#everyone is going to age and get older so even if there's a sliver of hcance of renewal it's like...

[forthelostones]

𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚏𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 ➺ 𝚓𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚢 #𝟽

anderson construction and landscaping had been parked outside your door since you returned home from university. as if the summer couldn't get any hotter, the business owner works overtime in your area. anderson is collecting new, loyal clients of your neighbors, cementing her permanence in your life for the next few months. what's to come of your girlish crush when she keeps showing up?

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜. 18+ (mdni); age-gap, young!reader, older!abby, butch!abby, slow-burn, suggestive language, thoughts of infidelity, ellie ft, smoking/drinking, mentions of parents, nickname: sweetheart, and modern au.

𝚊𝚗. omg hello, what...

♫ 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝. willow by renee♫

What was I doing? Showing my old photos like I was a proud parent embarrassing my child before a first date. I let my hand linger on the my bedroom doorknob before finally retreating. My cheeks filled with girlish warmth as I press my palms into my face and try to shake away everything that happened but I can’t. I replay her laugh and innocent curiosity at my past. Her fingers tracing me out on the worn plastic sheet and deep down I wanted nothing more than for those same fingers to feather over my belly into my waistband. I was making a mistake, but damn it felt so good. 

As my phone lit up from my nightstand with a followup from her arrival text, I couldn’t help but smile. 

10:00 p.m: parents were wondering if you wanted to come over for a bbq after work?

10:04 p.m: I have a consultation on the other side of town tomorrow. 

…. 

10:10 p.m: But maybe I can stop by at the tail end of the night and play bartender? 

10:12 p.m: really? that would be really nice but we can save you some food and you not have to worry about working even more. 

So, all day as my new client was showing me the specs of her home I was buzzing nonstop. Bobbing my leg up and down, missing out on important structural details, and checking my phone constantly — this was highly unlike me. I would have to go home, change, and pack up some good liquor that would go with the assumed spread of food. Everyone loves margaritas, right? Besides this, my team was sending me constant updates of the new build up the road and I wanted to check their work before retreating for the night. I was moving at seventy miles per hour with no end in sight. 

“Well, that’s it. Now we know that’s a huge ask for a crew your size but I expect it to take a while.” She smiled. 

My new client, Henrietta, was a 70-year old widow who was trying to find a way to spice up her home for her daughter, in hopes of encouraging her to move back in. I think it’s sweet but a large ask for anyone to make. 

“We can make it happen. Now,” I check my watch. “We’ve kind of gone over time but that’s alright, are you okay if I stop in tomorrow and you invite your daughter so we can all talk?” 

“Absolutely, I’ll tell her to wear something form fitting too!” She screeched silently sizing me up.

“Huh?” I giggle nervously. 

“I mean, I was fast in clubs and what not in New York, I know a lesbian when I see one. And my daughter is available and around your age. You do like Black girls don’t ya?” She sighs. 

“Yes ma’am, I do." 

“Then it’s a date.” 

This day was going on far longer than I imagined and at this rate all the guests would be bbq’d out and not open to drinks. Henrietta was sweet but I can’t help but think that she was a little lonely without her husband around as she went through every room, describing the memories they shared. Once she sends me on my way and I nearly speed through traffic for a 35-minute haul to the opposite side of town. 

6:30 pm: Hey, on my way. 

I got no reply and didn’t have time to wait for one. I pulled my hair up into a bun on the top of my head while I lather my body down with my loofa and watch the grayish water sliver down the drain. I accompany my clean body with a subtle vanilla lotion and spritz of soft piney cologne. I took a bit of gel to my roots to smooth it down into a low pony and weaved in a thick braid, my grey hairs more prominent than ever before. I sigh as I recall how similar I look to Dad.

I reach in my skincare cabinet and smooth out my under eyes with a bit of cold cream followed by a handful of facial moisturizer. All of this to come home sweaty again and in need of the same routine. My stomach tightened with an uncommon feeling, like I was preparing myself for a date and not mellowing in the late night summer humidity. On the way home I knew I wouldn’t have much time to go through outfits so I thought of one that was easy enough to accommodate me. I fingered through my closet for a pair of black bootcut jeans and a medium sized heavy cotton white shirt that fell just below my belly button. To polish it off I slipped on my old red Chucks and forced a smile onto my face with the help of the tight pony.

My travel bag with my mixers and tools clattered on the passenger seat. I wipe my forehead quickly from the sudden change in temperature surrounding me. More speeding and hastily smashed breaks and I finally arrived on the street but not before I take a look at the house on the corner. We should complete it in two months time now. I step out of the car and clip my keys on my belt loop and begin to admire the polished work of my men. Obviously the darkness can hide some imperfections but from where I was standing it looked fine. I decided to leave my truck parked in its normal position as I noted a few unfamiliar cars were still lined up outside. My anxiety quickly manifest into a ping of hope that I would get to serve some people and satisfy them, one in particular. 

I toss my bag over my shoulder and walk a few feet down on the sidewalk. The clamoring of voices and music fluttered throughout the normally quiet neighborhood. All the lights were on in the house as I walked up the driveway to the backyard where uptight men stood in shorts and polos when I knew their bodies were meant for suits. They were clearly colleagues of my clients. I give an awkward wave over to them who stand speaking to each other in frank voices, laughs smothered in generational wealth. They were surrounded by the glare of tiki torches and large, yellow-bulbed string lights, and the low rolling of a fire pit nestled in between patio furniture. 

“Anderson, thanks for stopping by!” The rightful homeowner said in his plain voice. 

I reach out to toss him a hand and he shakes it and fetches a beer for me almost out of thin air, popping the top off instantly. 

“No problem, hope I’m not too late to make everyone at least one cocktail before they go?” I sip. 

“Perfect timing.” His wife says as she trots outside in light blue capri’s and a casual button down. 

I tell them I have tequila and vodka and many limes so they had a choice between a mule or margarita. The small crowd of eight were 2 and 6, many margaritas and only a few mules. I slide through the doors into the kitchen and lay my items down strategically, everything in perfect reach. 

A door closes and my concentration breaks to find her standing in a peachy halter top, her breasts held up firmly against it and a tight, chocolate brown tennis skirt. Once my brain registers that my gaze has wandered up down the length of her body, I find her eyes. “Hey,” is all I can manage to say. 

“Oh, hi there.” She grins almost as if she could read my mind. 

In her right hand is a mixed drink of some sort, looks as if it has a bit of cognac and a sparkling element. 

“I rushed to get here, glad there’s still a crowd.” I tip my head over to the backyard. 

“You’ve saved me from the crowd. I hate my parents work friends, well usually because I’m the last minute errand girl.” 

“Seems like you’re compensating for that just fine.”

She brings the glass to her mouth and shrugs, the liquid fizzing as she inhales. 

“I told you not to do all of this and your plate is in the oven. I gave you a bit of everything because I didn’t know what you liked.” 

A beat falls between us, comfortable but taunting. So provoking that I had no choice but to turn away and rinse off my utensils. “Are you fit to chop some limes?” I question. 

“I’m not drunk Ms. Anderson, I can do that just fine.” 

“What is in that cup anyway?” 

"Crown and sprite, here.” 

She reaches out to me, so causally, as if we had been doing this jive for years. I accept, almost fearful with a slight tremor lying beyond my movements. Our eyes meet and just for a second those eyes drew low and she followed the liquid slither down my throat. 

“Hm.” Is all I could manage when the warm liquid hit the bottom of my rumbling stomach, highlighting the fact that I haven’t eaten all day. 

She walks over to the oven and pull out a wide white, ceramic plate with brown sugar glazed ribs, brisket, a side of coleslaw, baked beans, and mac & cheese, all in separate containers. My eyes grew wide instantly and I look up to her grinning proudly. 

“So, which part of this did you do?” 

“I did the brisket, it’s my speciality.” She sips proudly. 

She kindly reheats the meal and I finish garnishing all of the drinks and delivering them. By the time the small talk is over, I am left in the kitchen with a fresh meal waiting for me to devour it. The last time someone cooked for me was so long ago that I couldn’t even remember what or who it was. Most nights I enjoyed a jarred sauce and store-bought pasta noodles. I didn’t even have enough bravery to purchase a grill and here she was cooking brisket. To be fair, I didn’t come from a family that hosted anyone, we're very recluse, so being in an environment like this is really off-putting. I place a napkin over myself out of fear, and began eating as she caught up on conversation with her mom. 

I had one beer and two margaritas on hand as I sucked the sauce off my fingers, I rubbed my belly and tossed my head back. I was spiraling in bliss. Once I grew the strength to compliment and thank the chefs for my meal I dabble in small talk before all the guests leave. Discussing my new builds and the expansion of the company to be becoming hands-off. Two of the guests mentioned they will contact me for future information and I pass them my business card proudly. 

Moments later I realize only my clients were left and they began cleaning the outdoor space and turning off lights to retreat inside. She changed into boy shorts and a loose fitting tee shirt rolled up to the shoulder, collecting dishes. I sat on the patio furniture, looking up as if there were stars, and sipping on the last drop of my drink. When I heard the sliding door close my heart jumped, now I had her full undivided attention. 

“I think you work too much.”

I feel the weight of the cushion shift under me and suddenly I’m afraid to see how close she is but her voice is so clear, so she’s not far. 

“Life.” 

“No, I seriously do, I mean why couldn’t you just come over to enjoy yourself and relax and talk with potential clients?” 

“I think my pitch sounds better when there’s alcohol involved.” I smile. 

I turn and see she’s farther than I imagined but just close enough to where her features come into full view. She just grins, twirling a singular thread between her fingertips, concentrating on that instead of me. 

“How did the meeting go?” She asked. 

“She set me up on a date with her daughter.” 

“Oh wow. That is one way to double your profits. Is she cute at least?” 

“We will see, I go back tomorrow midday and meet her,” 

She pulled her lips into her mouth and nodded her head slowly. 

“What?” I ask. 

Gradually, a strict warmth travel from my stomach to my eyes, causing my blinks to slow down. My right ear clogs slightly and that’s how I know I made this drink a bit too strong. 

“I don’t think I should be talking to my boss about her relationships.” 

“Whatever. It’s not a relationship, I actually would have never said that in any other circumstance. But right now, I believe I am unable to drive home.” 

She jolts up and leans into me. 

“Abigail Anderson are you drunk?” She whispers. 

“No, no I am tipsy. Tipsy. Final answer.” 

She smacks her strawberry glossed lips and crosses her arms leaning back into her spot. 

“I think the only thing for me to do is drive you home ma’am.” 

“What? No. I couldn’t ask you to do that. I can grab a taxi and be back in the morning before I maybe get towed. What are the overnight rules here?” My face turns hot at the thought of my cherry red in the impound lot. 

“I will drive you home and call a friend for a ride. Easy.” She lifts the glass out my hand, her our fingers making brief contact almost making me sigh out loud. When was the last time I felt a woman’s touch? Easily years, even since my breakup. As I stood up I felt a weight pull on my hips wishing me to sit back down, never in a million years would I assume that I would suddenly become a lightweight. 

“What’s your driving record?” I panic. 

“Never been in an accident before and plus I got points deducted off of my test for going too slow, so if that helps…” 

It was weird sitting in the passenger seat listening to the phone scream out the directions to my place. Time moved too fast but then again not at all. Once the engine came to a halt I inhaled and found myself being courted into my bedroom by my new assistant. 

“Do you need to change before lying in your bed?” She asks. 

“Yes, but I am okay now, why don’t you call your ride?” 

She gently closes the door and I scramble for my pajamas tucked under my pillow. I pull up my boxers and nightshirt and unfurl my body underneath the covers. The air conditioning is at the perfect level and the warmth of my duvet compliments it perfectly. The door slowly creeks open and she comes to me with a glass of water with ice. 

“Do you want to take your hair down?” She asks. 

I completely forgot, the tightness of this will only make my headache worse in the morning. So I tug at the two ponytail holders but struggled and yank at my hair. Her hand rises gently and begins unraveling them to place them on my nightstand.

“Goodnight Abigail.” 

[riordanness]

safe and sound — [w.wonka]

wordcount: 1.2K

warnings: anxiety and depression implied

requested: no

Some days were bad. Some days were unbearable. Today was the absolute hardest and worst of all.

I sit on my bed, legs drawn up to my chest, trying to breathe. My chest feels too tight, too unwilling to allow air through to my lungs. My breaths come in short, painful gasps.

I have panic attacks a little too often, but recently they’ve been getting worse. Almost every night I end up like this, the long day of much-too-hard-work and pretending everything is fine coming to a crumbling heap in my secluded space in the darkness.

Even Noodle doesn’t know, and we tell each other everything. She’s like a little sister to me, being the only one even remotely near my age.

I close my eyes, leaning my head back against the wall. I try to even my breathing, but it’s so, so hard. I know I can’t keep going on like this. I need help, desperately.

I get to my feet, a little unsteady. What if I go and just ask? I’m fairly close to everyone here; surely they’d be willing to help me? Surely Noodle or Piper would be able to help me calm down enough to fall asleep tonight—my biggest struggle at the moment.

Then, suddenly, an idea comes to me. What about Willy?

The young chocolate maker has only been here a few months, but we’re grown fairly close. He tells me stories about all his travels while we work in the washrooms, and in return, I am telling him stories from books; teaching him to read and write.

He is only a year or so older than me, if I’m correct in thinking that my birthday must have passed by now, and that I am now eighteen years old.

If I’m being honest, he’s kind of become my best friend. No offence to Noodle of course, I adore her, but it’s different with Willy. He understands me so naturally, so easily. Every time we talk it flows smoother than the chocolates Willy makes for me to try, and I never run out of things to say.

I subconsciously run my hands through my hair, and brush down my nightgown’s skirts. I gently push open my door, peeking out, and stepping out into the corridor as quietly as I can.

Willy’s door is only three down from mine, so I’m there in no time. I stand outside for a moment, suddenly nervous. But then I softly open it, swinging the door open.

It’s very dark in Willy’s room, just like it is in all the rooms overnight. There’s no reliable lighting at all, so everyone sleeps in total darkness, even Noodle, who I know is scared of the dark. She sleeps with her door open.

Willy doesn’t have a curtain, however, so the nights when the moonlight is good are washed with a little lighting.

I step around the door, gingerly shutting it behind me. I can only see a tiny outline of Willy, sleeping peacefully in his bed. A sliver of moonlight falls on his face, a singular curl on his forehead.

I don’t want to disturb him, but my heart still beats way too fast; and I know his presence and touch will immediately ease my scattered thoughts.

“Willy?” I whisper, almost too quiet to even hear it myself.

But somehow, impossibly, he stirs. He drags himself

to his elbows. “Y/n?” he asks into the dark. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

I’m about to shake my head, but instantly, I feel the hard lump growing in my throat again, and my chest tightening up. I start to cry, and even though it’s silent, Willy is immediately up and at my side, holding my face in both his hands.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he hushes. “It’s okay. It’s okay, sweetheart. Don’t cry, please don’t cry.”

I can’t stop though, and his sweet words only make the tears come faster. It’s like my body is forcing all the worry and anxiety out of me, but the only way to do that is to cry.

I jolt forward and clutch at Willy, hugging him around the middle so tight I’m almost scared I’ll hurt him. His arms hold me just as securely, though. Willy, without me having to say anything, just instinctively stays quiet as he holds me. My face is buried in his white shirt, my tears probably wetting it through, but he doesn’t mention it.

Once my cries slow down to nothing but hiccups, he gently pulls me away just enough to look into my face. “What’s wrong, love?” he asks me again, his tone and words so gentle and caring it almost sends me into tears again.

I shrug helplessly. “I… I just—“

He seems to understand. After all, we are in the same boat. And Willy has this incredible optimism that never leaves him, never runs out. I envy him in that way so much.

“Can I stay with you?” I ask hoarsely. My voice is scratchy from crying.

At first, Willy seems surprised at the question. His eyebrows furrow together and his eyes search mine, probably trying to guess if I’m joking.

“Well, of—of course,” he says, stumbling over his words a little. He backs up, pulling me gently along with him.

He yanks back the thin blanket on his bed, looking nervous. “Uh—“ He glances at me, hesitantly letting my arms go. “Want me to get in first?”

I smile a little. “I don’t mind at all.” I already feel better, Willy’s magic working on me without him even knowing. He’s a miracle worker.

Willy lays down, shuffling towards the wall as best he can. He holds the sheets open for me, and gives me a soft smile.

I crawl into the bed beside him, instinctively curling into his side. He has an arm underneath me, and his other one loops around my waist, pulling me close.

My head tucks under his chin perfectly, and I can hear his heartbeat as I lay there. I hardly dare to breathe, terrified this moment is nothing but a dream.

Willy’s arms tighten suddenly around me. I’ve never felt this safe, this protected, this calm in a long time. It’s like my anxieties and my worries are just melting away, just like Willy’s chocolates.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “Thank you for always being there for me.”

I feel Willy smiling into my hair. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.” He presses a kiss on my head. “Now go to sleep,” he instructs. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

So I close my eyes, and I leave all my fear at the door. I’m just me, just y/n, safe and sound in Willy Wonka’s embrace.

[obislittleone]

Come What May

Episode 4/?

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Padawan!Reader (little one)

Warnings: slight angst, mentions of pregnancy and miscarriage, allusions to smut but no actual smut. canon typical violence, robbery?? idek y'all

A/n: I can't believe I edited this in one sitting but here u go now be fed and I'll probably post another one in two months lol

NINE YEARS LATER…

The sand was relentless, as it always was. Such was the life on Tatooine.

The days, though boring and long, brought a sense of peace and security to you. It was comfortable, and you didn’t have to worry about being chased.

Life with Obi was still blissful, though he’d become a different sort of person than he used to be. He was still yours, and one thing that would never change in his life was his unending love and devotion to you. Over all the bad things, you were still there, and if that was so, his life could never be all bad.

He became grumpy easily, but you often teased him, joking about how old he was truly getting. He’d hate when you pointed it out, because he already felt so much older than he had when the war was going on. Many would argue that it aged him, but truth be told, he was perhaps living the youngest days of his life back then.

You, of course, had continued to mature into the beautiful woman he’d always seen before. You looked different, sure… but all the ways you’d changed, he would think were for the better. He loved how normal you seemed. It was always so much more peaceful, living here. It was mundane and often quiet, but it was peaceful, and far less demanding of your former lifestyle. He had always hoped you could live a simple and sweet life, maybe not on this maker-forsaken planet, but having days that were just the same.

The daily routine was easy, and by now implanted in both of your minds. It was second nature, and hard to mess up even if you tried. The mornings were always slow, as the work hours were different from what you’d once known. After dragging each other from the warm confines of bed, there was a shared silence that would fall over you both as you continued to ready yourselves for each job you had. You had the fat end of the stick, getting to work in the city. You were legally dead across the galaxy, and the empire had no warrant for you in any scanner known to the systems. Especially not in the outer rim.

Obi-Wan had taken up the name Ben, the name he remembers from childhood. He doesn’t know if it was his original name, or if it was the name of his father, but it belonged to him somehow, and he felt it was easy to go by.

An hour was spent riding to anchor-head everyday, in order to clock in for your shift, and for him to catch a speeder to whatever work station they needed him at for the day. Lately he’d been harvesting flying Tibidon sand whales for their meat. He never failed to bring back a sliver of what he cut for your Eopie. It was something he did out of habit by now, but it somehow reminded you of a small thing he used to do for you many years ago.

Back in the age of the Jedi, before the clone wars ever began, Obi-Wan Kenobi had two padawans. One was the chosen one, and though he was often found to be a trouble maker, he was still the favorite among the two. The other was a small girl, not yet grown to her full capabilities. She always had a strong appetite, though, and the meals given to her were never enough to satisfy her growing form. Obi-Wan was quick to notice little things like this, and always saved his portion of Ksharra bread for her to eat after everyone was finished. The smile it brought to her was not soon forgotten…

What a sweet memory, and you almost always thought about it when you were watching him interact with the Eopie. He was gentle to all creatures, even after he became a bit hardened and settled into his new role of life.

After the ride home, there were meals that were shared in a comfortable quiet, and then a discussion of the day. It was definitely a more quaint way to live, but you preferred it to the horrid idea of running for years on end. You always told him how thankful you were to be with him, to have him amidst everything. It was he who you remembered the earliest in your life, being there for you, watching out for everything you faced, and helping you through it. He was still doing that, in a way. Though it were not by the force, he gave advice of work topics, different moody customers that would come in during the day, and even just ideas to help the work day seem faster.

It was only after he left for bed, with you watching the stars rise, that you were able to meditate. To revel in the force and to trust in its ways without anyone stopping you. Not to say that Obi-Wan would stop you, but he perhaps would try and convince you it still was not safe. It was you, however, that kept up your daily strength by meditation, and use of the force without his knowledge.

Though he would never know, your strong uses of the force were the thing that helped him sleep through the night, as he often woke up with nightmares, stirring your slumber as well and making you alert to the bad things his mind conjured. It was mostly Anakin, because how could it not be? He was his Master and his best friend, a true brother and ally. He had to have felt some sort of responsibility for what happened to him, all leading up to his death.

You too felt semblances of guilt, but you dealt with it in other ways. For him, these nightmares were often occurrences, and it was due to you that he got any sleep at all.

He would sometimes sit straight up at a moment’s notice, scaring you awake and realizing what had happened. He would breath fast and loud and not be able to slow it down, not even when you wrapped your arms around him from behind, whispering soothing words like he once did for you in your time of nightly terrors. At first, he was lucky to get back to sleep at all… but the more it happened, he found you being near him helped to calm him back to sleep. He’d cut himself off from the force, he had no use of it anymore. He didn’t know it was because of your old developed ability to take away the bad dreams. You always slept soundly beside him, even before you were together. Whenever he was laid next to you, there was not a dream that could plague your mind for the worse.

There was one night when he woke up, calling his old Master’s name. He sometimes dreamt of the way he died. He felt as though it was also his fault, that he could have prevented the Sith Lord Maul from destroying his only father figure.

It was all you could do, to sit with him, and try and calm his mind… but that night was harder. He had begun counting his failures as if they were stars, making them the only thing in the forefront of his mind, and rejecting anything that wasn’t his detrimental thoughts.

You sat with him until sunrise that day, but once the twin suns were over the dunes of everlasting sand, the day went on as normal. The small moments of grief and self loathing were forgotten.

It happened this way, only sometimes.

Something that brought you both peace on the bad days was going out to the hills and crests outside of the moisture farms specifically that being owned by Owen and Beru Lars. It would never be uttered aloud, for these thoughts brought on more episodes of sadness, but watching a small boy grow up in the sandy plains was always bittersweet. Though Luke wasn't a starpilot, or a jedi knight, or a cunning strategist... he reminded you so much of Anakin. You knew Anakin at this age, and all the years after. Even little gestures Luke sometimes made to his aunt and uncle, would send a pang of guilt through your chest. Anakin should be the one watching his son grow up. You all should be retired somewhere nice, like Naboo, with Padme watching over the twins as Anakin and Obi-Wan once again conversed like the brothers they used to be. Bittersweet, watching Luke learn to tend the farm like his uncle, instead of watching him play with his sister whom he knows nothing about.

Obi-Wan would never admit it either, but it was both healing and detrimental to observe Luke from a distance. He was closer to the boy's father than Owen ever was, and much more deserved the title of uncle... but it was not to be. Obi-Wan was a hunted man, and allowing Luke to be close to him could be dangerous.

Obi-Wan would bow his head sometimes after watching the boy, trying to make sense of how everything in his life could have lead to to this, and what could have possibly gone wrong that the galaxy was this bad. He could not even have a relationship with the son of his dearest friend.

Recently, he had delved into something of an addiction for him, something that was a grounding tool to help him realize he wasn’t going insane in these days of mundane work and internal chaos on this maker-forsaken planet. Others might see it as normal, but he had never been so insatiable before now. He craved one thing, constantly… you.

Whether it be through physical intimacy, or even small touches of your skin, he couldn’t get enough, and it was causing him to form strong habits that would not soon falter. You were of course all too happy to indulge him, as for a long time after you first came to these mountains, there was a block between you. The emotional force bond being broken disrupted many things, and that was one of them. You hoped sincerely that this was not just a rut he found himself in, and that it would only last so long. You’d missed the late nights, shared kisses and times of devotion to one another. He was such a gentle and skilled lover, anyone would have killed to know this side of him, but it was you he chose, again and again.

Though one half of the dyad was not felt in the force, he was still the love of your life, and you’d come to know him in a different way these past years. He was not necessarily a new person, but knowing him without the force, and without your constant ability of silent communication, he did become unfamiliar at times.

Still, he was Obi.

Always, he was Obi… even when everyone else used the name Ben, you would never give up the way you’d called upon him since you were but three years old. In public, he was just Ben Kenobi, who worked out in the dunes of Tatooine for a days wage… but in your eyes he was still the great protector of the republic, the General of the 212th legion, and a Master of the Jedi council. Obi-Wan Kenobi.

-

You were late again.

Not to work.

You didn’t tell Obi of your suspicions, feeling as though there could be a mixed reaction from whatever came of your condition, if you were indeed under the diagnosis you felt you were.

It had been ten years, and you were sure you’d retained internal damage that might prevent this outcome, but of course, the galaxy has seen far more impossible things come to fruition. Anakin’s mother conceived him without a man at all, so with the rate that your husband and yourself were going, it was almost bound to happen.

You left work earlier than usual, and gave an easy excuse to your employer as to why, and he of course was more than happy to oblige. You were a loyal and decent worker, so he never had any reason not to. There was a small clinic in Anchorhead, not as far advanced or technical as the one you were able to go to in Mos Eisley, but good enough that you would find out what you need to know, or what you were certain you already knew.

Being still deeply connected with the force, you were able to tell something was there, just like the first time, although now there was a slight difference that made you question it at first. Obi still had no idea, and how could he? You hadn’t let on to it at all and there wasn’t an ounce of strangeness to your behavior. Throw in the fact that he can no longer sense those kind of things, and you have a completely oblivious husband.

The medical droid who tended to you was outdated, but even with old mechanisms and past due needed upgrades, it deducted your symptoms to a diagnosis rather quickly.

