#he has dirt on everyone though so he’s best for tea

[darkfairiefey]

Sleeping with the Lin Kuei Trio + general sleep headcanons

pairing: bi-han, kuai liang, tomas vrbada x gender neutral!reader

Bi-Han

Bi-Han is not well known for having a fixed sleep schedule (because he is grandmaster), and his workaholic tendencies get in the way of his sleep A LOT

Sometimes there would be so much work for him to do that he ends up skipping a night of sleep by accident

Don’t tell him to just to go to bed when he’s working, he is a stubborn man and he may get pissy if you remind him about it

Bi-Han usually prefers sleeping alone because he’s more used to it (his father wanted him to in order for him to seem mature when he becomes grandmaster)

And he hates the childish concept of “sleepovers”, so introducing you into the mix will take a bit of time for him to get used to

The first few nights are about Bi-Han trying to get used to this new relationship upgrade

He has not slept with anyone besides his mother in a long time (he was very young when he did this and it always brings home painful memories)

And he dislikes being hugged in his sleep because it reminds him of his dead mother (he secretly likes to be hugged in his sleep)

But after he gets used to your presence, he will let you sleep close to him without restriction, and he will make you are in bed before he is (he doesn’t want you to follow through with his already terrible sleep schedule)

Bi-Han has a long nighttime routine before bed, getting his warriors to bed, washing his dirty blood soaked uniform, washing away the dirt and blood on his body in the shower, etc.

Bi-Han typically wears a blue cotton set of pajamas to bed (it has floral patterns on them because they symbolize his mother’s love), complete with a blue, soft, plush robe for the morning

Pillow talk is a rarity because most of the time, he just wants to sleep and that’s it (and pretty none if he finds you asleep before him)

During the night, he tends to move around a little as he still has some stuff about the past and future still on his mind

You’d sometimes hear him groan in frustration as he tries to take his mind off things (it’s hard for him to sleep when he has a lot of plans for the future)

But the moment he gets comfortable, his face finally softens, and he plunges into a deep slumber

He will pretty much be OUT at this time around, as he snores somewhat loud at night (he doesn’t admit to it though)

Probably would not be the best idea to wake him in the middle of the night however, as he tends to to turn the light on whenever his sleep is disturbed (so wake at your own risk)

Always the first of the entire clan to wake up, as it’s his responsibility as grandmaster to make sure he has the responsibility of everyone else and gets everyone up on time for the upcoming missions (getting up in the Lin Kuei feels exactly like getting up in the military or boot camp)

So try not to be surprised if it’s as early as 5 or 6 in the morning when he gets out of bed

His voice is even deeper and raspier in the mornings, and it takes him about 5 or 10 minutes to wake up his body

He prefers to drink black tea (they call it red tea in Chinese) in the morning because it contributes to his energy levels that he needs to get through the day

Kuai Liang

Kuai Liang is kind of a busy guy, so going to sleep late is natural for him

First, being second in command for the Lin Kuei, and now being the founder and leader of the Shirai Ryu, man’s got a lot in his pocket

He doesn’t mind if you want to go to sleep earlier than him though, he knows you’re tired

The first time in bed with you,  he is a bit nervous, as he hasn’t slept with anyone since ever until you came into his life (he has had partners before you)

But after that night, he won’t mind getting comfortable with you

If he sees your still nervous as well, he’ll try to reassure you with his own past relationship experiences

Like many of high ranking members and leaders of a clan, he has a lot of responsibilities, such as getting everyone to bed, cleaning the blood out of his hair and clothes, etc.

Although he is an independent man, he doesn’t mind if wash his clothes for him while he gets ready for bed

Sometimes sleeps without a shirt during the summer (you tease), during the winter he usually wears the same thing as Bi-Han does but in yellow

Likes to spoon his partner a lot ( he doesn’t mind being the little spoon)

He brings that nurturing and protective energy to bed, he believes that if we both got each other’s backs, then everything will be okay

Somehow manages to look pretty while sleeping

If he’s feeling particularly comfortable, he’ll start to gently snore a little (it rarely happens but at least he admits to it)

When the morning comes, he’ll get up a few seconds or minutes before you to prepare for the day

His voice is much huskier at this time around, especially if he used a lot of energy the day before

He’ll let you sleep for a few more minutes if you’re a little out of it in the mornings

He unfortunately would not be the one to make breakfast however as he is banned from the kitchen for accidentally setting it up in flames

Unlike Bi-Han, Kuai usually prefers warm coffee in the mornings (decaffeinated coffee is his preference)

Tomas Vrbada

Introducing you into the house was one thing, but letting you sleep in his room was another

Tomas has never planned something like this before, especially when you said you wanted to your relationship a step further

He’s always been shy when sleeping with others (especially when sharing a room with his brothers for the first time)

In fact, he could not sleep at during the first few nights in his new home, as wasn’t as comfortable with his new environment then he is nowadays

He doesn’t mind if your also shy during the first few night, it makes him feel relieved that he’s not alone in this new experience

It reminds him of when he was very shy during the first couple months being part of his new family and life

If you need a few words of encouragement to help you fall asleep next to him, he’ll be glad to share his embarrassing nighttime stories from when he was younger

He has somewhat of a busy routine getting into bed, as he is now a second-in-commander after founding a new clan with his brother

Getting rid of the gross bodily fluids on his clothes, his hair, his weapons, man’s got a lot in his table, so please be patient

Tomas usually wears a button-down shirt and boxers to bed, but only if it’s warm outside, otherwise he wears a full set of pjs that are super soft in material (their usually in the shades of black or dark grey)

Once you and him get into bed, he’s usually the first to fall asleep (especially if it’s been a tough day)

This man literally looks adorable when sleeping, his face looks much more kissable

Mumbles in his sleep, but doesn’t sleep talk (he’s still trying to get comfortable)

Most likely to put you in a cuddle headlock (this man is so affectionate)

If you rub his back or stomach while he sleeps, he will smile a little, maybe even intertwine his hand with yours

Unfortunately, he is also prone to a lot of nightmares, so just staying beside him during the night will at least help ease the anxiety and shoo the bad dreams away

First thing in the morning, he would make sure your all dressed and ready to take on the day

Sometimes however, he’ll be too tired to get up on time himself and will need your assistance to make sure that he doesn’t sleep in (if you don’t have a habit of that yourself)

He doesn’t really have a preference on what to do drink to build energy during the morning, but he does like to make breakfast alongside you, even if he isn’t the best cook around

[sorrowfulrosebud]

Bakugou is such a messy bitch for drama, like you could be chilling in your room and he’s busting open the door with the wildest look on his face before stomping over and throwing himself full force on the bed.

He takes 10000% pleasure when you nearly start screaming after you find out a particular class president has a condom in his wallet.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Someone New 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include angst, pining, romcom tropes, and some darker elements later in the series. Some triggers may not be specifically tagged. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This fic will contain explicit content. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You've had a crush on your best friend for years, but you're slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor

Note: nice to see ya again!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Thor makes himself as permanent as the layers of sediment. Whether you’re in the dirt or looking over the charts and maps, making notes or sorting through your findings, he appears. Knowing he’ll be there keeps you coming yourself. Despite the short nights and long drives, thinking of him finding an empty site deters you from a day off, even against Sam’s pleas. 

The night before was filled with similar chiding from your friend. Sam is as persistent as ever. He always has a new account of his antics with Bucky and never forgets to tell you to take a break. You can’t stop though. You know if you do, you’ll have to think about everything you’re denying. 

The time away has given you time to breathe but it’s suffocated you in new ways. Along with that weight on your chest that has a name, there’s another you can’t quite understand. The one that sees you spending your spare hours alone and your working hours longing for anything but. You’re desperate to get out but terrified of the very same. 

When he arrives that day, you’re ready to give up. The tension in the air is giving you a headache and the dampness makes your skin feel sticky. You just feel gross. 

“Ah, I didn’t think you’d brave the weather today,” he muses as Thunder hops around his feet. You don’t look up, in a mood as grim as the sky. “You’d do well to stay in tomorrow. Trust me.” 

He’s always right about the weather. It must be the familiarity and yet it’s almost eerie how accurate he is. You might take his advice. You don’t like being wet and you’re starting to go cross-eyed from the hours and hours of concentration. 

Thunder yipes as you use your gloves to brush away clumps of dirt. Thor’s footsteps mulch patches of grass that sparsely carpet the dirt. He hums as his shadows looms in your peripheral. 

“Yes, my darling, I believe you’ve found the perfect spot,” he praises. 

You look over curiously. What is he talking about? You only notice then that he has more than the tiny dog with him. He has a basket on his elbow and a blanket under his arm. You sit up and watch him place down the former and shake out the latter.  

He spreads the blanket over the dirt and Thunder jumps onto it, rolling around on the fabric, digging her nose into the patched quilt as she wiggles across it. You clap off your hands and watch him as he gets down to his knees and flips open one side of the basket. He lays out several containers and two thermos’; one is the very same he brought you tea in.  

“I thought you could use a nice lunch before the weather turns,” he stands and nears the fence, “summer doesn’t last long here. You may as well enjoy it.” 

“Lunch?” You utter. 

“Brunch?” He suggest coyly. “Surely you can take a break. You are only human, you need to eat.” 

“You...” you lean to see around him, “you brought me lunch?” 

“I know it isn’t the most elaborate picnic but I thought it might be a pleasant surprise. I must confess I’ve been rather bored these days,” he admits, “so?” 

“Thor, that’s so... sweet,” you frown, “but...” 

“Work, work, work. Surely they can’t expect you to work yourself to the bone, pardon the pun,” he insists, “it will only be a bit.” 

“Yes, but...” you leave the sentence to hang. You don’t have a good excuse. You don’t know. It just makes you nervous. It’s a whole lot of effort for just you.  

“Oh, I don’t mind if you would rather stay over there. Only mean more for, eh, Thunder?” He asks the canine tramping around the blanket. “More than happy to sit here and enjoy my jelly cookies and hot coffee. 

“Coffee?” Your brows raise. 

“Freshly brewed. Promise, There’s nothing pickled. Though I don’t mind a nice herring,” he grins. 

Thunder bounces over and barks at you. She stands on her hind legs as she paws at the barrier between you. Now, how can you deny her? 

You stand and shed your gloves. You carry them over to the table beneath the tent and grab a wet wipe from the back. You come back under the open sky as you wipe your hands. 

“Sorry about all the dirt,” you scoff as you cross the dirt. 

“I don’t mind,” he assures you. He pulls apart the panels of the fence to let you through. It isn’t something you could ever forget but you can’t help but be stricken again by his sheer size. 

You bend to pet Thunder as she gets between your feet. She licks your fingers and you giggle. She’s cute. 

“Go on, pick her up,” Thor goads, “she loves it.” 

You scoop up the dog and stand. She squirms as she wags her tail incessantly. She swipes your chin with her tongue and you scrunch up your face. You carry her to the blanket and look over the spread. A leafy salad, pasta salad, sandwiches, cookies... There’s so much. Your protein bars and peanut butter and jelly can’t compare. 

“Oh gosh, this... a lot.” 

“Is it? Isn’t too much. We’re friends, yes?” 

“Friends?” You face him as you pet Thunder’s soft head. 

“Perhaps it is rather one-sided. You are obligated to be here, I just sort of haunt this place,” he chuckles. 

“No, no, friends,” you smile, “that sounds about right.” 

You turn away and lower yourself onto the blanket, sure to keep your boots off of it, as you hide your face. There’s a tinge of disappointment. You hear a far off echo in your head. How many times did Steve say the same; we’re friends, just friends, you’re such a good friend. Well, that’s all this is. No need to be so sensitive. 

“Do you ever take time off?” He asks as he gets to his knees. 

You look at him as you put Thunder down. He barely keeps her from chomping down on a rye crust. He lifts her easily and she kicks her legs. 

“Eh, you beast,” he points a finger at her snout, “be good.” 

He sets her back on her paws and she obeys. He tells her to sit and she does so. Her eyes continue to hungrily rove over the food. How can he resist them? 

“Like you said, the weather won’t last. Should get done what I can before the ground gets cold.” 

“Ah, yes, that is a concern,” he tuts, “how would you deal with that?” 

“Heat lamps, tiger torch... jackhammer if I really need but I’d have to put in a request for that...” you hadn’t thought too much into the inevitability of winter.  

“Ah, that’s...” he smirks, “I’m sorry but the idea of you with a jackhammer,” he snorts. 

“Hey,” you pout. 

“It isn’t to be mean but... you’re so gentle. When you dig, you’re so delicate about it.” 

“Am I?” You wonder. 

“Mm, is it a bit weird to say so?” He wonders aloud. “Yes, you are very precise, very cautious.” He takes out a set of plates and offers you one, “please, help yourself.” 

“It must be boring watching. Really, I’m the one digging and it gets dull,” you accept and pluck out one of the sandwiches. Salmon, you think. 

“You make it interesting,” he muses. “You talk to the bones.” 

“I talk to the bones?” You repeat, “what?” 

“Yes, I suppose you’re not aware of it. But your lips move when you’re focused. As if you’re chatting up the dirt,” he chuckles, “sometimes a few words do slip out.” 

“They do?” You blanch before you can help yourself to the salad. 

“You don’t say much. Usually something about the dishes, I’m not too sure.” 

“You never mentioned,” you look away shyly. 

“It’s... cute,” he shrugs. 

“You mean crazy,” you shake your head. 

“I say what I mean,” he counters. “No use in not. We can’t be happy if we’re not honest, not least of all with ourselves.” 

You’re quiet as you turn your attention to your plate. His words feel sharp despite his placid tone. You know it’s only because they’re true, especially for you. If you’d just accepted everything sooner, if you hadn’t been so dumb, if you hadn’t been so emotional, it would never have gotten so bad. No, if you’d just been honest. 

“I hope... I hope that didn’t come off wrong,” he says. 

