#he's got flames on his hat. Why would you bully him???

[weeping-vintage-toes]

These 3 girls on my bus literally bully everyone

[bigasswritingmagnet]

Relatively Speaking This Will Probably Be Fine (ch 8)

Fandom: Girl Genius Rating: T Summary: Everyone knows Agatha Sannikova can't be a Heterodyne, even if she did arrive mysteriously one night to live with Lady Teodora and Lord Saturnus. She's got those headaches, and she's not too bright - she's not even a Spark! She does get along quite well with Lord Saturnus, which is a bit odd, but she's had a very good affect on his health. Lady Teodora doesn't like the kind of, er, "life lessons" he's tried to teach her, but Agatha hasn't set anyone on fire or unleashed any terrifying monstrosities on the town.

...what do you mean, tempting fate?

<Last Chapter | Chapter One | Next Chapter > AO3 Link

“Saturnus!”

“Did I tell her to make a death ray? No! Did I show her how to turn him into a frog? No!”

The front door slammed. A few moments later, Teodora appeared in the doorway, blazing eyes in sharp contrast to the tidy blue dress and hat she had worn when she was called to the school.

“The fact that you know exactly what I’m going to yell at you for means you know what you did was wrong.”

Saturnus snapped his book shut and glared back at her.

“No, it means I knew when I did it that you were going to get mad about it when you found out,” he said. “Just because you think that’s the same thing—”

“You cannot teach Agatha that it is okay to punch people in the throat!”

“It was self-defense! Black fire, Teodora, you think Bill and Barry never hit anyone when they were out doing their sainted heroing?” 

“Not twelve-year-olds!”

“Because they weren’t being threatened by twelve-year-olds! She’s ten! And he’s got half a foot on her; you should be impressed!”

“Impressed? The school was ready to suspend her!”

“Until…?” Saturnus prompted. Teodora’s mouth went tight and flat. “Until…they asked her why? Until…they found out what he’d been up to? Until…they suspended him instead for hitting a girl two years younger than him?”

Teodora’s cheeks were burning now.

“That is not the point.”

“Then why did you mention it?” Saturnus asked, mockingly. Teodora scowled, but pretended to ignore it, which only amused him further.

“The point is, you are teaching her to solve her problems with violence.”

“I am teaching her how to make a statement. It’s going to be important when she takes over Mechanicsburg!”

Teodora was no longer blushing.

“What do you mean when she takes over Mechanicsburg?” 

Saturnus raised his eyebrows.

“You may have noticed, Teodora, that I have recovered my faculties enough that I can see the obvious.” Suddenly he sat upright, expression indignant. “Were you trying to keep it from me? I thought you didn’t think you needed to tell me—you didn’t want me to know?”

“I didn’t want you to do anything rash,” Teodora said, not looking at him.

“Like what, get someone to write it in big flaming letters on the side of Castle Wulfenbach while I paint a big bullseye in the center of town for her to stand on?”

“Like telling her.”  

“Which would have about the same effect as flaming letters on Castle Wulfenbach; Teodora, I am not an idiot.”

“So you knew you were telling her to hit a boy who one day will be one of her subjects?”

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, raising his hands.

“Do you.” Her voice was flat.

“Yes. But the damage years of bullying would do to Agatha’s self-confidence isn’t worth how funny his face would be if we let it go until they’re grown up and he finds out the girl he pushed into the mud yesterday is the Lady of Mechanicsburg.”

Teodora put her face in her hands. Saturnus did not seem to notice. 

“I know he’s one of her people; she doesn’t know he’s one of her people. I didn’t teach her to hit her servants; I taught her that when people hit her, she should hit back. I am teaching her to stand up for herself.”

“I am teaching her to stand up for herself; something I know a great deal about,” Teodora said. “I never needed to resort to violence.”

“Well,” Saturnus said, raising his eyes to the ceiling, innocently. “There was one rather memorable time—”

“You threatened to kill my sons!”

“And you punched me, and then I didn’t. Listen. A peace treaty to prevent a war is one thing, but when an army rolls into the valley and you use nothing but diplomacy to get them to go away, it looks like weakness! All her enemies would see is that she will allow an army threaten her without repurcussions. Then everyone with a death ray starts showing up to see how much they can get away with!