You were eleven weeks pregnant, no doubt about it after some quick testing.

Though you were nervous of what this could mean for you, it was far more of a joy. You never thought this would be possible again, given the circumstances of the last time leaving you with injuries that should have made you completely unable to reproduce.

You were so excited as you went back into work, reeling from the information, and trying to think of ways to tell the father of this child that he was in-fact getting another chance at his dream. It wasn’t how you both had planned. You’d wanted to settle down amongst your friends, on a beautiful planet like Naboo. You had hoped for the freedom of the galaxy to give you the opportunities of a peaceful existence. Instead, you were stuck here, on Tatooine. The ugliest planet in the outer rim and much worse than you remember it from your first visit all those years ago. It was all for a reason, of course. Obi-Wan was a wanted man, in nearly every system there was a bounty on his head, with more than enough hunters out searching for him to bring his body dead or alive to the empire. You, of course, being legally dead and all, could go anywhere you wanted… but without him you saw little point in traveling away.

This child would mend the broken dreams you both had for the future, you were sure of it.

You went back about your work with a gleeful smile adorning your face, being extra friendly to patrons and even giving them a little extra for their buck. You couldn’t help the joy, it was too strong to keep bottled up for later. You were sure, though, it would still remain long into the day, and all the others after.

You’d been cleaning out a glass behind the counter when it happened. A group of robbers from out in Mos Eisley came rushing in, holding everyone at blaster point and shouting for them to get down. You grabbed a knife from the nearby drawer, trying to strategize through the force how to deescalate the situation without hurting anyone. Your skills were just the slightest bit rusty, even though you practiced whenever you got the chance. A knife wasn’t exactly your weapon of choice.

The leader of the group stepped forward to the owner of the bar, and told him to empty the credit holds into his sack, but the owner hesitated, turning your way as if asking what he should do. You started taking quick steps towards him, pushing him out of the line of the blaster before it could go off. You waited for them to start shooting, but instead heard the ignition of a lightsaber. Or at least, it sounded a hell of a lot like one.

You jumped to your feet, watching over the counter as the scene played out. There was a man, around your age, wielding a lightsaber to defeat the robbers. They all went down pretty quickly, except one whom the man didn’t see behind him. You called for him to watch out, but he didn’t have enough time to react, so you raised your hand, focusing all your force energy on throwing the last enemy to the wall before he hit the ground.

He turned to you, eyes wide and saber still ignited.

“Did you just-?” He narrowed his eyes in your direction, and something seemed to click in his head.

Nobody else had seen you do that, but him seeing it was enough.

The bar rang with cheers and clapping in applause for the Jedi, who had saved the people in the establishment from being harmed by the robbery. They all commended him, and you had half a mind to forget it ever happened, just go back to work, but the man was keen on speaking with you. Even after the owner, and your boss, had spent a rather long time thanking him and offering him solace in the place, he wouldn’t be done until he’d had a word.

You were mixing up celebratory drinks for a few patrons when he finally was able to corner you, standing over the bar and keeping his voice down.

“I know who you are,” he said softly, as if trying not to spook you away. Most Jedi were like rare animals nowadays. Almost extinct, and completely vulnerable to sudden attack.

You set the glasses onto a tray and made eye contact with him for a single second, sending a glare his way before you went out to the tables and served the drinks around. He stayed and waited at the bar, and when you came back he sighed out.

“I know this must be hard, but I haven’t seen another Jedi in so long,” he rambled, all under the guise of a whisper, of course. You wouldn’t lie, as much as you feared the empire for everything it has taken from you, it was almost a breath of fresh air to see there were others, who hadn’t been stomped out by their evil yet.

“I was never a Jedi,” you said, but ultimately, you knew, no matter what you said, he knew who you were. As strange as it sounds, being the padawan of a famous Jedi came with some sort of notoriety. “You’ve got the wrong person.”

“I know that it’s you, because you’re supposed to be dead,” he had seen your name on the list of the deceased Jedi, along with his own name on the list of hunted ones.

“I am dead.”

He isn’t sure what he was expecting you to say, maybe that you’d been like him, hiding for the last ten years and hoping that there would come a time when Jedi could arise again. But that wasn’t realistic. As long as the empire held rule over the galaxy, there could never be peace and freedom. Not for your kind, anyway.

“And I’m not coming back,” you added ominously, cleaning out the glasses that had just been set on the counter for you to deal with.

He stayed silent a few moments, but didn’t leave. Even if you didn’t speak to him, you understood why he lingered. The only Jedi you have in your life anymore is Obi-Wan, but he’s cut himself off from the force. There is no familiarity of what was. This man is probably on his own, and has been all this time. He craves the sense of normalcy your presence is probably bringing right now. Perhaps you crave it too, and maybe it’s the reason you don’t shoo him away.

“He’s here too, isn’t he?” He asked after a while.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” you weren’t doing yourself any favors in gaslighting this poor man, but you’d built yourself a wall of protection, and it wasn’t going to come down so easily.

“You were inseparable,” he recalls, and he knows you understand him, and that you’re just being standoff-ish. “I always wished to have that relationship with my Master.”

“Believe me, the relationship was far different from what everyone assumed it to be,” You let out sarcastically, finally being able to let your guard down a bit, but only enough that you could interact with him in a way that wasn’t stingy. You’d keep all current details hidden. He wanted to rehash the past? Fine, you could give him that.

“What it ended up as isn’t any of my business, but from what I could tell, the laws of attachment didn’t exactly apply.”

You huffed out a breath, followed by a drawn out ‘Nope.’

You thoughts shifted a bit, to just how poorly you followed the rules. You’re carrying the man’s child for force’s sake. You were never much one for the laws of attachment.

The man before you had a dumbfounded face on, and you mentally slapped yourself. You hadn’t been guarding your thoughts. You haven’t had to in so long and before you realized you needed you, it all just slipped into the open air.

“I’m sorry,” he uttered, bowing his head as if he’d been the one to provoke you. In actuality, you’d pretty much offered it all up freely for him to take, and you didn’t even know what to do about it.

“Don’t be, it’s my fault… it’s just-“

“Been a long time?” He guessed, and you nodded in agreement. “I understand.”

And now a complete stranger knew some very personal things. Perhaps he wasn’t stranger, though. He knew you, and Obi-Wan, and remembered the order from its glory days. You both had a sense of shared trauma that somehow bonded you without ever speaking a word to each other before.

“How did you recognize me?” You asked him after another bout of silence. You were drying off the dishes, and figured that as long as he was here, you would make the most of it. This clearly wasn’t an everyday occurrence. “I’m almost certain I’ve never met you up close before.”

He smiled, nodding to your hair, swept back into a style you’d become fond of lately. “Never met you, but I’d seen you around. You were rather well known among the order.”

“Guess those are the perks of being his padawan, huh?” You’d echoed your thoughts from earlier, and he chuckled.

“He was the person that everyone wanted to be. Not just a great Jedi, but a good man.”

Of course. You knew that better than anyone. He cared so deeply about everything he set his hand to. He was kind and gentle, though sometimes sarcastic and witty, but that too made him more likable in your eyes.

“He’s not changed in that aspect,” you let him know, and he took it as motive to tease you.

“I knew he’d be here,” he returned, and you looked up and laughed a bit. He’d caught you there. “He’d never left your side.”

You didn’t respond, just let that statement sink in. You guessed that many more Jedi in the order had perceived your relationship for what it really was, but never said anything. Maybe they were rooting for you, or maybe you gave them hope. It was all up for interpretation, but the one thing you could never deny was the realness in it. He’s never left your side, and he never will. Of that, you can be absolutely sure and certain.

When it was time to close up the bar that night, you’d left before the owner, making sure he was alright after the fiasco of the day. You passed your new and unlikely friend the Jedi on the way out as well, giving a simple nod that spoke more than just words. You knew he needed to talk with you, and as much as you will neglect to admit it, you needed to talk to him, too.

You found yourself at the stables before sundown, meeting with Obi by your shared Eopie, ready to go home.

You figured that the bundle of joy news could wait until things were a bit more settled. You didn’t know how the scene of today would go in the long run, or if imperials had been alerted, but you wanted to know about all of that before trying to make future plans for the child you were carrying.

He saw you enter the sectional, and smiled to you with that adoring look in his eye, the one that never faded.

“You won’t believe what happened today.”

-

Tags: @cool-h-posts @honestlywtfisgoingon @fandomstanner24 @elvenrin @b0xerdancer @theatrelove3000 @graciexmarvel @heyitsaloy @1deadpool26 @justanothersadperson93 @zanzann @the-nerd-dimension @spencerrxids @sawendel @fandomstanner24 @i-shall-abide @officialjellydoughnut @whatshxrname @darkened-writer @superavengerpotter @cutiepoo16 @hypnoash @softlymellow @howlerwolfmax @mephistominion @honestlywtfisgoingon @anakinskywalkerog @mandiiellen @je--a-n @guyinachair27 @avenger5-a55emble @amelia-song-pond @kaminanii @the-abyss-of-fandoms @queenofnightdreamland @world-dominating-kitty @mandowhatnow @ella-error505 @annahalo @infinity-witch @beetlejuice-stuff @liueski @solarbxby @sirianisrock @lxdyred @endless-warrior-always-fighter @iloveinej @msjb2002 @shoochi @itsilvermorny @gingerrosecosplay @sebschicken @loversjoy @argentinemango @1-800-vader @house-of-kolchek @marierg @graciexmarvel @ttzamara @truly-madly-nerdy @molieux @majahu @dyzlks @pancakefancake

[alanaartdream]

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A post shared by Alana Felicity Bochmann (@alanaartdream)

I’m loving @cubbihue and @jessadamsdraws fairly odd parents AUs Itty Bitties and top Deal au

So for one was trying to figure out how to draw lawyer Timmy Turner with Hazel Wanda Cosmo and Peru and the other trying to draw my Fairly odd parents fairy oc

Ok Cubbihue’s Itty Bitties au remind me of my old Fairy oc I came up with for an old fop fanfic I use to love back in the day but it never finished where Timmy becomes a fairy and gets adopted by wonda and Cosmo and joins their family along with poof (peri)

My fairy was a fairy Teenager at the time of that old story idea I had of her being as Fairies take a REAL long and slow time to age/ grow up being as they don’t die of old age thus they don’t always have the need for children to keep family lines going all that often/ much

Now my

Mum is from Germany so while I was born in Australia 🇦🇺 (and grew up in Australia and live here) she would tell me about the rather darker fairytales and stories about the fae (fairies; elves; pixies and the like) and when it came to tales about Chanlings not many ended well; only remember one book I came across where a special cat saved a child from the fae and managed to bring her back to her loving parents while helping fae & that human family to become friends everyone including the fae got a good ending in that story (it’s been so long from reading that story forgotten it’s name but I remember it was names after that cat) otherwise most times when changling children are involved the parents never get their own child back and after changling has grown a bit in place of the original child they would then run away to the forest or just disappear one night never to be seen again and on top of that the original child never comes back at all (( heck in some cultures if they believe the child had been changed with a changling they’d just dump that child out into the woods to die for fear of raising some unknown creature))

So I believe my fairy oc was created century before Timmy was last human child to be taken to become a fairy from time when England was sending convicts to Australia and my character Felicity was a child who lost her parents and had grabbed a (kinda stale) bread in act of hunger and was sent as a convict to work as helper on farm out in Australia to repent for grabbing that bread witch is when she’d gotten Jorgen’s Nana Boom boom as her fairy godmother who had treated her with far better kindness than the human adults in her life so wished to become a fairy and Nana Boom boom took her in as her last child to raise (she had raised Jorgen before her) and her help her deal with the painful changes of changing into a permanent fairy and then dealing with powers she was getting she’s made these pies for her to explode and practice her magic on before enrolling her into magic school

Her anti fairy didn’t start to show up until her changling replacement had done it’s job and her anti fairy was born out of a dark thorny flower in front of Nana boom boom’s anti fairy screaming

Now if she’s in itty bitties au my fairy oc she’s older than Timmy fairy and she’s got a lot of slivers white hair to match with nana boom boom’s white hair (even her tail has a few white hairs) if she’s in the Fop deal Au she’ll have her brown hair and brown eyes) most of the other fairies 🧚 in fairy-world know she’s the fairy for arts and fairy who helps with the cat service of helping cats find their forever homes/ humans who will forever care for them kinda deal (she wasn’t allowed to go to earth until her changling had done it’s job (witch it did)

But many didn’t know until Timmy (with help from Hazel) discovers that she’s also the record keeping fairy and sometimes helps Father Time witch is how she helps keep records of what really happens (she keeps nots and does drawings of a lot different events for safe keeping for fairy world )

She will not stop other human children from

Becoming a true fairy but doe advice against saying it’s most painful experience of changing into a permanent fairy and how she almost went mad from going through that change but remembering how caring mama Boom boom (Jorgen calls her nana Felicity calls her mama boom boom; Jorgen’s cousin Jorgie being as he’s older than her (Wanda and Cosmo are older than her too only Timmy and Peri (poof) are younger than her; she sometimes says peri (fairy Timmy if in au where Timmy becomes a fairy) came into the world because before they came people always were treating her as a kid until they came about

But if it’s in itty bitties au Fairy Felicity would agree with Timmy that it shouldn’t be so easy to change human children into fairies because thanks to Father Time she’s seen when things didn’t go right with changlings

Now Fairy Felicity helps inspire artists and Writers with their stories if they’re hitting a roadblock or need some inspiration for their artwork/ writing while her Anti Fairy loves to make writers And Artist suffer Artist blocks/ writers block or burn out; her anti fairy hates curly hair and will try to straighten it out while fairy Felicity loves them and art so her curly hair goes a little wild and always has a pencil/ paintbrush in it with a cat hair clip next to it (she also has a cat pin on her top and bits of paint or ink on her clothes)

Fairy felicity has a more old times Australian accent while her anti fairy has a British accent like anti cosmo has; now being as it was Foop ( Irep) started the anti fairy having backwards version name to their fairy counterpart

… sorry had to type all that out for you all before I post the drawings out because the videos where I talk about her are on instagram and TikTok and I wanted tumblr to know her lore as well

Fairy Felicity didn’t meet Timmy before but has a lot of records about all the times he’s saved fairy world and some from when he’s save the universe thanks to working part time with Father Time

[faefictions]

That Laugh | 2

Eddie Munson x Reader

Request: Hey, could I request an eddie munson x reader where she falls over and hits her head a little and he's just so sweet and protective 

1.7k Words

If you haven’t read the first part of That Laugh, you can find it in my master list, but it isn’t exactly necessary to read it before this one!

You knew what was going to happen the second you heard the sound of your head hitting the pavement. 

It hadn’t been anyone’s fault, not deliberately at least as far as you were aware. You barely knew anyone around you, but you knew what you were getting into coming to a Harrington party. Steve had fallen from grace back when Billy Hargrove had come to town, but no one around here was going to turn down a social outing with free booze. You didn’t blame them either. 

You had found out about the Upside Down before Billy had died, well before Eddie had been roped into all the bullshit. Far before the rest of the town had been shown even just a sliver of what your friends had been involved in for years, at far too young an age. 

After everything that had happened, what Vecna had put you through, put your friends through, put Eddie through, you understood that everyone had their own ways of coping. Unfortunately, yours was falling right in with the rest of the people your age; drinking until you stopped thinking about the atrocities you witnessed. Eddie, on the other hand, had volunteered to stay sober any time you needed to go out like this. He felt like he owed you a night to forget about what he had put you through. He had died, right in your arms, before you could tell him how you felt, only to come back from the dead just as you had convinced yourself you had lost your mind. 

You were still learning to accept that he was really alive, half a year after his return. You were still waking up from nightmares, holding in a scream that was inevitably let out when you felt a body next to you in bed. Six months should have been enough for you to accept that he was back, that the body in your bed was alive and not a cruel trick. But, if six months had really been enough, perhaps you wouldn’t have been so drunk tonight. 

You had been next to the pool. You told Eddie you needed a moment to yourself. Even this drunk, you could feel the panic attack creeping up on you, like Vecna’s claw had hold of your lungs, just barely digging in. 

It wasn’t unusual for you to ask Eddie to leave you alone for some time, just for you to ground yourself in reality. The unfortunate part of his death and revival, was that he had a hard time calming you. You found it hard to convince yourself anything was real when you remembered him dying in your arms, yet here he was, holding you and asking you to breathe. It was easier to have a moment to yourself. 

The only place for you to catch your breath was on a lounge chair by Steve’s pool, the only part of the property that he actively tried to keep people away from. Usually, he was hypervigilant about people going out the back door, but apparently tonight was your unlucky night. Not only were you able to make it out there, so were a crowd of rowdy teens. They were younger than you, but older than the kids that Steve usually spent his time with. You didn’t know any of them, nor did you care to. 

The second you caught your breath, you tried to stand to make your way back inside to find Eddie, but the dizziness struck you instantly. This had come with the territory lately. Not eating or sleeping enough mixed with drinking and smoking a bit too much hadn’t been what your therapist had recommended, but you had stopped seeing her when you realized you couldn’t really tell her anything anyway. 

You took a second to let your head level out, and decided it was time to let Eddie take you home. You knew he wouldn’t complain that you hadn’t been there long, he never wanted to come out in the first place. You had started to wish that you had told him where you were going before you came outside, because there was no way he was going to assume you had broken Steve’s one and only rule. But you were proven wrong when you turned to look at the sound of the back door opening again. 

Eddie was standing there with a disapproving scowl and an obviously stressed Steve standing behind him. As he took a step towards you, you decided to stand and meet him halfway. You weren’t expecting to still be so dizzy, but you had expected the boy standing behind you even less. He hadn’t been expecting you either. 

You didn’t realize how close you were to the edge of the empty pool, but you learned your proximity as you were bumped over that ledge and into the shallow end of the pool. 

You weren’t sure if it was better or worse that the pool had remained drained after Barb. You barely knew how to swim, and you wouldn’t have stood a chance with this amount of alcohol in your system. But the crack that your head reverberated when it made contact with the ground was argument enough for the opposition. Before you could open your eyes again, Eddie was kneeling next to you checking the ground for blood just in case. There was nothing, but he still wouldn’t let you move. 

You could hear Steve tearing those teens a new one, not only for knocking you over, but for being out there in the first place. You heard their cowardly apologies, their receding footsteps, and the shutting back door before you saw Steve looking down over the edge at you. 

“Is she ok?” he asked Eddie, and the fear in his voice was nearly enough to make you cry. 

Eddie didn’t reply to Steve, you weren’t sure he even heard him. Instead, he focused all of his attention on you. 

“I want to check the back of your head baby, can you turn it for me?”

“I can sit up, Eds,” you rolled your eyes, but he prevented you from moving your arms. 

“Not on my watch. Not yet. Work with me here, or I swear to god…”

You wanted to fight him, but you thought better of it. With Steve watching, you wanted to do anything you could to speed this up and get you all back inside. You cooperated and turned your head for Eddie, and he checked to make sure you didn’t split anything open. Luckily, your arm had taken the brunt of the fall and had possibly saved you from a concussion or worse. 

“See, I’m fine Eds,” you smiled up at him, and then to Steve, but Steve was the only one to return it. 

Eddie appeared to be seething with anger, and for a second you thought it was with you, until he gingerly pulled you into a tight hug. 

“I’m gonna fucking kill that asshole,” he nearly whispered in your ear. 

“What? What asshole?,” you pulled back to look at him, “You mean the kid I bumped into? This wasn’t his fault Eds. So I would appreciate it if he stayed alive.” 

“He could have killed you.”

That was when you recognized the look in Eddie’s eyes. This wasn’t just anger, it was residual fear. He had seen you go over that edge, heard a loud crack, and assumed the worst. 

You nearly giggled at the thought. He gets torn apart by bats in front of you, but he thought you were going to be taken out by a bonk to the head. 

“Eddie,” You reached out and grabbed his head in both hands and brought his forehead to yours. This was the exact position he would force you into when you would wake up screaming for the first few months. He never forced you to open your eyes, you always preferred to keep them closed when he was that close in the dark, lest your eyes play tricks on you and show you his dead eyes. 

“I am fine Eddie. I’m safe, I’m alive, and I’m right here.” you repeated the mantra he had chanted to you each of those nights. Then you took his hand, just as he had done to you, and put it right over your heart. 

You had felt his stop, so feeling it beat was the closest thing to reassurance that he could give you. You could only assume it would have the same effect on him, even without the trauma of feeling yours cease. 

After a couple deep breaths, you looked up to see Steve still standing at the edge of the pool. He was avoiding looking directly at the two of you, but you knew he wasn’t going to let either of you out of his sight out there. 

“Hey Eddie,” you whispered, and he slowly lifted his chin to look at you again, “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he smiled back at you. 

“Good, now do you think we can get out of here and get Steve back inside?” 

“Yeah, yeah of course. Sorry, I just…” he paused a second after he looked over his shoulder at Steve, but quickly turned back around and pulled you in for a desperate kiss. 

You were the one to pull away for a breath, but Eddie quickly spoke up. 

“I know I am never going to understand what you went through last spring, nor do I want to. But… you gotta promise me you’ll keep it that way. I thought I lost you there for a second, and I can’t… I don’t-”

“I promise. You’re not getting rid of me that easily, asshole.” 

You kissed him one last time before he took your hand and carefully guided you up the steps of the pool. 

“Sorry, I know you don’t like people out here,” you began to apologize to Steve as the two of you approached, but he cut you off with a big hug. You had put both of them through something terrible that night, but there was nothing you could say to apologize properly. 

“Let’s get inside,” Steve nearly choked over his words as he guided the two of you inside, making sure to take up the rear to ensure everyone made it inside safe.

Tags: @eddielives1986 @eddieswifu @chickpeadumpsterfire @fluffybunnyu @panagiasikelia @justanotherpasserby @embrace-themagic @fanficparker  @heartbeats-wildly @saturn-aka-six @calum-hoodwinked-me @peterplanet @mischiefmanaged49 @nicotine-sunshine820 @itsjusttor @emistrash @thenoddingbunny-blog @sovereignparker @raajali3

[applesjuice]

By that, I meant what was his life, how did he come to be in a human family, if he goes to school, etc etc...

Oooh ok! So in my version of the AU ogerpon stuck around the mask maker's family for generations, just to check in. He was too scared to go into the town and luckily their house was on the outskirts. The older members of the family had a bit of an idea he was there so they'd leave little offerings like toys and treats out for him to take.

Putting under a cut since it got super long again...

It wasnt until the current generation of the family that he really got involved and that was because of Carmine. It has been ages since the family had a kid there. The younger family members tended to move away and then come back when they were older. But Carmine's parents passed away and her grandparents were the only ones willing to take her in. She was really young when this happened and tended to get into a lot of trouble.

So Ogerpon and Carmine had a bit of a Totoro situation going on initially. As she got older she kind of "outgrew" her imaginary friend ogerpon and her grandparents just knew that hurt the ogre. They actually approached ogerpon themselves one day, hiked up to his den and everything, and explained about how the Teal Mask worked, and how they could tweek it a bit to offer one wish. It was a comet sliver similar to what was found in the crystal pool. Their family had been holding onto it for generarions specifically for ogerpon, and they thought maybe now their relationship was good enough he'd accept it.

So ogerpon did and wished to be a human so he could have a family and people who loved him and wouldnt forget or leave him. And now suddenly there's a little boy who looks like them, no way they're not bringing him home. Only thing is ogerpon is a pokemon and doesnt know how to human, so for a while he won't go inside their house and would hide under the porch and need to be hosed down for bathtime.

Carmine obviously had questions but luckily she didnt know where babies came from so they told her thats your little brother he grew from a peach and she's like "sounds legit." There werent any other kids her age in town at the time so she genuinely thought Kieran was weird but he is a boy and boys are weird so him living under the porch for a few months is normal.

Eventually ogerpon grows into being the human named Kieran, gets domesticated lol, and is very happy. But also terrified of anyone finding out he's a pokemon, let alone the ogre. He has issues around crowds, new people, and doesnt really get social cues but he's trying. Him and Carmine are homeschooled because they are in the middle of nowhere, but Carmine loves pokemon and battling and works her butt off to get into BB academy. So she goes off and leaves Kieran behind.

So Kieran comes to the decision he wants to go to human school too. He like, needs Carmine, in that she is his buffer against the world. But also he heard how Carmine fought with their grandparents about wanting go to school, experience the world etc. And even though all he really wants is to belong somewhere, he is very curious about human school.

Only this human school is focused on battle. Kieran has never been in a pokemon battle but ogerpon sure has. And honestly ogerpon doesnt mind battling, he's a pokemon, it's how they communicate and settle arguements. Thing is "humans" can't battle eachother apparently that is illegal so he goes out and asks his besties if they want to go to human school with him as their trainer. (So Furret, Yanma and Applin) they think the idea is hilarious because pokemon dont direct other pokemon in battles. Lets go mess with everyone in human school lol.

So my Kieranpon battles. It's more rare since he is afraid of outing hiself by accidentally boosting his team's stats in excitement. That has happened before. And guess what they get in. Carmine is shook because wtf Kiki you don't battle?? Yes he does you just never asked.

BB Academy is incredibly overwhelming and Kieran becomes a wallflower almost instantly because it is taking so much out of him to adjust. But the Terrarium is fantastic, he loves it. He gets a bit of a reputation as a pokemom whisperer but its kind of more the campus meme no one really takes seriously. But they should because you should hear half of the shit these pokemon tell him about their trainers. He knows all the gossip. Everyone should be glad he writes like a toddler because Kieranpon's burn book would be devastating.

Teal Mask DLC would go pretty similarly, except Kieran's upset about the ogre is an old frustration at Carmine for not believing him, and as a result believing IN him (ogerpon). I'll use Juliana as the protagonist here though it wouldn't change if it's Florian. But his downward spiral is because of Carmine immediately believing their grandfather when he says ogerpon is good but not him even though he's been trying to convince her for years! And then she's trying to be all nice to the ogre but is going out of her way to leave him out, and so his his new friend wtf? It hurts to be purposefully left out of something, it really does.

