

Lloyd was a little startled, but he forced himself to not smile at the red mark slreading across his face. "Beat it. If I see you hanging around again, I'll knock you on your ass."

Snarling, Ryker retreated, a coward down to his bones.

"Thank you, for the rescue."

"Oh uh, it was no problem. Always happy to help a pretty girl in need of help." Lloyd froze, mortified by what had just slipped from his mouth. "Oh, FSM! I'm so sorry, that was–"

Reader giggled, holding a hand over their mouth to hide her smile. "No, no. It's ok. A compliment from the powerful Green Ninja. Lucky me."

A shout from the door had Lloyd wincing.

"Sorry, um, my team needs me . . ."

Smiling, Reader stepped forward to press a kiss to his cheek. "Well then you best get going, my hero." Giggling to themself, Reader sauntered away with the box of comics in hand.

Lloyd watched them walk away, bright red, jaw nearly on the floor.

Morro

Reader trembled violently as she and the other workers were lined up in front of the customer by the robber. He had barged in less than five minutes ago, an hour before they opened, barking out orders as he aimed a gun at them, with four others coming in behind him.

While Jason, the baker, might have had a chance at fighting one of them off, the rest of the morning crew couldn't. Reader could feel the tears pooling in her eyes before there was the loud crash of glass shattering as three of the ninja dove inside.

The Black, Blue, and Red ninja had broken through the front window and were taking out the first three robbers while the other two robbers reached out for hostages. Reader cried out as she was violently grabbed by her hair, just like Anya was. Both girls cried out, trying to pull away until the cold steel was pressed against their jaws.

"Please, please," Anya begged, tears pouring down her face as she sobbed. She had only been hired a week ago as a cashier, and now she was being held hostage by robbers.

Two figures came out from the shadows, the Green and Grey ninja.

"Hey, let's talk this out," Green began, holding out his hands, palm up. "You don't have to do this. Just let the girls go, and put the guns down."

"Why the hell would I listen to you!" The robber holding Reader shouted, yanking violently and ripping out some of her hair, making her shriek in pain.

"Let us go!" Anya screamed, and in a moment of brilliant, stupid bravery, she slammed a heel down on her robbers foot, and an elbow into his nose.

"Hey, wait!" Green shouted, lurching forward as Grey tensed.

"You little bitch!!" A gunshot rang out and blood splattered across Readers face, making her scream in terror.

Green lunged for the killer as Grey went for Reader. In a practiced move, he seperated them knocking the gun from the robbers hand before kicking him into one of the other ninja grasp.

Reader collapsed, no longer held up by her hair, and too afraid to stay standing. While she hadn't known Anya very well, the girl had been friendly and Reader had hoped they could be good friends but now . . . Anya would never experience anything ever again.

Sobbing into her hands, she didn't notice when the Grey ninja crouched down at her side awkwardly. "Hey, are you injured?" His voice was gruff, sharp, but Reader didn't seem to hear him, too shocked to take anything in.

Scowling behind the mask, Grey leaned forward. "Hey." Without raising his voice he managed to grab her attention. "Are you injured?"

Reader gasped for breath, scrubbing her tears away as she tried to focus. "My-uhm, my scalp. It hurts."

"Okay. Any other pain?"

"N-no."

Nodding, Grey reached out and easily lifted her to feet, startling her. Unable to stand she just collapsed against him, making him go stiff. "The-the ambulance is gonna be here in a minute to get you taken care of, alright."

"Okay." Reader was thankful when Grey didn't move, simply keeping his hands on her shoulders so she didn't slump back down to the floor. "Thank you. For saving me."

"Its what ninja do."

Once the ambulance arrived, Reader was escorted by the Grey ninja to be checked out. Tugging off his mask, he spoke in low tones to the EMT, before helping get Reader onto the ambulance.

As she was laying back on the bed, a small part of her hoped to see the nice ninja again one day. Even if she didn't know his name.

A/n: Can you tell who my favorite charactors are?