“No, no, I’m... this all looks so good and I’m starving,” you assure him as you sit back with your plate. “Thank you again. This is... great.” 

“Well, I was thinking, you must miss your friends. I might be a paltry substitute but I thought i might fill that gap, even just for an hour.” 

“It’s really...” your eyes tingle but you push away the tinge of sadness, “it’s really nice.” 

“So tell me,” he scoops up salad onto his plate, “tell me about home.” 

“I...” you begin, surprised by the prompt. “It’s just home. New York. It’s busy and loud. Not like here.” 

“No, not that. Your friends. I want to know all about them. If I’m ever going to come up standards, I’ve got to know the competition.” 

You laugh. He speaks as if he needs to impress you. It’s nice to be somewhere where no one knows you’re not that special. You take a bite of the sandwich and chew, thinking out your question.  

You swallow, “well, my friend Sam, he calls every night to bitch at me. He’s great. Supportive but pushy. He likes to terrorise Bucky. He’s the strong and silent type, you know? Grumpy to boot but they’re... they’re awesome.” You smile without thinking, “before I left, they took me to this cocktail bar...” you blow out between your lips and roll your eyes, “real girly stuff.” 

“Ooh, cocktails. I’ve been known to indulge. I love finding new recipes.” 

“Really?” 

“Oh, yes, I love the sweet ones. I’ve only just perfected my blueberry basil concoction. I’m afraid I can’t share the secret ingredient unfortunately.” 

“Blueberry?” You ponder the flavour, “sounds yummy.” 

“Perhaps one day you can try it,” he suggest. 

“Maybe,” you say evasively. “Anyway, yeah, Sam and Bucky are... characters.” 

“They sound like it. How’d you meet?” 

“Oh, it’s boring. What about you?” 

“It’s not my turn,” he deflects, “tell me.” 

You don’t know why he cares. It’s as confounding as everything else about him. You still don’t get why he’s here watching you sit in the dirt. It sounds as grueling as watching a golfing tournament, in your opinion. Yet here he is, a man who looks like that, staring at you in your mud-stained khakis. 

“College. We met through a mutual friend,” you explain vaguely. 

“Ah, so you’ve been friends for some time. Yes, I see, I’ve got a lot of catching up to do,” he hums thoughtfully as he toys with the braid that hangs loose by his face, the rest of his hair twisted back as always. 

“Steve,” you say without thinking, your eyes drifting off into the distance, “he was my best friend. We met in art history. We spent almost every day together. Studying, whatever. He was more of a partier than me but... fifteen years, more than, and we saw each other...” You choke on your words and scoff darkly, “sorry, that’s... I’m homesick, I think.” 

You bat away the glaze in your eyes and focus on your food. You take a few bites as he sits quietly. Thunder stands up cautiously and crosses the blanket. She settles against your leg, leaning her head on your thigh. It’s comforting. 

“Yes, I think I would be very homesick as well. I lived in the city for a while but mother and father, they need me. And I love this mountain. It’s home. There was nothing in Oslo for me. I can work from here.” 

“Work? What exactly do you do?” You ask, happy to divert from your own painful past. “Oo, are you like a farmer? Or a shepherd. There must be sheep up here or something.” 

He laughs, “there are some sheep, yes, but those are protected by the government. We’ve not much of a choice where they settle. No, I’m not so savvy as all that.” 

“Hm, you... oh, what could do you here?” You look around, “on a mountain... oh, tours? Do you give tours?” 

He laughs, “it’s not a bad idea, but no. I’m a business owner.” 

“A business. You must sell fitness or something.” 

“Must I?” He narrows his eyes, “and what else do you assume about me?” 

“Oh, it’s only you’re so...” you cringe as you eke out the word, “big?” 

“Genetics,” he affirms, “not that but close, in a matter of looking at it. You recall that tea I brought you, with the cloudberry?” 

“Uh, yeah, it was sweet. Yummy.” 

“I’m happy you enjoyed it,” he smiles proudly, “I make superblends. All Nordic ingredients. There is a demand for wellness and organic products. I found the right niche and I’ve not done too badly.” 

“Must not if you can live all the way up here,” you remark. 

“Yes, but... it’s a reason I moved back. Business is a lonely venture. Now I’ve got it all figured out, I have my managers and my business plan, I break even, I realise how much I put to the side,” he mulls his sandwich and takes a glum bite. It’s the first time you’ve seen him anything but bright and beaming, “I feel like I’ve fallen behind. Like I’m playing catch up.” 

His words sink in and storm inside of you. You crunch on the crisp lettuce and gulp. You wipe your mouth with a napkin and clear your throat. 

“I know exactly what you mean,” you say breathily. 

“Do you? You’re out here, on an adventure all you’re own, how brave,” his voice is wistful and his gray blue eyes reminds you of the clouds above. 

“Yes, I know,” you say, “better than you. Trust me.” 

You smile, a bittersweet tug in your cheeks, and he stares back at you. Your eyes cling to each other and you feel as if the world is moving around you. He smiles and a glimmer of something unfurls in your chest. You make yourself look away. 

“Well,” you push the salad around your plate, “what about you? You must have friends, aside from the girl in the dirt.” 

He hums and scrapes up a bite of the pasta salad. He takes his time chewing before he answers. You scratch Thunder’s nose as she sniffs at your plate. 

“Yes, if you ever come to sample my cocktails, you might meet a few,” he coaxes, “I think you’d get along. Hogan and Vol, and Fandy. All good company. Sif’s not around so often when my brother’s around but he’s as fleeting as the sun.” He tuts, “I would call Loki a friend as well but he does scowl at the very thought.” 

“Loki?” 

“My brother of course,” he explains with , “yes, he is quite the dour one. He might get along with that Bucky.” 

[glassrowboat]

Daydream in a Nightmare

Authors note: I read a soulmate au where with dream sharing. Everytime you fall asleep you and your SM would meet in a world that would reflect your consciousness and who you were. So down below are the boys and what I think the places their dreams would depict.

Mondstadt

Diluc: The cathedral. His mom, back when she was alive, used to play during service and afterwards Diluc ran over greeting her with the biggest smile, asking her to play him one more song. She never failed to. Maybe that's why there's always a gentle melody playing whenever you see him as he rests his fingers over the same white tiles, simply trying to remember how to play.

Kaeya: The Dawn Winery. Or at least parts of it. Behind closed doors there's the scent of grass, of dirt, and the faintest smell of ash. He says it's simply the vineyard that in the real world would be right outside, but he knows well as he pulls your hand from the doorknob that it's ruins of a fallen nation haunting him right on the other side.

Albedo: Glass walls. A maze of mirrors and reflections. If you ever have stopped to bother to count between Albedo’s musings as he shares with you the secrets of the world, you'd notice that for some reason he always has more reflections in the walls around you than of your own figure. Like there's more of him than there is of you.

Venti: Old Mondstadt. Back before the revolution, back when there were people in the streets wishing their God weren't so unjust, but in his dreams that wall of spiraling wind is never there. A warped perception of a life he wished to have lived as he sits in your lap not as Venti the bard, but a wind sprite trying to bury into your clothes for warmth. Just don't call him pipsqueek or he'll try and bite your fingers. Playfully. You think.

Liyue

Zhongli: A place that no longer exists, one torn away by this world during the archon war. It's unlike him not to comment on a place, a trinket, an item, as you pick something up and fiddle with it, but this place he never goes into full detail on. However, he will tell you all about the artisanship of the table you two are sharing tea over.

Baizhu: His home back in Chenyu Vale, back before the illness hit his village, back before his parents passed away. Just a modest home that shows signs of being truly well lived in and loved. Mindlessly while you two talk he'll be cleaning the place, just the way he always does at the pharmacy. Though it does help give him something to fill the silence. It turns out he's a lot more used to Changsheng chiming in with comments than he thought. He just hopes you two get along when the time to meet in person finally comes about.

Ga ming: A festival. There's water kicking up at everyone's feet, up to everyones ankles as people with their face covered in all manner of masks walk you both by. Ga ming would pull you along from booth to booth, trying his best to win prizes despite the fact you both know they'll be gone by the time you wake.

Xiao: A Chinese pavilion in the sky. You walk among the clouds as you follow the path of the street, looking over the accents that seem somehow both rich in color and dull, muddied all at the same time. Something you've noticed from his dreams compared to yours, his always have a lingering black fog creeping in at the corner of your eyes. It makes you feel like someone else is in this world with you, like there's eyes waiting to do more than just watch.

Inazuma

Kazooha: A meadow. The wind passes you both by, stirring up pages of books you two sit reading in silence. You can't help but wonder if these are all books he's read before, especially the ones that wax poetry or something else. His thoughts, perhaps? Maybe Kazuha's very own writings? But that matters little as his head is resting on your shoulder as you try to catch words between the fluttering sheets of paper.

Itto: A kabuki play. It always ends up in you two hiding away in the back room where the performers would get ready before getting back out on stage for the next act. You would see the brightest of colors, richest of fabrics, and practiced movements so fine tuned that you can't understand why Itto is so focused on taking the makeup on the vanity in the back simply so he can paint your face with red marks just like his. To each their own you suppose, and who are you to complain when it means drawing hearts on his arm when Itto isn't paying attention?

Gorou: A tea house. It's a small place, simple, but certainly not lacking charm as Gorou pours you a cup. At first the fact you could actually taste the rich herbs on your tongue in this dreamscape threw you off, but now it's just another part of this odd reality. But saying that, the first time you spat out the drink he offered as soon as the bitter taste hit you. Apparently he never expected you to not already be used to green tea. The poor fella was apologizing for the rest of the night, ears laid flat on his head and tail tucked between his legs. It's okay though, you made it even by trying to give him dog treats. It was you having to beg for forgiveness then.

Thoma: It was different this time. No glowing blue flowers and a forest that you two would stroll through mindlessly while chatting for hours. No, this time Thoma was sitting on a wooden platform below a giant stone statue. Intriguing, yes, but mattered little compared to the rope burns around his wrist. He tried to tell you not to worry about it. That it was an accident. But that mattered little as your lips pressed to the red, irritated skin and he gave you a strained smile. You knew better than to ask about it more from there.

Ayato: It's ever changing. It's like he is constantly thinking of something whenever He falls asleep and it reflects in his dreams. Once it was a Japanese styled room the next it was some room in Fontaine's architecture. But it's always a bedroom. A place of relaxation as Ayato buries his head in your lap like it was a pillow. He'll whine about being overworked until you're tempted to pull on his hair just to make the man shut up for once, but last time you did that it led to the bed being used for a lot more than just rest. For now just pat his head and let him vent, the man needs it.

Sumeru

Kaveh: A sketch brought to life from his mothers blueprints. One he saw his mother sketching back when Kaveh was a boy and she would let him sit on her lap, let him comment on the drawings. She would always find some way to incorporate his addictions into the sketch. Nowadays he knows the building that was actually constructed in the end to be simpler, duller than the one his mother wanted, but in his dreams with you it stands tall and proud.

Al Haitham: An attic. It's dusty and it clearly had a hole in the roof that was covered over by some wooden planks and nails. A patch work job that needs to be fixed but if you ever take the time to bother with it while Al Haitham sits in an old rocking chair covered by a quilt reading the night away it will only be there the next dream cycle. It pisses you off. He pisses you off. All nonchalance and an apathetic look even as you plop yourself in his lap and take that book away. And what pisses you off even more? How he dares to call you needy as he holds you close. It's best to ignore the fact he started reading over your shoulder.

Tighnari: Pardis Dhyai. He'll sit on the walkway watching you kick the water of the ponds around, paying no mind to when you splash at him. Not anymore at least. He's learned quickly if he makes a snarky comment you'll give one back and it'll go on and on until somehow it ends in him getting dragged into the pond with you. Both dripping algae filled water as he wondered what gods made this numbskull his mate.

Cyno: Lambad's Tavern. Everytime he would come back from treks in the desert he would go there, get a drink, and play a round of cards with whoever was willing. It was a pattern. Work, work, rest, and more work. But now he didn't have to constantly be on work mode as he sat with you in the old booth shuffling cards as he tried to explain to you how TCG works. So far everytime you lose you've thrown those elemental dice and him, and with a smile he lets them hit him in the head despite being fully able to dodge them. His soulmate is such a sore loser.

Wanderer: Shakkei Pavilion. He hates it. Hates that this is the place his unconscious has chosen to sink onto so stubbornly. His wooden fingers would slide over the paintings depicting Scaramouche’s past that has now been severed from him in everyone's eyes but Nahida and the Traveler. If you knew, would you still hold his hand? Would you still trace the details of his joints and comment that you find his pretty face such a stark contrast to his sharp words? He's afraid to find out, the idea that you might be his fourth betrayal always lingering in the back of his mind.

Fontaine

Neuvillette: Under the water where the currents would carry stray bits of seaweed and fish swimming past. The first time you shared a dream with him here he had to calm you down as instinctively you held your breath, taking your hands in his and assuring you if he can talk like this, you can suck in air just as well. It took some time getting used to, but now he watches as you grab starfish off the ocean floor and bring them over to him like a prize to be presented. This is what humans must be like Neuvillette tells himself as you braid them into his hair.

Worcestershire sauce: A home. A nice one at that. Big, had decent furnishings, pictures of kids hung up on the wall. If you listened closely enough you could even hear children playing outside from the cracked open windows that showed the brightest sky outside. Wriothesly would walk behind you as you would watch the grass blowing in the wind, not saying a word as he rested his chin on top of your head. He never thought he'd be back here again. The very place made him feel sick to his stomach, but with you? It was bearable. Even as you tried to grab his handcuffs from him.

Snezhnaya

Childe: His childhood home. Back before the renovations he bought for the place with his money as a harbinger, back before the redecorating of rooms to fit more children, and back to what the house was like when he was just a boy yet to fall into the abyss. Back when everything was simpler. He would pick up toys that have gone missing, never to be seen again and stare in wonder how it all is exactly how he remembers it. It makes it so much easier to be Ajax with you, rather than Tartaglia.