So Kieran's downward spiral is more about Carmine not trusting him, coming to terms with how she doesnt remember how close they were when she was young because she adored the ogre so much then. And his overall upset that despite trying so hard to be a human its not enough because he became a whope person for her, so she wouldnt be lonely, and she's moved on from him, keeps trying to leave him behind, and won't meet him at where he's trying to come from. So yea Carmine discovers her brother is a pokemon after they get back ogerpon's masks. cue the drama.

She's mad, kieran's mad and very upset, their grandparents are trying to mediate. But once again kieran is a pokemon and pokemon don't talk to sort out their issues they battle. Ogerpon wiped the floor with Carmine's pokemon becauae they are still underestimating him (also he's like...a pseudo legendary?? Girl) So juliana steps in and she gets it. They battle, she's everything he wishes he could be as a person, she's everything he's not but through their battle he understands her fears, her flaws, how much she's struggled and finally someone gets where he is coming from. She beats him and kieran offers to let her catch him. Carmine is upset because wtf that is still her brother you can't take him so then she challenges Juliana to keep ogerpon.

Their fight is more Juliana trying to get through to Carmine that catching ogerpon isnt about ownership but more of a symbolic gesture that ogerpon (kieran) is ready to be loved, to be tamed. Juliana wins, catches ogerpon with a friendship ball, and gives it to Carmine.

Like she said catching a pokemon isnt always about posession or ownership. It's a connection between a person and pokemon. Her and kieran may have a connection but that doesn't mean ogerpon (kieran) is now hers.

Indigo Disk there is some drama but it's more Kieran needing to prove he can protect himself (he lost to Juliana she was a strong trainer and he wouldn't mind being a partner to her) but kieranpon here is working through some ptsd after the Loyal Three came back to life and stole his masks. So it's Carmine and his team trying to help him cope and stop being so self destructive. He's snappy but not cocky, more like zero patience because he's so exhausted from lack of sleep and constantly being terrified. More than once he'd accidentally stepped onto the court sending "himself" out to battle and other league members are like "this kid is wild kieran is nuts he tried to throw down with my slowbro"

Indigo Disk is the we face our trauma dlc. BB elite four eventually find out, not from Carmine or Juliana thet are very tight lipped about Kieran's secret. Not too sure atm how they find out but they do. Kieran needs more human friends who accept both sides of him.

Not sure about ships yet. I like kieran with the mc but not too sure on my feelings of shipping a pokemon with a human. Maybe him and Juliana would have a queerplatonic relationship going on? But no ships for now.

Also post indigo disk kieran loves Juliana's paladea friends. He think Nemona is stupidly cool she's literally a shonen protagonist he's kind of obsessed. Arven is secretly his favorite person in the world because Arven feeds him. Him and Penny have this oh thank god another introvert thing going on where they both like sitting in the dark and fluffy things.

[kakyoinscheryblush]

Shot by the arrow [Joseph Joestar x reader]

Summary: Robin Hood, or also known by his real name, Joseph Joestar, was a well known name across all of Nottingham as he stole from the rich and gave to the poor with the help of his group.

On the other side, Y/n was a princess from another town that ran away from her castle after her family announced the arranged marriage between her and the upcoming king of Nottingham, prince John.

After meeting each other after an incident in the forest, Joseph lets Y/n join their group and join them on many journeys to help the ones in need.

But will Y/n manage to escape her fate and live the life she wants or will prince John manage to catch her and marry her and steal her from Joseph?

This work is originally posted on Ao3 on my profile @Tena_HH

MASTERLIST <<

Next chapter...

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Chapter one, Runaway princess

Once upon a time, there were two towns, Nottingham and Wayfield. The two towns thrived by  having plenty of wealth, and had been able to keep their peace for years due to the constant trade of goods from the neighboring towns and most importantly, taxing the poor. 

For the townsfolk it was devastating that every time the town guards went to collect the taxes they raised the price which many people couldn't afford so they were imprisoned.  

They didn't deserve to live such harsh lives.  But they never stopped trying. If they weren't going to sell their things to the town then they were going to rob the town’s storehouses or shops at least, and if that wasn't possible they would try to steal food and money.

That's where our hero comes into the story, Robin Hood. He was the hero who stole from the rich and gave to the poor. He was the last sliver of hope for the people of Nottingham. 

He was kind and compassionate. One of the best men of the age, he was admired all across Nottingham and Wayfield. He knew that people were struggling because of taxes while the rich only saw themselves getting richer everyday. So with great courage, he and his group decided that they had to help those in need of his help.

The people of Wayfield unfortunately only heard the stories of the legendary Robin Hood and his Merry Men, but they themselves had a little less known hero who always wore a dark cloak and appeared only at night. And it was none other than princess Y/n herself. 

Albeit she couldn't steal as swiftly as the Robin Hood and his Merry Men, she tried to help in other ways. She offered to take any of the poor in her village who needed food and shelter. 

She even asked that they not tell anyone about this because she didn't want any problems with the royal family, her family. But it seemed like everyone wanted to talk about her since rumors spread through the whole kingdom soon enough.

—-----------------

As Y/n snuck back into her room through the window in the early morning hours she took off her cloak and tossed it onto her bed she turned around and was met with a familiar figure. It was her lady-in-waiting, Lady Priscilla. 

"Back from your heroic duties, your Royal Highness?" the older lady asked unbothered as she walked to Y/n's closet and started to take out many dresses from it. 

Y/n sighed, Lady Priscilla was the only person who knew her secret and while she tried to talk her out of it, Y/n knew she wouldn't stop. 

"Yes, and it was quite successful I might say." Y/n said with a proud smile and Lady Priscilla only chuckled, "I still cannot believe to risk your life to help those commoners." she said and Y/n looked at her with confusion. 

"But they have nobody! Nottingham has Robin Hood and his Merry Men but who do our people have? Nobody." Y/n said and Lady Priscilla looked at her sadly.

"You've done far more than enough for our citizens, I know, it's just… What will happen when your family finds out? You know what they think of that Robin Hood...". Y/n frowned, "It will be fine Lady Priscilla. I can take care of myself! Besides, my identity is covered." She assured and Lady Priscilla nodded. 

She then walked towards Y/n and as she was about to hand her a f/c gown she wrinkled her nose.

"You smell like horse and sweat, Your Royal Highness. Now go take a bath that I've prepared for you and get dressed, you have to look presentable for your trip to Nottingham for the week." she commented as she licked her thumb and wiped off a streak of mud from Y/n's cheek.

Y/n smiled awkwardly at Lady Priscilla and proceeded to take the dress and rush to the bathroom down the hallway and saw the bathtub filled with water. She cleaned herself up and washed her hair and dried it up with a cloth as she got dressed in the f/c dress Lady Priscilla. 

She put on some shoes and walked to her room where Lady Priscilla was waiting for her to do her hair and make up. As Y/n sat down the table started to do her hair. 

"Are you excited to spend the week in Prince John's palace in Nottingham and watch the jousting tournament my princess?" Lady Priscilla asked the h/c haired young woman as she sighed. 

"Am I excited to spend time and watch Prince John win the tournament for the hundredth time? I do not think so." Y/n retorted and Lady Priscilla only laughed, "You know that Nottingham has skilled sportsmen my princess. Besides, he only wants to impress you." the older lady said as she finished styling Y/n's hair. 

"Well he can go and impress other maidens across all of England for all I care." Y/n said, which made Lady Priscilla sigh, "Oh, that stubborn mind of yours, my princess..." the lady whispered as she distanced herself to look at Y/n's finished hair and smiled. 

"You are good to go, my princess. Your family is waiting for you and your bags have been packed for the trip in the carriage." Lady Priscilla said and Y/n nodded and stood up. 

"Yes Ma'am and thank you." she said as she made her way downstairs and was greeted by the royal staff who were carrying her bags outside into her family's carriage. 

"Y/n dear! You look absolutely beautiful!" Y/n's mother walked to her and hugged her. "Thank you mother, you too." Y/n smiled as she let go of her mother. 

"Your father is probably the most excited one out of all of us." M/n laughed as she walked to the carriage and started to talk to maids. Y/n stood to the side and observed the huge yard of her family's castle where maids and servants were running around. 

"Oh! And how could I forget! We're not going to be going by carriage, that will be completely filled with our stuff and we will be traveling right besides with our horses." M/n said to Y/n who smiled. 

She will see her trusted stallion! As if she hadn't seen him just this night as she was helping people around the town with him. 

And just as M/n finished her sentence loud neighing could be heard from the stables. Y/n turned her head to the side and saw her horse running towards her. He stopped and brought his head to Y/n, wanting her to pet him. She laughed and patted the stallion on his white fur and mane. 

"Hello Ruben, ready for the trip to Nottingham?" Y/n asked her hose and he shook his head and neighed, 'Yeah... I don't like it either...' Y/n thought. After a few moments, her father came rushing out of the stable on his horse and her mothers horse ran beside him. 

"Ah! F/n dear! Thank you for bringing my horse to me." M/n thanked her husband who only laughed. 

"No need for thank you my love, we must start our trip to Nottingham as soon as possible!" F/n exclaimed and Y/n sighed as her and her mother climbed on their horses. 

They started to walk out the gates on their horses and the horse led carriage with guards on their horses followed closely. It may seem that Nottingham was far away but it was much closer than it looked. 

—---------------

Once they arrived in Nottingham, Y/n felt extremely uncomfortable as she watched the state of the town. The people  were dirty and there was dust everywhere. 

She felt bad for the people here who did nothing, just waiting for something better to come. She hated to leave these people behind in order to follow the orders of someone who doesn't care what happens to them. Y/n wished she could just give it all up, but she knew there is no place for royalty here.

The people watched them with disdain but her parents and guards did not pay them any mind. 

"Ah, I missed this place..." F/n said as he looked at the ginormous castle which was extremely well kept, unlike the rest of the huge town. Once they reached the castle, it was only the wide river that separated them from entering. 

The guards that were standing on the towers of the castle signaled the guards who were down to to lower the ramp and after a few moments the ramp lowered allowing them inside.

They entered the luscious open court and were greeted by prince John and his father and mother. 

"Ah! The L/n's! As people say, sugar comes last." King Arthur laughed as F/n, M/n and Y/n came down their horses and the servants took them out to the stable. 

Both parents laughed and hugged each other, "Y/n dear! You have grown so much since I have last seen you! We have missed you greatly, especially John." Queen Eleanor, Prince John's mother, exclaimed as she went to hug Y/n who laughed at the last part of the sentence. 

'Of course he did...' she taught as she released the hug and Queen Eleanor walked to her husband and Y/n's parents and they continued to walk down the court. 

Prince John walked to Y/n after a few moments of silence and grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it, "Pleasure to see you after all this time my princess." he said as he straightened his posture and fixed his dirty blonde hair. 

Y/n vaguely smiled, "Of course my prince." she said dryly and Prince John laughed as they started to walk down the court. 

"Ah, I missed our banters so much, you have no idea. I still can't believe almost all of the noblemen and women came here to watch today's jousting tournament." Prince John said and Y/n chuckled, "Me too, John. It is not like it will be you who wins it again." she commented and Prince John smiled. 

"What can I say, Y/n? You can't blame me for being the best." John said as he striated to the doors and stopped. 

"I wish we could talk more but I only have ten minutes until the tournament starts and I and my horse have to get armored up." he said as he opened the doors which led to the main viewing area of the open field where hers and John's family was sitting with an empty seat for her. 

"Do not forget to cheer for me, my princess!" Prince John winked as he once again grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it and before Y/n could say anything he rushed to the other side to get suited up and grab his horse. 

Y/n walked onto the wooden viewing area and sat between her mother and father and as she sat she set her elbow onto the arm rest and placed her chin on the palm of her hand and sighed. 

She observed the full benches of people who were anxiously waiting for the first day of the tournament to start. King Arthur saw that it was a good moment to stand up and motion for the sea of noblemen and women to quiet down. 

"Welcome everyone and welcome to the first day of the tournament!" the king exclaimed, causing the crowd to burst into applause.

After some time the whole hall fell quiet again as the announcer called on the contestants to get ready. "Alright, ladies and gentlemen! Let the match begin!" A loud roar erupted through the crowd as they cheered and clapped. Everyone waited for the competitors to enter the field. 

Soon enough a group of men walked out from a tunnel. They wore the same armor with different colored details so the crowd could tell them apart. There were 20 of them and each had a horse by his side. 

Then all of a sudden a man walked up with a scroll in his hand and motioned for the knights to stand in one line and wait for him to speak. 

"My name is Count Regan  and I shall be announcing our 20 contestants!" Regan shouted as he walked up to the line of knights and read the scroll, "The first one is Prince John of Nottingham!" the man shouted and the crowd went wild. 

Prince John stepped forward with his horse and took off his helmet revealing his dirty blonde hair and dark blue eyes. 

He winked in Y/n's direction as he bowed and put his helmet back off as he went back into the line. The announcer then went to call the other contestants and Y/n thought she would fall asleep by the time of it. 

"Let the first match begin with Prince John and the Duke of York!" the announcer shouted and the crowd roared as the rest of the knights walked back into the tunnel with their horses, leaving only Prince Johna and the Duke of York alone. The crowd quieted down as each walked into their line and prepared their lances. 

Prince John was clad in armor with dark blue details, the color well associated with his family while the Duke and his horse were clad in armor with dark yellow details. 

 Both stood opposite each other as the announcer began to count down, "Three!"

"Two!"

"One!"

"Go!" The two immediately lunged forward, sending their lances in each other's direction. As they got closer Prince John shoved his lance into the Duke, successfully knocking him off his stallion. 

Prince John jumped off his horse and walked to the Duke, "That was an easy win, wouldn't you agree Duke of York?" he laughed as he offered his metal clad hand to the Duke of York who only grunted and accepted the hand as he got up from the ground. 

"And Prince John takes the win!" The announcer cheered as Prince John took off his helmet and laughed as he looked at the main viewing area where his family and Y/n and her family were seated. He put his helmet on and went back to his horse as the announcer listed the next contestants.

Y/n sighed as she began to daydream about her nightly adventures with her horse in Wayfield and how she hoped this would all end soon. 

As the tournament progressed, it was once again obvious who would take the win.... Prince John. 

Now it was time for the last match, Prince John against Prince Richard, and as they walked onto the arena everyone stared at them with anticipation. They both stood in their lanes waiting for the announcer to mark the beginning of the round. 

"Three!"

"Two!"

"One!"

"Go!" The announcer roared and the two princes charged their horses towards each other. 

Y/n watched as Prince John got closer to Prince Richard and when he was close enough, he suddenly thrust his lance in Prince Richard's chest and the crowd roared at the sight. 

Prince Richard gasped and clutched onto his chest as he was knocked off his 

horse and onto the ground.

As the cheering died down Prince John dismounted his horse and walked towards Richard, as he kneeled next to Richard he held his hand, "Grate battle, my Prince." he said as he gave him the winning handshake.

He backed off from Richard as everyone clapped in applause. The crowds cheered as they stood up from their seats and Prince John took off his helmet and held it under his arm as he dropped his lance on the ground. 

"And the winner of today's tournament is Prince John of Nottingham!"  the announcer declared. People clapped and yelled as they chanted his name over and over again. 

'Now I see where he gets his big ego…' Y/n concluded as she watched John bathe in his fame until his father stood up and motioned for the crowd to calm and quiet down. 

"Now! My dear noblemen and noblewomen! Me and King F/n have a huge announcement to make for all of you!" King Arthur spoke and Y/n looked at him with confusion. 'What important could he be announcing?' she thought. 

"Our relationship with the royal family of Wayfield was always strong, going back to our great-grandparents. And on this day, we would like to announce that Princess Y/n would be wed to our dear son Prince John after the last tournament this week to make our bond even stronger!" King Arthur cheered and the crowd went wild with the clapping and cheering.

Y/n's head felt dizzy as she looked at her parents with betrayal in her eyes.

"How long have you been hiding this from me?!" Y/n angrily asked as she clenched her fists tightly. Her father looked at her sadly, "Y/n, my dove please, just listen and hear us out." he begged and Y/n stood up from her chair and as she was to exit the viewing area she was stopped by the guards. 

"You cannot leave your chair, Miss." one of the guards said as she tried to run away from them. Y/n turned to hers and John's family with a flabbergasted expression as she was grabbed by one of the guards by her arm and escorted back to her chair. 

This must be some sick joke because no way would she ever marry Prince John, a man who is nothing but spoiled and with the help of the Sheriff of Nottingham taxed and ruined the lives of the poor. 

Once she was back in her chair she looked at her father and mother with anger evident in her e/c eyes, not speaking a word. 

"My child, you know our intentions behind this marriage, it is for the best of you, Prince John and our future." M/n said reassuringly as she tried to comfort her distressed daughter who only stared at the ground. 

After a few moments King Arthur went to address the crowd.

"Thank you, my kind friends and fellow countrymen! We will continue to celebrate our victory today in celebration of the engagement between Prince John of Nottingham and Princess Y/n of Wayfield! Let's pray to our Goddess for their happiness in the coming months!" Arthur said, raising his hands high above his head as the crowd continued to cheer. 

After a while everyone started getting up and heading off to the great hall where there would be food and drinks waiting for those who wanted more entertainment. 

As Y/n walked out the doors she was met with John clad in his formal clothes. 

She glared at him and walked past him, but he caught up with her and grabbed her arm, yanking her back so he could look down at her. "Where do you think you're going?" he demanded as he pulled her back and placed a hand on her waist to keep her from moving.

"None of your concern." Y/n snapped as she pulled her arm free and made her way to the great hall where everyone was. 

She heard footsteps coming behind her but ignored them. "Why aren't you happy about our marriage Y/n? What more could you want?!" John exclaimed as he caught up to her and grabbed her wrist before they reached the great hall.

"I don't want anything else than my freedom and I want to be able to live my life without you breathing down my neck!" Y/n shouted as she yanked her wrist free. "Please stop being selfish Y/n!"  John shouted which made her gasp. 

"Me!? Selfish!? The only one selfish here is you John! You're the one who makes the citizens pay unbelievable taxes and they have to starve and live on the streets!" Y/n yelled and John groaned, "I tax the people because without them, there wouldn't be us." John seethed at Y/n who only laughed dryly.

"Don't lie to yourself! It doesn't make a difference because you need more money to survive." Y/n spat as she looked away from him and continued to walk towards the hall.

Once she reached the huge and long table she sat next to her mother and stared at her plate. 

Everyone seemed to be talking about different things and she didn't bother listening since the only thing she cared about was finding a way to get out of the castle and escape from John .

When dinner ended and everyone left Y/n was escorted into her room in the tower of the castle by one of the maids. 

"Good night your Royal Highness, I will be there for you in the morning to help you get ready for the next tournament." The maid politely smiled at her as she exited the room, closing the door behind her and leaving Y/n alone in her room. 

She let her body fall backwards onto her bed and stared at the ceiling as she tried to come up with a plan. 

And then it hit her.

She would escape the castle with her horse! Thank God her family decides to go with their horses. She walked to her window and looked down. 

"I must be extremely lucky today." she laughed as she saw huge balls of hay stacked onto one another on the wall of the castle. 

The horse stable was just next to the hay and as she could see there weren't any guards there. She opened the window and shakily breathed as she took in the height of the tower and balls of hay.

"It's either this or Prince John." and as Y/n said that she jumped out the window and landed deep into the balls of hay, making the horses in the stable look up to see the commotion. 

She gasped for air as she felt her heart beat the fastest it ever has. She climbed out of the hay and picked off straws of hay from her hair and dress. 

Y/n sighed and walked into the huge horse stall, looking for her trusted horse Ruben. After a few minutes of looking she found the white stallion and rushed to him.

"There he is. Thank god you are here." Y/n softly spoke and rubbed her nose against Rubens cheek. Ruben neighed and nuzzled Y/n's other side causing Y/n to laugh. 

But her happiness was shortly caught short as she heard footsteps coming near the stable. She frantically looked around and in panic jumped once again into a ball of hay inside Ruben's stall. 

"Cedric, nobody is here! It is probably just the horses." A guard said and the other man laughed, "I know you think that, but maybe someone sneaked in. Maybe Robin Hood and his Merry Men have decided to steal our horses this time." he chuckled.

Y/n listened as the two guards laughed, "We should search this whole stable then." the first guard stated while Y/n held onto herself tightly. If the men search the entire stable they'll definitely find her. Then the second one groaned, "You know what... I'm too tired for that, let them steal the horses. Les horse shit for us to clean. Now let's go and close the main gate." and together they walked away from the stalls.

Y/n released a breath she didn't know she was holding and quickly moved out of the ball of hay and saddled up Ruben and began to dash out of the stalls and into the open court. 

Ruben's hooves hitting the stone ground made all the guards jump out of their positions and chase after her to try and catch her.

"WE HAVE A FUGITIVE! CLOSE THE RAMP!" one of the guards shouted signaling for the guards on the tower to start closing the ramp. 

Y/n panicked as she held onto Rubens reins and prayed to God that they would make it in time.  As Ruben galloped faster and faster she felt tears stream down her face as she knew there was no stopping.

The sound of hoofbeats filled her ears and suddenly all she could focus on was her pounding heartbeat and the cries of the guards. 

"ALERT THE MAIN GUARD! CHASE THE PRINCESS! SHE MUST NOT ESCAPE!" was the last thing she heard as she neared the closing ramp and Ruben ran up and jumped and landed on his feet, landing safely. 

She turned around with her horse and saw the ramp was lowering and the guards were waiting to start chasing her. She motioned for Ruben to start running down the deep forest and they ran without stopping. 

And as they ran through the forest, it became darker and darker, only the moonlight seeping through the leaves helping them see the path. As Y/n looked forward on the path she noticed a shadowy figure running across the path and before she could stop Ruben, they crashed into the figure making them all fall.

Y/n's head spun as she tried to get up and look up. She knew that Prince John's guards were hot on her heels and she had no time to rest. 

She weakly got up and Ruben got up from the ground, neighing in dissatisfaction as his coat was now mudded. Y/n looked at her horse apologetically. 

'What did we even collide with?' Y/n thought  as she looked around herself, trying to locate the figure. Once she did she rushed to it and kneeled down. She moved the cloak from the figure's face which revealed a young man who appeared to be unconscious. 

He was absolutely breathtaking to say the least; he had brown hair that was quite messy but suited him. 

'Y/n! You have John's guards chasing you! There is no time to gawk!' she scolded herself as she tried to drag the young man into the tall grass behind a huge boulder. 

But the problem was she was too weak to even budge him. "Holy shit-" Y/n grunted and looked over at her horse who was calmly grazing the grass. "I am glad you're enjoying yourself fresh grass now Ruben, but help me move this man!"  Y/n begged her horse. 

Ruben gave a loud nicker but obeyed and slowly walked to the man and bit him by the shirt and helped Y/n drag the young man off the path and behind the boulder.

When she laid him down she sighed and stood up, "Alright Ruben. you need to lay down here." Y/n told her horse who neighed in protest.

"Just do it Ruben!" Y/n snapped at the horse who obeyed as he sat down next to the man's unconscious body and rested his head on the unconscious mans lap. 

And just in time she could hear Prince John's guards galloping on their horses and instinctively she grabbed Rubens muzzle to keep him quiet as she crouched down and hid herself from sight.

She waited until the noises of hoofbeats passed and sighed in relief. As she was looking at the path to ensure the guards were gone she heard a grunt coming from beside her. She jumped up and looked at the young man who was waking up.

"Oh God!" Y/n panicked as the man began to wake up. 

Ruben took his head off his lap and stood up and went to graze grass in peace, leaving poor Y/n to deal with this. 

She held her breath as the man opened his eyes and looked around in daze and confusion which quickly turned to hostility.  He pulled up himself and glared at Y/n, "Who are you?" he snarled.

Y/n gulped as she took a step back from the man, "I-Is it truly important?" she said to the young man who only looked at her with confusion. 

"You are dressed as a royal, for all I know you could be the daughter of a king or a queen." he said to Y/n who tried to come up with a lie to cover her ass. 

"Well uhmm...." she began stuttering. "Yes? Go ahead, spit it out!" he snapped. "I stole all of this! That's why I'm dressed this way, you know, to fit in with the crowd." Y/n said, hoping he would believe her. 

The man laughed, "You also stole this horse?" he asked as he motioned to the horse who picked up his head and whinnied at them. 

"And does our pretty thief have a name?" the man asked as he put his hands on his hips and Y/n gulped. Should she say her real name? He probably didn't know who she was since she was from another town. 

"My name is Y/n. And you are? It is not usual to encounter anybody lurking in the forest this late." Y/n said and the man laughed, "I am Joseph Joestar, but many know me as Robin Hood." he introduced himself. Y/n's eyes widened as she gasped. 

Did she just almost kill the Robin Hood?!

She stared at the handsome man as she tried to wrap her head around the realization that the one and only Robin Hood was standing ahead of her. 

Joseph laughed as he looked at her, "You look like you need some rest, my dear. If you want, you can rest tonight in our hideout and you can tell me all about your thievery." he said and Y/n's eyes sparkled in glee. 

"I... Thank you so much!" she thanked the noble hero and he only chuckled, "No need for thank you-s my dear! I'm Robin Hood after all!" Joseph said with pride in his voice as he walked towards Ruben and smiled and gently patted the top of Ruben's head, causing the horse to huff happily. 

"Well, let's head to our hideout, my Merry Me will be thrilled to know there is a new fellow thief." Joseph said as he grabbed Rubens rains and started to walk onto the path and Y/n followed suit. 

---------

"So tell me Y/n, how did you manage to steal all of these things, and why?" Joseph asked as they walked down the dirt path. 

Y/n sighed, "In my town people suffer from poverty and I couldn't just stand there, I had to do something. So I decided to steal the horse and this dress so I could sell them later and try to give money to the people in my town." Y/n said and Ruben lifted his head and neighed in surprise. 

Y/n gave a look to her horse signaling him to behave so Joseph does not suspect anything. 