[fallenclan]

i was thinking about each of fallenclan's leaders (likely due to the dtiys) and then came to pondering about each of the deputies that didn't become leader, and how i think they'd behave as a leader. so here's a rambling summary of my thoughts!

nettlestem -- i strongly believe if nettlestem outlived scorchstar and was still deputy, she would have stepped down and given the leadership position to goldenflare. she was already pretty old at the time of becoming deputy, and i highly doubt she ever expected/wanted to be leader. HOWEVER, in this hypothetical, let's assume she did become leader. i think nettlestar would be strict but fair. i think a lot of her policies as leader would be pretty similar to scorchstar, since nettlestem only ever lived under one leader (and was mates with her). she'd chose goldenflare as her deputy for sure, and would probably take a less and less active role in leadership duties as he became more confident. i don't think she'd be leader for very long.

toro -- similarly to nettlestem, i don't think toro ever expected to outlive goldenstar, and i don't think she'd be fully onboard for leading a clan, but i believe she'd be an excellent leader if she ever had to step into the role. i think her leadership style would be a lot like goldenstar's, but i think cats would probably come to her with more personal problems as well (i might be wrong, but goldenstar seemed the type to be a bit intimidating to others, at least until they got to know him). she would have chosen maplethorn as her deputy.

hailcrash -- i think hailcrash would have been an unusual leader, stepping pretty far away from her predecessor's leadership styles, but ultimately she'd be a good leader. she wouldn't be afraid of making hard choices, and would be especially understanding towards younger cats. i think she'd take an especial interest in apprentice-training, and be sure to make herself as approachable as possible for the newer generations. she would want to be a leader her clanmates aren't intimidated by or afraid of. she would chose cherrydust as her deputy.

crowflame -- crowstar would be extremely strict but also fair. he wouldn't tolerate apprentice foolishness or petty arguments within the clan, and would be deadset on making sure the clan remains unified. the younger cats of the clan would 100% be extremely intimdated by him (and dread being sent to his den after misbehaving), but i think the older cats and those similar in age to him would enjoy teasing him. when he passed down the deputy mantle, he picked poppyfeather, and i believe this is because they have similar values/beliefs, and due to their close mentor-apprentice relationship. one part of me says he'd pick her as his deputy, but i also think he'd recognize the need for having a deputy who would challenge him or think differently from him. if not poppyfeather or antbite, i think he would have chosen bluefern, due to her empathy and determination to do what's right, as well as her being completely ready to call out crowstar if he did anything she disapproved of.

poppyfeather -- poppystar would be similar to crowstar in that she'd be strict but fair. i think she'd be more gentle than crowflame given her charismatic personality. i could say the same for any of these choices, but i think especially so with poppystar she'd be widely respected by both fallenclan and the other clans. poppystar would tolerate ZERO bullshit from shallowclan for sure. her vengeful side definitely has the potential to cause problems in her leadership (i don't think she'd ever be truly cruel towards clanmates - she'd probably hold grudges but never let it get in the way of her leadership) in regards to outsiders or the other clans. i could see renewed conflict with shallowclan and violetstar under poppystar's leadership. she would chose skyfrost as her deputy, recognizing the need for a more open-minded and forgiving cat to help her lead.

skyfrost -- the idea of the goober as leader is really funny to me. his policies and leadership style would be very similar to goldenstar, but his personality couldn't be further away. some clanmates might doubt him due to his childish and care-free attitude, and i think he might have trouble navigating leadership at first, but he'd grow into it. leadership would probably make skyfrost more mature (as i belief deputyship has done in-canon universe). i vaguely remember it being said that ospreyswipe would have been skyfrost's chosen deputy successor if ravenstar wasn't so awful, and i think it would make sense for ospreyswipe to be skystar's deputy. however, if he wanted someone more serious/able to balance his leadership, he would pick antbite.

levi -- although levi is the current deputy, i highly doubt he will ever succeed ravenstar, both due to levi's age and the fact that after ravenstar's leadership, i doubt any fallenclan cat would even let levi become leader. he'd be a lot like ravenstar as leader, but way more unregulated. levi seems the type who knows how to follow, not how to lead. he's good at supporting ravenstar, but he would be terrible at leading by himself. he'd be a lot harsher and more openly cruel than ravenstar as well. i think he'd chose sleepydawn as his deputy, recognizing his loyalty and "likemindedness."

let me know your thoughts, and if this is too long you can always hide it under a cut ofc!!