Dottore: The hospital he was working in when trying to help Eleazar patients. For the life of him does he hate it, being back in the desert always having to tip his shoes out of sand that never seems to fully clear off. It doesn't help you try and pour sand down his shirt, but in a way he supposes it's better you two stay out here under that blistering sun than you going inside to be met with the smell of death. No, you don't need to know about that side of him just yet.

Pantalone: His office. It always makes it hard to tell at first if he's awake, not when the same scene greets him either way. You always joke about him being married to his work and you're the mistress in this relationship. At this point he counts on the comment as soon as his eyes flutter open and he's greeted with the sight of you sitting on the desk he's been using as a pillow. Still, he can never help the genuine smile at seeing you once again.

Captain: A flower field. The snowdrops peek out from under the fluffy blanket of white powder, crunching under every step he takes. Even in his dreams the cold of Snezhnaya is ever present, ever biting. It only makes sense you are shivering behind him even as he lets you steal his cloak that is more of a blanket on you than anything. This field, he knows it well, knows that what waters these flowers is more blood than anything else, but that matters little as he wraps his arms around you. Maybe he can find a way to dream you a proper jacket.

Pierro: A grand hall. It reminds you of the way ballrooms are described in romance stories as the couple depicted would dance the night away. Columns so high you have to tilt your head back just to see where they meet the ceiling covered in paintings you've never seen before. That is until Pierro steps into your view. He always offered his hand to you before you could ask, and as your fingers interlocked he would tell you about them. Always ready to answer your questions. It meant someone was curious about a part of his long lost nation. So, of course, he was always happy to share.

Scaramouche: A never ending fire. It's a small shack, engulfed by flames that never seem to dwindle or burn out the wood it feeds on. Like this place was stuck in time in his mind. He doesn't talk to you, not any more than a sharp shut up. The only time that glare he showed you disappeared is when you pulled your hand back from the curious fire with a hiss, not expecting it to actually hurt in this fake reality. For a moment you could have sworn he took a step towards you, but he never came any closer than that as he hissed at you to be careful. Dumb mortals should at least know not to burn themselves.

[mushroomates]

aragorn headcanons:

sketches in his free time. likes to draw plants he’s come across, writes down descriptions for later. makes maps and draws animals.

cannot draw people, for the life of him.

except for arwen. draws her all the time.

used to very bland food, cooking on the road. prefers unseasoned meat, likes to taste the “natural flavor.”

dislikes nutmeg. cinnamon feind

favorite cookie is oatmeal raisin

has very grimy hands all the time. it’s never ending. even after he washes them, it’s like immediate dirt and grease

current theories are: his sword is just really dirty, his clothes are dirty so when he touches them it makes them dirty, or legolas’s favorite- humans naturally produce grime so the dirt is a natural protective layer above the skin.

in actuality it’s because he knows it grosses (some) elves out and likes to be a menace. specifically targets erestor. legolas will also go great lengths to make sure aragorns hands star far, far away from his hair

knows some card tricks. has great slight of hand specially because of these card tricks. didn’t really do anything with this until pippin discovered this fact and aragorn was forced (politely asked) to preform for the hobbits.

this is, in spite of the fact, that they all know a literal WIZARD (gandalf was salty at abt this “false magic”) and also a ring that turns ppl invisible??

sews. really well, actually. enjoys it but rarely showcases this talent- mostly patches and mends garments weathered by his lifestyle. would one day love to sew a dress for arwen but doesn’t know where to start

masterful at subtly deflecting compliments.

very generous with compliments of his own, but are again, subtle.

years of living with elves has made him quite reserved. yet, he is doing his best to unlearn this behavior. such examples include:

telling arwen he loves her. telling elrond he loves him. telling frodo he loves him. really just telling everyone he loves them. he’s even worse when he’s drunk- he rarely gets even tipsy, but under the influence of a fine wine (or mead, he prefers mead or ciders) he will get very emotional.

hugs!! aragorn loves to give hugs. he really tries his best but they’re a bit awkward at times. he’s getting better.

breaking away from the elven raw-diet and dine seasonings with grilled meat and more lately grilled everything.

he will try his best to cook for himself at any opportunity. it was a jarring shift going from being served gourmet eleven dinners to raw venison

love language is acts of service. he likes to cook for his friends, though he’s not as good as it as sam, who cooked a majority of fellowship meals, so he mainly hunts. then legolas offered his hand and gimli felt challenged by that and at this point boromir just felt excluded-

he just wants to do nice things for the people he cares abt.

arwen has not, for a good chunk of her life, tied her own shoes, peeled her own oranges, made her own tea, or woken up without breakfast being made or ready for her.

just. guys. he really really loves arwen. he will do anything for her and it’s almost obnoxious.

it IS obnoxious if you ask legolas. but this is why aragorn does not go to legolas for romantic advice. (legolas once told aragorn that the next time he ties her shoes he should tie them together so that when she falls he will catch her. this is why arwen stoped flats with ties and opted for anything she could slip on instead.)

will never cheat at any sort of game. he will get extremely upset if you accuse him of such.

he does not believe that counting cards qualifies as cheating. boromir strongly disagrees. he mainly sticks to chess, now

is not allowed to play chess with erestor, (sore loser and prone to trash talk) elrond (matches take to long due to overthinking on both ends and this annoys arwen to no end) and either of the twins (they cheat by working as a team)

would 100% believe in bigfoot.

[ask-spooky-manor]

Friendship Headcanons

Cause I’m feeling the wholesome vibes

I’m gonna talk about the friendships that have yet to be shown on the blog just so it doesn’t feel like I’m retreading familiar waters.

- Jane and Tim are very close. The lesbian and gay friends who constantly get mistaken for a couple kind of close. She’s the reason Tim’s wardrobe is actually cool and stylish and not him wearing flannel and jeans all the damn time. They also love to gossip together. Really it’s Jane doing all the gossiping and Tim is just listening and compiling a mental binder of dirt he has on everyone.

- Brian and EJ are best friends weirdly enough despite EJ being someone who tends to get annoyed easily and Brian is kinda sorta “too much” sometimes. Their back and forth banter makes it seem like they dislike each other, but it’s all in good fun. They actually care deeply for one another and are like the definition of ride or die.

- Because Nina is the only teenager, most of the others tend to baby her much to her annoyance. The only people who don’t really do that are Jane and Nat. They do their best to make Nina feel included without coming off as condescending. They also like to have girls night together.

- Nina and EJ have formed a rather close bond. It started when Nina finally accepted the fact she’s aromantic and looked to EJ for support as he’s also aromantic. He helped show her that being aromantic isn’t bad at all and that romance really isn’t the be all end all.

- Brian and Ben are also close friends. Again, rather odd when Ben gets overwhelmed easily and Brian is Brian. They’re actually gaming buddies and most of their time spent together is over voice chat as they play video games.

- Slender and Tim had a rather complicated dynamic at first. It really rattled Tim to learn that, while extremely distant, there is a familial tie between him and Slender. That being said, over time they have formed a connection that is basically like a father/son dynamic though Tim would rather relive the events of Marble Hornets than ever admit that

- Jeff and Sally are also in a similar boat. Sally is Jeff’s great aunt but obviously Jeff is the one who takes care of her. He is her main babysitter after all. Jeff subconsciously sees Sally as this second chance to actually be a good brother to someone.

- Toby and Brian are good buddies cause they can match each other’s energy. While most of the other manor residents prefer to have a night in, Brian and Toby will be out in the clubs and bars having a good time and making sure the other doesn’t die.

- A pair that surprised everyone but makes a lot of sense in hindsight is Slender and Jane. They have tea every other day and are part of a two person book club where they read the same book and discuss their opinions on it. Jeff desperately wants to be in the club, but he knows Jane will find a way to permanently kill him if he tries to worm his way in.

[millie-multifics]

Though I Yearn • Part 8

Masters of the Air x Reader

Secret Admirer (Revealed)

A string of anonymous letters causes a stir at Thorpe Abbotts. Who could be the author of the tender correspondence you have been recieving?

Warnings: Spoilers for the admirers identity if you have yet to read Part 7, mentions of death, implied nudity, and it’s a little cheesy.

Word Count: ~1.3k

Masterlist Previous Final Part- Coming soon!

Sorry for the long af wait but just got my cast off from breaking my dominant hand soo it’s been a rough go. I appreciate everyone’s support with this series 🩵💙

x x x

Everyone at Thorpe Abbotts had grown increasingly weary throughout the winter months, losing more men each mission while trying to recover from the great losses of autumn.

It seemed with each mission you rose earlier and earlier, eventually you ceased finding any sleep after that dreaded red light flashed for the men.

“Good morning, gentlemen.” You greeted Douglass and Blakely with a smile, two cups of steaming black coffee already prepared. It had become a ritual for a few of the men to skip breakfast with the replacements, settling for one of your hot cups of coffee and chain smoking cigarettes to ease their unsettled stomachs.

Everett could see the exhaustion in your eyes, the burden of serving these men with a smile, knowing a fraction will not return was taking its toll.

“Sleep at all?” He asked, his worry palpible by the way his eyebrows creased in the centre.

“Your feet being on solid ground allows me to breathe but sleep evades me.” You admit, reaching to smooth the front lock of his hair that frequently escapes his attempted neat styling.

“Does that mean I don’t qualify for a kiss from my guardian angel this morning?”

Douglass groaned, smothering his cigarette butt into the dirt with his heavy, polished boot. “Sometimes I miss when she would only talk to you because she was ignoring my ass.”

“He’s a little on edge right now, our little James is attempting commitment.” Everett explained, sending the bombadier an amused glare. “On the topic of commitment, the hut will be clear for a few hours tonight for Rosie’s 25th mission festivities. Maybe we can catch up on some sleep.”

“Yeah, sleep, I’m sure that is what will be happening in there.” Douglass rolled his eyes at your lovesick, teenage antics.

“Speaking of Rosie, where is the lucky bastard?” You asked, he usually cut out of breakfast early to clear his head of all the nervous replacements chatter.

“Luck has nothing to do with it, he is a damn good pilot.” Blakely mused, “If I didn’t fly so damn good myself, I’d want to be in his fort.”

“Speak of the devil… coffee?” You offered as the mustached pilot appeared under the rolling, grey clouds.

“Please.”

You raised your own coffee to toast, “All the best today boys, and Rosie? Give ‘em hell.”

“This it the worst part, the waiting.” Helen broke the silence in the clubmobile. You were sitting in the chairs provided, awaiting the arrival of the men before you would make your way to what had become the Interigation centre to welcome the men back, help them feel comfortable and recognize they were back on solid ground. “Do you think Rosie will make it? It feels like it has been ages since a crew has done it.”

You glanced over the spine of the book in your hands, it had been open for about an hour now but if Helen had noticed you had yet to turn the page she did not mention it. “Rosie is a great pilot, I wouldn’t start doubting his abilities now.”

You flipped your page for show, eyes drifting over the page but not reading the black ink.

“Do you truely love Everett?”

“I do.” You did not need to think as the words slipped past your lips.

“How does it feel to love someone like that?”

You shut the book, placing it on your lap as you pictured your handsome pilot in your minds eye, “It’s like having a perfect, hot cup of tea on a cold day, its a warmth that envelopes your mind, body and soul. I feel all of his emotions tenfold, when he is happy I am blessed, when he is mad I am enraged and when he struggles with sadnesss I feel his grief. I yearn for his presence when he is away and revel in it when he is near, I no longer dream of going home because Everett has become my home.”

Helen looked thoughtful for a moment, “I think I could have felt it once but I only had one marvelous evening with him, Lieutenant Nash, but he was killed on his first mission.” She confessed for the first time since it had happened. “I just hope that one day I might feel that way fully, for longer than a day.”

“And Lieutenant Nash was Rosie’s friend so you’re wandering what might have happened had he made it back that day.”

Helen nodded, solemly, opting to change the subject from the handsome young man that had swept her off her feet quite unexpectedly. “I heard some of the Red Cross Ladies may be relocated when Europe is invaded, spread the resources and morale to the men at the front.”

“Let’s not worry about that right now.”

Warmth radiated from the two wool blankets drapped over your entangled bodies, it was a stark contrast from the rain pouring down outside. You felt at peace, the harsh drops pounding on the roof above and the sounds of your calm breathing filled the silence. Everett groaned as he pulled himself to a sitting postion, reaching to the bedside table for his carton of cigarettes. You shifted lazily to rest your head on his chest, pulling the blanket with you to shield his bare torso from the chill that hung in the March air.

“There have been whispers.” You spoke quietly, afriad to break the serenity.

“About us?” Everett leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your shoulder.

You smiled, “Those whispers never stop, every time we get a new wave of replacements they love to chatter- I think Kidd will lose his head if he has to talk to us one more time about discretion.”

“What’d you hear?”

“Helen heard that some of the girls will be allocated after the invasion of Europe,” The details were unknown but it hung over the continent like an impending storm. “That could mean-“ You paused, your fingers ghosted over the chain around his neck, tracing his name etched into the cold metal. “I used to be prepared for this, when I first volenteered I had steeled myself over, I was ready to tredge through trees, mud and blood but we were placed here. Thorpe Abbotts may have its share of mud after the rain but it has been hot cups of coffee, laughter over a drink, dancing through our pain and… you. I sincerely don’t know what I would do without you by my side.”

Blakely remained silent for a moment, contemplating your worries and soft confession as he discarded his unlit cigarette and matches onto the trunk beside his small bed. “There is no shame to be scared in this world.”

“Says the brave pilot who has looked death in the eye countless times and denied its knock.”

“Would it make you think any less of me if I were to admit that I get scared? Every time that red light turns on, everytime I climbed into that Pilot seat and everytime I look at you.” He confessed, voice soft as his warm breath brushed your throat. “We should get married. Tomorrow.”