Joseph nodded his head as his expression sank, "I completely understand my dear.... We have the same problems here. Prince John and the Sheriff of Nottingham are becoming more and more ruthless with their treatment of the people here and as I have heard, Prince John was to be wed to the Princess of Wayfield. Who in their right mind would want to marry that scum?" Joseph chuckled and Y/n laughed awkwardly. 

"Right? That princess seems pretty crazy." Y/n said as she rubbed the nape of her neck and Ruben snorted as if agreeing. Y/n gave a judging look at her stallion who just neighed back innocently. 

Joseph nodded his head, "You know, me and my group planned on sneaking in to the tournament to try to steal the money from the treasury but we were on the other side of the town helping people and now that you told me you have been there today I was thinking you would like to help us steal the money back from Prince John" he said and Y/n almost stopped in her tracks. 

Was Robin Hood just  giving her an opportunity to join his group? A smile crept across Y/n's face as Joseph spoke again, "That is if you agree to be our thief!" he said happily but Y/n couldn't help but feel sad knowing that her family was in that very castle wondering where she fled to. 

Y/n forced a smile onto her face, "Yeah I'd love too.. I mean what else could I do anyway?" Y/n said and Joseph cheered, "Splendid my dear! I cannot wait to introduce you to my group! Now hurry along we are near our hideout!" he said as he tugged Rubens rains to fasten his pace up.

After walking through all the bushes and never ending trees, they finally made it to a bit of a clearing where a huge oak tree was in the center. 

She looked closer and noticed there was a campfire set up just a few meters ahead of the tree and two men and a teenager sitting by it and talking. 

As they heard the rustling which was caused by Y/n, Joseph and Ruben they abruptly stood up and grabbed their weapons.

"STOP!" yelled a blonde man as he held his dagger tightly in his hand as he looked at the distance. 

Joseph began to laugh as they walked out onto the clearing, "Caesar! Do not fret for it is just me!" Joseph said as he released Rubens' rains and the horse happily neighed as he walked to the patch of grass that was next to him. 

"And who is this woman next to you?" asked the man, "This is my dearest friends, is Y/n! She is a fellow thief who was just being chased by none other than Prince John's guards as she was almost caught stealing from them. " Joseph said, making the tall blonde man nod his head in acknowledgment. 

"Really? Well that is quite impressive, I assume the horse is then stolen?" Caesar asked, making Ruben nicker as he grazed the grass. "He indeed is, one of Prince John's horses even." Y/n said with a laugh and all of a sudden the teenager ran to the horse and began patting it. 

Ruben neighed in satisfaction as the boy began petting his mane  making him neigh happily and rub against the boy's chest causing him to chuckle.

The man who was named Caesar approached Y/n and extended his hand, "Pleasure to meet you, my name is Caesar Zeppeli." he said shortly and Y/n grabbed his hand and shook it, "My name is Y/n and nice to meet you too Caesar."  she replied.

Next came another blonde man but he had longer hair and a large scar across the left cheek, leading from his nose to his jaw. 

"The name's friar Robert E. O. Speedwagon my lady, but you may call me friar Speedwagon." he bowed politely to Y/n. "A pleasure to meet you friar Speedwagon." she said as she gave him a slight bow as well.

Joseph came next to Y/n and pointed to the dark-skinned teen who was preoccupied with petting Ruben, "That is Smokey, and as you can see he loves horses." Joseph said with amusement in his voice and Smokey gave a sheepish grin as he stood up upon hearing his name being mentioned.

"Hello Miss Y/n!" Smokey smiled as he waved at the h/c haired woman who smiled back and waved back. 

Joseph sighed, "Now that the introductions are finally done, we can go to rest and discuss our plans tomorrow morning." he said as he walked to the oak tree and took the bow and arrows that were laid against it. 

"Smokey, you can lead Ruben near the tree and tie him to one of the branches so he won't wander off or fall into trouble." Joseph said and Smokey eagerly nodded his head as he grabbed Rubens' rains and led him near the huge oak tree and tied his rains to the lower branch.

They all went to sit by the fireplace and Y/n sighed as she looked around. Was this her new life? Is she truly free from Prince John's clutches? She sure hoped so...

"So... You also steal from Prince John?" Caesar asked Y/n as he began to sharpen his dagger. 

Y/n nodded her head, "You could say so, but he isn't my main target, but some other noble men and women who travel through the forest of Wayfield." she said and Caesar nodded his head.  

"Glad to know there are more kind hearted people here who steal from those idiots Prince John and Sheriff of Nottingham, Kars." Caesar said and friar Speedwagon shivered at the mention of the Sheriff Kars. 

"Tomorrow he will come to the church to collect the gold... I hope he doesn't find the hidden part so we can give it to people at night.'' Friar Speedwagon said with fear in his voice and Caesar, who was next to him, placed a hand on his shoulder and sighed.

"It will be fine, Speedwagon. He is not that smart so he will not be able to find it." he said, trying to reassure him, but it didn't seem to do anything as Friar Speedwagon just continued to worry.

Joseph was sharpening his arrows as he felt something hit his shoulder and as he looked beside him, he saw Y/n's head resting on his shoulder.

"Miss Y/n..." Joseph whispered as he gently nudged her head. Y/n only muttered in response and Joseph chuckled quietly as the young girl fell asleep. 

As time passed, Smokey and friar Speedwagon fell asleep too, leaving Joseph and Caesar alone on watch.

Caesar looked at the sleeping maiden and sighed, "... Are you sure we can trust her Joseph?  We don't even know what she did in the past to get here and why she decided to steal from Prince John?" he asked and Joseph only stared straight forward as he tried to think of an answer. 

"I don't know Caesarino... I just have a hunch that she will be a great addition to our group." Joseph said as he put away the last arrow and Caesar shook his head. "You and your hunches, Joseph" he sighed and Joseph chuckled. 

"Have they ever been wrong Caesar?" Joseph laughed and Caesar curled up his eyebrow as he looked at his friend and leader, "You would be surprised at how much trouble we got in in the past because of your hunches." the tall blond man chuckled and Joseph huffed. 

"But in the end, everything works out. Trust me, I have a good feeling about this." Joseph said and Caesar nodded his head as they fell into silence once again and the only thing that could be heard was Ruben grazing grass and the campfire crackling quietly. 

Joseph looked at Y/n and smiled as he observed her features as her head rested on his arm. 'With that beauty I would have mistaken her for a princess...' Joseph chuckled in his mind as he tore his gaze away from her and looked at the starry night sky above them, shining brighter than ever before. 

What awaited Y/n, Joseph and his Merry Men only tomorrow will know...

[ciar-galyna]

A Court of Shackles and Glass

Chapter Three

Word Count : 7k

Warning(s) : Descriptions of corpses, blood, and possible gore/violence.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter (coming soon..)

Lyphon

There was something to be admired about my siblings and their strength. I could sense them from a mile or miles away when we were all at our height of power, though none of us really knew it. I’m sure even now if they entered the Court there would be some slight change, some shift and a little more silence from the wildlife.

Achlys and Gyn truly were ‘The Knight’s Children’. I’d barely been a child when there had been a massive war between several Courts and some far off kingdom. It was a mix of who was against who and the alliances are a little foggy in my mind, but there was one thing that truly stuck out.

One of the Courts managed to form an alliances with our Court and rather than sending out large armies to crush our enemies like usual, Great Great Grandfather had appeared to personally order Achlys and Gyn out into the heart of the battle. He had some sick sort of humour and aura when he arrived. I nearly threw up and passed out, I was terrified for both of them. But our Great Great Grandfather only laughed at my reaction and winnowed us to watch from above. He wasn’t surprised by what happen, but everyone else was. Achlys crushed opponents using their own armour, killed them using their own weapons. He turned every metal thing they had on them against them. And when he seemed to get bored, he either buried soldiers alive or crushed them with boulders made of crystal. Meanwhile Gyn flooded the field with our enemies blood and turned the rest into trees and flowers. That battle had finished within 10 minutes, maybe less. It was horrific.

And then we all went home like nothing happened. Well, Great Great Grandfather challenge me to become as powerful as them, to become their equal. I never fully reached their power, but I came close enough that I was rewarded for my efforts.

For ages and ages I practiced and trained out of pure terror and drive. I didn’t want to disappoint my Great Great Grandfather who clearly saw something in me. But I also wanted respect from my older siblings. So for centuries I perfected my skills and powers, pushing myself to the limit until I couldn’t anymore. And then, when another war came and we were summond by our allies, I was thrust into the fighting too. I never disappointed any of them that day, Gyn and Achlys almost seemed to see me a little differently too, but they kept their looks subtle and their thoughts silent.

And now..I’ll have to restart the entire process. I’m stuck in the Spring Court until I’m strong enough to winnow home again, until I can at least make myself somewhat useful to my family again. I can’t go home completely weak and useless, Great Great Grandfather wouldn’t allow it. He might have a sliver of sympathy or empathy for us, but if we’re too weak in his eyes, we’re not family. We’re something to either dispose of or forget.

Sighing I try to focus on something else, anything else. All these thoughts of home and our Great Great Grandfather are making me anxious, dreading something that isn’t even set in stone. Hissing slightly I will the thoughts from my head, eagerly breathing in the smell of the unditsturbed earth around me.

I frown slightly at the sight of breaking headstones, all barely readable with moss covering many they’ve been so forgotten. I’m aware that this cemetary is abandoned, I asked for one that was abandoned specifically, but it doesn’t stop the disgust and disappointment from seeping into my mouth like a foul poison. Was no one truly here to take care of this graveyard?

Enough, enough. I roll my neck, wincing when loud pops fill the air as I cloes my eyes. Now is not the time to be nitpicky. I have to concentrate and focus purely on my task. I’d love to rush ahead and attempt to resurrect everyone here, but that would leave me so exhausted I wouldn’t be able to move, leaving an entire field of half living creatures to wander and terrorize everything. And High Lord Tamlin wouldn’t be pleased. So I focus on one single soul, one deceased. The grave before me.

Knowledge of names and personal history can be helpful, but it’s not really that neccessary. Truly, all you ever need to do is find their soul, follow that invisible, string from corpse to soul. It’s fascinating, following the string. Some have many strings attached to them from all their different lives, some only have the one. Mates will always have a tether between them, connecting both souls for all eternity. If left for enough time, the string will be weathered, a little harder to follow, but still connected. There have been multiple times though where I attempted to resurecct someone, only to have their new body appear before me, questioning why I summoned them while they were alive and living. Strings always look the same, they never tell you if someone has moved onto their next life or not, so I’ve learned to be cautious, look for any signs of life outside the soul.

Stretching a hand out and pressing it to the ground, I search for the string, reaching subconciously for that small, invisible line tying bones to soul. It’s closer than I realize. The body must be in a shallow grave of some sort, not buried six feet below, maybe half of that. Carefully I follow the string, tugging and pulling softly until I can feel the soft ground below shift. Dirt is moved and pushed away until the pale, stained ivory bones and rotted flesh of a hand and arm push past into the open air.

More dirt is pushed away until the torso of the living corpse can sit upright. An annoyed scowl is present on the man’s face, though the skin around his face is missing a few chunks, showing off dirt stained and holey parts of his skull. His hair is on the longer and more light brown side while his eyes are a dark brown. He’s quick to glare at me, though I ignore the look completely, too focused on my victory to care.

I resurrected a whole human, fully. Quietly I stand up, moving to the next grave beside him, earning me a scoff. I move some dirt away, digging a little with my hands until I’ve dug around two feet. Shutting my eyes again and pressing a hand to the cool dirt, searching and finding the string practically immediately. This time the corpse of a woman sits up, looking around confused and grimacing at the sight of the decomposing man beside her. She avoids looking down though, refusing to see the state of her own body.

I almost giggle giddily as I repeat the process another two times. Two men and two women watching me with mixed emotions as I pant quietly. I’m reaching my limits, but four is a good number. Shakily I reach for a fifth grave. I’m becoming out of breath and the smell of death and dirt and insects and rot and mold will not leave my nose. It probably won’t for several hours. Coughing I snatch at the string, yanking it with a little too much eagerness. Unsurprisingly a hand shoots out, gripping my neck with a surprising amount of strength for a dead man. My lungs instantly loose access to air, though the smell still preasent and nearly heavy in my lungs. My limbs feel like lead, slack at my sides, though still warm from bloodflow. A slow, thumping headache creeps in after a moment. My head feeling as if burning hammers are playing drums in my head. The other bodies watch nervously, as though wondering if my death would free them or trap them eternally. Clicking my tongue I stare right back, managing to open my mouth and rasp out a quiet, ‘help me’.

One of the woman stands, wobbling over on weak, half eaten legs. Her hands prying open the wretched hand around my throat. I cough as air fills my lungs again, I nearly double over. Most of the headache recedes and I watch the arm flail around, swatting and clawing at the air. The woman retreated back to her grave, content to lie down and avoid looking over here. It would seem the only thing alive for this grave is the arm, everything else is still dead. So then 4 corpses and an arm. A good start.

With a grunt I wave my hand, silently commanding them to bury themselves again. I smile softly when the command is successful. I still had enough to do a mental command as well then. Leaning back and resting my head on a headstone, I snap my fingers, all the strings being pulled taught again as the souls rejoined the afterlife, whatever it is.

Gyn

The uniqueness of my family and our abilities has never been lost on me. I’ve always been aware of how different we are compared to everyone else. It’s not necessarily bad, but it’s noticable and not many perceive it as good.

I’ve been told before that none of us felt..like regular High Fae, and to be fair, we’re not. Our lineage and family tree is more mixed than most and in the way that I suspect some were convinced into making deals for power sakes. The goals of my Great Great Grandfather always speak for themselves, clear through the silence.

While there are plenty of differences for others to focus on, many have stuck to prescense and powers. From all my years of being alive I’ve yet to meet another creature with our powers. The first word ever used to describe our powers has always been ‘gorey’. It’s a fair assessment, especially for me. I’m the third in my family to specialize in the manipulation of cells. Not just blood or bones specifically, but cells, the very thing keep so many of us alive and moving and thinking. The complexity of cells is fascinating to me, so at least I wasn’t really bored when studying biology. And as helpful as it can be, being used to create new life or healing many, many people, the fact that it can be so terrifyingly deadly is always what’s focused on.

I’m not sure if it’s my natural expression, or my prescense even, that makes people think, convinces people, that I fully wish to kill and harm everything around me, and I will if I want to. I never really had the intention or the wish to slaughter everyone, even if the chance presents itself. Even in wars I was hesitant, and whenever I was given the opportunity I would ask my enemies if they truly wanted to fight me and die or live a more peaceful, quiet life. Everyone around me disapproved of what I was doing, they scoffed and would mock me. Achlys would demand what the hell I was doing, he never too far and mocked me or called me horrible names since he knew that I wouldn’t be able to handle it coming from him. But I could see it in his eyes, the ugly envy that made him silently demand why he couldn’t be given such a destructive gift, why I was ‘wasting’ it. And I never fully answered his questions, until he snapped and yelled at me. I was stuck staring at the floor, wishing I would just cry like a normal person. And I could say was :

“Why can’t I try to save just a sliver of people? Why can’t I try to give some happiness and peace to souls who never wanted their lives thrown away like the garbage their treated as? Did you even bother pause and look at the world around you, in the heat of everything?

”You never notice their fear, how their hearts pound and their breathing quickens as we approach. For fuck’s sakes Achlys, we’re living death to them! We embody reapers coming to tear out their souls and laugh as we break their bodies. Is it really so bad that I stop and give a choice to some. How many in my garden are actually miserable, how many want to leave. Tell me that. And tell me when have I ever trapped anyone in my garden, refused to let them leave. Believe it or not, I hate their fear.”

Achlys never asked after that..he must have really listened since during any war or battle he always brought me a small group of soldiers afterwards, all brave enough to have some faith in us. I’m definitely glad that my brother is so understanding, I’d probably be hopeless without him.

Anyways. Lyphon’s powers aren’t what I would call ‘gorey’. Yes, he raises the dead, but what do expect from a corpse? Unless they’ve died yesterday, it’s not going to be a pretty sight. Achlys’s powers aren’t gorey either, he works with metals, earth, and stone. It’s more how we all choose to use these powers. Course if we’re fighting someone or an army a lot of blood with spill. The blood will stain our hands red over and over again until our skin matches the colour of the blood beneath. But that’s the way it’s always been, and I doubt it will change.

Sighing through my nose I roll my neck and open my eyes. My room is a very comfortable, wonderful room and a place I’d love to practice in. However, I don’t want to scare any servant checking in on me. Nor do I want Tarquin to watch me practice in case he becomes worried or looses some trust in me to paranoia. Not that I think he would ever loose trust in me because of this power, it’s more I want to be better prepared for when I do tell him. I can’t try to demonstrate something and let it go horribly wrong, unable to fix the problem I made. Plus I don’t need the immediate pressure of eyes on me right now. There’s too many things that can go wrong.

So, with that being said, I’d gone exploring for the past week, hunting for any place that would work for privacy and calmness. And I found the perfect beach yesterday. It’s a good distance from Adriata with white sands and soft, gentle waves that could lull me to sleep if I let it. And at night the waves and sand glow with any movement or weight put on them. Unfortunately I told Tarquin I would return by dinner, which is normally at 6, so I can’t really stay late today. And sunlight is better for reading. I want to master a few things before attempting to change my eyes in any way.

I brought a few anatomy books and one about meditating and keeping calm. The anatomy books are for reminders, I already know everything, but I’d like a bit of a recap just in case. And the mediatation book is just so I don’t freak out or have a meltdown. Having a panic attack when something goes wrong won’t help me, so learning breathing exercises and routines to keep calm is a good aid.

Humming softly I close my eyes again, letting myself search through my body, refamiliarizing the feel of each type of cell when they’re healthy, checking for anything concerning. I only open my eyes once I’ve made sure that everything is in fact healthy and functioning correctly. As tempting as it is to close my eyes again, I focus on watching my hands. In the past I always used my hands as practice do to their simplicity, other times I was just having fun, making the ends of my fingers and nails turn into claws or talons instead.

For old times sake I decide to do that, slowly having my nails grow until they’re long and pointed but slighty curved and thicker. I let the nails grow around my fingertips until it looks like the ends of my fingers are sharp, white talons. Humming I reverse the process, which goes smoothly, to my relief.

It seems quick, rushing to try this next thing, but I’ve already practiced enough and from what I remember this shouldn’t exhaust me too quickly. I could be wrong since when I tried doing this for the first time in my life I had already built up plenty of stamina beforehand. I suppose I’ll be using this moment as a comparison for later.

There was one other thing that I brought with me, a small, miniscule really, jar of a few teeth. Disgusting sounding I’m sure, but they’re my own and it was an easy process, pain free. I just had these ones fall out and then some grow in their place. Simple and easy.

Grabbing the small jar, I take out a tooth, placing it in the center of my palm. I sigh, closely my eyes to take a few deep breaths. This always required more focus, even if I’d done it a thousand times before.

I start small, changing the shape of the tooth into a ribcage, letting it grown into a full skeleton of a bird with the muscles and ligaments following soon after. The body grew as exhaustion slowly crept up on me. Before I could realize everything was finished the now living bird in my hand hopped two or three times, chirping a little and singing a few notes. My eyes fly open, widening at the image of a beautiful, living swallow. It’s head, back, and wings were all a stunning blue that faded into a silver going into it’s tail. It’s underbelly was white and soft looking. It’s eyes were so dark but fixed on me as it watched curiously.

I was successful. I made a small bird, grew it from a tooth. Soon I could make something bigger, maybe a dog or a bear. Or even a horse. But start small, I’m already getting tired, which is what I get for only going on walks for a week and neglecting to practice. Giggling I pet the small bird, it’s feather were soft and smooth. It chirps a few times, flying to stand on my shoulder. What a day, I’ll need to start practicing on the way here. Based on the sun it’s around an hour till dinner, so now is a good time to leave.

I pick up my books and jar, humming softly and then grunting as I stand, brushing off any sand on my legs. The swallow sings along to the humming, much to my delight. Turning I head back to a path that leads up a sort of steap hill. The beach is only accessible through the path since there’s sort of a cliff or wall of dirt blocking it off. That or you jump down, but I wouldn’t recommend it since it’s at least a 10 foot drop.

I’m almost panting when I reach the top. I huff, feeling shame build up at the realization that I’m probably not as fit as I’d like to think. That or I was using too much air to hum. I’d rather the latter honestly.

At the top I look back down at the beach, at the cool blue waves. It really is a haven in the Summer Court sometimes. I sometimes wished I could stop time and just enjoy where I was a little longer, I definitely wish I could recreate a place like this, visit whenever I like and just rest. Though maybe later in the day, midday is way too hot. Cloudless sky with a hot ball of fire just glaring down at you, not great. And I’m moon pale, one of these days I’ll be lobster red and wincing at every muscle movement as I apply aloe verra to my burned, tight skin. Honestly I’m not even sure if Tarquin burns, I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t. I wouldn’t be surprised if no Summer Court citizen had ever burned in their lives.

The swallow chirps, hopping a few times and drawing my attention. Curious I look at it, watching as it flies off my shoulder and onto a familiar one. With a start I realize the little bird landed on Tarquin’s shoulder. Tarquin was here. What was he doing here? Did he see anything?

The High Lord chuckles quietly, petting the bird a few times before turning to me.

“Afternoon, Gyn. How was your practice? I’m hoping you thought it went well.”

His smile is gentle, something akin to a soft breeze or a quiet sunrise. I almost feel stupidly tense, like why am I so tense about him knowing anything? But another small part of me is restless and anxious, demanding to know how much he’s seen and knows. Still, I don’t want to make it seem like I don’t trust him, that could hurt or insult him and he’s been nothing but kind and understanding. Really this fear is probably for nothing. But it’s not quick to go away and I only barely make myself look less upset.

“It went well..I’m making progress. I-” I pause slightly, swallowing my words and briefly looking away at the grass. “I don’t want to sound rude, or defensive..but what are you doing here? I thought you would be busy in Adriata till dinner.”

There’s another quiet chuckle.

“You don’t, you’re being reasonable. I wasn’t as busy as expected today, and I had some free time. So I decided to try and find you, and wouldn’t you know it, you found the glowing beach.”

“The glowing beach?”

“Yes, me and my cousins would come down here at night sometimes to swim or have some fun. Usually we had to sneak out, but it was fun and beautiful. It was like our own secret place that only we knew about. And here you are, practicing here. You picked an excellent spot. If I was anyone else I probably wouldn’t have found you.”

My eyes widen a little, drifting to look at the beach again. I can almost imagine a teen version of himself, Cresseida, and Varian just running down the path towards the waters, diving in and later dancing and singing around in the sand, probably bringing bottles of alcohol and getting drunk. The thought makes me hum, I almost smile.

“Yeah…I don’t want to..ruin any good moods, but how much did you see? It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s more that I just- I…I don’t want you to be afraid of me or concerned everytime I try to use my abilities.”

He’s silent for a moment, timid breezes attempt to fill in the emptyness. The swallow chirps occasionally, Tarquin petting it he while thinks, considering something. My gut tightens, my fingers curling into my hands to create tight fists that turn my knuckles white. My eyes flick from sand, to grass, to sky. Why do I feel like a child caught breaking a rule, about to be scolded by a too calm parent?

“I..saw everything, or at least what I think is most of what you were doing. The claws, this cute little bird.” Somehow, I’m sure my heart has plummeted into my stomach. Tarquin seems to notice, my face must really love to tattle my emotions. But he moves closer, a little bit like he doesn’t want to startle me, or make me uncomfortable. He stops a foot away, maybe closer.

“But I’m not scared of you. I’m not sure I could be. Concerned..a bit yes. I don’t want you hurting yourself just to try and perfect what you could do in the past again. And whose teeth were those?”

My gut loosens, some burning following, but it’s better than a tight coil and a wish to disappear to avoid a possible negative reaction. My fingers uncurl and stretch or flex a few times, my nails leaving little moons in my palm, none bleeding thankfully.

“Mine. It didn’t hurt, I just had them fall out and replaced with new teeth. None of what I was doing was painful, it was just a little tiring to make the swallow..I’m sorry I was defensive before. I wanted to master a few things before showing you, that way you’d worry less.”

“It’s fine, Gyn. I should apologize too, I knew you wanted privacy, but I still came here and watched, unbeknownst to you. But I’m not afraid, and I can trust that you won’t..permanently hurt yourself.”

I’m the one that stays quiet this time. I don’t really believe it’s necessary for me to see if he’s lying, but I scan his face anyways, eyes darting around for any tells that weren’t there. I sigh a little, nodding. I’m relieved about his obvious honesty, but still a little tense about being found and observed without my knowledge. I’m going to have to focus on sight next time, sensing any life nearby. There are plenty of silent or illusive creatures at home, I used to almost constantly make sure that every sense was heightened enough to sense each and every living thing, yet make sure I wasn’t overwhelmed by it.

With a sigh I turn, starting to walk. “We should head back to Adriata. Can’t have everyone worrying over a lost High Lord, can we?”

Tarquin smiles, a bit tightly, jogging to catch up, but keeping a steady pace once he was beside me. We both fall into a comfortable silence as we head towards the golden city.

Achlys

The Forest House may be mostly underground, but it’s beautiful. Inside it’s warm and decorated in reds, oranges, and golds. Portraits and paintings hang neatly on the walls, serious and cruel faces staring down at any passer by. I almost smile.

Servants work away in hallways and rooms, cleaning and keeping their heads down. Sentries silently stand at doorways or move to their next station, staring me down as if they’re ready to kill me if I give them any reason.

Sighing softly I look ahead, Fenix is leading me to the throne room, presumably. He seemed rather annoyed that his brother found out about me and took interest. So much so that he’s asked that I meet him, tell him a little bit about why I was found in his lands.

Naturally I don’t believe for a second that he really sees me as anything more than a potential pawn or a threat that he needs to get rid of, and considering that no Court but Winter would know about us, he wouldn’t need to worry about being discreet.