-🐉

YEAHHHH I love love love this analysis dragon..... its so accurate. i really love the idea that Nettlestem would give up the leadership to Goldenstar. honestly? its not something id ever considered before but its so in character for her tbh, she just wants to support from the sidelines <3 and you're absolutely RIGHT with the poppyfeather thing, her vengeful thing could make problems yeah but shes different from ravenstar in that she doesnt let her personal little petty squabbles get in the way of whats good for her CLAN!!!

[cr4yolaas]

blue spring — downward spiral

prev: too silly | masterlist | next: guilt

note: there's more written content after the messages :)

he doesn’t see her for a while.

the seat to his right remains empty, devoid of the presence he had grown so accustomed to. it feels wrong. it is wrong. and yet, he isn’t sure if it’s right to do anything about it; he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to interfere.

he thinks of the exam and the oddity in her last messages to him. he shouldn’t pry, he thinks, because he fears making things worse. he thinks of the next time he’ll see her. he thinks of the girl holding the two-headed lamb.

it’s funny, how easily she had altered the balance of his life. maybe if he hadn’t made the impulsive decision to ask her for her help in the café, his head wouldn’t be spinning so rapidly at her absence. maybe if he hadn’t picked the seat beside her (without any real reason) at the start of the year, he wouldn’t be so disturbed. he wouldn’t be so lost.

two days remain until the exam. it's one that kageyama would usually dread, but he admits that with her assistance, whatever doubt he would usually have is dispelled. however, now that she’s gone, a sliver of that doubt creeps it way back into his system.

his mind crawls back to the night in the art studio, and he wonders if he'd find her there again should he go and look. it wouldn't be improbable, he reasons. so, before he can rationalize his decision, his feet follow the path to the studio as soon as class ends.

the door is closed, this time, and it only serves to increase his anxiety and concern. there's too much chatter around him to listen for remnants of her presence. his hand hovers over the handle, and for a moment, he considers the consequences. he ponders whether or not she would display disdain at his unprompted arrival, and whether or not she'd stop working under his watch, just as she did several nights ago. he tries to conjure up an idea of how she'd react. nothing comes to mind.

a can of soda — one he grabbed on his way — weighs heavy in his other hand, the condensation mixing with his sweat. something tells him he shouldn't go in. maybe it's the pounding in his chest, or the thumping in his head, or the salty droplets collecting all over his skin. something is amiss. his body recognizes it before his mind does, and when it all connects, he turns away from the door.

even still, something nags at him.

kageyama feels cramped, despite there only being two other people in the car. yachi sits in the passenger seat while yamaguchi sits at the wheel, leaving him alone in the back row. he still isn't sure why they asked him to come along, but his worry overpowers his confusion.

"kageyama," yachi calls from the front, her voice soft and gentle. her head turns around to face him. "what do you really think of yn?"

he's silent for a moment, her question catching him off-guard. it feels like a test. his words are picked out carefully in his head.

"i think she's really nice. i like being around her, but..." he pauses, his eyes drifting away to the campus, which inches closer and closer. "i wish she would take care of herself more."

there's a resounding hum from the pair, and they don't ask anything else. he’s slightly relieved.

the group arrives at the studio, and the perspiration and anxiety and doubt return to kageyama all at once, in a blistering, crashing wave. the coffee in his hands nearly collapses at his full-body reaction, but he does his best to maintain his outward stoicism. yamaguchi is the one to swing open the door.

she's standing in the center of the room, her easel fitted to her height and the canvas entirely different than the one kageyama had familiarized himself with. the same old lamp serves as the only source of light in the room, and it shines upon the painting of the girl and her two-headed lamb, which has been ungraciously cast aside against the wall. when he finally gets to see what she's painting, something in his heart hurts. he can't describe the scene, but something about it is saddening. his worry only increases tenfold.

the call of her name from her friends doesn't do much to pull her out of her trance. he's too scared to make an effort himself. slowly, the two approach their beloved roommate, and kageyama follows behind, although apprehensively.