“But, if she turns that first army in a smoking crater, the line is drawn. The world will know what she can do, and more importantly, what she will do. I even told her, she wasn’t just fighting this one boy, she was making a point to everyone who ever has or will try to push her around. This will be the last time anyone lays a hand on her, I guarantee.”

“We are not talking about war, Saturnus, we are talking about a pair of school children.”

“Oh, please, the schoolyard is a warzone for children. Telling a teacher would have made her a snitch, which is worse than being a bully. Teodora, you can’t tell me that when you found out, you didn’t want to drop kick the little bastard out the window at least a little bit.” 

Teodora looked indignant, but notably did not protest. Saturnus leaned back against the headboard and sighed. His gaze drifted to the window.

“I’m hoping she’ll grow out of the headaches, or maybe they’ll go away when she breaks through—”

Because he was not looking, he missed the expression that flitted across Teodora’s face—an expression that would have been very, very telling.

“—but if they don’t go away, she’ll be at a significant disadvantage. She’ll have to prove her strength to a lot of people, and it won’t be easy for her. But Mechanicsburg will be behind her,” he added, firmly. “She’s still their Lady. They’ll love her no matter what.”

“Of course they will.”

They pretended not to hear the uncertainty in each others’ voices.

[rwby-encrusted-blog]

Ok so I learned on a show that dolphins are basically dicks and bully other fishes. My question is did Jaune ever have a problem with them?

INSPIRATION HAS STRUCK! (and I also did a post about that)

Jaune is out in Vale with Ciel. Their having a nice time until ...

???: WELL WELL WELL! If it isn't our favorite little Sand-Shark!

Jaune: Oh God.

Twelve imposing figures of Several Dolphin Faunus, the leader seemingly an Orca, Stand behind our lovely set of Marine Faunus.

Ciel: Jaune, are you alright? Who are these People?

Jaune: Ugh, a soccer team from Home. A bunch of jerks. The big guy's name Orkinus Salaco.

Orkinus: Aw, C'mon Jauney! It's been, what, A year and a Half!

Orkinus: And You ain't got your Sisters to protect you now!

Ciel: Excuse me, I am Ciel Soleil, Jaune's romantic Partner, And I would appreciate us if you left alone. Any quarrels you have with him, kindly Stuff up your ass until a later date.

Orkinus: Oh, some mighty big words from someone so small. You look and smell like an Atlesian.

Ciel: I am. What about it?

Jaune: Ciel, Honey, let's just leave! They'll get bored if we ignore them!

Orkinus: Maybe you should listen to your waste of space Boy-Toy. You Sky-City Pricks only pick up Faunus for social points.

Ciel: ... Excuse me?

Jaune: Oh You Shouldn't have said that.

Ciel: You realize that there are Faunus in Atlas, yes? That I'm one?

Orkinus: Oh really? What kind?

Ciel: Fittingly to my name, a Seal.

Jaune: Orkinus, really, I suggest you leave!

Orkinus: Can it Janet! Alrighty then! You must be pretty Stupid to not realize how fights between Orcas and Seals go in the wild! *He flicks Her beret off of her head.*

Jaune: ... Orkinus?

Orkinus: What daffodil!

Jaune: If you were a nicer person I'd say I'm sorry for whats about to happen.

Ciel picked her hat off the ground, dusting it off gently, and returning it to it's place on her head as she began removing her gloves.

Ciel: Before I do what I plan on doing, I will tell you your mistakes.

Ciel: One. You Disrupted my schedule.

Ciel: Two. You insulted My Boyfriend and I.

Ciel: Three. You've forgotten we aren't in Nature.

Ciel slashed her claws against his face, Furred arms and partially webbed fingers on full display. A Rocket Locker slammed into the ground between Her and the Prick. She pulled out her weapon, a large Flame thrower-esque contraption, with several moderately sized Dust containers of various colors.

Setting a gauge to Gravity dust, a dark cloud of weightless vapor pooling around the bully, causing him to float.

Spinning, Ciel Switched the Weapon into a Hammer form, knocking Orkinus into a build across the street. It collapsed into a Full Arm gauntlet with a nasty looking Drill on the end, Revving it to intimidate the remaining jerks.