“You jest.” You met his eyes, they were wide with vulnerabilty and an unexpected sincerity.

“I am serious.” He insisted, gently manuvering your body to be seated facing him. The rough pads of his fingers caressing the soft skin of your cheeks as he pressed on, “I want to marry you, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, no matter how long that may be.”

“Everett-“

“It does not have to be tomorrow. I can accept if you want to marry tomorrow or wait however many years, just please say yes to being my betrothed.”

Emotion overwhelmed you as you nodded your head feverantly, tears slipping down your cheeks only to be wiped away ever so softly by his thumbs. “Yes, yes, I will marry you, Everett Blakely.”

x x x

@jointherebellion215 @yorkshirekiwi @gretagerwigsmuse @seoultraveller @orchiidflwer @lucyfromtheoldhouse @kpopdistoyedmylife-blog @probabydeadbynow @claireelizabeth85 @solo-pitstop-vibes @timetowastetime8 @thebenjiblackwoodexpress @beingalive1 @bunnylil-reblogs @p-polaroid @ktredshoes @winniemaywebber @ginabaker1666

[ridhearts]

The first step to your lofty diplomatic dreams starts here...

*note: the housewardens all follow a specific order! please click below for the chapters as they're intended to be read!

overview. ♕ [chapter i.] chapter is. chapter ii. chapter iis. chapter iii. chapter iiis. chapter iv. chapter v. chapter vs. chapter vi. chapter vii.

THE QUEENDOM OF ROSES - RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

The Queendom of Roses is essentially the economic hub of the continent, at least when it comes to foreign markets. Though any remaining relationships are strictly for business, the Rosehearts family has managed to maintain contact with all the other countries of the continent except Briar Valley. The Coral Coast conducts all of their trade through the Queendom of Roses - while Pyroxene is closer, they have adopted a rather solitary policy, so the Queendom was the next best option. Additionally, the Rosehearts heir has a strong connection to the young heir Che’nya from abroad, solidifying their standing in international trade. Thus, the Queendom has become the unofficial central hub.

The ruling family has a firm hold on trade and on every day life of their citizens. From strictly enforced tariffs and trade routes, to specific tea times and daily beverages that must be consumed, those within the Queendom have a strict regimen that they must adhere to. When attending an important event, the only nobles more easily offended at a brash display than the Pyroxenes are the Rosarians.

The Card Soldiers are Her Majesty’s royal guard and are widely regarded as some of the best personal officers around. Many young hopefuls are trained within the borders of the Queendom before returning to their country to serve their lords, ladies and sovereigns.

MEETINGS

The Queendom of Roses maintained a hesitant relationship with your kingdom during the war. Once news came to the Queen that a new family was taking power, an invitation was bestowed upon you: visit her country, spend some time at the castle, and learn all about the social etiquette of the upper class.

Considering you were only a humble villager before becoming the next in line for the throne, you accepted the invitation. In fact, you were grateful for it. The fact that you had been invited made it easy for you to strengthen your ties to their kingdom, and hopefully reforge your bond!

You traveled to their Queendom as soon as you confirmed the arrangement, eager to start your diplomatic journey. Along the way, you were astounded by the wonderful smell of flowers and the bright, colorful landscape. People milled about the cobbled streets in fanciful suits and dresses, sporting fun decorated hats and eye-catching cravats. The foot traffic darted everywhere, even in front of your carriage, yet rather than busy chaos there was a sense of orderliness to it. A deep chime of a clock tower struck, spurring everyone on with a renewed sense of purpose. It was quite the contrast to your gray, rocky kingdom, where there was still physical damage visible from the dirt main streets and hopelessness seemed a day away.

Although, arriving on the castle grounds, you were surprised there wasn't much…fanfare. Your previous king always made a grand procession out of visitors, even when the visitors became a slow trickle of mages called in to protect the magestones and gorge themselves on food bought with taxpayer money. The guards, expecting your arrival, let you inside of the castle. It was quiet, so quiet your heeled shoes clicked against the floor and echoed. For a moment you thought you got the date wrong and worried that you were trespassing.

Somebody's heels approached from the hallway, quick and steady against the solid, shining floors. You were expecting a regal queen with a large dress, akin to the dresses your mother now wore. Instead, you watched as a short boy with red hair appeared, taking the stairs with ease. He held you in a gaze that bordered between blank and narrowed while gracefully closing the distance between the two of you. No matter how he compared to you in size or how cute he appeared, his aura of command was simply too strong for you to reject. You couldn't decide if the scepter in his hand was an accessory or a weapon.

"Ah…" You trailed off dumbly. His expression didn't change, but something flashed in his eyes and you could tell that your introduction was a test which you already failed. Suddenly rushing in your movements, you fumbled with the fabric of your clothes, tried to remember how to position your hands, and did your best curtsy or bow.

"Greetings…your highness?"

A moment of silence stretched between the two of you, unfriendly and unforgiving. The boy's eyes were as cold as an iron sword left unsheathed in the dead of winter. The longer he looked at you, the more the corners of his mouth tilted down into a small frown. Admittedly, it looked more like a pout than a frown, but you didn't dare utter a word and push yourself further from his good graces.

"Unacceptable," he finally muttered, averting his disappointed gaze. You swallowed.

"Apologies," you tried again. "You caught me off guard. I was expecting the Queen."

"Mother will not be administering your courses. She has left the duty to me," He explained. With a glance, you finally registered the small crown on his head, but quickly ducked your head back down in apology.

"I wasn’t aware. We didn't discuss the details in our letters."

He examined your bashful expression before stepping back, deciding this argument wasn't worth wasting time on. "Very well. My name is Riddle Rosehearts. I am the son of the queen and the heir to the throne. It is my duty to ensure you pass the same etiquette training I received, so that you might not tarnish what little reputation your country has left."

Your heart sank at that. There wasn't a moment that passed where you didn't love your country and its people. Your family risked their lives to fight for a better future, and now you were the one responsible for enriching your people's lives in every way you could. Even if you didn't have much of a name for your country, the dig still hurt. But you needed this to go well more than anything else, so you forced a polite smile.

"Shall we start immediately, then?" You asked sweetly.

Riddle scoffed. "Yes. Our first lesson: do not smile so widely. It is most assuredly without grace."

You instantly dropped your smile and followed Riddle through the hall.

The invitation didn't specify much of the details: who would administer your courses, how long they would take place, what exactly counted as passing - all these things were unknown to you. It appeared, though, that these lessons were going to be much more intense than you thought.

On the first day, Riddle nearly scolded you for coming so ill-prepared when you told him that you didn’t have anything with which to take notes. After staring at you for a moment, he huffed and left the room wordlessly. You sat on the edge of your seat, anxiously twiddling your thumbs until he returned with a bound journal and pen. Though he didn’t allow the book to slam on the table in front of you, he did pass it to you with a pointed look that served the same purpose as a loud thwack! Still, he was mostly addressing the basics verbally, indicating where you should be taking notes…which was practically after everything he said.

It lured you into a false sense of security. Maybe the prince had a bit of an attitude problem, but he was knowledgeable, and he’d pass his knowledge onto you for you to write down and review on your own time - preferably when you were far from the confines of this castle and on your way back home.

How wrong you were.

The very next day, he insisted that you put everything he told you into practice, without notes. You sputtered. “Certainly you don’t honestly expect that I’ve remembered all that?!”

“Why not? Any diligent student would have studied for at least an hour after lessons.”

“An hour?! We went over the information for hours after dinner, and I needed sleep!”

Riddle wasn’t one to be reasoned with, however, and still insisted you repeat the information back to him. Feeling stuck in the castle, without much of an option, you sighed and did your best.

Of course, how could anybody remember the precise order of nobility in such a short amount of time? There were so many dinner, lunch and breakfast rules to learn, ones that seemed to change based on the meal, the day, the amount of time you were sitting at the table after finishing your meal…

Every day, Riddle heaped hours of information on you, then expected you to relay it back to him the next day perfectly. When you fumbled the order of nobility, he made you write the order in your journal fifty times without looking at a reference. If your handwriting wasn’t up to snuff, he made you write out entire sections of the Queendom’s law in perfect script. Your pace and posture had to be perfect, or else you were forced to walk up and down the massive hallways with books stacked upon your head. At meals, every bite had to be prim and proper, or he’d lecture you before you could even pick up your fork again. 

And don’t get him started on the dancing.

You were dreadfully ill-prepared for the dancing. How did you know? Riddle told you first thing in the morning when he met you in the library and immediately shooed you out to go to a ballroom. There was no good morning to preface the information; just, “This next lesson will be positively dreadful.”

The first few hours were spent learning simple steps and motions, where to put your hands, how to follow and how to lead, et cetera. He even brought in two of his staff to help you in practicing switching off. You didn’t spend long in their company, but one of them insisted you were the sweetest thing, while the other gave you a wry grin in silent apology for Riddle’s behavior. It was a welcome reprieve.

But then it was back to being the focus of Riddle’s vigilant attention, and you ended the day with sore feet and growing animosity towards the only country that bothered to remember yours even existed.

You were in the middle of drafting a letter to your father, letting him know that the lessons were intensive and you’d be staying another week but you missed him and the others terribly, when there was a knock on the door. Opening it, you saw the green-haired butler from earlier. He informed you that tomorrow morning, you’d have the day to yourself while Riddle went to oversee some business with the Card Soldiers and you were welcome to attend, but your presence was not an obligation of your lessons. The way he said it made it seem like the only smart option.

Still, the next day you ate your breakfast slowly, trying not to notice how empty the large dining hall truly felt without Riddle berating you for doing something wrong. You barely even noticed how much care you were taking to eat the way he taught you, too lost in thought on what you should do.

After you finished, you glanced at the clock and then remained seated to think. You could explore the castle, or brush up on your assignments. Or, you mused dryly, you could hop in your carriage and leave, never to be seen or heard from by any Rosarian ever again. Or, a little voice said, you could check on Riddle.

You instinctively looked at the clock again, right as 15 minutes had passed. You hated when the universe gave you signs pointing in the direction you didn’t want to go.

Tentatively, you wandered through the halls the way the butler told you to go, walking past eclectic decorations of mainly red and black. Two large doors (that were, honestly, more window than door) led to the gardens, which then led to a training field. Walking through the lush green hedges and fragrant red roses, you were hit by how much you stuck out, dressed in dreary gray. Depressed, you realized that maybe you didn’t fit in at all - you were just a peasant playing royal, and maybe you were a lost cause.

Startled shouts caught your attention, snapping you out of your pity. You hurried towards the training field, a little less graceful than Riddle would have liked, and stopped right as you rounded the corner. 

You were just in time to see Riddle shouting and waving his scepter, summoning a heart-shaped collar around the neck of a redheaded recruit. He immediately yanked at it, though the annoyance in his face indicated that this had happened before. Still, he bit back at Riddle’s vicious words with venom of his own. You admired this future soldier more and more with each thing he said.

All at once, the commotion died down, and everybody fell silent. From the other side of the field, the queen approached, adorned in a great dress with a startlingly high collar. Her crown and scepter were both bigger than Riddle’s, though her hair was a similar, rich shade of red. As she approached, Riddle almost seemed to shrink back. It seemed like a smarter decision for you to duck back behind the corner and eavesdrop than stand and watch dumbly.

Due to the great distance between you and the other royals, you couldn’t quite make out every word that was exchanged. All you knew was there was a cold fury underlying her tone, and nobody dared to interrupt. Harsh words like ‘expected better,’ ‘utterly disappointing,’ ‘wasted authority,’ and ‘disgrace’ floated to you in the wind, so bitter and sharp that you almost felt like crying. After a while, you heard footsteps that you now knew were Riddle’s, and they were much faster than the pace he insisted you keep. For a moment you were worried he’d turn and catch you hiding, but he entered the castle through a nearby door instead. After a moment of holding your breath, you hurried back to the guest room and tried to avoid all the staff, as if you had heard a secret regarding national security and not a very public argument.

For the rest of the morning, you stared aimlessly at your notes, something like guilt gnawing at you. Lunch was spent alone again, and you hurried to get out of the too-big room. Afterwards, you waited in the library for your lessons to begin, but nobody showed up. Hesitantly, you checked the ballroom - also empty. Huffing, you wandered the grounds aimlessly, hoping to run into Riddle and to not run into the queen. Eventually you did run into somebody, but it wasn’t anybody you held a conversation with before.

The orange-haired member of the staff that helped you in your dancing lessons bounded up to you with a bright smile. “Heya! I come bearing what I assume to be good news!”

“Oh?” 

“Yup! Your lessons for this afternoon have been canceled! Though I can see you figured that out from how difficult it was to find you.”

“Oh…” You trailed off, not sure why you felt disappointed. Then you asked, “Did something happen? Something I can help with?”

A sad half-smile took over Cater’s expression. “It would be rude to ask a guest to help settle internal affairs.”

Nodding, you waved farewell to Cater and resumed your mindless wandering for a while. It seemed royals didn’t know how to behave when the feelings and security of others were involved. The grand halls felt all too imposing all of a sudden, like an ominous picture of what you were to become. Would you, too, become callous and cruel, uncaring for your people, uncaring for your family? Would your temper become a small fuse, lit at the smallest infraction?

Shuddering, you spent the remaining hours until dinner distracting yourself with your studies. Dinner was spent alone, again. This time, once you finished, you stayed at your seat for longer than 15 minutes, stuck in a loop of rumination. It wasn’t until Trey called your name that you snapped out of your miniature trance. In his hands, he held a tray of slices of a strawberry tart.

“Oh, you’re still here. Would you like dessert?” He asked, already offering you a plate and a fork. You took it in your hands and held it, not sure if you were willing to spend another 20 minutes aware of how lonely the table was.

But Trey was watching you expectantly, so you cut off a small piece and tried it in front of him. A second after the bite hit your tongue, your eyes widened in surprise. “Woah! This is amazing!”