"i told you not to come," she mutters under her breath. it's barely audible. "why did you bring him?"

he pretends the question doesn't make his chest ache ever so slightly. yachi is quick to counter with words of care and concern. she's desperate, almost, to end whatever frenzy is occurring before her. somewhere in between it all, there's a plea for her to come home, to give it a break. she's met with resilience.

"you don't understand, yachi, i need to get this done. you're not helping." her grip around the edge of the canvas tightens and loosens, back and forth. as if she's fighting with her own rationality. "please just leave."

from youth, she had yearned to be one of the greats. to have her name recognized in nearly every facet of art and science. she dreamed of awards, of press conferences, of her face plastered on screens. she was always so silent in her desire. and yet, now, it's on full display in the most brutal way she can handle.

there's another argument from yachi, and in response, her volume escalates. her passiveness morphs into anger, raw and scorching hot, and kageyama can only stand and watch. he can only listen to her yelling and the tears that sneak their way between every handful of syllables. the coffee in his hands is now watered down. he doesn't know what to do.

despite all her irritation, yachi maintains her gentle nature. her brows are furrowed as she listens to her friend spill out in front of her, but regardless, all she wants is for her to be at peace. the canvas is long forgotten, and the paints have dried up. it's a sorrowful sight.

eventually, the yelling dissolves into choked sobs and white-hot tears. yamaguchi is the first to envelop her in a hug, and yachi quickly follows after. kageyama plays the role of the bystander, once more. at some point, the door opens, and they're all back inside the car. the ride home is horribly silent.

kageyama thinks back to his answer to yachi's question earlier, about how he wanted her to take care of herself more. he looks to his left and sees her slumped against the window, clearly lost in slumber.

he doesn't know how he feels about her. all he knows is that his head feels light and airy and his chest feels heavy when he's around her. but after tonight, he can solidify one thing for certain — that he wants to see her genuinely happy.

𝜗𝜚 yachi and yams said they were coming to her, but in truth they had no idea where she was LMFAO

𝜗𝜚 yn's self-destructive tendencies are verrryyyy evident here. i am definitely projecting.

𝜗𝜚 kageyama sort of just stood there during yachi and yn's argument. yamaguchi kept trying to interrupt and tone it down but yachi just kept going. she's very much a mom friend

𝜗𝜚 i may or may not make a moodboard for the type of art i envision yn to make ^^

taglist: @mfcherry @eggyrocks @scxrcherr @yuminako @girlkissersco @diorzs @causenessus @kyo-kyo1 @k0z3me @shironagi @lovingvi @bunninio @hisfuture @lilchubbyyy @gsyche

[toastling]

It's not lost on me how the Titan willingly showed Luz his language to share their power with her right from the beginning, as soon as she'd proved herself a friend to King, on a day she needed a little help to connect with him how he needed her to

The way the phone glitched when it was cracked always stood out to me as strange, and now we know why. That was the Titan intervening through reflective surfaces to share his magic with Luz for the very first time

Then we see this even more clearly with the Ice glyph, how he literally moves the stars around to show her another bit of his language with her, right as she's getting discouraged about only knowing one spell and she needs some help to get into Hexside and truly become a witch

I doubt that Fire glyph would have appeared if anybody else had caught that grudgby ball. If it would, then witches would know all about at least that glyph in particular. But nobody recognized how Luz did magic. The Titan intervened again and showed her how to make fire

And there's something kind of poetic to me that Fire is the last glyph Luz learned to become a witch fluent in the language of the Titan, and how fire is connected to humanity as one of the very first things we learned and the mastery of which helped define us as a species hundreds of thousands of years ago

When she finally learned Fire, she knew all the basic ingredients at last. She had finally stepped out of the realm of humans and had become, in her own way, a full-fledged witch. Her mastery of the element is what signified the birth of a human witch. There's a lot of symbolism to unpack in there

I'd say the only glyph Luz discovered on her own would be the one for Plants, given how they're more interested in magic than science I doubt many witches would've looked so closely at a flower before, but it's possible the Titan intervened yet again and rewarded her for her curiosity

The original human witch claimed he could speak to the Titan, but he was actually speaking to and protecting Luz from the very beginning

[sincerely-sofie]

What are some ideas you've wanted to draw/write but haven't?