Ciel: His fourth and Final mistake was deciding not to run!

Ciel: Don't Make the Same Mistake.

The Remaining Dolphins ran like their live depended on it.

Jaune: Well. Now we have Paperwork to fill out as for why the Locker was launched.

Ciel: I'm well aware. You'll help me won't you~

Jaune: Yeah. Of course I will.

Orcas also fuck with Seals and Sea Lions, and are dolphins despite the name "Killer Whale."

I'm glad I Wrote (Sh)Arc en Seal before this. Ciel is also a Non-Character, and therefore free real estate.

[abbatoirablaze]

Wild Stallion, Curtis Everett

Word Count:  1.3k

Warnings:  angst, secret pregnancy

“Come on, sweetheart, just drop the price.  Your pop pop and I were good friends,” the man smirked as he leaned against the fence, “ain’t no one better to take em off your hands.”

“He’s a perfect stud,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes at your father’s ‘friend’, “my pop pop would want the most he could get for him.”

“He’s a wild shit that needs broken.”

“If you don’t think you’re the man for the job, just say it, Reggie,” a voice said calmly from the beginning of the barn.  Your breath caught in your throat as he tipped his black cowboy hat up and peered at you momentarily with his captivating blue-green eyes, “don’t go trying to talk  the city girl down because you can’t break a stallion.”

“Better watch our words there, Everett.”

“And you better keep to what you know…finances.  You’re no cowboy.  And it’s a little too late in life for you to be starting now.”

“Funny, I don’t remember inviting you to look at my stallion, Curtis.” You recalled, finally getting your bearings around your old flame, “I was showing him off to Reggie Carver…seeing if he wanted to buy em.”

“No need,” Curtis shrugged.  You watched as the fabric clung to his broad shoulders, “I’ll take him off your hands.  For the asking price.”

Reggie gave an annoyed sigh and turned away from the fence, “I’m not paying full price for that thing.”

“Then fuck off, Reg.  We’ve got a deal to close on!” Curtis smirked, taking a few steps forward.  His boots clicked with each step, the spurs on the back reminding you that he wasn’t just playing cowboy. 

You swallowed your nervousness as he took the few steps to join your side, and every emotion you held began to rush at you like a freight train. 

Memories of when the two of you were little, toddling around together.

When you were in the first grade and some boy tried bullying you, but you punched him right in the mouth.  Curtis swore up and down that you were the girl of his dreams.

And how in fourth grade when you won the state spelling bee and Curtis switched from the calf riding and started competing in the children bull riding competitions.

In middle school when he took your first kiss in the middle of Haymen’s corn field at a bonfire.  And when he finally asked you to be his girlfriend. 

Then in high school when you had dances together.  He became the state champion in his division for bull riding and barrel racing. 

Then when his dad fell ill and died from a cancer he refused to see the doctor about. 

And when your mom got hit by the drunk driver. 

You two were so lost in grief,  but you had each other.  And that was enough. 

He promised you the moon and the stars. 

“You alright there, sweetheart?”

His gruff, raspy voice broke you from your thoughts. 

“What?�� Yeah, why you ask?”

Curtis sighed and leaned forward.  His calloused palm reached up and stroked your cheek, wiping away a tear that had fell from your eye and was sliding down your cheek.  You looked away embarrassed.  But he tilted your chin back up to him, “hey…don’t go hiding from me now…hadn’t seen you since you ran away to the city…”

“Curtis…”

He bit his lip and let go of your chin.  You frowned, but crossed your arms over your chest.  There was so much that you wanted to say, but you knew that you couldn’t.  You knew that this wasn’t the time or place. 

“So the horse…”

“I’m a man of my word,” he nodded, catching the hint, “Got the cash in my truck.”

“Wanna come in for a cup of coffee and piece of pie while we sign the paperwork?”

“Sure…I-I’ll meet you there.”

You nodded, your heart racing with every step towards the house.  More memories began flashing through your mind at lightning speed. 

When Curtis got hurt riding, and one of his ribs punctured his lung. 

How things started breaking down in your relationship because you began to argue over what to do after high school.