Trey looked bashful. “Ah, it’s nothing. Riddle thinks so, too. They’re his favorite, after all.”

At the mention of Riddle’s name, you focused your gaze on Trey rather than the tart. “Are you bringing those to him?”

Trey nodded. Then, almost conspiratorially, he added, “But if anybody asks, this is a welcome gift for you.”

“Very well,” you said instinctively, not wanting to involve yourself in personal affairs. As Trey left, though, you couldn’t stop the nagging feeling in your gut. Sighing, you stood and said, “May I take those up with you?”

'Taking the tray up with him' wound up being you standing outside the door to Riddle’s room by yourself. Tentatively, you knocked, trying your best to balance the tray on one hand. In a firm, cold voice, Riddle called out, “Busy.”

You weren’t sure if calling out to him and revealing it was you would make him open the door or insist you leave him alone. Instead, you knocked again, more persistently. Again, Riddle called out, “Busy!”

Adjusting the tray on your hand, you huffed and hit the door solidly once with your fist. Then you stepped back, expecting the door to swing open in indignation. It did, revealing a very angry Riddle who was ready to chew out a member of his staff, or perhaps send them to the dungeon (if the castle even had one. You weren’t sure.) When he saw it was you, shock took over his expression - then indignation, annoyance, and finally, resignation. “What are you doing? I don’t need to tell you how inappropriate that was, do I?”

“You weren’t answering,” You defended, knowing full well that you sounded rather petulant. In an attempt to lessen his aggression, you displayed the tray of tarts. “This was important.”

Conflict flashed in Riddle’s eyes as he gazed at the tarts. Then he cleared his throat and looked away. 

“Dessert is not important,” he started, reluctantly. Trying to change the subject, he said in an accusatory tone, “For the record, it could be scandalous if you were caught outside my room, alone, at night, with a tray of sweets.”

“We haven’t gone over the dessert lessons. How was I to know? I’m also not sure exactly what quantity of dessert is considered appropriate, but I’m almost positive it isn’t eight slices at once. I’ve already had a bite of one, and if I’m left to eat these by myself, I will eat them all.”

Riddle tried to appear scandalized, but only seemed to be amused. “You’d think I’d have learned by now that there is no getting through to you…” But he stepped out of his room, shut the door, and led you to a balcony where you could eat your dessert together in peace.

The two of you sat on opposite sides of the small table on the balcony, overlooking the rose maze. In the distance, the lanterns of the village glowed brightly, the buildings tall and concrete. You were too amazed upon your arrival to realize how different the Queendom of Roses truly was from your country. It was more…stable. Your people deserved such security and beauty.

When Riddle wasn’t breathing down your neck to overanalyze every motion you made during a meal, he was surprisingly peaceful company. You ate your first slices in silence, admiring the dark landscape and sorting through the tension that was thick within the castle walls.

Riddle broke the silence first. “What is it like in your country?”

“Hm?” You asked, before you could stop yourself from acting disgracefully. Riddle didn’t seem to mind, at least, not this time. It never occurred to you that you hadn’t really talked about your home while you were here. Everything was all business, all etiquette and lessons. “It’s…not as green, for starters.”

“You’re situated right beneath the mountain range, right?” He asked, though you knew he wasn’t truly asking for clarification. “Do you…dislike it?”

“No! Not at all!” You insisted, and finally the dam broke. “It’s great at home. The ground is solid and there are forests with rock shelves like giant staircases up the mountains. The peaks are majestic, and there’s almost always a comforting fog in the mornings that feels like a cozy blanket…”

As you talked about your country, Riddle listened with rapt attention and helped himself to a second slice of tart. Every now and then, he’d interject to ask questions, getting you started on a new tangent about your life before royalty and your favorite home traditions. By the time you slowed down and realized how much you’ve been talking, most of the tart was gone and your throat was dry. Doing your best to clear it gracefully, you avoided Riddle’s steady gaze.

“I…realize I forgot many of your teachings,” You said meekly, your voice significantly softer. Riddle widened his eyes and soon watched his lap. He frowned and, much like when you first met him, it appeared more as a pout.

“I wasn’t thinking about that at all,” He admitted. A warm breeze blew over the both of you, nearly carrying his voice away with it. This shy vision of him was far different from the authoritative version that usually walked through the castle. “It sounds lovely, back at your kingdom. I was simply enjoying your stories. And…you’re much better company than the previous king.”

You laughed at that, starting at the prim giggle he originally made you learn before it escalated into something a little more true. “The competition was really stiff, was it?”

Riddle chuckled with you, a warm and rosy blush crawling to his cheeks. After a few stressful weeks for the both of you, a healthy laugh devolved into near-hysterics, taking much longer than the situation truly called for. As the two of you tried to calm yourselves down, you avoided making direct eye contact for fear of starting up again. Instead, you both looked over the small piece of the village again, willing the serenity to reach you.

Your thoughts calmed, first at the beauty of the lights against the dark sky, then at the overwhelming pull of how badly you wanted to achieve this for yourself. There was so much to be done: even after your people fixed the battered streets and structural damage, even after the harvest came and went and you properly rationed the food that wasn’t destroyed, even if you managed to reinstill some semblance of trust in the government of the country, all that work would only bring you to sea level. After that, there was much to improve: defenses, infrastructure, overall quality of life, foreign relations…and, on top of it all, you still had to figure out how, exactly, to defeat the encroaching blot.

For a sobering moment, you realized exactly where you were. The results of the war caught up to you, a king and countless innocent people dead, you and your family on the throne and the final defense between everybody and an unknowable monster. There was so much you didn’t know, and yet it was up to you to save it all.

“I never brought it up,” You started quietly. “But…thank you for continuing to support us all this time.”

Riddle appeared bashful - or ashamed? “Ah…it was nothing. Actually, it was purely strategic. Whoever emerged victorious would be appreciative of our support.”

“Ah. Well, I am,” You admitted, shifting in your seat. “Who knows? Maybe there are a couple of magestones with your name on them back home.”

“I see I’ll have to add a lesson in negotiating to our plans.” Finally, Riddle stood, smiling the kind of grin that, on anybody else, would be accompanied by rolling eyes. He held out his hand, clearly offering for you to take it. “It was a pleasure talking to you. Here’s to reaffirming our alliance.”

Taken aback by his sudden shift into prince mode, you gingerly place your hand on his and let him guide you out of your seat. “Here’s to affirming our friendship.”

For a long moment, neither of you said anything. Then, slowly, as he watched with wide eyes for any hint of dissent, Riddle bent at the middle and pressed a chaste kiss to your knuckles so quickly, it was hardly anything more than an accidental brush.

With your newfound understanding of each other, the future lessons went by quickly. No longer uncomfortable in the castle, you were able to study more efficiently, eventually reaching Riddle’s expectations. He split your workload into sections, taking you on frequent breaks to walk around the castle grounds. While you weren’t working on etiquette or any questions you had, you both planned ideal ways to welcome the other into your respective countries. It was like gossiping with your friends in the village all over again, and it gave you hope for the monumental tasks ahead.

Finally, with most of your lessons having been successfully completed, Riddle spent your final week helping you draft trade agreements, giving you a rundown of each nation’s specialty, the best trade routes, and other important information. For the time being, you knew you’d have to get most of your resources from him - all the other routes were in various states of disrepair, and your relationship with other countries was still practically nonexistent.

One day, he sent Trey to lead you to his office. As Trey opened the door, you were struck by how official Riddle looked behind the grand desk, framed by massive bookcases and an intricate tapestry behind him. However, his stern expression eased as soon as you walked through the door. He gestured at a seat across from his desk, waiting for Trey to shut the door before interlocking his fingers and resting his chin on them.

“We don’t normally do paperwork in here,” You mused, looking around. Once you settled your gaze on him, Riddle straightened his posture and tapped on the forms in the center of his desk with one finger.

“Yes, well. This one is a bit more finicky,” He explained. Curiously, you slid the paper your way and scanned the words carefully. As the words sunk in, your eyes darted from the paper to Riddle and back again.

“You’re transferring some of your Card Soldiers?” You asked. “Thank you, but I couldn’t take them away from home so suddenly.”

“Nonsense. They’re eager for the opportunity. Besides,” Riddle lowered his voice, eyes drifting from side to side as if somebody could simply appear. “You would be doing a great service for them and me.”

Glancing at the papers again, you read the names printed in Riddle’s neat handwriting. After a moment’s hesitation, the names clicked and you remembered which soldiers he was talking about. The two card soldiers had a propensity for trouble - not the kind that would endanger you, but the kind that would endanger them the longer they remained under the rule of the queen. Nodding slightly, you held your hand out for a pen to confirm the transfer.

“Personal guard, huh?” You mused. The situation in your kingdom was getting more and more official with each passing day. It gave you hope.

When it was finally time for you to depart, you thanked Riddle for all of his help with a deep - and perfect - curtsy or bow. He bowed in return, then the both of you watched each other for a moment. The queen hadn’t welcomed you, and she wasn’t seeing you off; after your inadvertent experience with her, you figured that was best.

“I’ll write to you,” You decided firmly. Behind you, the door to your carriage was opened, signaling that it was time to start the long journey home.

“Yes. I look forward to hearing how my lessons have assisted you.”

“That,” you agreed, “and to check in on you. As friends. Interpersonally.”

Riddle paled and cleared his throat. “A-ah, right. I’ll…I look forward to that, as well.”

With a smile and a wave, you turned and made your way to the carriage. Though you would miss Riddle, you were eager to return home and see what progress had been made. You kept waving until the carriage rolled past the gates, but you only turned your back to him once you could no longer see the difference between his white uniform and the white castle steps.

Riddle watched you leave, not daring to release the wistful sigh in his chest until you were entirely out of sight.

[kaigarax]

Winter

Gyutaro x Reader

Quote: "Fall in love with someone like you."

My Dearest,

I wish you could have loved me the way I wanted you to. And I wish I could have loved you the way you deserved.

Yours Truly

---

“Did it hurt when you died?” Gyutaro asks, kneeling down and looking up at you with an amused expression on his sickly looking face.

Your own face, pretty and gentle, smiles gently, “I imagine it hurts at least a little when anyone dies.”

Gyutaro nears you, his amused expression morphing into a sneer, “you didn’t answer my question.”

“I didn’t, did I.”

“Well?” Gyutaro snaps, impatient and harsh.

Your expression remains neutral though the corner of your lips twitch up ever so slightly. If Gyutaro weren’t a demon he’s certain he would’ve missed the ever so slight change in your expression - but because he isn’t a human he doesn’t quite understand why. Not that he would have understood even if he was a human though perhaps if he had been born more normal he might’ve been closer to the mark.

Not that anyone ever did understand you, except for maybe him. And even he seemed to have trouble understanding you on your best days.

You answer with a simple “yes”, acting as if someone asked if you wanted tea instead of the more invasive question that Gyutaro had proposed in the first place.

“Oh.” Gyutaro finds himself surprised by your answer but even more so at his own lack of a reaction. He’s more disappointed than excited. More bored than thrilled.

“So damn much.”

Eventually, when Gyutaro assumes you’ve grown bored of standing, you move towards him and take a seat. Your movements are smoother than he realised. There’s a graceful elegance to the way you move, a little similar to how his sister moves after all the training they put her through when she was young. It’s a practiced flow that’s more artificial than the air going in and out of Gyutaro’s lungs.

You hum quietly to yourself. Just barely loud enough that Gyutaro can hear and he’s sitting right in front of you. The humming is accompanied by an incessant tapping of your fingers into the soft dirt and occasional tap of your foot.

Gyutaro thinks you’re awfully fidgety for a demon. Thinks that there must be something wrong with you because of your inability to sit still. Not that Gyutaro has met a lot of demons that are able to sit still for long periods of time but he doubts that any of them would have been like you. It is quite the contrast to your ladylike behaviour which is why Gyutaro is certain that this mask you’ve insisted on wearing in his presence is nothing but that. A mask. There’s no way that this is your natural state of being.

“You know,” you hum softly, “I grew up by the ocean.”

Gyutaro rolls his eyes, “I don’t care.”

“How mature~” You tease.

Gyutaro sticks his nose up in the air in response not wanting to listen to whatever stupid story you have to tell him. Women always like to tell pointless random stories, don’t they? His sister certainly tells stupid pointless stories all the time but he’ll obviously always listen to her stories. She’s his sister after all.

But everyone else? They’ll find themselves in a not so similar position to his sister if they were to ever test the bounds of his patience. You, perhaps, are the only expectation though through no merit of your own but because Gyutaro understands his place in this world. Understands where he stands in comparison to everyone else and who happens to stand behind you.

There’s nothing all that special about you is there?

You’re not ugly but you’re certainly not as pretty as his sister.

More average than anything else in the eyes of Gyutaro. You seem almost regular if not for the words etched onto your eyes. Gyutaro can’t actually read the words that you’ve had engraved on your eyes but knows for a fact that they make you stand out more than you would have without them. The only reminder that you’re like the rest of them. A cold blooded killer that seeks to continue living in spite of everything else in this world.

Now, all Gyutaro has to do is figure out if that’s a good thing or not. Right now he finds himself leading towards the latter of the two options.

“Anyways, I think you would have liked it,” you say, speaking to him as if he were nothing more than a petulant child in need of a lecture, “the ocean.”

Gyutaro raises a brow, “the ocean?”

“Have you never seen the ocean before?”

Gyutaro shakes his head.

“Sorry,” you hum, “I would’ve assumed that you had seen it with how long you’ve been alive. Though, I suppose you would have no curiosity to see the ocean if you never got the chance to witness such a sight while you were young. That’s, of course, no fault of your own. It’s simply the way that demons are after they’re transformed.”

“The way demons are?”

“Demons cling to everything they were as humans. Which is honestly a little ironic, don’t you think?”

Ironic?

Gyutaro isn’t all too sure what that word means but whatever. It’s probably nothing all that good anyways. You seem to find something funny about the word (and Gyutaro’s willing to bet that it isn’t the sound of the word).