Oh man. I've got so many. A handful of ideas include:

A semi-animated series titled "My Pal the Paladin" about a kidnapped princess and the final boss who join forces to track down the legendary hero who's failed to slay even a single mook months after the plot kicking off and yell at him for taking so long. It's based on my oldest original characters and has a lot of sentimental worth to me as a result. Idris, Pal, and Katherine are my babies. I've considered making it similar in production to Dingo Doodle's Fool's Gold series, but I haven't actually made it because I'm really nervous about it turning out poorly ^^; I'd love to post a pitch bible for it someday!

A gothic picture book tentatively titled "Cover the Mirrors" about a woman killing a monster that has haunted her since girlhood, and inheriting the curse that turned the monster from a normal man into his current twisted looks. It would end with the monster's appearance going from being seen as a Boogeyman figure that stalks kids who play outside after sundown while the original monster was around, to a vengeful beast that hunts people who prey on children once the woman inherits the curse. It would play with the idea of trauma giving you unique abilities to help those who have gone through similar terrors, while also warping you into something you can't recognize and find inherently repulsive. I haven't made it because I don't know how to render the painterly style I envision for it.

A mixed media visual novel titled "Cradlehead" about a woman who finds herself serving as the unwilling vessel for an eldritch entity that will destroy her mind when it finishes germinating within and exits her body. She has to escape the pocket dimension it trapped her in to develop within the optimal conditions in order to save herself. The visuals would incorporate clay, digital art, traditional art, 3D models, pixel art, and photography. The game would center around the woman's desperation as she tries to escape while her ability to perceive the new world around her decays more and more over time. I haven't made it because I doubt my artistic abilities to make something like I have in my head come to life.

An untitled magical girl webcomic about an unwilling magical girl with a giant bee familiar named Queenie and issues controlling her powers because of her insecurities. She feels bad about being a not very girly individual while surrounded by hyper-feminine young women who have a handle on their powers she could never dream of. It revolves around her character arc where she eventually stops worrying about meeting the arbitrary standards she imposes on herself to be "girly enough" and decides to just be herself, whoever that is, unlocking her true powers and entering her ultimate form during a climactic battle— taking on a design less like a queen holding a scepter like she'd been dreading, and more like a princely knight holding a stinger-like spear. Her rejection of others' expectations as well as her own helps the world-ending threat, a shapeshifting eldritch being that absorbs people into itself so it can become someone other than itself but is never satisfied with the new faces it obtains, to accept itself and stop trying to steal people's souls in order to find one that would make it love itself. I haven't made it because I worry if it would come across weirdly to the average viewer, as it deals with gender dysphoria as a subject in a very atypical manner.

[nkn0va]

Blazeblue request: How would things go if Rachel fell in love with Valkenhayn's student?

There's a lot of ways a student of Valkenhayn could be interpreted so

puts on gloves

Time to do a little fucking around

-Rachel would start off by not thinking too much of you. Whether you're the shy, quiet type or the type that's a bit too enthusiastic for your own good. However she'd be lying to herself if she said she wasn't interested in how you'd grow under Valkenhayn's wing, it wasn't every day he of all people decided to take on an apprentice.

-After some time she finally decides to take a leap and talk to you. She instinctively keeps you at arm's reach out of habit, it'd been far too long since she'd truly allowed herself to get close to anyone for...several reasons, but it wasn't like she needed to open up about that.

-She silently watched from the sidelines as you continued to mature and strengthen under her butler's tutelage. The more you did, the more she seemed to feel naturally inclined to interact with you. Before even she knew it you almost became a completely different person than the one she first saw when she looked at you.

-This...understandably did a few things to her. Just looking at you now felt like a metaphorical kick in the teeth, the things going through her head were so different to the point she almost felt like she didn't recognize herself.