Curtis had wanted you to stay home and said that he’d help you take over your family farm, but you wanted to go to school in the city. 

How you begged him to come with you.  You gave him everything, and you just wanted him to come with you, trusting you just that once. 

But he walked away, not knowing that he walked away from more than just a relationship.

“Alright sweetheart, I go-“

“Please don’t call me that, Curtis,” you begged as you turned the coffee pot on, “We aren’t like that…haven’t been like that in a  long time.”

“Five years is a hell of a time!” he admitted, sitting down at the table.  He tossed an envelope with the bills on it out in front of him, “been thinking about a lot of things.”

“That so?” you questioned, “like what?”

“I miss you…”

The words were like ice traveling down your veins.  You stopped pouring a cup of coffee and slammed the pot down on the counter.  Your icy gaze met his, “Curtis.  That’s not funny.”

“I ain’t trying to be funny…you left without a word to me, honey,” Curtis reminded you, “and because of what?  Because I ain’t a city guy?  I had to take care of my ma.  She was up to her ears in work at the farm with me competing and being injured.  I had to be the man of the family.”

Your heart ached with every word, “I wasn’t asking you to give up on your family Curtis…I just wanted us to be together.”

“And we couldn’t have done that here?” he scoffed, “my parents farm and your parents farm were all but promised to us, honey.  We had our lives laid out.”

“Is that why you walked away from me?” you asked, hurt lacing your tone, “because I wanted to do more than just be some ranchers wife?”

“What was so wrong with the idea of staying here?  Huh?” he asked.  His voice raised and you felt your chest tightened, “what was so wrong with the idea of us staying here and getting married?  Having a family?  Ha-“

“BECAUSE I WANTED MORE FOR OUR CHILD!”

The words struck him like a bolt of lightning and both of you were quiet.  The house fell silent, and it was so nerve wracking to both of them to be able to hear the noises outside. 

“What?”

The floor creaked. 

Your eyes drifted to the ceiling. 

So did his, “What’s upstairs, honey?”

Your eyes snapped back to his. 

Both of you knew that it had everything to do with why you left.  His throat went dry as the singular thought invaded his mind.  He sprang from the table and began towards the stairs, but you grabbed his arm as he hit the landing, “Curtis, wait!”

His breathing was short and ragged as he looked at you, “what’s upstairs?”

“Mommy, can I come down now?”

Both of your eyes shot to a little boy who stood at the top of the steps.  He was a perfect miniature version of Curtis in every way, even down to the little cowboy hat and boots that Mrs. Everett had bought for him when you arrived back in town. 

“Blake…mommy’s doing something right now…gi-give me a few minutes!”

“I wanna go play with gramma like you promised.”

“We will baby…soon.  Go back to your room and keep playing.  I’ll come get you when I make lunch.”

“Who’s that?” the little boy asked, staring curiously at Curtis.

“Baby-“

“That’s the same guy in the pictures at grammas…”

“Blake!”

The little boy huffed, but went back to his room.  Curtis looked at the spot at the top of the stairs for a moment before his gaze turned towards you.

“That’s my son…isn’t he?”

You bit your lip, the tears coming up even more as you knew you couldn’t hide the truth from Curtis any longer, “I found out after you broke up with me…”

“And my mom?”

“She’s known the whole time,” You admitted, “sh-she said that it was about time you learned about Blake…told me if I didn’t come home, she’d tell you herself.”

[daandyli0n]

so. hey fnaf fans. i had A Thought.

do y'all think that any of the MCI kids + Charlie and the Crying Child (i call him Adrian) just hung out with lonely kids in the restaurants? do you think they ever said or did anything odd that the living kids just kinda brushed off at the time?

like, hear me out:

- Charlie letting overwhelmed or bullied kids spend time in the Prize Corner during the quieter times, away from the loud music near the stage and away from other kids. they'd draw, vent about their problems, or even just talk about their days. all while Charlie would just quietly listen and nod, giving advice where she believes it's appropriate.

and sure, she looks like she's wearing makeup to look similar to the Puppet, but hey, they aren't gonna judge! it looks nice on her anyway.