“We’re transformed into demons so that we can transcend everything that we were when we were humans yet cling exactly to everything that we wanted and only enhance everything that we were.” You look almost amused as you stare up at the starry sky above you, “I wasn’t much, as you can see. Not really beautiful or smart. Not really strong or have developed any specific gift that one might expect from a demon.”

“You were weak?”

“Some might argue that I’m still weak.”

Gyutaro shakes his head, “as a human. You were weak as a human?”

“A very fragile thing,” you say, “I spent most of my childhood sick in bed. Staring out at the ocean from an open window wishing to be everything that I wasn’t.”

“So you’re ugly, like me.”

“Hm?” You seem more confused than offended.

Gyutaro refuses to elaborate further. Too focused on the burning flush that rises up to his cheeks as you stare at him from your spot on the floor.

Instead, Gyutaro dares to scooch a little closer to you from his place on the ground. No longer kneeling but sitting on his bum as you had. He doesn’t sit in the same prim and proper form as you and instead props his knees up and rests his head atop of them.

Despite being so different from you Gyutaro feels as if the two of you could be kindred souls.

Like him you had been born with a weak body. Spend most of your life hidden away from the view of the world - watching from an open window that no one else ever dared to look in. It was strangely satisfying to hear the sad stories of someone else. Strangely reassuring in whatever messed up way it was. Though, in Gyutaro’s defense, everything in his life was a little messed up - which would have made the messed up state of mind his normal instead of abnormal as if might’ve been for everyone else.

“Tell me about the ocean.” Gyutaro demands.

You nod, speaking to him softly, “and what about the ocean would you like to know?”

“What is it?”

“Access to a world so far detached from our own.”

“Stupid.”

You raise a delicate brow, “hm?”

“The ocean. It sounds stupid.” Answered Gyutaro.

“I suppose it does,” you smile, “but to me, it’s always been everything.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I don’t have any other choice.”

Gyutaro leans in close to you, no longer caring about your personal space. Well, it wasn’t that Gyutaro actually cared about someone else’s personal space, it was more so that he cared about his own. Unless it was his sister he wasn’t too keen on getting close to another person (or demon) unless it was to inflict pain of some sort.

There was always something much more appealing that came from inflicting pain close up than inflicting it from a distance. But that’s besides the point.

Right now, Gyutaro leaned in real close as if trying to see if you’re real or not. Bringing his face close to yours. A part of him thinks that if he blew hard enough you’d disappear like a pile of dust in the wind.

You’re ugly.

Like him.

There’s also a strange delicateness to you similar to his sister. At first, Gyutaro didn’t understand why he might’ve had such an attachment to a pathetic thing like you but when he compares you to his sister he begins to think that there might be a similarity or two. Like a delicateness that you want to see thrive. A piece of you that entices change in others.

And what are demons, if not change?

You’re also calm. It’s different from most other demons. Actually, it’s different from all demons. Gyutaro hasn’t met all demons but he’s certainly met his fair share of them and he knows for a fact that none of them have a calming presence like you. Demons are, at their roots, predators. Apex predators. Enticing fear and danger by their mere presence alone. But you’re not like that. You’re calm. Not calm in a fall asleep traditional sense but in a strange sort of way.

Being around you almost makes Gyutaro feel like a human and he absolutely hates that. Despite the fact that he leans in closer, as if trying to reclaim his humanity, he hates it. Hates the pathetic little boy he was when he was a human. Hates that you remind him of that part of himself yet leans in towards you nonetheless.

Unlike his sister, Gyutaro is an honest person. He doesn’t need pretty words and lies to get what he wants. In fact, he prefers it that way. Doesn’t mind the fact that he wears his heart on his sleeve. That everyone can see exactly what he’s thinking and feeling. Discretion was never a skill he needed all that much - and honestly was perhaps his only redeeming quality. Now though, Gyutaro finds himself realizing that he’s suddenly caught himself in a lie.

Gyutaro has always considered demons to be creatures of change - or at least that was what he had convinced himself back when he had first changed into such a thing in the first place. What he had told his sister when the two of them first lost their humanity and buried their fangs into the poor innocent soul.

People, or at least all the people Gyutaro had met in his sad pathetic excuse of a life, were all the same.

Constantly stumbling into the same mistakes as one another.

Constantly repeating the same struggles as if there were nothing more to life than exactly what was in front of them.

But people, over time, changed.

Or at least the society around them had changed.

And every once in a while, someone like you would come around. Someone that would bring change to this repetitive and seemingly endless world. People like you were what changed society.

“Do you hate me?” Gyutaro asks, his voice surprisingly soft and gentle. Gyutaro doesn’t even realise that he’s the one that’s said the words until he feels your curious gaze on his own.

Your gaze is surprisingly soft and gentle. Not something that Gyutaro is familiar with. It’s such a foreign look that Gyutaro is tempted to poke you cheek to see if it’s real. He wonders if the look is so foreign to him because he’s so close.

Oh well.

The answer to that question is more thinking than it’s worth.

It’d be much easier for him to just slash at the things in front of him instead of just thinking about it.

Before Gyutaro can come to a conclusion of what to do you tilt your head to the side curiously, looking almost like a cat, “did it hurt when you died?”

“Yes,” Gyutaro nods, “so damn much.”

Fall in love with someone like you.

---

Her: I love you.

[astrae4]

nothing changes (except i’m being fr) | k. younghoon

pairings — kim younghoon x reader

genre — full angst, hurt no comfort

warnings — all pain, miscommunication (more like none lmao), idk just trauma dump…

note — Hi everyone, I’m back. I apologize for my long hiatus and coming back in not the best condition too on top of that… but I do hope you enjoyed reading my entry for @deoboyznet’s love letter event. Thank you for waiting for me, I really appreciate it.

more works — navigation | tbz!masterlist

I sat on the frigid cobblestone floor. My satin dress was deemed unimportant as it sweeped the dirt and dust on the floor, its owner without a care in the world about it.

Beside me sat an uninvited, young man, dashing and suited to the nines. He was a stranger, that was for sure.

It was funny—one could even say ironic—however, for once in a memory long locked in my head, ( heaven forbid it resurfaces so long to not disturb my appetite ) I knew everything about this man.

I knew of the way he liked his tea sweet. How he’d pout when annoyed, make a fuss when embarrassed—yet silent when upset. I knew of the way he liked the smell of vanilla because it reminded him of his grandmother’s kitchen, and how he’d never tuck his shirt in because he liked the feeling of the breeze reaching his stomach on warmer days.

I had long kept the memory hidden in my head, detained it to the bottom of my mind as if it were forbidden knowledge so long as to not feel what I had back then.

All for naught, it seems, as the man beside me always had a knack to make himself known to mankind. It was as if he was flaunting how easily he’d moved on—how little he truly cared for me.

I parted my lips to emit my thoughts, yet nothing came out. My mouth opened like a fish in air, only to close it once more like an idiot once I had realized that my thorax failed me.

My pride screamed at me to speak. It seems as if it could not leave me looking like a heartbroken teen, so I reopened it to attempt once more.

Unfortunately, he beat me to it.

”Are you okay?” He asks.

An innocent question, one asked of normal formalities. Yet, it brought me all the way back then. When innocence and naivety ran through, when a question would not have hidden implications.

Back to when I was young, and in love.

Back then, I would have responded with a “yep!” to not worry him, but then spill all my worries not a minute later. Before, I would have had courage because he was my Younghoon.

Now, he has changed. No longer the boy that was mine. No longer my Younghoon, but theirs.

”Why?” I asked.

To onlookers, it seemed like a common reply, especially in the perspective that they are strangers.

But I knew what I was talking about, and he does too.

Why act like you care anymore after you chose opportunities over me? Why rub the wound you know is still bleeding? Why not me?

A pregnant pause befalls before he took a sharp inhale, and muttered, “I’ll excuse myself.”

He walks away, and I let go of the breath I hold.

Strange, I felt relieved.

Perhaps I was mistaken. He did not change much mentally, he was still the Younghoon I knew.

Perhaps I was mistaken. I too did not change much mentally, I was still the me I knew.

Perhaps I was mistaken. We were still us. It was proven so as question met silence.

As bitterness was once more ignored, pushed deeply and squeezed tightly until we could not breath.

It is because we are still us, that communication ceased as it did all those years ago.

It is because we are still us, that we continue to bear this torture, though we know it did not do us good. Though it can be fixed.

We know, we understand. But we are us. By blood and flesh we are us, so we let the torture pain us once more.

It is not favorable, but it is what we prefer. Perhaps, because the truth is too jarring? It would mean that all this bitterness was for nothing. All the tears and curses and pain becomes irrelevant if we accept the truth. It seems that this was not something we could accept yet.

For now, this would be enough.

taglist — @kyusqult @ja4hyvn @flwoie @sulkygyu @xiaoderrrr @ineedaherosavemeenow @lonewolfjinji @teddywonss @taerae-verse

© astrae4 2024 | please don’t copy, translate, or plagiarize my works on all platforms!

[sadlynotthevoid]

So, about the LCF x Naruto crossover AU with Sakura, Naruto and Ino—

Sakura is born in a happy, wealthy family of three, now four with her. She's pretty much traumatized for the whole dying thing and everything about her previous life, but her new family helps.

Her dad is a loving, quiet silly man, her mom is one of the most amazing people she has met, and her caring older brother Cale is the best.

Then her mom dies, her dad goes to who knows where and her brother is the only one who stays. Cale comforts her, tells her stories and hug her to sleep, and eats with her even when he obviously can't stand the food in his mouth.

(—Not because of the flavor of the food, even though he's quiet picky, but because he doesn't seem to savour anything but sweets.

"It tastes like dirt", he says one day.

Sakura looks at the half-eaten creamy chicken on his dish— his favorite— and frowns.

She thinks on how difficult was to eat anything on her bad days, how everything tastes insipid and hard to swallow. She remembers how Naruto only would ate ramen or, later, popsicles when he was feeling down. She remembers her shisho giving her tea and dango, saying that sweets are better for the heart. She thinks, and wonders if her brother is the same.)

Cale is there for her, and in exchange, she's there for him.

She hugs him when he needs it even if he doesn't ask for it. She seats beside him with a book when he's looking lost. She talks about everything to fill a bit the silence in this giant house.

(—And isn't that stupid? What is the point on living in such a place if all the other rooms around them were left without use? What is the point on hiring so many servants if the house still felt empty? Weren't most of them adults? Why they just stay still and don't help them?!—)

She tells her about her dreams before anyone else, because he deserves to know before everyone else. She gets a new sketchbook for him when she notices how his fingers would twitch, but then never touch his last one.

Slowly, he starts to smile again.

And then their father comes back.

He comes back with a pair of strangers and calls them family. He presents an unknown woman and calls her their new mother and—

—And Sakura is furious.

How does he dare?

Sakura is a kid, only five years old (she hadn't seen her father in a year). But she was an adult once. Her body, feelings and mind can be the ones of a child, but the knowledge is still there. And she knows, she knows— this is wrong. This situation is wrong.

This isn't supposed to be like this. Parents are not supposed to do this. They shouldn't be so...so...

Her mind is like a mess of twirls, but the feelings are clear and loud. Her father is talking, but she can't hear him. She sees his mouth moving but all she can do is glare at him with anger and betrayal.

"Egoist."

She doesn't notice she said it outloud. Nor when she left the room. She doesn't notice she was running nor the boy coming after her.

Sakura is too mad to notice all of this.

So, she runs and hides in a room that smells like home. She cries and punches the floor, until her brother comes to hug her. Like he always does.

[mxanigel]

Remember the Stardew Valley farmer I created for a single achievement who has now taken on a life of his own? Well, I wrote a backstory for him. And this little backstory gave me hope that I can get back to more writing again soon.

-----

Ed, who most know as "Scrooge," has long been fascinated by numbers and the concept of money making money. When he joined his high school's theater club as a freshman, no one wanted to deal with the budget, and everyone was thrilled when he volunteered. But they didn't expect him to be a hardass when it came to using funds or setting ticket prices. Even though he saw it as simply requesting an explanation for each expense or showing how ticket prices affected what they could do with a set or costume design, they took it as every cent needing justification, which led to him getting the nickname "Scrooge."

Ed didn't feel like wasting energy to push back against these misinterpretations, instead just rolling with it so he could focus on supporting each play to be the best it could be. And it worked. He won over teachers through his methodical and thorough approach to financial management, which made them less likely to object when his peers pushed for things like real flames or fireworks during key scenes. And nothing in the auditorium ended up permanently damaged, so no harm done, right?

Unfortunately, enough folks learned of him by reputation that people didn't realize who he was unless he labeled himself as Scrooge, and thus the nickname became his de facto name. He and his boyfriend joined the same amateur theater troupe during college, bringing the name with them, a name that outlasted their relationship.

Ed's grandpa thought it a hoot, transforming the name into a term of endearment, but he didn't manage to share that context with the good people of Stardew Valley. So when Ed arrived, the name "Scrooge" alongside his easy embrace of the profitability in farming started him off on the wrong foot with most residents.

But it's fine. He's used to that. He's happy to get away from his desk job, return to the fishing he loved as a child, feel dirt and roots under his hands, spend quiet evenings carefully scrubbing grime from under his fingernails and then reviewing his accomplishments with his feet up in front of the fire, a cup of tea in hand, an affectionate pup at his side. He doesn't understand the mystic nature of the valley, the ramblings of the so-called wizard or these strange "Junimo" things. He doesn't feel like he needs to. He can make a difference his own way, by having his money (and his hard work) make money that benefits this little community.

Though Ed couldn't have anticipated falling in love again, much less with two people.