-She retreated to her garden for a while to clear her head and reflect on things. After long, grueling hours of thinking there was only one conclusion that she could even attempt to swallow. Her heart had been thawed with feelings of romance.

-However, this is Rachel of all people we're talking about, and she does not express any feeling in a normal way whatsoever.

-She does become noticeably more open and honest with you than she does pretty much anyone else, and she somehow finds herself with much more patience with you than the average person. You'd have to truly be a fool not to recognize this. It's not long before a small creeping suspicion starts to gnaw away at your mind.

-You'd have to be an even bigger fool though to expect Rachel to ever make a move. If you truly want something more out of your relationship with Rachel, that is going to be on you.

-If you do manage to work up the guts to do this however, Rachel will be an unendingly loyal, faithful partner. If and when you truly learn and master what Valkenhayn taught you, she would never have any doubts about you and your competence.

-This goes doubly so if he taught you other things outside of fighting, namely the butler duties he attends to for Rachel and other miscellaneous but other important hobbies that he employs regularly in his service to the Alucard manor. This only makes Rachel appreciate you even more.

-Most importantly though, you give Rachel a real, genuine reason to keep fighting, to keep pushing onward for a better world free from the control of higher powers. Now she has something to that she can look forward to herself, a future with a loved one that she really cared for, and that cared for her just as much.

[housewarningparty]

hyped that you're writing again!

Fuffy (Faith/Buffy) + scrape, rain, dame

(maybe a noir vibe?)

okay lmao i know you've been wanting this for a minute, I hope it satisfies

-

Faith's never seen rain like this, not in the entire time she's been in California. And she might be a recent transplant but she's not stupid — this is no regular summer storm. No, this has to be something else. Driving winds, great freezing wet gouts of water gushing from midnight black clouds, like God himself opened a vein. An arterial baptism for the City of Angels, a place so choked in sin that the blood of lamb wasn't cutting it anymore and the Father, despairing, had no choice but to offer his own.

That or Buffy was right and there's a powerful coven at work and they're running out of time to stop them.

Speaking of Buffy—

She's got her hand clamped tight— bruising tight— around Faith's wrist, heels that couldn't be worse for this weather for if they were trying splashing noisily through filthy puddles in the sidewalk as she ran ahead, tugging Faith along behind her.

“Come on, Faith, come on,” Buffy's saying and Faith wonders, dazedly, why she sounds so scared until she feels herself falter on the slippery pavement, shoots a hand out to steady herself on a glass storefront beside her and sees, even through the dark and dim, the bright red streak of blood her palms leave behind.

Oh, yeah. She's shot.

It's a struggle to tear her mind free of the gauzy haze that surrounds it, but when Faith's ears pick up the distant sound of a motor getting less distant by the second, she manages it.

“They're coming back around,” she wheezes, sure that her voice is too pained and weak for Buffy to hear over the weather.

But she does, judging by the quiet curse she lets out, the way she squeezes Faith's hand. “Okay, okay. I know a place. Hang on, okay? Just a little farther.”

Faith would be the first to admit, if anyone would bother to stop and ask her, that in her current circumstances she is probably not the person best qualified to judge her condition. She's biased, in her own way, and being down a few pints of blood is probably not helping. But she's a detective, or at least Buffy has asked her to play the part, so she can do what detectives seem to do in those dime novels she reads from time to time: look at the evidence, draw a conclusion.

Faith + shot + the goons in that old beater coming back around to take another shot at putting the chill on her and it all adds up to one thing: she doesn't have much of a choice about whether to trust Buffy or not or if she wants to keep running after her through all these dark, filthy allies. 

All her life, Faith has been sure that she'd kick off this way someday: running. Running a con, or from the cops or after some dame with a face too sweet and a mouth too pink and inviting for Faith’s own good. Faith knows enough to know she doesn't know exactly what kind of scheme she's let herself get drawn into, but she figures whatever it is, her chances are still better with Buffy than with those hoods and their irons.

So she goes.

And within a few minutes, Buffy is tugging her to a stop in front of a nondescript door in the alleyway of some big brick building Faith doesn't recognize, someplace downtown. Faith, no stranger to running for her life, is a little disappointed that she'd failed to memorize how they'd ended up here, but she figures she can afford to cut herself a little slack tonight, given the circumstances.