- Susie watching others play games in the arcades, sometimes telling them how to win. she looks and acts like a bubbly six-year-old who just wants someone to talk to and play with. she even rambles on about her dog when she's allowed to.

sometimes she seems really sad and quiet, talking about how she wants to go home, how she still hurts, and how she doesn't understand why she cant leave. some kids try to help her find her parents, to convince hem to take her home, but they don't have any luck. she seems to disappear into the crowds shortly afterwards, though.

- Gabriel always wants to watch the band, and sometimes kids will see him sitting near the stage, still watching and listening. other times they see him, he's always hiding behind corners, in the shadows.

sometimes, he doesn't even say anything. if people interact with him, he'll run off into other rooms, only to mysteriously vanish.

- Jeremy, the prankster he was in life, constantly makes funny faces at other kids, sometimes making them laugh, other times annoying them. he jokes with scared, sad kids, playing games with them.

the kids do wonder, though, why adults ask who they're laughing at. can't they see the boy making silly faces at them?

- Fritz, usually off by himself while watching Foxy's shows, generally attracts other lonely kids to him like moths to a flame. they sit near him, trying to give him company. sometimes they'd talk about pirates with him.

however, when people would ask who they were talking to, they'd try to introduce him, only for him to be gone. what's more, he'd always seem to disappear when Foxy was done performing...

- sometimes, kids are just assholes. they find keys to the Backstage area, dare their friends to go back there, only to lock them in. those kids find two oddities back there, after they manage to calm down enough, obviously. one was a weird golden bear, looking eerily similar to Freddy, only his bowtie and hat were purple and he wore a purple vest. the other oddity? this weird kid who called themself Cassidy. they'd keep the kids company, talking with them, giving them a nice distraction until an employee came to get them out.

however...one little girl tells a weird story. in her case, the man who came to get her was some guy with the name "Dave." upon him unlocking the door, Cassidy had gone from calm, happy to talk, to almost dead silent, a death grip on her arm. "Mr. Dave," as she'd called him, could clearly see her and Cassidy...but he almost seemed more shocked to see Cassidy. as she tried to get up to leave, Cassidy wouldn't get up from the floor, still holding onto her arm for dear life, still giving "Dave" a death stare. eventually, they let her go, but she felt panicked as "Dave" took her out and locked the door, Cassidy still inside. she stared at the door for a couple of more hours until she left, and then...Cassidy was outside again. she just remembers them hugging her, muttering something about just being worried that she'd get hurt, and then declining as she offered to let them come home with her. her mom got worried about the clear as day bruise on her arm, but more concerned about the fact that she said that another kid gave it to her. she never saw Cassidy again after that day.

(Afton knows he could've done something that day. the opportunity was practically handed to him on a silver platter; a young child, alone, in the backroom, on a day the cameras were malfunctioning. it would've been far too easy.

but, well, Cassidy was right there too, and they clearly weren't going to let him remotely hurt her. they had her arm in a grip so hard that he's shocked it only left a bruise, not outright broken it. he knows that Cassidy was holding back. had he tried to even tried hurting her? whatever restraint Cassidy had would've gone right out the window.)

- kids would find Adrian off on his own, crying. some kids would offer to sit with him, or show him the animatronics. upon seeing how scared he was, some would either decide to sit with him, just to give him company, or promise to stand between him and the animatronics, so that he wouldn't have to see them. other times, he'd approach kids who were scared, upset, or crying, and sit with them. some of them would talk about how they were called "crybabies" or "scaredy-cats." he would just nod. "It's okay. I've been called those things, too." sometimes he suggests that maybe they could hold hands and watch the animatronics together, so maybe they'd both be less scared (he remembers Cassidy doing it with him, all the way back then. he wants to help other kids like Cassidy helped him).

some kids do have to wonder, though...why is he always crying? and why does he always wear bandages on his head? did he get hurt?

of course, years go by, and memories fade, but not always completely. those with more odd experiences would look up the names of the kids they met, wondering where those kids ended up.

they find newspaper articles, kids who vanished years before they would be encountered, missing children posters with smiling photos of kids, taken in the days, weeks, months before they disappeared. they still looked the exact same as they did when they went missing. they find two other articles: one on a girl who was slain and then left for dead in the alley at Freddy's, and a boy who lost his life in a tragic prank gone wrong. suddenly, other details line up for the now-adults, remembering those odd kids they met. their pale skin. their oddly quiet nature. adults and other kids not seeing them. the vanishing into the shadows within seconds.

and it makes these adults wonder, with a growing feeling of dread in their guts:

what exactly had they encountered at Freddy's when they were kids? odd children, or spirits that roamed Freddy's halls?