[whumpflash]

(continuation of this. this part will hopefully not be too confusing devoid of context but I'm sorry if it is 😶)

cw: pet whump, slavery, mentioned violence

Afternoon tea with a fairy queen sounds like something I would've daydreamt up as a kid. A really young kid. It sounds whimsical. Fanciful. Definitely not stressful. Because when you play pretend as a kid, you're probably not thinking about the political aspects, and you're probably not worried about accidentally screwing the whole thing up and getting yourself and your partner killed.

Funny how the real world works like that.

It was easy enough to get an invitation. Humans are apparently all the rage these days in the mirrored lands, and a human who's promising dirt on an old rival is even better. 

The spread set out for the guests is immaculate. China so fine you can practically see through it, and glassware as delicate and intricate as a butterfly's wing. Not to mention the meticulously arranged trays of food. Tiny fruits that look too bright to be real, pastries baked in the shape of flowers with honey dripping from their crusts, little sandwiches and tartlets with fillings that look delicious, though I can't identify them. Even if it weren't for Rhodes and his secret quest for vengeance, I'd probably try and crash one of these parties anyway, if only for the meal.

"All rise for the Queen of the Garden Court!" 

The voice booms across the marble hall from somewhere unseen, and those around me—lords and envoys, dukes and wannabes, all here to kiss up to the Queen—hurry to their feet.

Everyone here is after something; power, favor, a chance to climb the social ladder. I'm no exception, but my goals are a little less direct.

Hey, I call mentally to Rhodes. She's here. You should be in the clear for now.

Atta girl, just keep her busy while I figure out where she put the list, he replies.

I have to physically stop myself from nodding, putting on a smile as a woman enters the hall. Contrary to her title, the Garden Queen isn't clad in anything resembling flowers, wearing instead a simple but elegant dress that looks like it's made of melted chocolate. She's smaller than I expected, with tanned skin and a serious expression. In one hand she holds a silver chain, which trails upwards and attaches to a collar around the neck of…

Aaron.

I feel my breath catch in my throat as he moves closer, head bowed, led along by the Queen. He's thinner. Disheveled, even in the fine attire he's been dressed in, but it's unmistakably him.

I remember Armitage's words with a start. The mention of a deal to placate a flower queen. Was this it? Give her a human servant?

"Please be seated," the Garden Queen says, and I sit along with the rest of the court. She takes her place at the head of the table, Aaron kneeling on the floor beside her.

Is this a trick? Is he trying to con her? There's no way the Aaron I know would act so subservient. It almost makes me want to laugh, picturing it as an act. Prideful asshole like him ordered to pretend he's a fae queen's plaything. I wonder how hard it was to convince him?

Servants cart out a sizable teapot, and with a snap of the Queen's fingers, Aaron is standing to pour it. He's got four other guests before he reaches me, and I'm spending that time trying to come up with the best biting remark I can.

But as he gets closer, as tends to happen, I get a closer look. His expression is dull, like he's numb to the world around him, and there are dark circles under his eyes that weren't there last time we were face to face. His hands shake, almost imperceptibly, as he pours the tea. 

Time passes differently in the mirrored lands. It's only been a few weeks since his fight with Nick, but how long has it been for him?

I'm still staring when he reaches me. We meet eyes for all of a second before he looks away, but I see the flash of recognition. He nearly spills my tea as he pours it, then makes his way around the table, returning to kneel by the Queen once his task is complete.

It takes a minute for me to realize that everyone else has started to eat, selecting treats from the tiered trays before them. I take a pastry and some fruit, if only to avoid drawing attention to myself.

I've lost my appetite.

How's it going? comes Rhodes' voice.

Looks like she'll be busy for a while, I reply. But…

But?

I grab one of the little fruits—one that looks like a tiny cluster of bright orange grapes—and chew it robotically. It tastes weirdly like bananas.

But there's been a small hiccup, I continue. Someone here knows me.

Dammit. Is this gonna blow everything?

I sip at the tea. No, I… I don't think so. He's not a guest. He's… I don't know, he's some kind of servant to the Queen. Some kind of pet.

He's human then, Rhodes says. It's been known to happen. A human gets in too deep with fae business and funds there's no coming back.

I glance over at Aaron. Very still, eyes glued to the floor. Like a stranger is wearing his skin.

Is there no coming back? I ask.

We can't help him, comes the reply. Not now. Not without getting caught.

I don't know why his words make my stomach twist. No matter how pitiful he looks now, it's still Aaron, and he's still a violent asshole. The world is no doubt a safer place with him bound to the Queen's will.

The afternoon rolls on, and I do my best to enjoy it despite the presence of my enthralled ex-coworker. I try to listen to the babble of the lord's around me to take my mind off it, but even in fantasyland, politics are super boring.

"Louisa?"

It takes me a second to remember the false name I gave to the court, and I look up to find the Queen staring pointedly at me.

"My Queen?" I manage to say.

"I've heard rumors that you have a story or two about an old schoolmate of mine," she says. "A man going by the name of Armitage?"

Ah yes. Gossip time. I straighten my shoulders and pretend I don't notice the slight shift on Aaron's face.

"I do indeed, your majesty," I say. "I have stories to entertain the whole of your court, and—" I lean in with a cartoonishly mischievous look. "---a few stories that may be too saucy for any ears but the Queen's," I say in a theatrical whisper. Rhodes would be proud.

The Queen herself looks sufficiently intrigued, and I think I can say with confidence that I've bought plenty of time. I stand up, aware of dozens of pairs of eyes on me.

Right. The fun part. The part where everyone stares at me and I have to hold their attention without messing up. No pressure.

I clear my throat, gearing up for one of the stories Rhodes told me.

"Well," I start. "It began on a windy day."

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

My nerves are straight shot by the time I've finished the first tale, and thankfully it seems everyone's attention has wavered enough that they aren't wanting another. The Queen is a different story. Once the tea service is cleared away, she motions for me to come closer.

"That was quite an entertaining story," she says, giving me such a look that it feels like she's trying to read my mind. "But I'm more interested in the… what did you call them? Saucy tales. Do you have the information I think you have?"

Shoot. Do I?

"It may be so, my Queen," I say quickly. "However, if I am to divulge such things, it should be somewhere more…" I make a point to glance around. "Secluded."

Maybe that will at least buy me some time.

Are you done yet? I call out to Rhodes. We have a situation.

I swear I'm close.

You said that an hour ago, I complain.

For real this time. What's the situation?

It's probably fine.

What's the worst that could happen? All I have to do is lie well enough to get her off my back, then me and Rhodes can book it.

"You are correct," the Queen says after a moment. "I will receive you in my chambers shortly. Please wait here, and I'll send someone to fetch you."

With that, she rises, giving a snap of her fingers. Aaron, who'd been stacking the remaining plates, flinches at the sharp little sound. As he turns toward us, his arm catches the edge of the stack, sending it to the ground with a loud crash as the plates explode into a million tiny shards.

I jump at the sound, looking at him like he's gone crazy. Behind me, the Queen scoffs.

"Clean it up," she says flatly, a disgusted look on her face. And then she's gone, footsteps echoing on the marble.

I fall into a chair with a sigh, watching Aaron fall to his knees and get to work.

"You did that on purpose," I say in a low voice.

"I-I wanted to talk to you," he says, not looking up. His voice is hoarse, like someone with a sore throat.

"Well here I am," I say, shifting to face away. I can't get distracted with this right now. 

Either hurry up or give me some actual dirt on Armitage, I tell Rhodes. The Queen is after some kind of secret.

"Please," Aaron calls in a soft voice. "Armitage… Armitage betrayed me. I'm her… her pet now. I haven't taken any oaths, but they're trying to make me, and if they do, I'll never leave." His voice breaks, and it takes all my willpower to not turn around. It's Aaron. Not some helpless innocent. It's Aaron.

"They're hurting me, Clara. Help me, please—"

"You want me to risk my own freedom— maybe my life— for you?" I cut him off. "You tried to kill Nick. You put me in the hospital."

"I'm sorry."

"Only because you're trying to save your own neck," I spit out. And it's the truth, isn't it? If it was Nick in his position, or even me, I know he'd leave us behind without a second thought.

"So y-you think I deserve this then?" Aaron says, and his voice comes out small. Broken.

"I think–" I shake my head, then at last turn back around. See him kneeling, hands on his knees, looking defeated. 

"No. Yes. No. You deserve some kind of comeuppance but… not this."

His eyes brighten, just the tiniest bit. "Will you help me then? Please, I j-just want to go home–"

"Sh." I can hear footfall on marble, somewhere down the hall. Probably the Queen's messenger coming for me. I could really use those secrets, Rhodes.

 "I'll do what I can," I say quietly. "But I'm not making any promises."

[amberjazmyn]

carry on - chapter six

long chapter coming ahead! now we really start to get to know about valencia walker and alexander together a little bit but we also get to see them film a scene in supernatural together! and we also see that valencia is about to be a cover model and have an interview with vogue which is exciting!

waking up bright and early, valenca knew it was going to be a crazy day but it didn't seem to deter any exhaustion or negative thoughts. it was a filming day for supernatural but not just any old filming day for supernatural. it was the filming day of elodie winchester's return and explanation as to where she's been all this time. and, let's just that the entire cast and crew were excited for today because finally, elodie, who was the family's matriarch for so long since mary left, was now back. even though valencia has technically been involved with supernatural from the very start, sometimes elodie winchester was just mentioned and not even shown. however, valencia was overly excited to finally be back as elodie for it was something she had been missing. as though there was a gaping hole of the puzzle that needed fixing. 

liked by alexandercalvert, jaredpadalecki,jensenackles and 700k others 

valenciawalker thank you so much for having me vogue, it was my biggest honour and pleasure! i always love sitting down with your interviewers, they are always so caring, thoughtful, loving and hilarious, along with other slews of loving words i could say. however, there's still never going to be enough words that could describe my love for you guys. in my newest interview with vogue, i spilt so much tea about what my los angeles audition trip was really like, some good dirt on supernatural and miss elodie winchester, me and alexandercalvert's love, my family life, my mental health as well as so many other juicy things. so, the links to both the video and online article will be posted on my story and vogue's stories tomorrow at 12:30 pst so, get ready!📸: vogue

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alexandercalvert this is the love of my life everyone and i get to love her every day yes ma'am

valenciawalker alexandercalvert and this is my man y'all yes ma'am

jaredpadalecki dang, looks like this may be the first post and article i can't show to the kids then... 

valenciawalker jaredpadalecki you show my posts and articles to tom, shep and odette? my heart and ovaries just exploded all at once

jaredpadalecki valenciawalker they're always asking and wanting to keep tabs on their aunty ria considering they can't always visit

valenciawalker jaredpadalecki now that makes my heart explode

jensenackles cannot wait to read this. love you valencia

username my bisexual radar is going mighty insane. you are so hot, valencia!

vogue thank you for allowing us to interview you once again, valencia, we all adore you!

after posting about her upcoming interview and article with vogue, valencia decided to get dressed into something comfy so she could then be driven to the supernatural set lot to start the filming of elodie's return. 

not even ten minutes later and valencia's driver got valencia to the set lot of supernatural so she made it in record time. 

"...you excited about filming today?" jared asks as he rests his chin on valencia's shoulder as she giggles 

"is that even a question, padalecki?" valencia giggles as jared giggles at his obviously dumb question as they wrap their arms around each other

"no, it's not. we've missed filming with you, ria. just having you on set hasn't really given us what we needed so, having you both properly and in front of the cameras is the best thing ever!" jared smiled, nuzzling his chin further as valencia once again chuckled

"yeah, i...i've missed it too. i've missed playing elodie, i'm glad i was allowed back," valencia smiled as jared smiled back as they pulled out of the hug 

"we weren't going to allow filming to start again until elodie was allowed back..." jared whispered softly as that made valencia's heart melt - they did promise they'd wait until she came back and they didn't break that promise 

"...thank you jare, thank you so much!" valencia smiled as jared nodded his head as they then decided it was time to get to their soundstage considering filming would be started soon

*+:｡.｡ •·.·''·.·• ·˚*+:｡.｡ •·.·''·.·• ·˚*+:｡.｡ •·.·''·.·• ·˚

the brothers, the angel and the nephilim were still lost without their female winchester. they could only stay paused as the world around them continued on. staying cooped up in the bunker, they waited for the day that their sister, girfriend and best friend would just come home, not even having the energy to go on any hunts. however, unbeknownst to the grieving four, their girl had returned safely and she was not dead like they had all grieved over and thought. she was as healthy as possible and she was on her way home back to the bunker. 

whilst she was excited, she was exhausted as she had been on foot. she had been kidnapped by the british men of letters and to do what to her, that was still to be figured out. but, being able to come back home was just the icing on elodie's cake. however, that did not mean she was out of the danger zone yet. she was still very much in the danger zone. no one actually gave permission or had any knowledge whatsoever that elodie had escaped. she escaped the second she saw the chance and didn't think to hesitate because she knew they would never be another chance. so now, her biggest fear was being caught and kidnapped a second time by the men of letters. so, she was just hoping and praying that her boyfriend cas, jack and her brothers would do everything in their powers of will to make sure it doesn't have the ability to happen again. 

as she finally made her way up to the bunker, moments from entering it, she had found her best friend and nephilim, jack. he was just pacing around the front and it made her panic so, she drew her gun that she had stolen from the men of letters. grabbing the attention of the distressed nephilim, he calmed down in an instant at the sight of elodie, whom he thought had died on him and the rest of the group. 

"...el...elodie?" jack stammered out as a smile spread on the girl's face as she cocked her gun back into her holster as she moved closer to the nephilim 

"hey, jack..." she trailed off as a soft, relaxed expression found its way on her face - relaxation also finding its way on jack's face 

"...what...what happened? who sold their soul...how are you-" 

"-wait...wait, jack slow down...you...you thought i was dead?" it hadn't even occured in elodie's mind that her brothers, boyfriend and nephilim thought that whilst she was kidnapped by the men of letters that they had most likely manipulated them into thinking that she had died

jack just nodded his head solemnly as that broke elodie's heart in so many ways. how did that not even cross her mind at any one point during her kidnapping? she had only presumed that they were taking so long to find her, the group, because they just simply couldn't. never once did she consider the idea that they could have been told...manipulated...into believing that she was dead the entire time. 