She sags, exhausted, knees shaking, against Buffy, no doubt getting blood all over that smart dove gray coat she'd shown up wearing, that Faith had, a few happier hours ago, fantasized about peeling off her. Ruined now, no doubt.

“Sorry,” Faith mumbles, or tries to, because what comes out of her mouth is more like “Shrrrgghh.”

“Shh, it's okay, hang on,” Buffy says, voice a little too frantic to be comforting. She pounds on the door again, again until she finally lets loose an aggrieved sigh and puts her shoulder through it. She makes it look effortless but Faith hears the wood splinter, sees the metal of the steel lock bend like putty.

Everything else happens in a blur. Buffy hauls her through the doorway, down a dark hall until a man… a green man? With little red horns? Intercepts them. He's wearing a plush royal blue smoking jacket and a look of perfect terror but he does as Buffy bids him and ushers them into a sparsely furnished room with a mattress on a metal frame and not much else.

Buffy settles Faith down on the bed, saying over her shoulder to the man, “Sorry about the blood. And your door.”

He waves her off and rushes back out of the room, returning moments later with what looks like a doctor's bag.

“Now, let's see the damage,” he says, sounding far too cheerful for a man peeling her bloodstained shirt up from her skin. “Sorry, darling,” he at least has the good grace to say. “I know this is terribly ungentlemanly of me, but please bear with me now.”

At this Buffy stumbles back knocking into a dresser and toppling a small mirror onto the floor, where it shatters into bits. As if we needed any more bad luck, Faith thinks.

Aloud, she says, “Where y’goin’?”

Buffy shakes her head, voice quavering. “I'm squeamish. I can't watch.”

And then trips her way out of the room, falling all over herself to leave.

“She'll be okay,” the man says, kindly, warm hands easing her back onto the bed. He produces a bottle, something home brewed but strong that he urges her to sip. “So will you. I'm Lorne, by the way. I promise you're in good hands.”

Faith doesn't doubt him. Life has seen fit to instill in Faith certain skills for survival, one of these being discerning quickly and with good accuracy how much a man with intent to touch her wants to cause pain. There's nothing in Lorne’s hands that reads malice or danger.

No, that thrum of simple minded fear, that prey animal feeling pulsing through Faith's body isn't because of Lorne at all.

It lingers as she watches the door Buffy disappeared from with all the intensity of a rabbit struck still in the brush, waiting for the hawk to pass.

To distract from the pain in her side as Lorne goes to work with his tweezers and alcohol and gauze, Faith recalls Buffy's face. They've had their moments in the weeks since Buffy approached her, asked for her help. Long hot glances and lingering touches, loaded silences and innuendo both. Nothing has come of it, but one of Faith’s other survival skills, honed over the years, has been learning how to tell when a broad wants what she has to offer. And she’s felt that want from Buffy, choked as it is by what Faith had assumed this whole time was an abundance of caution. Maybe she had a secret beau, maybe she’d been burned before, maybe she just didn’t think Faith was worth the risk. But Faith had felt the want in her, before. 

And that was nothing compared to the hunger she saw in Buffy tonight, when they’d finally stopped running and Lorne had exposed the sick oozing wound in her side and she had lurched forward, helpless as a drunk. Oh, she’d caught herself right away, pulled back, a little too far, but Faith had seen it. Had seen the way her mouth went slack before she tightened it to a pained grimace, had seen her nostrils flare, her hands shake, the way her pupils had gone big and black, like a gowed-up dope fiend.

Faith had seen. And so now, she thinks about it like a detective, lining up the evidence. How they always met at night, how Buffy had knocked that door in like it was nothing, the way she was able to lug Faith around like she was made of cotton and air.

By the time Lorne is finished, Faith is exhausted, and slips into a deep, dreamless sleep. She wakes up in the daylight, for Lorne to change her bandages.

“Buffy had to go home,” Lorne lies as easily as he stitches her up. “She’ll be back in the evening.”

They talk a little, before she falls back asleep. “Weren’t you green last night?” she asks.