[theotheristhedoctor]

Why You NEED To Read Wintersmith

The Big Snow W hen the storm came, it hit the hills like a hammer. No sky should hold as much snow as this, and because no sky could, the snow fell, fell in a wall of white. There was a small hill of snow where there had been, a few hours ago, a little cluster of thorn trees on an ancient mound. This time last year there had been a few early primroses; now there was just snow.

It had to be the Wintersmith, Tiffany Aching told herself, standing in front of her father in the freezing farmhouse. She could feel it out there. This wasn't normal weather even for midwinter, and this was springtime. It was a challenge. Or perhaps it was just a game. Only it can't be a game because the lambs are dying. I'm only just thirteen, and my father, and a lot of other people older than me, want me to do something.  

 It would be easier if they were bullying me, but no, they're begging. My father's face is gray with worry and he's begging. My father is begging me. Oh no, he's taking his hat off. He's taking off his hat to speak to me! They think magic comes free when I snap my fingers. But if I can't do this for them, now, what good am I? I can't let them see I'm afraid. Witches aren't allowed to be afraid.

"You'll have to make a big fire, up by the sheds," she said aloud. "I mean a big fire, do you understand? Make it out of anything that will burn, and you must keep it going. It'll keep trying to go out, but you must keep it going. Keep piling on the fuel, whatever happens. The fire must not go out!"

Her father's hand caught her chin and gently turned her head around. How soft his hands are, Tiffany thought. Big man's hands but soft as a baby's, because of the grease on the sheep's fleeces. "We shouldn't have asked you, should we…" he said. Yes, you should have asked me, Tiffany thought. The lambs are dying under the dreadful snow.

"I can do it," she said. Her father held her chin and stared into her eyes. "Are you sure, jiggit?" he asked. It was the nickname her grandmother had had for her—Granny Aching, who never lost a lamb to the dreadful snow. He'd never used it before. Why had it risen up in his mind now? "Yes!" She pushed his hand away, and broke his gaze before she could burst into tears. 

Tiffany extended her numb hands to the fire, to draw out the warmth. "Remember, don't let the fire go out," she said. "I've got men bringing up wood from all over," said her father. "I told 'em to bring all the coal from the forge, too. It won't run out of feeding, I promise you!"

She stepped forward until she was only a few inches away from the snowbank. She could feel its coldness already pulling the heat out of her. Well, so be it. She took a few deep breaths. This I choose to do…. "Frost to fire," she whispered. In the yard, the fire went white and roared like a furnace. The snow wall spluttered and then exploded into steam, sending chunks of snow into the air. Tiffany walked forward slowly.  

Now ewes and lambs appeared, steaming and bewildered as the snow melted around them, as if they were sculptures left behind. Tiffany moved on, staring straight ahead of her, only just aware of the excited cries of the men behind her. They were following her, pulling the ewes free, cradling the lambs. 

Her father yelled at the other men. Some of them were hacking at a farm cart, throwing the wood down into the white-hot flames. Others were dragging furniture up from the house. Wheels, tables, straw bales, chairs—the fire took everything, gulped it down, and roared for more. And there wasnt any more.

Her fathers coat landed on the starving flames, glowed for a moment, then fell into gray ashes. The other men were ready; they grabbed the man as he went to jump after it and pulled him back, kicking and shouting. The flint cobbles had melted like butter.

“Wintersmith” - a Discworld Novel for Children, by Terry Pratchett (extracts from Chapter 1)

Listen, I know that Discworld fans can be a bit intense about the series. If you’ve come across any of our content, it often sounds a bit insane, as though Chandler Bing had been asked to read Tolkein and Sherlock Holmes at the same time.

But this right here? This is what Terry Pratchett got right when he told stories. Because yes, it’s about magic and power and fire flying out of your hands. But more importantly, it’s about family, and community, and responsibility, and choice. 