Everything about Autumn is about cunning and power. Even centuries back, I can still remember Regus Vanserra. Quite intelligent that one. He was the fourth son, it was unlikely in the first place that he would become the High Lord. But he waited patiently for years pretending to be nothing but a social prince with no interest in becoming anything more. Behind his parents and brothers backs he plotted though, forming alliances with Gyn, Boreas, Esord, and Nytarur. The heirs he knew would be the next generation of High Sovereigns, and ones he did not want to make enemies of. Regus played the long game, slowly poisoning his eldest brother and Father, training to kill the rest of his brothers when the time came. And he was successful. He made his eldest brother and Father’s deaths look like heart problems, and the other two brothers died in hunting ‘accidents’. He took the title and became quite the High Lord. Part of me was glad he decided to ally with Gyn, because then we weren’t his enemies.

I’m sure that any descendant of Regus is cunning and especially good at tricking others, weaving them a web of lies that they get trapped in but leaves him unharmed. I’ll bet Gyn would agree, she was in Prythian a lot longer than me, she got to see the generation after us. And apples don’t really fall far from the trees.

Fenix and his four guards stop at a pair of well carved oak doors with golden handles and a depiction of the Autumn forest and five of the past High Lords, Regus, his father and grandfather, and who I am guessing are his son and grandson. Everyone waits for a moment, quietly standing a foot from the doors. Then they open, groaning a little as they move. Our little group moves inside, my senses are assaulted by the smell of cinnamon and something smokey. At the head of the room, sitting on the cushioned stone throne, is a male with Autumn’s infamous red hair and eyes coloured amber. He doesn’t smile or sneer when we enter, merely keeping a cool, calm face as he watches us. Around his head sits a gold crown crafted to appear like flames resting on his head. So this is today’s High Lord. He’s dressed well with colours that compliment him and jewels that match, but not too much of anything, a perfect balance that doesn’t feel obnoxious.

Our little group moves until we’ve made it just past halfway in the room. The guards salute and Fenix offers the High Lord a bow, though it’s more mockery than an actual sign of respect or acknowledgement of power. I wait for after everyone’s finished to bow myself, smiling a little. The High Lord raises a brow.

“So this is the male you found..what is your name and why were you found in my Court?”

He’s good at his acting, I’ll give him that. His tone is careful, a planned boredom. His eyes hold a steely ice that was carefully crafted probably over a matter of years. I know for a fact that the entire Court buys every look, every word. It’s just a pity that I was surrounded masks for so long it became easy to learn when one was using it, unless someone was an exceptional liar. I’ve only met few who were able to fool me. Gyn, Cosmas, and a mortal King that ruled while I was in my 200s. No one ever knew when Cosmas was being truthful, it felt like a gamble every time I talked to him. And Gyn is as careful as I am, picking up on others emotions and anything we can learn about others and then using that information to our advantage. I just didn’t expect her to use the information against me, it was fine since I got her back a century later.

I grin at the High Lord. This could be fun.

“Achlys. I had a jealous coward for a cousin who used an ancient prison to contain me, throwing me into a cave in this Court. Don’t worry, High Lord, I’m only a temporary guest.”

He’s quiet for a moment, digesting the information and deciding what to do. It’s not every day something like this happens afterall.

“Which Court are you from? I’m sure your High Lord would have no issue collecting you.”

I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me at the question. Fenix doesn’t really react, just a bit of tensing around the shoulders. The guards keep still, but a few glance nervously at me. Either they’re nervous because of my chuckle, or they think I just tried to ensure my death.

“I don’t you’d be able to. Besides, those of my Court are incredibly picky about which apples they like to keep on the tree. I’m sure I’ll only be here another month and I’ll be out of your hair.”

The High Lord narrows his eyes, hiding the curiosity and covering it with annoyance.

“And why won’t I be able to contact this Court of yours, hm?”

“Well Prythian has forgotten about my home. My Court is mere legend in your history books, if we haven’t been erased entirely. It is not found in Prythian, nor any other continent. We call it the End Court.”

There’s a glimmer in his eyes, something like…recognition. My own mask slips on, keeping the amused face and uncaring attitude. But why does he seem familiar with the name? The Court hasn’t been in contact with Prythian in centuries, but he knows of it. It would appear that I rang a bell and I didn’t know he could hear it. I’m curious about how much he actually knows.

“Achlys of the End Court..an interesting claim. And how am I to trust that you aren’t insane or attempting to deceive my Court?”

“I’m sure you can find records. We made deals and alliances with this Court multiple times. Though, I suppose I wouldn’t be surprised if those records were burned a long time ago. You have to admit though. My prison is nothing like what you’ve seen in Prythian.”

“And how would you know that?”

“Because I’m well traveled. Not even the Night Court has the metal needed to create such a thing. And most of the prisons here aren’t just enchanted large cubes that act as a power numbing cell, they’re made of stone and have multiple cells, multiple inmates, less chains, and usually more light.”

He hums, leaning back slightly on his throne.

“What else is there to tell me? Are there more prisons like this around Prythian?”

Should I tell him? With them outside Autumn they aren’t within his reach. However, that if they’ve already been found by now, he could already know about them. Every Court has their spies, keeping their High Lord well informed of everything. Instead of answering I stay quiet, raising a brow and keeping an amused face. I’m sure you already know, High Lord.

He grunts, practically confirming my theory. They’ve been found, and he knows exactly where they are. I’m sure he sent out spies the second I was found, I don’t doubt he knew of me then and got Fenix to confess of my existence, thus giving him a chance to get a closer look and attempt to give me a role.

“I’ll let you stay, however you’re under my rule here until you return home.Till the day you leave, your loyalty is to me.”

It’s a fair deal, and I wouldn’t want to cause issues for my family by causing nothing but chaos here. Naturally there a few things that I won’t do if asked and I’ll always put my family first, but for now I can play along. My siblings wouldn’t be too impressed if I started a war the moment I was freed.

“Very well..”

“Expect to summoned during the week and that you’ll join every meal while having at least two sentries watching you at all times. I don’t think I want to let a wild hound loose in the Court.”

I almost snort, I’m being compared to a dog now. Wonderful. But I’d expect nothing less of a Vanserra. First Fenix with his condescending eyes, always trying to sneer at me as if I was mud on his new boots. Now a High Lord yet to see me as anything other than a mosquito. Patience is a virtue and I can exorcise it.

If he’s expecting a response I don’t give him one. My face has gone to a neutral, just watching him. He stares back, subtly studying me. Once he’s satisified, he returns to the bored mask.

“You’re dismissed. Leave.”

He waves a hand and we all turn, this time with me at the head. Fenix lets out a low growl, not happy with the meeting or me being ahead of him. The doors open again, letting us leave and walk back into the hallway. Subconciously I lead the way, heading straight to my room at my regular pace, which the guards and Fenix scramble to keep up with. Fenix hisses, grabbing my arm and yanking. I don’t stop, but I look over my shoulder at the angry male.

“You walk behind me. Don’t think for a second that you have any power in this Court. You are nothing but a tool for me to use, do not think otherwise.”

I almost scoff, raising a brow at him before shrugging him off.

“I don’t like slow walkers. And I’m heading to my room anyways, calm down.”

The Autumn prince snarls a curse and snaps his fingers, two guards grabbing onto my arms and yanking me backwards. Hissing, I almost go to kick one of them. Fenix walks in front now, motioning for them to follow. Both guards kick my legs, forcing me to my knees, before walking, dragging me with them. A little rude of them. Clicking my tongue I stand again, matching the pace of the guards, who glare and attempt to kick my legs out again. It fails when I move quick enough to dodge and then on at a time.

The one on my right snarls, punching me in the gut. I cough a little, but stay standing. Fenix stops at a door, pulling it open and walking outside into a courtyard..of sorts. Sentries off duty train with wooden and metal swords, sparring or beating a punching bag like it killed their spouse and owes them money. In the center though, is a post. One with several metals loops attached, like something you would tie a rope through or hook something to. Fenix tosses a pair of cuffs to the guards, the left one catching it and snapping one around one of my wrists.

Ah..I see where this is going. Either way at least some of my blood is spilled. I’m either going to be flogged or I’ll be mobbed. Of the two, I would prefer the former. Less broken bones, typically only one area is targeted. Not like Fenix really cares, he’s just trying to teach me a lesson, make me fear or respect him to any degree.

The training sentries go quiet and stop whatever they’re doing to watch as I’m pulled towards the post. I don’t bother fighting much, there’s over a dozen men here, all with weapons on them. Normally I would use this against them. However, I don’t need to piss of a High Lord that controls fire by killing everyone here. Nor do I want to exhaust myself by using my powers that much right now. The guards are quick to loop the remaining cuff through a large loop and snap it around my remaining wrist, forcing me down on my knees and tearing the back of my shirt afterwards. Both snicker as they back away. Glancing quickly behind me I can see Fenix choosing a whip and calling a large male over, handing him the whip. I think it’s leather with some sort of dust on it. The Autumn prince looks at me, almost smug but burying it in time.

“A mutt like you needs to learn quickly that you’re nothing here and will remain that way. No disrepect will ever be tolerated. 50 lashes.”

I almost roll my eyes but I brace myself anyways. Gyn isn’t here to act as my healer, this is going to hurt since I still feel pain. I can hear the whip unravel, some anxiety builds. This isn’t the first time this has happened, it’s not the first time I’ve been punished using whips or tools specially made to counter High Fae’s instant healing. Doesn’t mean I enjoyed any of it though.

There’s a quiet swish before the whip strikes my bare back, a fiery sting following quickly after. Fenix knows what he’s doing, he makes the whipper wait a moment before another strike. I wonder if this will scar permanently or if Gyn can return my skin to normal, even when healed. I wonder briefly if either of my siblings have to face something like this, and I pray to the Cauldron they don’t have to. I keep still as they continue to strike my back, thankfully not hitting the same spot twice, but I can feel warm blood trickling down my back and sticking to what remains of my shirt, gluing it to my skin. My abilities numbed a while ago, around lash number 10. They must coat the whips in faebane for maximum pain and scarring then.

At 40 lashes my punishment is interrupted by the arrival of another Vanserra, one of Fenix’s brothers. At least I think that’s who he is. His hair is long and red, eyes brown with a cunning, almost morbidly curious look in them. He watches me for a moment before moving to stand next to Fenix, who looks rather annoyed by the interruption.

“What do you want? I’m busy at the moment.”

“I heard something was going on in the Sentry Courtyard, so I decided I would come and see what all the commotion was about. What is this exactly? A misbehaving servant?”

Fenix is quiet for a moment, glaring down at me.

“Yes..that’s exactly what this is.”

“Really? I thought he was Eris’s guest. I don’t think he’d be impressed to find out you’ve taken a whip to his back. He might take one to your back.”

Fenix’s scowl deepens, disgust grows like a mold in his eyes. He snatches the whip from the sentry’s hands, pulling his arm back and swinging it forward with most if not all his strength. The whip strikes my back swiftly, leaving a fresh, wretched pain and trail of blood in its wake. I hiss at the feeling, fire spreading once again with a ferocious sting.

“He’s not a guest.”

His words are filled with venom, enough that I’m gritting my teeth and leaning my head on my arms. Mother save me, this isn’t going to end that quickly. Mentally I sigh, of all places I get sent to Autumn. I’m really feeling like I’m fucked.

~~~

Thanks for reading, feel free to give feedback. Enjoy your day/night.

~~~

You can find this fanfiction on Quotev and AO3. On Quotev I go by Ciar, on AO3 I go by Gyra (they're different because some names are already taken).

[iabggsyk]

So, you know what I wish would happen. What I wish would happen is that someone would make a horror movie/story/oneshot fic where like a group of 28 people:

Family A— A single mom, her 12 year old daughter and their nanny

Family B— A couple (you can choose the names race, nationality, sexuality, age, height, appearance, personality, jobs and gender for everyone who doesn't have one or more of those things listed) with a 12 year old, a 10 year old and a 8 year old

Family C— A single father (because single dads deserve recognition as well; also he's kind and caring about others feelings especially his kid's because men don't need to be macho and have zero emotions to be considered "real men" and if you think that then ignore this post) and his 12 year old

Family D— A single mom with a 12 year old and 9 year old

Family E— A couple with a 12 year old, 7 year old and 4 year old

Family F— A couple with a 17 year old, a 14 year old, a 12 year old and a 11 year old

Family G— A couple with a 16 year old and a 12 year old

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

Plot:

So the 7 families all live in a small town and the 12 year olds are all a group of friends that go to the same school and attend the same class(es). The mother of Family A has a job that pays her well enough for her to buy an old mansion on the outskirts of the town but at the cost of not being able to spend as much time with her daughter as they'd both like so the Mom hires a nanny for her daughter so she wouldn't be lonely.

So the daughter invites all of her friends plus their families (because they live in a mansion and can afford to fit everyone in there) and somehow (you get to decide on how) the daughter finds a Ouija board and decides to play with it with her friends after sneaking it back into her room (except for except for the friend in family E who politely declined because he/she/they watched too many horror movies and knows this is a horrible idea. Luckily his/her/their parents had something come up so family E left leaving 23 people left in the house).

So the group of six 12 year olds ended up fucking around and finding out when they accidentally summoned either:

A. A vengeful ghost of a woman who either

1A. Killed her own kids due to (insert tragic backstory here) and now kills other families because if she can't be happy then no one can or

2A. Watched her kids be killed in front of her due to (insert tragic backstory here) and now kills other families because if she can't be happy then no one can.

Or....

B. A demon who is determined to kill the families because anything from "it's a demon lol" to "insert long explanation here."

Then things happen, and the first person has to die before the 12 year old from family B finally tells the parents and older siblings what's going on.

Stuff happens people die and the Mother from family D and her kids stick with the Mother from family A and her daughter because both Moms were childhood friends and the Mom from family D really doesn't like the tactic of splitting up.

Eventually they get to the final confrontation with the vengeful ghost/demon and the only people still alive are the Mother and daughter of family A, the Father and son/daughter/child of family C and the Mother and children of family D who all somehow managed to meet up in (insert room of your choice).

Just as the vengeful ghost/demon is about to attack the Mother from family A gets in front of the others and basically says to the ghost/demon "Bitch I fucking wish you would. If you even so much as think about killing my kid, me, or anyone else in this room I will personally destroy any sliver of evidence that might prove of your existence and then you. I do not care if you're a ghost/demon I WILL find a way to simply make you no longer exist. Try me mother fucker. Try. Me. You want to do this? Let's go. But let me be clear that if you try anything I WILL be the LAST thing you see before you poof out of existence."

And if you chose demon she also says "I do not care if I have to drag you out of hell, I will do it and I will make it seem as if you never existed."

And then the spirit/demon becomes so absolutely fucking terrified of her that she/he/they/it just end up leaving the last surviving members alone and going out of her/his/their/its way to not only avoid her but the other family members as well.

And if you want to do a second one have like at the end when the last of the new people who weren't killed off are fighting off the spirit/demon the mother from family A just shows up, now visibly older but not old old yet, kicks down the door and just looks at the spirit/demon and it screams in fear and starts running.

I feel like if someone decides to use this format for their horror story could they just tag me so that I could get credit for making the format (not the story, whatever happens in the majority of the story is up to you) and so that I can read it because I really want to see what a bunch of creative people can each come up with and how while using the same format, their stories still differ and are unique from each other.

Also if you could reblog and like this so more people could get awareness to that would be great.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Yuki’s LN was actually a sob story omg THE DOG WAS SO CUTEEE omg I hope he adopts a dog someday in the future bro did NOT think that scuffle through but omg just shows how selfless he is…

LMAOO FR!! I mean if I really had to rank then yeah I TECHNICALLY have a fav but if you really asked me to choose between faves I probably wouldn’t be able to still even though some are technically ranked “higher” than others

No because Rin giving old vibes /hj in a different way than Aiku LMAOO wait I would pay to see Barou captain that’d be really funny “YOU DONKEYS GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER!!!!!!!”

Oh yeah I’ve not dipped my toes in AoT at all so that makes sense LOL

LMAOOOO OMG DO IT (imagine a double date but in the end y/n talks more to his sister and yuki than to him LMFAO)

No definitely as I went back and did the formal translation he was 6 and the sister should’ve been 9 by their description of her being 3 years older so?? Not even double digits (BRUH THE REO ONE IS DIABOLICAL??? WDYM A GROWN ASS ADULT WAS CONFESSING TO BASICALLY A LIKE 7 YEAR OLD HSHDSHSHSH)

GRAND AGE OF SIX AT 5K WORDS ok so if we do the math…. 2k at 4, 5k at 6, 3k word difference per 2 years, 1.5k words per year. Assuming this ends up at 20 year old Karasu that means we still have 14 years to go. 14 x 1.5k is 21k. Therefore, the new ballpark is now 21k /j (if this math is wrong um…no it isn’t!!! /j) im assuming we wouldn’t be seeing every single year in between so this is probably a bit overboard anyways LOL

No wait I love seeing childhood moments because they’re honestly so important for shaping who someone turns out to be?? OOHUU IM LOVING IT “I only see you as a child” angst progression

Nagi does NOT see the sun bro needs some vitamin d for his pasty ass…/j but FR I’m devouring these Karasu crumbs also I’ve noticed Otoya’s hair has been slightly more silver leaning! I’m pretty certain it’s still supposed to be relatively white, but typically in digital art using like pure white usually isn’t as great because it leaves less possibilities in terms of lighting and coloring so that might be why..? The version of him in the game also isn’t like pure white white so I’m wondering if that’s the case (also mixed with the sort of darker kinda color tone of s2) so I don’t think it’d be wrong to refer to it to white still! The (little) merch floating around of him also has his hair basically white so. No because not even a SLIVER of his hairline like yeah I know it’s my man’s chin but would it kill you to show his face?? No fr I was wondering why Otoya too….like I know that Karasu is more popular than him…and also Hiori too?? I’m hoping that just means we’re getting a cracked trailer with a full screen of Karasu’s face next time

The more I read the more I was like did they just craft the perfect man??? I loved the scene with the dog so much it was too cute like wdym his first practice buddy was a dog??? That was a rollercoaster and honestly probably one of my favorite LNs…I really like how they show the progression of his characters and actually kinda dig into his painful moments?? I think I need to reread everyone’s atp omg

-Karasu anon

I JUST FINISHED READING THE CHAPTERS YOU SENT IN OMG I’M BAWLING 😭 he’s so sweet fr…omg i hope he gets to retire and be happy one day with a dog and a family he truly deserves it

exactly like i have my top five but it’s always changing HAHAH there’s a couple mainstays but i’m so easily convinced to start liking new characters especially in shows like bllk which have such big casts that it’s inevitable you’ll be able to have a bunch of favs

aiku gives like uncle old vibes rin gives like cousin old vibes LMAOO that makes no sense but like aiku is just your weird uncle whereas rin is the cool cranky older cousin that you admire but all of the adult relatives hate because he has an attitude

aot is…something 😭 idk i was very very into it for a while and i really do appreciate and love the majority of it but i’m not a huge fan of how the ending was handled (not for the typical reasons people complain abt it i just think that some characters were let off too easily for what they did) and the fan base is INSANE. like peak no media literacy/critical thinking twelve year olds saying the craziest shit because they don’t realize that the actions of certain characters are meant to be condemned and not supported!! so i’ve drifted away from it now for the most part…a lot of the writing skills i have now i developed through trial and error with my aot fics though so i’ll always be grateful for that but i look back at it more as a fond memory/w nostalgia than anything

OKAYYY yayoyuki is now canon 🫡 (i named karasu’s sister yayoi hehe idk it just flowed well w tabito?? like yayoi and tabito sound like sibling names the same way seiko and eita do in my mind) actually lowkey i feel like that could kinda help the plot…the reader being like “wait why is your bf younger than you he’s literally your brother’s friend” and yayoi is like “bro it’s barely two years it’s not that deep” which makes reader be like “hmm…”

THE REO ONE IS INSANE. MY MAN IS A VICTIM AND NOBODY GAF?? ig it was supposed to show that people tend to value him for his money to the point that his teacher tried to get w him ostensibly because he’s a corporate heir…like narratively it makes sense but that should NOT have just been an egoist bible tidbit that was never expanded on?? iirc it’s not even mentioned in his light novel but that is so traumatic omg poor boy 😭

he’s still six and we’re at 6k words now if you want to adjust your estimate KDJISJ i am so scared of this fic i can just tell it’s going to be so long…we’re going to see karasu go from 4 to abt 20 and reader from 6 to abt 22 BYE why did i ever think i could fit all of that into “6-9k words” i’m not even going to bother w reestimating atp just going to go w the flow and see what happens…should i withhold the wc updates so you can be surprised when i finally post or do you want to be prepared going into it 🤔

pretty much all of the story is their “childhood” though ofc it progresses and they get older and older…icl i have no idea how to write kids so there’s going to have to be some suspension of disbelief going on 😭 YESS the angst and pining (from karasu naturally) are so real!! i think it makes sense on both ends because on the one hand yeah two years isn’t a huge deal esp once you’re older but on the other it’s like…karasu this girl has seen you throw tantrums because your sister wouldn’t play w you why WOULD she find you attractive 😩

ENOUGH LMAOOO no but that’s def the reason because he’s paler than every other character and for sure it’s because he doesn’t touch grass 😓 i think it’s definitely more silver compared to like nagi’s hair but still very light/almost white!! maybe more of a cool/gray toned white versus nagi’s which leans towards cream/straight up show white most of the time!! and yeah ik in animation pure black and pure white tend to fall flat which is why a lot of black haired characters end up having greenish hair when animated!!

YKW I WOULD’VE BEEN HAPPY W THE ICONIC SMIRK AHHH like it would’ve made him seem a little villainous if we only saw the lower half of his face and it’s just him smirking but those in the know realize it’s just the karasu signature 😔🙏🏻 sassy smirk + fuck ass hair WE NEEDED ONE OF THE TWO and wait omg i forgot abt hiori (and nanase) maybe they’re trying to keep the more relevant characters secret and just using characters anime-onlies would recognize in the trailer (so like igaguri’s irrelevant ass) still doesn’t explain why otoya and kurona made it instead of the bambi osaka boys but uh maybe they were just easier to animate?? or maybe they went w otoya because he’s very distinctive (aka doesn’t have dark hair and blue eyes) so he stood out more than karasu might (i bet some people would’ve been like “why did zantetsu take off his glasses” or smth abt karasu lowkey)

NO LITERALLY yukimiya invented being the ideal guy nobody in bllk can compare…actually let’s just go ahead and say nobody in shounen can compare 😫 he was truly meant to be a shoujo male lead more than any other bllk character 😭 i agree i think the ln did such a good job at showing his progress and why he is the way he is!! his backstory is also super realistic too 💔 like the whole medical trauma thing…i hope he and chigiri don’t get the boot from the main cast because of their health issues i love both of them sm 😓 i rlly liked this ln too!! especially compared to hiori’s and nagi’s which are the two i’ve reread the most for fic purposes the tone felt a bit more serious and mature (considering half of hiori’s is him stalking karasu and 99% of nagi’s is him slacking off in school this makes sense) i’m excited to see how barou’s is!! and also aryu’s lol maybe i’ll be more into him after reading his backstory or smth

[klove0511]

It's Rest I Want Chapter 5

Dean got to go look for salt or iron, while John babysat. It wasn't even that bad of a job. He didn't particularly want to be stuck in a bar with a murderous psychic, limited weapons, and no alcohol. He was just pissed that John didn't trust him, even though the lack of trust went both ways.

He found some old bags of rock salt miraculously untouched by the elements. Muttering to himself about the likelihood of finding something that useful in a place like this, he turned to go and jumped a foot back. “Damn it, Sam! What did I say?” He took a couple deep breaths and let his heart rate return to normal. “You find any other chatty ghosts?”

Sam nodded, though he looked distracted. “Where's Dad and the others?”

“I haven’t seen Bobby since we split up. Everyone else is in the tavern. Why?”

“There's a lot of dead people here, Dean. At least a dozen psychics. This has been going on for months.” Sam kept glancing around nervously.

“Dude, what's going on?” Dean waved at Sam, trying to bring his focus back.

Sam just dodged around him and poked his head out the door. “I think I found the most recent victims. Is one of the people named Ava?”

Before Dean could answer, a shotgun blast boomed in the distance. Dean took off running in the direction of the tavern, lugging the salt bag with him while Sam vanished. Inside was chaos. The Acheri demon from the outskirts of town had made another appearance, and it was currently tearing into Mark. After a moment, Dean saw John laying to the side, unconscious and bleeding with Leah crouched over him. 

Dean dropped the bag of salt, aimed his shotgun, and blasted the demon all in one smooth motion. The bag exploded and salt spilled everywhere, but at least the demon was gone for the moment. One threat dealt with, Dean quickly reassessed, clocking everyone else in the room. Ava was missing. So was Vaughn, but that was less of a concern at the moment. “Where is she?” he barked, looking at Leah and Tony. 

They didn't know. Which meant she had left. A quick assessment showed him the only exit was the door he’d just come through, which meant she was behind him. He spun, and there she was. She wore a maniacal grin and a bloody nose. They moved at the same time, but Dean was faster. He pulled his knife, catching her just under her ribs. There was a moment to realize that she'd been unarmed and wonder what she'd been planning to do to him before Dean spotted the older guy leaning against the door jamb. He was closer to John's age, with a smug, satisfied smile and yellow eyes. 

Dean's eyes widened. “You,” he breathed.

He froze for a sliver of a second, then threw himself toward John, looking for the Colt. It felt like he was moving in slow motion and the world took on an unreal clarity. His hand closed over the gun, and he saw Sam pop into view just behind the Yellow Eyed Demon. 

The demon laughed, making a ‘who, me?’ gesture. Then he waved a hand, and Dean flew across the room. Stars exploded across his vision, but he managed to keep his grip on the Colt.

His brother snarled and gripped the demon, his ghostly form able to touch the smoke and hang on. Surprised, the demon writhed, smoke wreathing its meatsuit as it struggled to get away. Sam held on, his eyes wild and desperate as he yelled, “Dean, shoot!” Their forms mixed and swirled, until it was impossible to tell for sure where Sam ended and the demon began.

Dean took aim, shouting, “Move, Sam!”

“I've got him! Shoot!”