"yes, elodie. we...we weren't told anything as to where you could have been...where...where were you?" jack spluttered out, his head tilting as that hurt elodie - even worse was the fact that they weren't even told that she had been taken by the men of letters after all, it seemed as though they were no longer deemed as threats 

"i...i was kidnapped by the men of letters. i...i was tortured every single day and...manipulated into thinking that you guys weren't ever going to see me again. and...and that you had been told that i had died...it was so painful and...and scary...i...i only escaped because i waited for the one chance to and i...i didn't look back..." elodie gulped as jack pulled the winchester in for a hug, letting her know that she was finally safe

but, also that he was so goddamn sorry that they didn't even try to look for her when they could have spent so much time and have found her a lot quicker than it would have taken elodie to come back. 

"...we are so so sorry that we didn't try to look for you. we...we just assumed the worst and we just...we gave up trying to do anything," jack whispered as elodie nodded her head as her chest burned even more at the new revelation

"don't apologise jack, i'm here and i'm safe. for now, that's all that matters," elodie whispered as the two then pulled out of the hug as it was obvious that the two of them wanted to see the other three

"i bet the other three would want to see you," jack spoke as elodie smiled and nodded her head in agreement

"i bet they do, let's go," elodie smiled as they moved into the bunker 

as they walked into the bunker, it seemed as though no one's attention was caught so, elodie decided to make sure to grab their attention. 

"hey, assbutt!" elodie calls out, catching the attention of one of her brothers and her boyfriend 

however, they froze in shock for a moment as they allowed both the nephilim and their sister/girlfriend to explain what was going on. 

"dean, cas, before you go reaching for the salt or the gun, elodie was never dead like we thought. she was kidnapped..." before jack could finish the explanation, the two guys didn't care anymore 

all they wanted...all they needed was to be in physical interaction with the girl that they thought was dead but was now actually alive and had been this entire time. 

"...by the men of letters..." jack whispered as that caught dean's attention, pulling away from his sister

"...she was kidnapped by the men of letters? how...how in hells name did you even escape, elodie?"  dean stammered in shock and confusion as the angel didn't want to let go of his girlfriend any time soon

"honestly, dean, i've got no freaking clue. i...i just saw my chance where they were all gone and i knew it would be my one and only...i loaded up on guns and weapons and i just ran. and i didn't stop running until i found my way back home...they...they could be trying to look for me and hunt me down right now to take me back..." elodie's eyes started to dart around the bunker's dining room as the men (minus sam) all nodded their heads as they watched elodie closely

"...don't even worry about them finding you again, okay? we'll keep you on lockdown here in the bunker for as long as needed until its safe for you to leave again, alright?" dean spoke sternly as elodie nodded her head - protection being the one thing that was on her mind right now

"i don't care dean, as long as they can't find me again, i'll do anything," she spoke small as dean nodded his head, pulling his sister in for another hug as that was when they finally realised sam wasn't with them

"wait...where...where's sammy?" elodie spoke up again with concern as the three guys realised and their hearts all broke - completely confusing elodie

"he's taken this whole thing the worst out of all of us. it's as though he hasn't stopped crying since it happened. all he does now is cry and sometimes, if we're lucky, sleep and that's it. he won't even let anyone into his bedroom, he's that distraught..." cas' small voice spoke up, making elodie's eyes tear up as she clenched her jaw to stop the tears from falling

"...in all honesty, it'll be a shock if he's even still alive considering we fear that he hasn't even been eating anything," jack perked up, following after cas as elodie shook her head in sadness that her brother would even do this to himself

"but...maybe...just hearing your voice could bring him out of his slump and out of his room?" dean suggested as it was hurting dean more than he cared to think or admit that his baby brother was closing himself off to the world with the thought that his sister was dead

"no, i think i'll go into his room and force him to believe the truth and ask him if he still thinks i'm dead," elodie decided as cas, jack and dean at first looked apprehensive but, thinking about it, that was the best idea out of any other idea

so that is exactly what the youngest winchester did. she left the trio in the living room and went upstairs to where she stood nervously in front of her, who she could hear, sobbing older brother's bedroom door. for a moment, she contemplated on the fact of knocking on his door but, she didn't and she just quietly opened it. hoping that sammy wouldn't majorly freak out but shocked at the same time that his door wasn't locked like she assumed it would have been as she tentatively placed her bobby pin back in her hair. the use of it no longer needed to pick at the lock. 

however as elodie opened the door, she truly saw how distraught and torn her older brother was about what she had gone through in the past however long it was she had been gone for. it tore her heart into pieces to see him, her older six foot four brother sobbing and curling in on himself on his bed, tissues strewn all over the bedroom floor. his face as red as it had ever been as his tears covered his entire face as his body shook through every sob. his hair messy as his entire body trembled when loud sobs weren't the reason for the tremors. 

"sam...sammy?" elodie whispered softy so as to not scare the living crap out of her brother as she slowly walked over to his bed

"go...go away...pl...please!" his small voice croaked out as elodie took in a deep breath knowing she had to be delicate about her approach to sam

"sammy, it's me...it's your sister, elly..." elodie trailed off, just hoping her small and soft spoken voice would help sam realise who it was in front of him

it was quiet, apart from the sobs, for a few moments until sam moved his head back and lifted his eyes to the door in front of him. to then be in front of his baby sister, the exact sister who he thought had been killed as he blinked furiously. wanting what he thought was a nightmare to end.

noticing that her brother was panicking from the nightmare he thought he was having, elodie immediately kicked her shoes off to where, she had no clue. and she squished herself onto the queen size bed next to her brother. holding her panicked, sobbing and distraught older brother into the comfort of her arms she tried her absolute hardest to calm him down. it didn't take too long until it seemed as though he had finally calmed down from the panicked nightmare but his tears kept flowing.

"...ssh, sammy, it's okay. i promise everything is okay, i'm right here and you know that i'm right here and you know that you are safe and that i am safe too..." elodie trailed off as she whispered over and over again to her brother that they were both safe and that this panic would soon subside

"...i...i thought you were de...dead...elodie..." sam cried out as he relaxed in his sister's tight embrace as the girl breathed calmly and nodded her head

"...the other three thought the same too. i...i was kidnapped by the men of letters...i...i have no clue how or why but, that's not something we have to worry about anymore because i'm safe. dean, cas and jack have all made sure that if they try to take me again that they won't even get the chance..." elodie trailed off as sam whimpered and nodded his head as he slowly started to believe in what his sister was saying

"...look at me sammy, look me right in my face and tell me you still think i'm dead and that i left you," elodie said to dean, cas and jack that she was going to ask this so she did and sam took deep breaths in and out before finally removing his head from his sister's shoulder and made direct eye contact with her

"you...you're not dead elodie....you...you didn't leave me..." sam choked out as that made elodie relax as she smiled and nodded her head, placing her hands on her brother's red and damp cheeks

"...yes sammy, i'm not dead and i didn't leave you. i'm never leaving you guys again! not today, not tomorrow, not next week, not ever!" elodie said sternly as sam let out a small sob as he nodded his head as elodie pulled the two of them in for a hug as they then fell back onto the bed

"i...i love you elodie..." sam whispered as elodie smiled

"...i love you too, sammy..."

"...and cut. well done guys, take five!" 

- - -

ok bye ily xx

wc; 2852

[talesfromsiteredacted]

The Garden of Inter-Site Tranquility

Everyone here has a side project, it seems. Dr. Gears builds robots, Dr. Clef tortures people via ukulele, Dr. Iceberg is a very good archer. Me? I like playing in the dirt, planting stuff. And, thanks to a little help from my friends... hard work is paying off handsomely. We have the only rooftop park/zen garden/flower garden in the Foundation, so far.

It took years, and tons of wheeling, dealing, and in one memorable case, outright stealing, but... it is finished. The Garden of Inter-Site Tranquility. A quaint little rooftop slice of heaven. Pretty sure Granddad would love it. He ought to, he inspired it in a way.

It's no Shangri-la, nor will it ever be anything as grand as Eden, but it's ours. A modest little gazebo with seating, surrounded by roses and other delightful flora. A brick path to a Zen garden, a small tea area, and the tool shed. There's even a small koi pond, with a stone fountain. There's a bonsai pine in the corner, this Hogswatch I'll decorate it.

First though... I need to plan a bit more. If I want this to be something everyone enjoys, I need ground rules. But... I can't resist the urge to show off the hard work. I get an idea. 166 never gets to do anything outside. Since technically neither of us are leaving Foundation grounds, maybe Meri would like a bit of fresh air?

I head to her quarters, and knock on her door.

"Hi, Meri? I'm Dr. Snow, and I'd like to ask a tiny, harmless favor, if I may."

"Dr. Snow? Ah, I think I remember you. The Hoodoo doll lady, right?" I could listen to Meri all day, there's just something about an Irish accent that sits right in the ear, Nan says. I have to agree.

"Yep, that I am. Only today I have something different in mind. I kind of did a thing, a rooftop oasis in this depressing concrete labyrinth. I'd like your honest informal opinion on it, if you're willing?"

"Absolutely, my dear Dr. Snow. Any excuse to breathe nonrecyled air. Lay on, good Doctor." The door opens, and we head to the roof. I open the access door, and Meri laughs.

"Dr. Snow, this is incredible. It's a little miracle from God. Sister Agnes, rest her soul, would love this. There's even a rose garden! I love roses. You didn't do all this by yourself, did ye?"

"I had a lot of help, from 343 and Cain helping plan the layout, the boys in Procurement getting me supplies and plants, had tips on koi pond management from Agent Arrisoka's granddad, I even bribed a few D-Class with free beer and pizza to help with planting and labor. It was a huge project, but worth it." I ran a hand through my messy hair. "Since you don't get out a lot, I thought you'd like a sneak peak before the grand public unveiling."

"Rather sweet of you, Dr. Snow. I have to say, this is lovely." So is the smile on Meri.

"Once I open it to everyone, I'll have to schedule some time blocks so that you and some of our other residents can enjoy it too. After all, it's nice to see the flowers, hear the bees and birds flying about, and get away for a bit even if we never actually leave the grounds."

"Aye, that it is." We take a stroll along the path leading to the koi pond. "Dr. Snow... do the other doctors know about this? I'd hate for you to get into trouble."

"They know. Dr. Gears even sent up the gravel for the Zen garden. Dr. Clef helped too, just don't ask where those koi came from."

"I'm more worried about how he got them here."

"Very carefully, was the answer I got. I didn't want to know more."

"Probably best not to look gift koi too deeply in the mouth anyhow." We have a good chuckle over Clef. I love him, but he does tend to be a bit of a kleptomaniac. He's certainly always stealing kisses from me, at least.

After a while, the daylight begins to fade.

"We should head back, they'll miss me at head count if I'm not there."

"Good idea. I did promise Dr. Gears first rake of the Zen garden, there's just enough light left by the time we get you home."

Speaking of Dr. Gears, I ran into him once I got Meri in her quarters. I just wordlessly handed him the gravel rake, and headed back up to the roof with him in tow. I must have outdid even my expectations, I never heard Dr. Gears whistle before. Yet, here he is, whistling as he rakes. 343 help me, I think I might be on to something here.

[blackjackkent]

First long rest, at a campsite within the "Dank Crypt" which it seems like we're going to have to traverse in order to get back to the surface.

Charmingly, everyone apparently has pajamas! Or at least casual clothes they slip into when in camp.

This is Hector's casual Friday wear.

Also somewhat charmingly, everyone has their own little bedroom area set up where we can go talk to them for relationship convos. So let's make the rounds.

"You strike me as the reliable sort, but are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Sure *what* is a good idea?"

"There are lit fuses in our heads. Sooner or later, they're going to blow. Each hour that passes, the thing inside us grows. We need to find a healer. Let's wake up at first light."

"Agreed. Our top priority, as far as I'm concerned."

"Maybe we will get lucky. We're overdue some good fortune. Rest well. We'll need our strength."

Hector is definitely in no hurry to take any longer than necessary about the tadpoles, don't worry, Shadowheart.

---

"Shadowheart seems jumpy. Must not relish the thought of sprouting tentacles. Understandable - can't say I'm a fan either. It's just hard to join in when all of this feels so new. The night normally means bustling streets, bursting taverns. Curling up in the dirt and resting is...a little novel."

[MONK] "The right herbs can make a soothing tea, if you can't settle in."

"Ah, no. Tea isn't really my drink. I'll be awake a while anyway. I need some time to think things through. To process this. You sleep. I'll keep watch."

"Thank you. I'll sleep better for that."

"The pleasure is all mine. Sweet dreams."

Hector doesn't actually trust Astarion yet, after their initial introduction. I think, though, that he feels like the offer of keeping watch is being made in good faith, so he's willing to respond to it likewise - for now at least.

Also I love the "I never drink...wine..." vibes of that one line. XD

---

"Go to hell."

"Was there anything in particular I did to deserve such a greeting?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing. I'm just poorly making a point. 'Go to hell.' An everyday expression. So trivial it's almost meaningless. But we've seen hell. It's real. And it isn't trivial."

"You sound a tad more dejected than when we first met."

"Merely contemplating. Devils, dragons, mind flayers - they used to be abstracts. Pictures on a piece of paper. What a difference a day makes. Now we have tadpoles slithering through our heads like carnivorous foeti. That's not abstract."

"What can I say but that you're right? We're in deep you-know-what."

"Point well-made, I see. I'll wake you bright and early. We'll need to find a healer before the wee one gets hungry."

#lethectorsayshit

I think so far he really likes Gale best of the party he's found so far. He's got a mix of casual tone and academic verbiage, confidence and introspection, that is rather comforting to this sage monk far outside his comfort zone.