“Guilty,” he says and explains.

“Demon was my second guess,” Faith says amicably, squinting and tilting her head to try to see past the glamour. No such luck, it's solid work. “First was that I was hallucinating from blood loss.”

She drinks some broth, has a few more nips of whisky, and falls back asleep.

It is indeed evening when Buffy comes back. She’s cleaned up, looking sober and genuinely concerned as she hovers in the doorway.

Faith wonders, for one terrifying moment, how much she still smells like blood. If she’s in danger from Buffy losing it.

Then she thinks, if all Buffy wanted out of her was a quick meal, she could have had it weeks ago. 

“You might as well come on in,” Faith offers, eventually, sick of the silent staring. “You’re lettin’ in a draft.”

Hesitantly, Buffy steps into the room. She shuts the door behind her and pauses until Faith gestures to the chair at her bedside.

Settling down, Buffy asks, “How are you feeling? Lorne says the wound looks good. He doesn’t think it’ll get infected.”

Faith shrugs, regretting it immediately but hoping the pain doesn’t show on her face. “S’alright. Basically a scrape.”

“The bullet went all the way through you and out the other side.”

“A deep scrape,” Faith amends. 

Buffy shakes her head and Faith, goddamn her, feels her breath catch in her throat, despite everything.

“Where you been?” Faith asks, trying to sound casual. “Catching up with the mugs that tried to give me lead poisoning?” 

“No. I couldn’t find any sign of them when I left here last night.” 

“Grabbing a bite?” Faith tries, watching carefully for—

Buffy freezes.

Faith waits.

“Yes,” Buffy answers slowly. “I had something to eat.”

“I could tell,” Faith says. “You look steadier than last night.”

She waits another beat while Buffy looks at the floor.

“So, who was he?” Faith asks.

There it is. Buffy’s gaze snaps up to meet hers. “The man who tried to shoot you? I told you I didn’t find any trace of him.”

“Not him.” Faith says, then, despite the pain, she leans forward, holding catching Buffy’s eye and holding it. “Who’d you eat?”

“I didn’t hurt anyone,” Buffy says in a rush. “On the square. I didn’t.”

“C’mon, drop the veil,” Faith says. “I know what you are. A vamp, in both senses of the word.”

“I didn’t hurt anyone,” Buffy insists.

Faith frowns. “So, what? Thralls? Heard about a guy back east who paid hookers for it. That your bag?”

“I… There’s this butcher shop—”

Faith rolls her eyes, “Don’t give me that—”

“I mean it!” Buffy practically shouts. “I don’t feed from humans. I swear.”

Faith wants to believe it. She wants it so badly she’s not sure she trusts the feeling. 

“If you don’t, you’re the first bloodsucker I’ve ever met who doesn’t hunt.” Faith says. “So, what’s different about you?”

“I have a soul.” Faith rolls her eyes and Buffy, affronted, cuts her off before she can speak. “I do. Look, it’s a long story and I’ll tell it to you later, but for right now I need you to trust me. This shouldn’t change anything about our deal. You keep helping me, I’ll pay you what you’re owed, and together we save this city from a whole heap of trouble.”

“You expect me to trust you?” Faiths asks, head aching, wound aching, heart aching, and a special new kind of exhausted she's never been before. She wishes she knew how to stop the way her heart still speeds up when Buffy looked at her just like this — big eyed and sincere. “After lying to me?”

“No.” Buffy reaches out, tentatively and lays her hand over Faith’s. “I expect you to trust me after saving your life last night.”

Warmth flows up Faith’s body, from her belly all the way to the roots of her hair. Just like that.

Dizzy over a dame, she thinks, exasperated. A vampire dame. Ain’t I the world’s biggest chump.

“You said it was a long story,” Faith says, finally. “You ending up with a soul…”

“Yes.”

“Well,” leaning back into bed, Faith is careful to let her hand continue to rest under Buffy’s grip. She jerks her chin down toward the patched wound in her side. “As you can see, I got nothing but time.”

Buffy waits a beat, then nods. “Okay. It all started with a man. His name was Angel…”