Panicked, Dean spared a glance at his dad, hoping irrationally for guidance. John's still form gave him none, but Dean got a brief, horrible look at the extent of his injuries. The blood pooling under him dropped a pit of worry into Dean's stomach, but he'd have to deal with that later. Sam still struggled with the Yellow Eyed Demon, the cause of all the pain his family had dealt with over the last two decades.

The demon laughed. “You think you can hold me, Sam? Long enough for Dean to overcome a lifetime of guilt over wanting to put his dick in his little brother? He already feels guilty for letting you die. Eternity wouldn't be enough time for him to come to grips with killing you himself.”

Sam grunted with effort, tendrils of smoke escaping from his grip. “Dean!”

Time slowed to a crawl as Dean squeezed the trigger. Even as he did it, he wanted to take it back, to change his mind. He couldn't let Sam go. Not like this. They didn't even know what the Colt would do to a ghost. He didn't want to find out. His aim was true, and the bullet caught the demon in the heart. Sam vanished, and Dean hoped fervently that it was by choice. The demon pulsed with orange light, the crackle of lightning filling the room. He collapsed, a lifeless shell. 

Dean panted, desperately searching the room for Sam. There he was, crouching near John. Leah had ducked away, taking cover near Tony at some point during the fighting. Dean sighed in relief, then moved to join them and check on his dad. The pooling blood was sticky, already cold and coagulated. He grimaced, then felt for a pulse. John's skin was cold to the touch, but it was freezing out. Dean's hands weren't much better. There was nothing under his fingers though, no thump of life under the skin. Dean closed his eyes, not sure if he should call what he was feeling grief. It felt like grief, but more complicated. Like love, and loss, and regret. Regret he hadn't done it himself? Maybe. And maybe regret they hadn't gotten to a good enough place for forgiveness too.

He didn't say anything, just looked up at Sam and saw a similarly mixed expression on his brother's face. 

“Is it over?” a timid voice asked from behind him.

Dean turned, startled. He'd nearly forgotten anyone else was there. Leah and Tony were huddled together in the corner of the room, crying softly. “Yeah,” he said. “It's over. She's dead, the demon's dead, and we've got three cars parked about a mile up the road. You can go home and pretend this nightmare never even happened.”

“What about the bodies?” the girl asked. She sounded timid, but determined. Dean figured she'd be fine, eventually. 

“I'll take care of the bodies. There's...” he hesitated, not sure he wanted to freak them out more than they already were. “I'll take care of it.”

They nodded, though she looked like she wanted to protest. Maybe offer to help. Instead Tony piped up and asked, “What about Vaughn? He left with Ava before that thing showed up.”

“Come on,” he said. “I'll take you to the cars. We’ll look for Vaughn on the way.” He dug for John's keys, grimacing at the task. He'd have to empty the weapons cache into the Impala before he sent them on their way. 

As it happened, Bobby had found Vaughn first, which is why he hadn’t come running at the sound of fighting. The kid was hurt bad but surprisingly wasn’t dead. Dean wondered if any psychic abilities related to super-healing and then figured why not. 

It took a couple hours to get the two of them on the road to Sioux Falls. They had Dean's number, and he'd given them Bobby's number too, just as a precaution. Hopefully they'd never have to use them. The Impala was just about full to bursting with everything John had stashed in the truck bed. Weapons, a variety of spell ingredients, books and his duffel. Bobby offered to help him take care of John, Ava, and the others, but Dean waved him off and told Bobby to make sure Vaughn made it to a hospital. Dean needed to put John to rest himself. When he hiked back to the town, he carried a bag with an axe, lighter fuel, and all the salt they had. In his other hand was a shovel. He had an awful lot of ghosts to deal with, and he had no idea what Ava had done with all the bodies. 

“Dean, we have to talk.” Sam was trailing him, intentionally hanging a few steps back.

“Yeah? What exactly is there to talk about?” Dean was exhausted. He'd been up all night already, and he still had an absurd amount of work to do. Dawn was just starting to break, a hint of light on the eastern horizon. Already he was making a list in his head of tasks, trying to make sure there was nothing forgotten. He didn't want to leave this to chance.

“I think you know.”

Dean stopped. He sighed. “I don't want to talk about it.” He silently begged Sam to let it go. The last thing he wanted was to talk about what the demon had said.

Sam stepped up beside him. “Come on. We can talk while you work.”

Sam vanished and let Dean work in silence for a blessedly long time, though. Apparently, he'd been talking to the ghosts, getting locations of as many bodies as possible. They'd give this town as much rest as they could.

“Where do you want to start?” Sam asked.

Dean didn't answer, just kept chopping. It was lucky this place was surrounded by forest because the ground was far too hard for a mass grave. He’d be cutting down trees all day to get enough wood.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Fine. I'll pick. Dad never told you everything he knew about the demon.”

“That's not news, Sam. So? You don’t want to talk about what the demon said?”

“Nothing to talk about.” Sam's voice was neutral, and his expression was too. Dean hadn't thought his brother's poker face was that good.

He scoffed, tried to elbow Sam in the ribs and winced when it went through him instead. “Come on. I know you want to.”

“What good is it going to do? I already knew how you felt. I'm dead either way, so it's not like—” Sam shut his mouth with an audible click. Dean wondered how that worked, considering his teeth were made of air now.

“You knew?” Dean straightened and faced Sam. Panicked thoughts were starting to crowd out all other thoughts. How had Sam known? Hadn’t Dean hidden it well enough?

Sam scuffed his shoes in the dirt. “I could tell, when I possessed you.” Sam's face crumpled. “Why?”

Ouch. Dean licked his lips, regretting it in the biting wind. “I don't know. I'd have given just about anything to not want this.”

His brother laughed wetly. “God, no. Why didn't you say something before now?” Then he shook his head. “Never mind. I get it. I— I wasn't ever going to tell you either. It's not exactly the sort of thing that ever feels safe to admit.”

Oh.

Dean thought he felt his heart break just a little bit more. They could have—only they couldn't have. Sam was right. Neither of them would have made the first move, not when the consequences of being wrong were so severe. He figured they could have lived their entire lives dancing around each other and never known for sure.

Sam wiped at his face, pushed his hair back. “You wanted to know why I didn’t hate Dad for what he did. It matters. Because he told me. Granted, he didn't know I could hear him, so I don't know if it counts as an apology. But you wanted to know how I could forgive him.” And then Sam told the story.

John sat next to Sam in the hospital. Sam wasn't sure he'd ever get used to seeing his own body laid out like that, and it didn't help that he barely looked like himself. His hair was short and uneven, just starting to grow in where they'd shaved it, covering the scars from when they'd removed part of his skull. It had relieved the pressure on his brain, but the damage had already been done. His dad was quiet, and he looked smaller than Sam had ever seen him. John Winchester had always been larger than life. He'd been confident, even arrogant, and that was one of the things that so often sparked fights between the two of them. Sam wanted them to be more careful, John was sure enough of his abilities that he didn't think he had to be. Seeing his dad hunched over, gently holding Sam's hand, was jarring.

“I'm so sorry, Sam.” His voice was quiet, almost inaudible. “I never wanted this for you. I know what I said when you left, and I know I meant it at the time. But.” He breathed, tried again. “I wanted you to be safe. If you were going to leave the life, then I wanted you to be all the way out. I—” His breath shuddered, and Sam realized with a start that John was crying. “Too little, too late, huh? The doctor tells me you're gone. He said you can't really hear me, that there's—” He sniffed. “That you aren't there to hear, anymore. And I know Dean doesn't believe it. That he thinks there's a spell or hoodoo or something that can bring you back.”

John clenched his fingers around Sam's hand and took a minute, obviously struggling to get the next part out. Sam hadn't heard anything surprising, yet. The doctors had been telling Dean for weeks that this was it. This was as good as it was going to get for Sam. He'd been hoping someone would be able to talk some sense into his brother because being stuck in this hospital room was getting boring.

“He's not wrong. I'm sure there's something out there that could heal you. So I have to apologize, Sam, because I'm not going to let him do it. There's a lot of reasons. Most of them are even good ones. But there's only one that matters. See, when that son of a bitch possessed me, I got a front row seat to his mind too. I could see what he was planning. God, Sam. I had heard rumors that the demons were planning a war. I'd heard talk of that for years, but they're so rare that it never seemed like a credible threat. Last year, I thought I knew more. That the kids like you were chosen to be his soldiers.” John looked away. “So I thought I knew the plan. I was wrong. Azazel isn't planning a war, he's planning the war. He's doing all of this to start the Apocalypse, and the babies—the chosen kids—he's looking for a vessel for the Devil.”

John shook his head like he still couldn't believe it. Sam didn't understand. He'd been intended as a vessel for Satan? Why him?

“I don't know how he planned to make you agree, Sammy. He wasn't thinking about that yet. All I know is that he liked you best. More than all the others–and there are a lot of others–he wanted it to be you. And I know you're a good person. So the things he would have done— I don't know. He's not going to give up. If I let Dean bring you back, then that puts you back in his sights. I won't let them use you, Sam. I won't. You deserve rest. It's not enough. Not nearly enough. But it's the last thing I can offer you. All I've ever wanted is to keep you safe, and you are finally out of that bastard's reach.” His breath hitched. “I hope you can hear this, wherever you are. I don't expect either of you to understand, and I don't expect forgiveness. God knows I'm never going to forgive myself.”

Dean didn't look at Sam for a long time. “He said all that?”

Sam nodded, chuckling lightly. “It was the longest speech I'd ever heard him give.”

“You believe him?”

Sam heaved a sigh, considering this. “I don't see why he'd lie. He didn't know I was there, watching. I mean, you saw how surprised he looked last night when I showed up. So, yeah. I guess I believe him.” 

“And that's why you wouldn't let me make that deal.”

“Fuck you. Dean, I didn't let you make that deal because I don't want you to go to Hell, not because I'm worried about some nefarious plans a demon made for me when I was a baby.” There was something in Sam's tone that made Dean hope, even though he had no right. Hope was useless, anyway, since Sam was dead and planned to stay dead.

The pyre for Ava and the demon—Azazel, he guessed—was almost ready. “I don't forgive him.” Dean paused his work, sweat starting to drip into his eyes despite the cold air. “But. I guess I can understand why he did it. Sort of. That was pretty messed up shit.”

Sam laughed. “I can't argue with that. I think he felt like he didn't have a choice. You're just as stubborn as the two of us when you want to be.”

“Nah,” Dean said. “I was only like that because it was you. He was probably right, anyway. I wouldn't have backed down, even if he'd told me all that. I'm not saying I'm ok with it. It was a dick move. But I can see why you aren't as pissed at him as I was.”

“Do you?” There was that tone again. The one that made Dean's heart flutter. “It doesn't really have anything to do with Lucifer. I mean, I get it too, why he made the choice to let me go, why he chose to trick you and Bobby. I think it was the wrong way to do it; he should have trusted you enough to tell you the truth. None of that has to do with why I forgave him, though. Or it does, but it's not the biggest part.”

“Yeah?” 

“He did it to protect you as much as me. He knew you were bound and determined to destroy yourself to save me, and he would rather you hate him forever than let you do that.” Sam shrugged, sheepish. “I could never be mad at him for that.”

Dean heaved the bodies onto the pile of wood. “So you think he made the right call, taking you off the ventilator.”

“I didn't want to die. I don't particularly like being dead. But the doctors were right, and I could tell that I wasn't going to get better weeks before they said it to you. It was like there was this tether to my body before that, and then it was gone. I don't know how to explain it, because I was definitely still tied to my body's location until you burned it. After a certain point, it was just meat, though. It wasn't me anymore.” Sam's eyebrows wrinkled, making the little crease between them that Dean had always loved. 

“So,” he said, his voice rough. He coughed, clearing his throat. “What now?”

Sam looked down, then away. “You aren't going to like it.”

“Sam, I haven't liked much of anything for the last five months. Spit it out.”

His brother chewed his bottom lip, hesitating. Shit, Dean really wasn't going to like this. The sorrow was written in every line of Sam's body, and Dean knew what he was going to say before he ever opened his mouth. Sam's brow furrowed as he found his words. “I need you to let me go.”

“Sam?”

“I.” He sniffed, his mouth doing a complicated frown/smile thing like he couldn't decide what he was feeling. “After what happened with Dad? I’m only going to get worse, and I don’t want to hurt you. But I can't let go myself. So I'm asking you to do it for me.”

Dean's fingers brushed the amulet Sam had given him when they were kids, and he saw Sam shudder. His throat closed up as he realized what Sam meant. He looked at the finished pyres, considering. “Not here. Ok?”

Sam cocked his head in question.

“Let me finish up here. Get all these people taken care of. Then I'll go back to Bobby's, and we'll do it there.” He swallowed, met Sam's eyes and let all his love for his little brother show. “I just need a little more time, ok? Just a little.”

Sam nodded, and Dean got back to work. It took the rest of the day before everything was done. The ground was too hard to dig up most of the bodies, so he made markers for any that weren't in the town cemetery, with plans to come back in the spring with Bobby.

Dean didn't go to the woods this time. Didn’t trust himself to leave Bobby’s, so instead he  just went to the back of the lot and built a bonfire. Sam joined him, and they watched the fire burn for a bit while Dean held the amulet in his hand. He wasn't ready. He was never going to be ready. What he wanted didn't matter in this case, though, because Sam was asking him to do it anyway.

“You ready?” Dean asked.

“Are you going to be ok?” Sam said instead of answering the question.

He thought about lying, trying to make it easier on Sam. The thing was that his brother would know anyway, and he didn't want their last conversation to be like that. “No. I'm not.”

Sam studied him for a long minute before he said, “You want to be, though. That's why we came back here.”

Dean's jaw worked. “Yeah.”

“Are you going to keep hunting?”

“I don't know,” he answered honestly. “There's still stuff out there, people to save. Doesn't feel right knowing what I know and not doing anything about it.”

“But?”

“But I'm no good to those people if I'm dead.” He looked at Sam then, open and honest. “You asked me to let you go, not to join you. And I hate you for that a little.” He dropped his gaze to the amulet in his hand. “The way I see it, if I'm going to make an honest effort to keep that promise, then I can't hunt. Not right now. Maybe Bobby needs a mechanic or something.”

Sam grinned, though he still looked sad and worried. “You'd be good at that.”

“Maybe someday I'll— Anyway. Not until I can do it with my head in the game, right?” Their eyes met, and Dean fought to keep his composure.

“Stay safe, Dean.”

Not trusting himself to say anything more, he gently tossed the necklace onto the fire. It started to melt within moments, and his last sight of Sam was of his brother smiling at him as he faded in a shower of sparks.

[worldsfromhoney]

Welcome to My Channel Pt.1

Masterlist | Next

cw: body horror, psychological horror

You give up banging on the door when your voice turns hoarse, and it’s painful to even clench your hands to form fists.

You’re still by the door. Of course you are. There’s this sliver you hang onto; the what if they remember who I am to them that has powered your incessant banging against a door. It’s quite an invasive thought that’s making you blind to everything else. Like the muffled laughter and jeers you are definitely hearing wrong.

So you stop resisting. Right. You breath in and out. The smile and atmosphere of ease you try to assume crumples under a second, but that’s okay. That’s fine! It’ll be weird if they see through the cameras that you’re not nervous at all.

You remember the times when you watched your siblings go through this. Of course, most times your mum or someone older had clicked their tongue and hurriedly placed a hand over your eyes and told you to hum. You had. You did. But you still heard the unabashed moans and the heart-splitting screams.

You walk over to the face-down tablet at the centre of the room and wonder if you’ll remain the same.

You don’t think you will. Dad has always said you were special.

Your twin, Allen, was the last one in the room. He hadn’t bothered to put the tablet back on the charging dock where it belonged. He’s always been that way. Always leaving messes for you to clean up after him.

Now’s a moment that you’re thankful for his character flaw. Because for one glorious moment, you hope.

Then the tablet powers on in your grasp and you wish you hadn’t done such a foolish thing. If you didn’t stupidly hope, then you wouldn’t be feeling this… drop. As if something had grabbed your ankles, inhuman nails digging in and an equally inhuman strength pulling you in directions you shouldn’t be physically capable.

It’s with that long, running thought that you drop to the floor. You cradle the tablet against your chest like a little one you didn’t want but couldn’t help form an immediate connection with, anyway.

The time to run away has never been an option; it’s your turn now.

You look down and realise you failed to notice the charging cord connected to the tablet. Ah. So that’s why it isn’t dead. To counter your foolish thoughts, the bright, blinking screen sneers at you, its laughter delivered in buzzes and static.

You look away and look around this room that you’ve only ever seen through monitors. You try to remember where the cameras are to save as much dignity as you can. Maybe you can go to the most obscure spot instead of stay at where you are right now, smack dab in the centre of the room.

You try to remember where they are. You can’t.

Your mind blanks out and ah, it’s starting. It started the moment you grabbed the tablet and cradled it against your chest. You’ve given it access to your heart (so that’s how) through layered mazes of skin, muscle, fat, bone, and all things human.

It is the inhuman invading and changing the human.

This time, when the tablet’s screen seems to have trouble becoming stable, you don’t nurture any hope. There is nothing now. Is there a part of you that’s called hu-man? You… you can’t remember? That’s okay. That’s fine. That’s normal! Everyone who goes through this coming-of-age ceremony has experienced this, so nothing’s wrong here at all. Remember? Your older siblings told you this beforehand. Everything’s just as it should be and, at that thought, you relax your white-knuckled hold on the tablet.

The screen finally settles on something. It’s a video database.

The screen is a touchscreen, but instinct makes you realise you don’t get to choose here. You are a spectator; a bystander who lurks and does nothing but absorb everything. Your role is to see and so you wait for what it is you need to look at. That’s always been the case and will continue along the same path for you. Nothing about your ceremony calls for anything otherwise.

You are not a special case, and you nod in agreement, even sighing in relief. Who knows what could happen otherwise? Tragedy, maybe. Mayhem, more so.

You forget all about what your dad said.

You watch the screen scroll by itself. Occasionally, it seems to hesitate on one thumbnail and those times makes air blow up inside your chest and up to your throat until you’re on the verge of exploding. Then the screen moves on and you can finally breathe normally again. You do not feel relief, remember? Anticipation. That’s what it is. You are excited!

You look forward to it, really, as you watch the scrolling that shifts incessantly—from fast to slow, staggering to stilted. Sometimes it glitches and a static sound spreads into the room. The sound comes from cameras’ speakers around the room, not the tablet. You feel ashamed for wondering if you have to do it.

Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.

…Yes.

The tablet pings. It’s chosen a video for you to watch.

When the woman shows up on the screen, you know she’s not real. She’s created for the sake of that video—of that ‘channel’ alone. You want to feel flattered so you can think, really, that she’s created for you to experience and feel; her words, expressions, commands, and life. She is for you and only you.

But this is not a romance. This is your coming-of-age ceremony that everyone goes through. This is what will break you in and soft videos are never chosen.

The tablet always chooses cruel videos. There’s a spectrum of cruelty in existence and you’ve seen it on your siblings who’ve come out of this room throughout the years. There’s usually a lot of either white or red stuff. You know red is blood and white is something you aren’t ready to know about yet, but here you are, uneducated and coming of age. Their eyes get sunken. Everyone’s does. You like your eyes and wonder if you’ll have to give them up the same way.

Do empaths inevitably have to pay a price?

The tablet whispers to you yes and you agree. Nothing comes for free, not even feelings.

The video finally loads, and the woman who was smiling on the thumbnail finally moves. Light comes into her eyes and you watch, entranced, the moment she becomes a person—a human. Oh, this new fact makes you sigh, eyes rolling in the back of your head. Your lashes flutter against your cheek and it’s only then you realise you’re almost rubbing your face against the screen.

Ah. Just as with the tablet, you’ve formed a bond with her. You can’t help it. There’s nothing to get anything (blank, blank, bla—) from in this room but her, her, her.

You feel the nervousness she feels. It’s curdling with anxiety and touches of excitement. She tucks a piece of non-existent hair behind her ear and her nervous laughter fills the room. It’s the first time you’ve heard her voice, and it’s as a laugh.

She must be nice if she was real.

“Hi, hello!” The woman greets you, all full of nervous cheer. “This is Cassie, your girl! Sorry I uploaded this so, so late. I got so caught up with newborn stuff. You know. The usual ‘ruining the schedule I spent my entire adulthood cultivating’ thing my little monster is set on doing.”

She—Cassie—gives a shrill laugh at this, but you hear—no, feel the exhaustion in her voice. Her makeup covers whatever would’ve shown on her face. If you’re able to pause the video and zoom in, you could’ve probably seen some sign of it. But this woman, Cassie, has a channel entitled Makeup for Millennia, and she’s good at what she does.

“So!” Cassie starts up again, all ear-splitting smiles. Your own lips try to mimic it and fail. “I know this is a long overdue video ever since I went barefaced on my Gram Live, but please forgive me! I’ve had a lot on my plate lately and, well, I wanted to be in tip-top shape for you guys!”

She does not look like in her prime form. This early, you can already feel the tiredness tugging at her bones. There’s the sluggish flow of her blood as unhealthiness clogs her vessels and makes her slow. Maybe she edited this video after recording, making her voice sound faster—sound normal.

But who are you to judge? You’ve never seen her anywhere except in this video which you’re watching for the first time. You wouldn’t have. She isn’t real.

So you set aside your sentiments, sit more comfortably on the recently cleaned white floor, and cradle Cassie close.

The reason she has her makeup on is so she can show how she removes it.

Cassie’s Skincare Routine for THE Skin of the Millennia.

“First, I wanna start off by saying— your makeup wipes? Throw. Em. Out,” Cassie says, clapping her hands at each word and trying for a stern expression. She doesn’t succeed. She looks too nice and you’re sure she is. “They are not good for your skin for a hella lot of reasons that I won’t list but, c’mon— trust me on this.”

You do. You have watched none of her other videos or know of her reputation on other platforms, but the resolve and confidence in her voice as she gives the command makes you want to follow. Then you remember yourself. You remember what you’re here for—what she is supposed to be to you.

Experience. Sustenance.

Cassie brings up a bottle to the screen.

“This—” she says, the brand and details on it indecipherable. It isn’t real, after all. “—is an oil cleanser. It is literally magic, you guys. Say goodbye to using a lot of wipes, a few pumps of this and the makeup’s BAM— gone!”

She mimes what she promotes. Cassie pumps out a few oil-like drops from the bottle, rubs her hands together until the substance turns into a milky white and, without hesitation, starts rubbing her face clean.

You jolt here. You almost drop the tablet in surprise and stare back, with mild horror (fascinating, oh so fascinating you can’t wait to tell everyone) as you feel the pads of her fingers against your face. They’re rough and they… they burn. There is no oil here, in the real world, to ease the motions she is doing. At least Cassie has the oil.

You have nothing but your skin and the real-ghost touch of her fingers.

Rub, rub, rub. Scratch, scratch, scratch. On and on it goes until you finally shudder and draw back instinctively when the fingers disappear. You’ve thrust out the tablet from your chest. You almost fear that you dropped it in the entire ordeal, but it’s still there, your palms greedily stuck to it.

You look back at the video. You can’t do anything else but that.

Cassie’s wiping her face with a wet towel, makeup gone and looking the perfect combination of refreshed and stressed. It reminds you of your siblings the day after their ceremonies when they come down the stairs to eat with the family. Tired but relieved.

The same can be said of you, who are sure that your skin is redder than it’s supposed to be. You pat your face and your hand comes off clean.

No red. No blood. You’re okay.

Right?

Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.

The next product is a gel cleanser, and you know you can breathe easily when Cassie doesn’t use her fingers to rub the product in. This time, she uses a damp brush on which she puts a dollop of the gel and rubs said instrument on her palm. You watch as it foams like the thing that your parents use for their baths.

It’s entrancing, to see something near to magic through a screen that is born from it.

Which is more magical—a machine that compels an empath to bond with fake creations or the mere existence of an empath? An infernal question, as your grandparents and far relatives put it. They prefer mystery, but you prefer answers. You are getting them now.

The answer is Cassie, and you continue to watch, waiting and waiting.

Taglist

@wildthingsandmagic @starbuds-and-rosedust @alexsidereus @adorable-bookworm

[danoberry]

★ lavender haze (calvin weir-fields professor au x reader) SMUT 18+

description: your unrealistic crush on your english professor becomes a little more realistic than what you had initially expected…

content: 18+ SMUT!!!, power dynamic, blowjob, guided fingering, praise, “sir” kink, lots of “good girl,” reader is a college student (of age obviously), calvin is an unprofessional professor, tiny mention of calvin’s past with ruby (only kinda implied)

pronouns: you/yours (female reader)

genre: mature/nsfw/professor au

wc: 3.6k

afab genitalia

Professor Weir-Fields paid no mind to the students gathering their things and filtering out of his English lecture. Instead, he sat in his chair at the front of the room, and prodded his desk with the bottom of his red pen, skimming through an assignment written by someone in your class. He sighed, rolled his eyes, and wrote something on the side of the paper that you couldn’t make out. It could’ve been yours. But then again, he tended to grade your assignments with slightly more precision. Smiley faces on your paper. High grades, even when it was obvious you had half-assed the assignment the night before. You would catch him staring at you during group work, which you replied with a shy smile. You were his favorite student. And honestly, he was your favorite professor. He was young, only a few years older than yourself, and a published author. The man was brilliant, charming, handsome. 

After his class, you would consistently make sure to stay just slightly later than everyone else, gathering your things last minute, so that Mr. Weir-Fields would bump into you on your way out, or call you back to chat. The attention he gave you wasn’t helping your obsession. 

You found yourself lost within your mind, in class, more than once. Thoughts of him bending you over on his desk, or just kissing him, or sucking his cock under the hollow podium. It was simply perverted.

You saw the way the other women in your class would adjust their tops and puff out their chest when they walked out, almost like high school girls, to get a sliver of his attention. They probably had the same thoughts as you, too. However, you were his go to student to talk to after class.

The lecture hall had cleared exponentially. You gathered your supplies and placed them in your bag, and began to walk down the steps. Your head shifted in his direction, and quickly was diverted when you saw he wasn’t looking at you. Your head faced the exit as you walked past his desk. 

The professor looked up at you quickly with a hint of annoyance and tiredness in his eyes, before raising his eyebrows and opening his mouth. 

“Oh, Y/N?” 

You turned around, disheveled. As if you didn’t have conversations with him after class like this almost every day. 

“Yes sir?” 

You walked towards his desk with your phone in your hand and a tote bag at your side. 

“Hey, listen, are you doing anything within the next hour or so?” 

You stiffened. Surely you were dreaming… 

You answered the question, filled with a lavender haze from talking to the man you had such an unrealistic crush on. You forgot about anything and everything you could have had to do that evening. 

“Uh… no?” 

Professor Weir Fields chuckled and ran his hand through his hair. 

“I know I’m pretty uptight the majority of the time but you can loosen up a bit! I was just wondering if you could help me grade some papers in my office.” 

“Ah-um… am I allowed to do that, Professor?” 

He chuckled again. “Oh please, Y/N, you can call me Calvin. I’m hardly a few years older than you.” 

You listened to what he said, but to maintain respect decided to continue to address him with the respective titles he deserved. 

 He paused for a moment, while he looked at you with his mouth open to speak again. “You’re allowed to do whatever I tell you you can do, alright?” He smiled again and soaked in your expression, “Here, take these. I’ll show you to my office.” 

Slowly, yet lacking hesitation, you took half of the fat stack of papers in your clutch, and Calvin grabbed his things and put them into a backpack. He slung it right over his shoulder and walked behind you to the exit. 

“Take a left- mhm.” 

You walked down the deserted hall with your professor trailing behind you. Your heart raced with a nervousness that you couldn’t describe, and the blood rushing to your cheeks covered your face in a shade so scarlet it was maroon. You were seriously embarrassed because of how you were acting. That ��cool” facade you put on beforehand was gone. You were a god damn nervous wreck. 

“Yeah second door on the right… right here.” 

You got out of his way when he opened the door. There on his desk lay another stack of papers, a MacBook, and a cup with pens and pencils, and a lamp. Books lined the shelf on the wall, from head to toe, and the shades were partially shut, letting in a minute amount of sun. 

“I’ll keep that door open for the draft- it’s hot as hell in here… Woah, Y/N, you okay?” 

Calvin looked up at you while he flicked on the lamp, to see your red-hot cheeks burning up at him like flaming suns. 

“Oh- uh, yeah… it’s just hot in here.” 

“If you don’t want to stay in here and help that’s completely okay, I just figured since you’re my star student and all I could use another set of intelligent eyes on these papers-“ 

“No!” 

You said that way too loud. 

“No, I’m okay. I appreciate it…” 

You began to ease into this strange situation, and your stature began to loosen up just a bit. 

“That was rude of me not to offer you a chair… here, sweetheart. You can sit right here.” 

He pointed to his office desk chair. 

“No, you can have that- that’s yours, professor…” 

“I insist, sit down.” 

“Alright, thank you, sir…” 

You sat down and pulled up the chair to the desk, while he grabbed the extra chair from the other side of the table and scooted it towards the desk to sit right across from you. You eased into the chair and asked for a pen. 

“Ah yes, here’s one.”

He clicked a red pen from the basket and scribbled on the top of a paper he had in front of him, to test it out before handing it to you. 

“How do you want me to grade these, exactly?” You asked.

“Oh honey, however you want.” 

You kept your composure while you soaked in that name… honey…

You brushed it off, to not get your nasty hopes up, and began grading one of your classmate’s papers. You checked for simple things, grammatical correction, topical subject matter, and things that looked juvenile for that class. You hardly knew anyone in that class, which was unfortunate for your friends, who you could’ve given an immediate A+ to if they were in the same English course as you. 

You kept skimming, marking, flipping, until you began to read a familiar piece. It was your paper. Your professor was sitting directly across from you, and being the responsible student you were, you explained, “Oh uh- sir, this is mine.” 

He looked up at you through his glasses. “It is, huh?” 

“Yep, my name is right here,” you lightly chuckled. 

“I wasn’t actually questioning your legitimacy, Y/N. I believe you.” He got up from his seat and walked over to the other side of his desk, and peered over you and the chair you were sitting in. He leaned and looked at the paper before going back around the desk and grabbing the chair he was sitting in. He sat it right next to yours, and pushed up his glasses. 

Calvin cocked his head while he skimmed the paper, before grabbing it to flip it over and read the next few pages. 

“Looks pretty good,” he commented. “What do you think?” 

Being brutally honest, you answered with a small laugh, “I think I half assed it the night before it was due…” 

“Well…” He leaned towards you, “Should we grade it together then, and average it out?”

The nervousness you held struck again. 

“Yeah, I don’t see why not, you have the authority anyway, professor…” 

He laughed. “Oh, please.” 

Calvin took his finger and skimmed through the paper. “Oh hey, look at that, darling…” 

Your eyes widened. 

“I see a spelling error!” He said, with leniency and lightheartednes. You looked at the word, “predominantly” spelled as “prodominantly.” How stupid. He grabbed his pen from across the desk and circled the word, and continued to skim through the paper, circling any grammatical errors he saw.

Once he was done, he put the pen back down on the paper and looked at it, before looking back at you. 

“That would be a lot of points deducted…” Calvin said. “What do you think, wanna fix that?” 

Your starstruck expression fixed for a moment, before you said, “Yes sir, I’d like that…” 

Calvin pushed up his glasses by pinching them on the corner and lifting them up. He licked his lips and chuckled for a moment before kissing you, running his hands against your cheeks and through your hair. He pulled away for a moment. 

“Still wanna follow up on that opposition, Y/N?” He said, in reference to the kiss. 

Butterflies swarmed throughout your body and sat in your core. You shyly replied, “Yes sir.” 

Your professor quietly chuckled. 

“There you are, pretty thing.” 

Heat filled your body as he kissed you a second time. At this point, you couldn’t feel your limbs. It was just useless static in the place of a body. You kissed the man as if you were the most ravenous you had ever been in your life. 

“Can I be honest with you for a moment?” He said in between kisses. You nodded your head. 

“You know, I’ve dreamed for days on end about my ideal woman…” He pulled your hair behind your ear, “Yet you’re so much better than what I could have ever come up with.” 

The comment made you smile. “Seriously?” You asked. 

“Oh yeah. Seriously.” 

He kissed you again, only this time the kisses would start to trail down your neck, and lead back your mouth once again. 

Right then, the door, cracked open, began teetering from wind in the hallway, which led you both to sit up quickly and relax just as fast, as it was clear there was no one at the door. 

“Do you want me to shut that?” Calvin asked with a smile on his face, close to yours, and rubbing your thigh.

“Yes sir,” you said, wiping the saliva with your thumb from the bottom of your chin. 

He kissed you again, before walking over to the door and shutting it. You watched his fingers creep over the door handle and shut it in. A dramatic click you heard was the sound of the lock being set into place. 

Calvin turned around and you had immediately noticed the bulge in his pants, making you remember all of the times you sat mindlessly in his class, with thoughts of him fucking you anywhere. To know that you could have been making him feel the same way began to drive you crazy, and the slick puddling in your underwear was just getting wetter and wetter. He walked and stood over you, making you feel like an ant next to a giant. 

He looked down at you and caressed your face with lengthy hands, tracing his thumb over your lower lip.

“Is this something you want?” He said, a gentle look on his face. 

“Mhm…” You replied, slowly nodding up at him. 

“Use your words, you know better than ‘mhm,’ Y/N,” he mocked. 

“Yes, I want this…” you shyly said, blushing redder from embarrassment. 

“Yes, who?” Calvin teased. 

“Yes sir.” 

You tilted your head to the side in the face of embarrassment, to which Calvin gently used the hand that laid on your cheek to turn you back and look at him. His other hand lightly squeezed your thigh when he sat down and kissed you again.

“Good girl.” 

Another kiss lingered on again, and Calvin kneaded into your thighs like a cat on a cardboard scratcher. His fingers slowly trailed down your inner thighs and toward your aching heat. His thumb grazed your clothed clit, to which you shivered in reaction. 

“Do you want me to touch you there?” He asked. 

“Yes…” you kissed him again, “Sir.” 

His thumb sat right where your clit was, under your pants. Causing a gut feeling of nervousness and contempt, his hand sat right on the gap between your legs, massaging to the point that you believed he could feel your pulse. 

Your lips stay connected as you move your hands to undo the button on your jeans and zipping down the zipper. For a moment you stood up to pull them down past your ankles, and you sat back down a wet mess. 

“So pretty…” Calvin purred. “I think we should get this off of you too…” 

He grabbed the bottom of your shirt and lifted it over your head, to which you raised your arms to slip off the sleeves. 

Calvin held your thigh down with his left hand, and left you shivering while he drew a straight line up your panties, tracing over your clothed folds. 

“I can’t believe I’m really making you this wet…” he taunted, jokingly. “You wanna be fucked by your professor really bad, huh?” 

You croaked in between another kiss, “Yes sir.” 

“Maybe you could work for it,” Calvin smiled.

“Oh- uh- how so?” You asked, dazed. 

“You could get on your knees for me and I’ll show you, hm?”

He raised his eyebrows and looked at you. You nodded in compliance and got off of your chair to sit down on the ground, your shins on the carpet and your heels touching your ass. 

“Such a cute girl,” he purred. 

The man loomed over you, toying with your lips with his fingers. You stayed still, looking into his eyes and, admittedly, salivating. Your hands reached for his button, peeling down his zipper, and facing the bulge sat right there in his underwear. 

You licked your lips and pulled down his underwear, his cock springing out and positioning itself right in front of your face. Precum leaked out of his tip , almost beginning to drip down the shaft of his cock. He groaned as he felt the air around his dick. 

He tapped his dick on your bottom lip, which both were wide open. You immediately licked the tip of his cock, leaving him to shudder and laugh at the immediate stimulant. You twirled your tongue around his tip, before reaching your head down as far as you could manage and gagging where his cock had touched the back of your throat.

He kept groaning and began words of praise that made you almost upset you were so horny, and needed a release. 

“You’re doing such- ah- a good job, pretty baby.” 

You smiled with your lips wrapped around him, face red and almost swollen from the feelings making the blood rush to your cheeks. 

He let you have a few more strokes of his cock, before pulling out of your mouth and holding himself, getting on your level, and kissing you.

“Do you want to finger yourself too, babe?” He asked with sincerity, slowly palming himself while he spoke. “That’s okay, you know that…” 

You stared at him with pleading eyes. 

“Yes sir.” 

“Perfect…” he said. “Do you want me to show you what to do while you suck my cock?” 

“Mhm…” you complied. 

“Right here,” he took your dominant hand and sucked on it, which made you throb just looking at him.

“Wanna take these panties off?” He asked. 

You nodded, and took them off over your ankles, before getting back in a position where you were sitting on your knees. 

He guided your hand to the bud of your clit and put his middle and pointer finger over yours, circling over yourself at a slow pace. 

“I’m sure you’ve done this before,” he assumed, after kissing you again. 

“I have… but it feels better with you teaching me, sir…” You shyly said, smiling slightly.

“I’m sure it does, sweetheart.” 

He kept circling around your clit, leading you to let out small whimpers as he persisted. 

“You keep doing that, and make me finish too. How does that sound?” Calvin inquired, still on your level. 

“I- It sounds good to me,” you replied. 

Calvin stood up and let go of your hand, making you feel a bit upset that the warmth wasn’t enveloping your fingers and his clothed body wasn’t as close to your practically naked one as it was just a moment ago. 

He grabbed his throbbing cock and lined it up with your lips, while you rubbed your clit at a medium pace. In actuality, you were just stalling until he came, and he could finger you again. 

As you sucked him off, staring into his eyes and hollowing your cheeks, Calvin stared down at you in awe. He thought you were doing so well. You continued to rub on your clit while you worked so hard to please him. 

Calvin’s knees began to buckle and his words started to trample over each other, sloppily telling you how much of a “good girl” you were, and how good you were making him feel. Your cheeks hallowed more than they had before and you felt his cock twitch in your mouth. 

He took it out of your mouth and jerked himself off to finally cum, while you sat there staring up at him, letting him cum on your face and your chest. 

Calvin groaned and smiled while he came all over you, praising you and calling you every sweet name in the book. You sat there for a moment, still fingering yourself slowly while he came down from his high. 

“Oh baby, you couldn’t finish?” He said, almost concerned. 

“No sir…” you replied, his seed still laying on your face. 

“Well, I guess I’ll have to fix that?” 

“Yes please…”

Calvin replied playfully, “Get up here.”

You got up and sat on the top of his desk, while he made his way over to you to kiss you. He grabbed the back of your bra and unbuttoned it, leaving the bra to fall off of your tits, making them spill out in front of him. 

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” he praised. 

He rubbed his thumb over your nipple, flicking it and watching it slowly rise, before sucking on it, the air making it feel even colder. He continued to latch onto your nipple as he took your fingers and by doing the same thing he was doing just a moment ago when you were on the floor, put his fingers over yours and stroked your clit, pressing hard on your sensitive bud, and making you shake slightly, while he did what he was doing.

Calvin took his fingers from over yours, and his lips off of your nipple, kissing your lips and pulling away, holding his hand in front of your mouth.

“Spit.”

You did as he said, and Calvin cut the string of saliva by smearing his thumb across your mouth. 

“Good girl.” 

He lubricated your hole with your spit, lathering it all over his pointer and middle finger, and putting himself in you with false urgency. 

He pumped in and out, curling his fingers, while you moaned with contempt, finally getting what you’d been wanting. He was finger fucking you on his desk. You felt euphoric. 

He used his other hand to put yours on your clit, a way of non-verbally saying, “I want you to have a really good orgasm.” 

You rubbed yourself while he got faster with his pace, slick enveloping his fingers, wet noises filling the small office. You moaned and groaned, biting your lip, as you felt a knot begin to form in your stomach. You were about to cum soon. 

You kept moaning his name, high pitched and whiny.

His fingers curved right where you needed them too, and combined with the friction on your already sensitive, you finally let go. Strings of “Calvin-Cal, Cal, Cal, Cal…” repeated and lingered as your walls clamped down on his fingers and you came all over them, making a mess. 

Calvin pushed you to your max, pumping a few more times, making high pitched whines leave your mouth, like you could cry, 

He pulled them out of you slowly, licking his fingers and sighing. 

“Look what you’ve done to me, Y/N. Fuck, we’re both a mess… There’s no one I’d rather do this with, I hope you know that.” 

“Thank you…” You said, kissing him on the cheek. 

“You’re welcome, baby… Thank you too, you’re just as good as I knew you’d be.” 

He stood there for a moment and looked at you on his desk. 

“I think,” he kissed you, “I think you passed with full marks.” 

“Oh, seriously?” You asked him. 

“Yes ma’am, hard work gets rewarded. I guess it wouldn’t be bothersome to help me grade some more after the lesson tomorrow, would it?” 

Without thinking, you responded with a simple “I can help, sir.” 

“Well, I’ll see you here at the same time tomorrow.” 

He kissed you and leaned in to whisper in your ear. 

“I’ll have some condoms.” 

authors note:

thank you all for the patient wait for this fic, i really hope everyone enjoyed!!! took me AGES to write, but it was all worth it in the end, i really like it! it’s (i believe) the longest fic i’ve ever written, which is super cool. because of school starting and getting situated with living spaces, it’s definitely had a setback on my fic writing, but i try my best to balance everything with respect for priorities! again, thank you guys for the patient wait, i know i’ve been hyping this up for quite a moment. SPECIAL THANKS TO FRIENDS IN MY DISCORD SERVER WHO GAVE ME SOME OF THE IDEAS FOR THIS FIC!!!

[mishafletcher]

Are you a Gold Star lesbian? (Just in case you don't know what it means, a Gold Star lesbian is a lesbian that has never had the sex with a guy and would never have any intentions of ever doing so)

So I got this ask a while ago, and I've been lowkey thinking about it ever since.

First: No. I am a queer, cranky dyke who is too old for this sort of bullshit gatekeeping. 

Second: What an unbelievable question to ask someone you don't even know! What an incomprehensibly rude thing to ask, as if you're somehow owed information about my sexual history. You're not! No one—and I can't reiterate this enough, but no one—owes you the details of their sex lives, of their trauma, or of anything about themselves that they don't feel like sharing with you.

The clickbait mills of the internet and the purity police of social media would like nothing more than to convince everyone that you owe these things to everyone. They would like you to believe that you have to prove that you're traumatized enough to identify with this character, that you can't sell this article about campus rape without relating it to your own sexual assault, that you can't talk about queer issues without offering up a comprehensive history of your own experiences, and none of those things are true. You owe people, and especially random strangers on the internet, nothing, least of all citations to somehow prove to them that you have the right to talk about your own life.

This makes some people uncomfortable, and to be clear, I think that that's good: people who feel entitled to demand this information should be uncomfortable. Refusing to justify yourself takes power away from people who would very much like to have it, people who would like to gatekeep and dictate who is permitted to speak about what topics or like what things. You don't have to justify yourself. You don't have to explain that you like this ship because this one character reminds you a bit of yourself because you were traumatized in a vaguely similar way and now— You don't have to justify your queerness by telling people about the best friend you had when you were twelve, and how you kissed, and she laughed and said it was good practice for when she would kiss boys and your stomach twisted and your mouth tasted like bile and she was the first and last girl you kissed, but— 

You don't owe anyone these pieces of yourself. They're yours, and you can share them or not, but if someone demands that you share, they're probably not someone you should trust.

Third: The idea of gold star lesbians is a profoundly bi- and trans- phobic idea, often reducing gender to genitals and the long, shared history of queer women of all identities to a stark, artificial divide where some identities are seen as purer or more valuable than others. This is bullshit on all counts.

There's a weird and largely artificial division between bisexuals and lesbians that seems to be intensifying on tumblr, and I have to say: I hate it. Bisexual women aren't failed lesbians. They're not somehow less good or less valid because they're attracted to [checks notes] people. Do you think that having sex with a man somehow changes them? What are you so worried about it for? I've checked, and having sex with a man does not, in fact, make your vagina grow teeth or tentacles. Does that make you feel better? Why is what other people are doing so threatening to you?

Discussions of gold star lesbians are often filled with tittering about hehe penises, which is unfortunate, since I know a fair few lesbians who have penises, and even more lesbians who've had sex with people, men and women alike, who have penises. I'm sorry to report that "I'm disgusted by a standard-issue human body part" is neither a personality nor anything to be proud of. I'm a dyke and I don't especially like men, but dicks are just dicks. You don't have to be interested in them, but a lot of people have them, and it doesn't make you less of a lesbian to have sex with someone who has a dick.

There's so much garbage happening in the world—maybe you haven't noticed, but things are kind of Not Great in a lot of places, and there's a whole pandemic thing that's been sort of a major buzzkill? How is this something that you're worried about? Make a tea, remind yourself that other people's genitalia and sexual history are none of your business, maybe go watch a video about a cute animal or something. 

Fourth: The idea of gold star lesbians is a shitty premise that argues that sexuality is better if it's always been clear-cut and straightforward—but it rarely is. We live in a very, very heterosexist culture. I didn’t have a word for lesbian until many years after I knew that I was one. How can you say that you are something when your mouth can’t even make the shape of it? The person you are at 24 is different to the person you are at 14, and 34, and 74. You change. You get braver. The world gets wider. You learn to see possibilities in the shadows you used to overlook. Of course people learn more about themselves as they age.

Also, many of us, especially those of us who grew up in smaller towns, or who are over the age of, say, 25, grew up in times and places where our sexuality was literally criminal.

Shortly after I graduated high school, a gay man in my state was sentenced to six months in jail. Why? Well, he’d hit on someone, and it was a misdemeanor to "solicit homosexual or lesbian activity", which included expressing romantic or sexual interest in someone who didn’t reciprocate. You might think, then, that I am in fact quite old, but you would be mistaken. The conviction was in 1999; it was overturned in 2002.

I grew up knowing this: the wrong thing said to the wrong person would be sufficient reason to charge me with a crime.

In the United States, the Defense of Marriage Act was passed in 1996, clarifying that according to the federal government, marriage could only ever be between one man and one woman. It also promised that even if a state were to legalize same-sex unions, other states wouldn't have to recognize them if they didn't want to. And wow, they super did not want to, because between 1998 and 2012, a whopping thirty states had approved some sort of amendment banning same-sex marriage.

Every queer person who's older than about 25 watched this, knowing that this was aimed at people like them. Knowing that these votes were cast by their friends and their families and their teachers and their employers. 

Some states were worse than others. Ohio passed their bill in 2004 with 62% approval. Mississippi passed theirs the same year with 86% approval. Imagine sitting in a classroom, or at work, or in a church, or at a family dinner, and knowing that statistically, at least two out of every three people in that room felt you shouldn't be allowed to marry someone you loved.

Matthew Shepard was tortured to death in October of 1998. For being gay, for (maybe) hitting on one of the men who had planned to merely rob him. Instead, he was tortured and left to die, tied to a barbed wire fence. His murderers were both sentenced to two consecutive life terms in prison. This was controversial, because a nonzero number of people felt that Shepard had brought it upon himself.

Many of us sat at dinner tables and listened to this discussion, one that told us, over and over, that we were fundamentally wrong, fundamentally undeserving of love or sympathy or of life itself.

This is a tiny, tiny sliver of history—a staggeringly incomplete overview of what happened in the US over about ten years. Even if this tiny sliver is all that there were, looking at this, how could you blame someone for wanting to try being not Like This? How can you fault someone who had sex, maybe even had a bunch of sex, hoping desperately that maybe they could be normal enough to be loved if they just tried harder? How can you say that someone who found themself an uninteresting but inoffensive boyfriend and went on dates and had sex and said that it was fine is somehow less valuable or less queer or less of a lesbian for doing so? For many people, even now, passing as straight, as problematic as that term is, is a survival skill. How dare you imply that the things that someone did to protect themself make them worth less? They survived, and that's worth literally everything.

Fifth, finally: What is a gold star, anyhow? You've capitalized it, like it's Weighty and Important, but it's not. Gold stars were what your most generous grade school teacher put on spelling tests that you did really well on. But ultimately, gold stars are just shiny scraps of paper. They don't have any inherent value: I can buy a thousand of them for five bucks and have them at my door tomorrow. They have only the meaning that we give them, only the importance that we give them. We’re not children desperately scrabbling for a teacher’s approval anymore, though. We understand that good and bad are more of a spectrum than a binary, and that a gold star is a simplification. We understand that no number of gold stars will make us feel like we’re special enough or good enough or important enough, or fix the broken places we can still feel inside ourselves. Only we can do that.

The stars are only shiny scraps of paper. They offer us nothing; we don’t need them. I hope that someday, you see that, too. 

[morgana-ren]

SUBMISSION: How about a nasty sweaty incel shiggy waiting everyday for his dad to go to work so that he could have his relief with stepmom? 

Excellent submission! Love that. Love that a lot! I find it only fair to warn you, however, that I won’t be doing mommy kink for it. Mommy kink is one of my squicks, and one of the very, very few I have. I’ll do the closest thing to it though: Daddy kink. Also I find the irony of him making his little stepmom call him daddy to be absolutely hilarious.

Also this one is a great concept and I love it but it’s going to have to be a multi-parter cause it got a little bit long. Lemme know if you like the concept and I’ll continue it. Also this posted under anonymous for some reason so cheers to tumblr and its endless fucking glitches that it never fixes or seems to make any better.

Warnings: Noncon, dubcon, sexism, really gross incel behavior, nsfl things, masturbation, violent sexual fantasies, nefarious planning, horrible suggestions from even more horrible friends, absolute LOATHING of family, and entitled bastard.

There is only one thing on this planet that Tomura hates more than his father.

Only one thing can even compare to the level of abject disgust he has for his dad. Everything about the man is abhorrent and degenerate, only tolerated because Tomura is, admittedly, a NEET, and had no where else to go after graduation. But if anything- anything- could hold a candle, it would be his taste in women.

All women are trashy on some level, but his dad really manages to find ones that pretend so hard that they aren’t. Vipers behind the veneer of smiling faces clad in red lipstick and smart skirts. Always “kind”, always “thoughtful”, and always fleeting. Fickle, stupid bimbos charmed by his dads surface level charisma to quickly realize just how shallow the pool became.

Even his own mom was like that: She fucked off once she realized staying with him meant staying with his dad, and that was a sacrifice she wasn’t willing to make. So she left him to rot in this cesspit with his worthless father and no other way out.

He figures he can’t hold it against her, not as much as he’d like. A few weeks with his shriveled up paternal figure and most women quickly figure out they can do so much better. It’s in their nature to seek out the best, and that certainly isn’t Kotaro; A bumbling idiot with nothing to offer on the best of days. They don’t know any better, so they never last long after being brought home to meet his son, and those are the ones that even make it that far.

So when he starts yammering on about meeting yet another skank and how ‘in love’ he already is, Tomura’s eyes roll so far back in his head that he swears his retinas will detach. He makes a point to be around as little as possible, but somehow still manages to catch an earful about his latest fling and how excited he is for Tomura to meet her.

Great.

True to his word, Kotaro brings you home one evening, eager to impress his son with his latest catch.

His father had a lot of nerve dragging him from his room to meet you- his latest glorified slut. Adding insult to injury, you had the unmitigated gall to talk down to him like you were an adult and he wasn’t. Even though you had to crane your neck to look up and greet him, you still talked at him like he was some child. So different from you even though you were so much smaller than he was- barely even a few years older than he is, if even that. 

So polite, introducing yourself and gently shaking his reluctant hand, making a point to smile at him and telling him how happy were to finally meet him and that you’d heard so much about him. Your hands were so soft, so little in comparison to his own. He dwarfs his pathetic father, practically towers over you, yet you still talk to him like you’re the adult in the equation.

So young, so pretty, though. Far better than anything his father had a right to pull. They weren’t exactly swimming in cash, the house was nothing in particular to gloat about, and he’d done enough eavesdropping around late at night to know his father suffered a particular… ailment, so it certainly wasn’t sexual satisfaction keeping you around. What was it then? 

Probably nothing. You’d probably run off in a few weeks like they all do.

Kotaro is a worthless sack of drooping skin and aging bones; A ghost of a man not worthy of the phantoms he’s seen pass in his years. No longer the dominant male even in his own home: not with a stronger, more virile son coming into his prime under the roof as well. A beta male at best, withering away while his own son eclipses him in strength and intellect and physique. Tomura is in his mid twenties and blooming- His father… who even knows. He doesn’t care- he doesn’t bother to keep track. 

So, maybe you really are just a dumb little whore. It would make sense. Father dearest always had been a dirty old man; A raging pervert with wandering hands and lingering eyes. Always sets his predatory sights on some cute thing too good for him. 

Then again, the poisoned apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, now does it?

You’re cute enough you could have gotten some alpha at your beck and call, yet you’ve attached yourself to his worthless father who, in turn, parades you around like his most beloved trophy. Taking you to dinners he can’t afford despite your ‘insistence’ that you be allowed to pay, buying you things you claim you don’t need. Oh, how the moron dotes on his whores as if it’s enough to keep them anchored to him.

Strangely though, you don’t run off.

If anything, you sink your claws in even further, getting more and more comfortable and showing up more and more. Every time Tomura leaves his fucking room- which isn’t often- you’re there around the corner, smiling dumb and pretty and greeting him politely.

Fuck, he hates you. Hates your stupid voice, your shitty dresses, hates hearing his father happy for once.

It’s no surprise- but unwelcome no less- that he’d move you in sooner rather than later. Terrified to let you out of his sight for even a second lest you come to what little senses you have in your tiny brain and dump him. Of course, he’s quick to take on all of your burdens as his own, even if it means working overtime to support you. He’s always wanted another little housewife, and now he’s so close.

Tomura listens in on the whole conversation feeling sick to his gut.

You beg him not to- offering to pay your own way just like a good girl, but of course his dumbass dad will hear none of it. He’s more than happy to spend a couple of extra hours at work. His dad is so idiotic, so fucking blind. He’s playing right into it. He’s willing to be your workhorse if it means keeping you all to himself.

He’ll hear none of it. None of the fussing or the questions. You’re welcome in his home, he wants you there. It’s no imposition at all, he knows the house will be better with you around.

Except he forgets one crucial detail-

The son he leaves home alone with you every single day when he leaves. 

You’re nothing but a nuisance, something infringing on his private space. The time he used to get home alone to spend to his own devices is now split with you flittering around the house doing whatever it is bimbos like you do. Cleaning, cooking, pretending to read, whatever. He doesn’t have to see you if he doesn’t want, sure, but he still knows you’re there and that’s more than enough to annoy him.

It’s almost like you catch on to his animosity after a while. The way he won’t greet you back, the way he utterly ignores your existence. It bugs you, and as far as he’s concerned, good.

You try to slip him up, try to get close to him and make him like you. You always set a place for him at the table even after Kotaro repeatedly insists- truthfully- that he’ll never join for dinner. Even then, you always bring the plate to his door. He never bothers to answer- not after the first few times when he only opened it a sliver to see your stupid smiling face. After that, he didn’t bother answering. He’ll eat it of course- won’t pass up free food he doesn’t have to leave his room for- and then leave the dirty dish back outside where you left it. You brought it, after all. You can clean it up. 

All your efforts only get you mocked, and boy do you try so hard to get his affection. He even overhears you whining to his dad once or twice, not understanding why he doesn’t like you.

It makes him smile.

His friends- online of course, but still friends or comrades or kindred spirits or whatever- have more opportunistic ideas about it. His first post to the forum complaining about the new living situation was met with envy and awe- not necessarily the response he was expecting, though looking back on it, he supposes they were right. 

lmpwrst: Why u bitchin’? Ur living with a girl ur not related to and that’s closer than any of us have gotten u ungrateful ass

KingKockRool: Go jerk off on her pillow.

Stacystabber91: take a video hold her down and fuck her then idiot

KingKockRool: No wait till she’s sleeping and jerk it on her face

st8lker: Bet she’s ugly tho if she’s dating your dad lol

Oddly enough, he doesn’t agree. That’s one thing he understands about you, loathe as he is to admit it. His new ‘stepmom’, for all her annoyances, is pretty easy on the eyes. The kinda girl that would have caught his eye in an unrelated situation and earned a permanent spot in his spank bank. Thinking about it, the whole ‘dating his dad’ situation maybe threw off his judgement more than he realized.

He’ll let the jury decide: He finds a photo on your social media, crops everyone else out of it, and hits enter. Easy peasy. He saves it to his hard drive for later too. Might as well.

‘Here, you decide then.’

Thus the shitstorm begins. 

st8lker: Oh fuckkk fuck me mommy lmao

lmpwrst: Opportunity is wasted on u

Stacystabber91: you pussy punk bitch, i stand by what I said earlier. dont be a bitch and fuck the little cunt already

VolceliSwear: Whos the bitch

lmpwrst: Scratchy’s new stepmommy lol 

VolceliSwear: Nice. Hit it yet?

Stacystabber91: he hasn’t cause he’s a gigantic fuckin pussy like i told you all

VolceliSwear: Come on dude you actually have that gash sleeping in your house and you haven’t made a move? 

Stacystabber91: it’s not like she could say no cause you’re a big lanky bastard aren’t you? that’s one thing we got over the shortcels and you’re bigger and stronger than her so take what’s yours idiot or I will 

lmpwrst: I agree with SS lol U complain all the time about not having a hole to fuck and now u do

VolceliSwear: ^^ Isn’t your dad a limp-dicked prick who can’t get it up? Someone’s gotta do it so it might as well be you. Hit the bitch so hard and fast she doesn’t know what way is up

Stacystabber91: and send pics moron I want to see tits or I’m coming over there to do it myself

It’s an… intriguing thought. To be honest, he’s never actually considered fucking you before. Had the passive thought like he does with most girls he sees, but never stopped to think on actually doing it. For some reason, there was a mental wall between him and his father’s girlfriends. But why should there be?

Depraved little bastard that he is, he’s not above cornering a girl and forcing himself on her but he’s not keen on going to jail, so he’s never escalated past creepy photos and following the occasional broad a little too closely. Maybe a couple gropes in passing… okay, maybe a lot. But he’s never gotten caught- maybe the girls don’t report it or just couldn’t find him afterward. Either way, it’s all worked out so far because he doesn’t cross certain boundaries.

Most girls are repulsed by him and his repugnant behavior, so they stay far, far away. It’s like he’s a giant blaring warning sign that they tend to heed instinctively.

But you don’t. 

This is different. You live here, so close to him, so within reach. Just how close you are. How easy it would be for him to force you down and make you take it. Just how much time alone he really has with you since his father leaves and returns like clockwork. He’s got the entire day once his father leaves for work. And all night once he takes his sleeping medication. An easy, pretty little catch already wiggling in his web.

 ‘Maybe I will.’ 

That’s how it starts. 

Snowball into snowstorm.

With an idea and a lot of goading from his online buddies, a monster is born and weaned on his own depravity and escalates into something very real, and very dangerous.

Tomura is achingly familiar with the scene- he’s seen enough porn to give him ample ideas. But he’s got all the time in the world. It’s hard not to rush things considering how eager he is, but it’s safer to test the waters first. Get you nice and scared so you’ll keep your pretty mouth shut unless he tells you to open it for him. See how far he can get, how much he can toy with you before you finally catch on.

Who knows? Maybe you’ll fuck him willingly. You are a stupid little slut, after all. Most of you females are deep down beneath that holier-than-thou, stuck up bitchiness you hide behind.

So he starts with a time honored tradition. He steals your panties. 

The bathroom is cluttered with your shit. Your fruity shampoos and conditioners, your makeup, your perfumes. Tomura has a toothbrush and a comb he doesn’t use, a bottle of 3-1 for when he forces himself into a shower, and a singular gray towel, but the rest is between you and his father. Your body washes, your scrubs, your clothes in the hamper. 

It’s easy enough to fish out a fresh pair- only a couple of hours old. Some lacy contraption you must’ve been wearing beneath your clothes and carelessly left in the bin when you showered. It’s easy to pocket them before you hear him rummaging around, and maybe you’ll miss them, but that’s not his problem. Washer eats things all the time, doesn’t it?

He’s hidden back in his room, safely dodging you before he allows himself to indulge- Bringing them to his nose and inhaling the doubled fabric of the crotch so hard that it catches on the edge of his nostrils. 

Fuck, your cunt smell good- tangy and sweet but the tiniest hint of bitter. A couple of whiffs is enough to get his cock twitching, inflating into a painful hardness as he hears you walking around outside in the hallway. Shit, you’re so fuckin’ airheaded, walking around so oblivious as he tongues at the cloth that was nestled right up against your pussy until a few hours ago. He can taste you, sucking your left over essence through his teeth and he swears he’s going to cream all over the inside of his jeans if he doesn’t jerk off right now. 

He’s quick to drop his sweats and sprawl on his bed, thumbing the tip of his prick and licking gratuitous stripes up the slim of your discarded panties with his tongue. You’d look so good sucking his cock; On your bruised knees, face a slathered mess of cum and saliva and running makeup. Bulge in your throat from taking him so deep and trying so hard to please him like you always do- or maybe avoid a painful punishment because he isn’t above using his hands on you and you learned that the hard way.

The thought of your ruddy, soppy face makes him throb- fucking your wet little throat until you’re suffocating, pulling out to let you breathe only to cum on your face. Yanking you up to bend you over the stove and force you to make his worthless father’s dinner with his spend tacking across your face and his cock lodged deep in your cunt. Worthless fucking sack of shit that his father is, he’d spit in it too and make you serve it to him with a smile while your actual daddy watches you do it and rewards you later with his dick fucking you between your tits.

Fuck yes, that’s what he’ll make you do. He’ll make you call him daddy when he creampies you- the opportunity is too perfect to pass. He’ll fuck his father’s pretty whore as she screams and moans for daddy’s cock while his father is away at work to pay all her frivolous bills like the beta-cuck he is. None of the work and all of the reward- as it should be.

It’s not like Kotaro can fuck you, and his friends are right. Someone should. So why not him? Why not spread your legs for your boyfriend’s younger, more powerful son? Oh, sorry, did he give you the illusion that you had a choice? He’ll take what is rightfully his and there’s not a fucking thing you or his pathetic fucking father can ever do about it.

He plucks your panties from his face, moving them instead to work over his cock. It would feel so much better if you were wearing them- grinding your sweet little cunt against his dick, begging him not to fuck you but getting so wet all the same. The silky fabric feels so good against his hypersensitive skin, coupled with the clenched pumping of his fist as he daydreams about railing you into his filthy mattress until you’re too weak to even move on your own, his cum dripping from every one of your used holes. Limp, useless little whore too fucked out to even fight him as he fucks her in the ass again-

Fantasies swirl in his head, flashes of scenarios that tease him and work him into a frenzy. He’s going to cum hard to the thought filling you, your agonized face as the tip of him knocks against the opening of your womb, buried so deep in your cute pussy that he can feel the wall that keeps him firmly locked out of your guts. So close, so tight, so warm. He’s going to pump you full to the brim like the skank you are, fill you nice and thick full of his seed and then use you again and again and again-

He feels it in his spine, waves of pleasure furling at the base and congealing together impossibly tight, so ready to burst. His thighs flex, muscles in his stomach tightening and breath staggering. Searing white behind dry, clenched eyes and his cock twitches in his palm, knot bursting deep between his legs as his hand stills momentarily. His hands twitch, cock throbbing as thick ropes of cum spill over the slats of his fingers, splattering his stomach and the waist of his sweatpants and all over your adorable little panties. 

“Shit-” 

Shallow, shaky breaths, still seeing stars popping behind his eyelids. Fuck, he hasn’t cum that hard in- well, a very long time. Is it the thought of having something tangible soon? His very own cunt to abuse? Grinning, he looks down at the absolutely drenched pair in his hand, sticky with fresh seed.

He thinks so.

Instinctively, he wipes the excess off his fingers and onto his dirty, rumpled black sheets, swiping across his shirt and his skin. Just another ‘mystery spot’ among the rest, soon to become a crusty, flaked white stain on the fabric among all the preexisting ones.

With some effort on his part, he sits up, still trying to catch his breath. He thought post orgasm clarity might deter him from this path, but if anything, he’s even more determined now. Why should he sit and touch himself in a dark room when there’s a perfectly good set of holes to fuck wandering around freely outside?

Oh yeah, this should work out just fine.

There’s a knock on the door while he’s still wading through his gross thoughts, softly at first but then slightly more insistent. It jolts him alert, irritating him that he’s being bothered when he’s scheming. He’s already finished the dirty dead, all ready to put himself away for now but it’s still jarring none the less when someone comes around so closely to him wanking. A quick dash at the clock tells him it’s not dinner time yet, so what gives? Why are you bothering him now? Nothing is ready yet.

He tucks himself away and quickly buries your soiled underwear in the pocket of his sweats. Quickly wiping any remnants on the knees of his pants before swinging his door open, agitation palpable as he greets your stupid, sunny face.

Speak of the she-devil.

“Hi, Tomura! Just wondering if you have any laundry or anything you want me to take!” “N-”  He’s about to slam the door. About to. But you know what? You want his laundry? Sure. He’s got some for you.  “Yeah- yeah, sure.” 

He steps back from behind the door, letting it creak open a little as he rips off his freshly re-soiled sheets.

“Oh, good! Yeah, I’m throwing in my own so I’ll take your load too-“

Yeah you will.

Balling it up, he chucks it at you as you curiously peek your head in. You’ve never seen the inside of his room, but soon you’ll see plenty. He doesn’t know if you can feel the fresh cum on the sheets, but he’s willing to bet you can probably smell it. To your credit, you barely falter, even with the sheet cradled in your bare arms.

You’re probably having a moment of “understanding.” ‘He’s a young man with no girlfriend and no other outlet. Of course he’s going to wack off’ and all that. It’s cute, the way you pretend not to notice. That’s okay, he’ll give you something you can’t ignore.

He steps up to the door again, yanking his black shirt over his head and dropping it in your arms with a shit eating grin.

“Oh- okay, yeah-“

Your sentence halts completely as he starts to strip off his pants and you’re left staring in slight horror as your stepson strips down to his boxers in front of you before placing his sweats on the top of the pile you’re carrying- right by your face.

“I’ve got some more dirty boxers if you think you can handle anymore.” He’s grinning like a fiend, reveling in your poorly concealed discomfort as he leans against the doorframe, swinging out towards you. You’re backing away from him, desperately trying to keep your eyes up and away from his very exposed body, and especially the half hard cock tenting the front of his boxers. Your face is turning a viciously dark shade, stifling your breathing because he just knows what you’re refusing to see, you can almost certainly smell.

“Um- nope! This should be a full one! I’ll get them back to you soon!”

“Oh, take your time. No rush.” 

You scurry off down the hall much quicker than your usual casual walk, probably to scrub your arms clean with iron wool. Poor little thing, just trying to be nice and this is what it gets you.

He cackles something fierce as he shuts his door again, going to look for your ruined panties to post a pic but remembering they’re still in the pocket of his sweatpants, covered in his cum and saliva. A fun little surprise for you to find when you go through pockets to ensure nothing gets stuck in the washer.

And he notices, in the coming days, you stop leaving your clothes in the hamper- or even being able to meet his eyes.

Oh, this should be fun.

[powdermelonkeg]

Secrets in the Breeze

"What do you think it is?"

Several sets of eyes fell on the tablet Hyrule had unearthed, pondering its use. Legend studied the pattern critically. "Hmm..." He reached down and wiped away some dirt. "...It looks like song magic."

"Those aren't notes I recognize..." Sky said with a frown. “Are you sure?”

“No. But that’s my best guess until I can study it better.”

Hyrule reached for his recorder. “Well, we can find out pretty quickly, right?”

Time held out a hand to stop him. He gave the strange tablet a thoughtful look. "...Everyone, stand back."

The other four in the hunting party quickly gave him distance as he pulled out his indigo ocarina. The marks looked a little different, but...Drawing in a breath, he lifted the instrument to his lips.

The other heroes watched in anticipation.

...Silence.

Time frowned, glancing around the area. “...Did anyone notice anything happening?”

“I don’t think so.” Wild paused, peering at the sky outside the cavern. “Not unless you have a song for causing rain.”

“I do. This isn’t it.”

“Wait, really?”

Time offered a small smile. “A conversation for another time. Let’s get back before the others decide to come looking for us.”

“Do you think they decided to cook something themselves?” Hyrule asked, grabbing his game bag.

Sky scrunched up his nose. “Goddess, I hope not. I can still taste that...reekfish thing.”

Wild raised his hand. “I liked it.”

“You eat rocks. You don’t get to judge what tastes good.”

As the others went ahead, Legend glanced back at the strange tablet. After a moment’s consideration, he wrenched it free of the earth and tucked it under his arm.

It needed to be studied further.

“There you are!” Warriors exclaimed, halfway through putting up the oil tarp for the rain. “We were just about to get a search party ready.”

“He means he was about to go running off after you,” Twilight said, giving his well-polished counterpart a side-eye, then shook his head. “Anyways, we’re all hungry. What took you?”

Hyrule rubbed the back of his head. “Secret cave.” He gave a nod to Wild. “He spotted some fragile rocks and wanted to blow them up.”

“Find anything?”

“Yeah, actually.” Legend held out the tablet. “Song magic script. Do any of you guys recognize this?”

Twi, Four, and Wars all frowned as they looked at the markings, but Wind lit up instantly. He threw his hand in the air. “I do!” he exclaimed. “That’s 4/4 time; it’s conductors notes!”

Time raised an eyebrow. “Conductor’s notes?”

“Uh-huh. It’s how song magic works on the Great Sea.” Wind tilted his head to the side. “Though, I don’t know this song. What is it?”

“We were hoping you could tell us that.” Legend said, sitting down by the fire. “Think you can play a tune for us?”

Wind’s eye’s shone, and he pulled out his silver baton, looking to Time for confirmation. “Can I?”

The older hero frowned, considering. “...Not this close to the fire. Or to bad weather. For all we know, it’s a Lyric of Lightning or something equally as dangerous.”

Wind’s shoulders slumped, and Four patted his back. “Cheer up,” he said. “You can still try it out tomorrow. Besides,” he flashed the younger hero a smile, “we should eat before it rains, right? I’m hungry, aren’t you?”

“...Yeah,” Wind relented. He gave one last wistful look at the tempo pattern.

Soon, he told himself. Soon, I’ll learn your secrets.

Rain pattered outside the heroes’ shelter, the soothing sound and calm scent of petrichor letting even the most troubled of them sleep undisturbed, for once.

Well...almost all of them.

Wind managed the 2 AM watch at the edge of camp, eyeing Legends tools and trying to coax himself out of the temptation to try the new song. It had been so long since he’d run into a tablet like that; the thrill of new abilities or hidden passages was a siren’s call to the young adventurer.

Up, down, up, right. It was so simple.

What could it do?

Wind found himself fantasizing about the possibilities. Maybe it calls birds, he thought. Or summons fairies, or lets you talk to rocks. He glanced up at the stormclouds. Or maybe the old man’s right and it’s a lightning song. How cool would that be?

He pictured it; calling down lightning like one of the mages of legend, with just a swish of the Wind Waker. He could take out entire monster camps in one fell swoop!

His eyes drifted back to the tablet by Legend’s bag.

...If it’s really a lightning song, then it won’t work if we wait for the storm to clear, Wind thought to himself, pulling out his baton.

He needed to try it out.

Just to test it. Time would understand, right?

Stealthily, he crept over and grabbed the stone, carefully pulling it over to his post at the tarp’s edge, and stood in front of it. The Wind Waker sparkled with magic intent.

The stone shimmered, triangle carvings lighting up; orange, yellow, orange, blue. Light bled through the cracks, and—

—it crumbled to dust.

Wind’s jaw dropped.

...Legend was going to kill him.

He shoved the Wind Waker back into his bag hastily, trying to keep calm. This is fine, right? If he doesn’t say anything, then nobody can blame him, and Legend could chalk it up to age! Relics break all the time!

...Except Time’s disapproving frown would crack Wind for sure. There was no evading that; it was almost as bad as when his grandma gave him the look of disappointment. He was doomed.

Ping!

Wind’s ears twitched, momentarily distracted from his crisis by the sound. A soft purple glow caught his eye.

Ping!

The Master Sword gave another call, the sliver of visible blade pulsing with lavender light among Sky’s things.

Wind stared at the sacred sword, uncertain. “...What is it?” he whispered.

Ping!

He reached out to take it, then hesitated.

Sky was going to kill him too.

...No. He couldn’t, right? The Master Sword was just as much Wind’s as anyone else here; besides, he’d just borrow it. Sky could have it back. He reached out for the blade.

Ping!

Four shifted in his sleep, and Wind froze, staring at the shorter hero. If the sword woke anyone up before he could fix the tablet situation, he was toast.

Ping!

Panicking, Wind snatched the sword up and ran outside, trying to silence it before it could make any more noise. He would deal with the consequences later, when the others woke up at a normal time. Once he was safely in the white noise of rainfall, Wind drew the blade. “Alright, what is it?” he demanded, holding it level with his eyes as if he could scold it. “You’re going to get me in trouble.”

Ping, ping, ping—

He frowned as it began to beep faster, lowering it. “Come on, I can’t deal with-”

Ping! Ping!

He paused, then lifted it up again.

Ping, ping, ping—

He lowered it.

Ping! Ping!

Back up.

Ping, ping, ping—

Wind tilted his head curiously. Experimentally, he spun in a slow circle.

Ping, ping, ping ping ping PINGPINGPING ping ping—

“Are you...trying to show me something?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Watching it closely, he pointed the sword in the direction that caused the most noise and light.

Into the forest.

He glanced back at camp. If he stayed behind, they could all go after whatever this was together...after he got a scolding for breaking Legend’s stuff, and endangering the camp, and not listening to the old man...

Yeah, no. Forest it is.

Sky rolled over in his sleep, his dreams filled with endless skies and blue loftwings. Clouds rolled in over the picnic of pumpkin soup he was having with Zelda.

Fragrant, but suffocating clouds. He couldn’t breathe.

He bolted awake, fighting whatever was cutting off his air and defeating the tangled sailcloth in a heroic and not-at-all frantic wrestling match. His eyes fell on the white fabric as he caught his breath.

...He should stop wearing this thing to bed.

With a sigh, he unpinned it from his shoulders and went to wrap it around Fi. If he couldn’t have the comforts of home, at least she could. He reached for the blade—

—and grasped nothing but air.

With a frown, the hero fumbled for his tinderbox and lit a match, struggling a moment to make a spark in the damp storm air, then looked around for his trusty blade. The longer he searched, the more he could feel ice creep into his veins; he even rifled through the luggage of the usual borrowers of the Master Sword.

“Sky?”

His attention snapped over to the source of the voice. Time was looking at him with an eyebrow raised, bleary-eyed and confused. “What are you doing?”

Sky swallowed the panicked lump in his throat. “The Master Sword’s missing.”

Time sat up sharply, wide awake in an instant as adrenaline shot through him. He quickly did a headcount.

Eight. One short.

Kid-sized bootprints left the camp’s edge, pressed into the fresh mud in a perfect trail.

Wind ran through the woods, following wherever the sword led him. The faster he figured out what was going on, the faster he could get back. And if he found something, that would make things better, right? He’d even let Legend keep some of the treasure, as a peace offering.

The forest, though, seemed to have no end to it, stretching high above his head, with shadows reaching out from all directions. He remembered hearing about something like this from Hyrule—the Lost Woods, which spat you out the way you came from if you made a wrong turn in them. He’d never heard of such a thing on the Great Sea, but then again, the ocean wasn’t exactly known for its vast woodland.

Finally, he reached a clearing, the sword giving a continuous ringing noise to indicate that he’d hit his dowsing mark. And, standing in the middle of it, was a weathered stone wall, overgrown with vines. He could faintly see something scrawled behind the foliage.

Narrowing his eyes, Wind channeled all the magic power he could into the Master Sword’s spin attack.

“HYAH!”

“HYAH!”

The heroes stopped in their tracks at the noise. Hyrule sheltered his candle from the rain carefully. “Was that-”

“He’s here.” Time said, quickly breaking into a jog. “Come on, we can’t lose pace now. The Lost Woods can do awful things to you if you’re not careful.”

Wind shook his head, quickly getting rid of the stars in his vision. He’d forgotten how disorienting a Hurricane Spin could be.

It had done the job well, though. The vines were nothing but chopped salad now, and the carvings behind the stone were clear as day. Six conductor’s notes stared Wild in the face, begging to be played.

The hero’s fingers tingled; this felt like the start of an adventure, one that didn’t start with a kidnapping and cannonfire.

Drawing himself up, he pulled out his baton, and began to play the magic tune.

This one was different from the first. It felt...familiar, somehow. It wasn’t something he’d ever played before, and yet...

The music carried his thoughts away from him. He found himself conducting from his heart, like when he’d played with Medli and Makar, swept up in the energy the song game off. As he ran out of notes to orchestrate, he heard an earsplitting CRACK, and his eyes flew open.

The wall had crumbled to nothingness, like the tablet had. In its wake, however, a shining blueish pedestal sat, magic spiraling outwards from its center like a spring flower.

Ping!

Wind looked at the Master Sword, tucking the Wind Waker away. He smiled fondly. “Just like old times, huh?” Giving it a playful twirl, he walked over to the pedestal, holding the sword’s hilt in both hands. “I wonder what’s going to look like this time. Are you going to get more powerful?” His eyes shone, imagining the others’ faces at bringing an even stronger Master Sword back with him. Taking a deep breath, he stabbed the blade down into its newest resting place, confident that he could handle whatever boss or dungeon this unlocked.

“LINK!!!”

His head snapped up as the rest of the Chain rushed into the clearing, eyes wide. “Hey-” He tried to talk, but no sound came out; his mouth felt like it was full of cotton, and his head swam. Silver fog began to cloud his vision.

The last thing he was aware of before he felt himself fall was Time throwing his blade aside and running to catch him.

Then it all went white. The only noises he could hear were the whispers of watchers, and the chimes of tiny bells.