First, look at how this starts. Yes, it’s a big magical snowstorm that needs to be beaten with more magic. But it’s killing the Lambs. Lambs aren’t important really, not to a world of Gods and Wizards and high fantasy. But they are important to Tiffany Aching, Witch. They matter. They matter because they matter to her family. They matter because of tradition and pride. But they matter in and of themselves, because Tiffany simply believes they do. 

People often comment on Tolkein, that he took too much time describing trees and songs and too little time describing battles. The defence of this is normally that Tolkein cared about the little bits - Sam’s preparations for food mattered more than Aragon’s skill with a sword. Pratchett carries this legacy - the way the power works doesn’t matter, what matters is the sheep are dying. Little people’s little lives are worth something; anything that forgets that is evil. This is not a game. 

Next, look at TIffany Aching. She is thirteen, and she is the Powerful Chosen One. Her family, her community, come to her. And it hurts. She isn’t striding around the place, angry but ready to strike. Instead, we’re shown how much she hates the fact her father, and her community, only have her to turn to. The burden of leadership, of power, and the price that will come with failure, is what is focused on. And importantly, she doesn’t turn away. She chooses to do what she can, not because she gets to be the hero but because of her family. 

Importantly, her family also recognise that this is a burden. They don’t look to her to solve all their problems, and they are dismayed at doing so now. Her father sees her for what she is: thirteen, overburdened, and still his only option. Sometimes, particularly in children’s literature, authors can become complacent about how other characters expect the Chosen One to save them. Here, it is explicitly acknowledged that this is too much, and that at the same time there is no other option.

Finally, and for me the most harrowing part of all of this: Mr Aching. He’s a Big Man, and he’s had to turn to his 13-year-old daughter for help. And she tells him, “don’t let the fire go out.” So what does he do? He burns everything he can. And when that isn’t enough?

The other men were ready; they grabbed the man as he went to jump after it and pulled him back, kicking and shouting

Firstly, this is horrifying on its own. This is a man ready to be burnt to death to keep a promise to his daughter, to not fail her, or to die trying - and die in agony.

 But more poignantly than that, THE OTHER MEN WERE READY. Mr Aching’s character is defined in that sentence, that his whole community knew what he would do to keep his promise. Every time I read that line, I well up. This is what love is, that it could never be questioned that he would burn for her.

This, by the way, is basically the only scene with Mr Aching in it in the entire book. He’s not a main character. He’s not someone who we ever get to see the inner thoughts of, or follow around. He exists in the entire series only as Tiffany sees him, only based on their interactions. And yet here, we are painted one of the clearest pictures of who he is, in a line that is seared into my brain forever. 

Terry Pratchett didn’t just believe that the little people were worth saving as some abstract idea. He believed they were people, and his books are full of Mr Achings of all descriptions - brave ones, cowardly ones, stupid ones, mean ones - all of them worth saving, and all of them given scenes like this where we get to see who they are.

In Conclusion: READ TERRY PRATCHETT

[kyriolex]

Kawaki Academy Arc: If It Weren’t For You Meddling Kids

So we start with a sweet scene of the kids visiting Hana-sensei in the hospital. Osuka begs her to come back soon because Shino-sensei’s lessons are too boring. The other kids remind Osuka that Hana-sensei literally had a building dropped on her, so maybe she deserves a sick day or two.

Next wee see Naruto and Shikamaru asking Kawaki what the hell he was thinking, not telling them about the assassin. Kawaki shrugs and says he was getting around to it. The adults are ticked, but they can’t exactly punish Kawaki since he’s a ticking time bomb, so Naruto just grounds him.

Meanwhile, Kae is sad because she thinks Kawaki was only pretending to be her friend, because someone who actually liked Kae would have told her about the mission. Her butler points out that shinobi aren’t exactly known for their transparency, and Kae has the lightbulb moment that ninjas can have secrets...even from their friends!

So Kawaki is laying around sulking about how the mission is over. Himawari comes in and tells him to stop being grounded because the plot still needs to happen. They loop Eiki into their investigation, but his family connection to the police force proves absolutely useless. So the trio decide to try their last resort: they approach Sosha.

Sosha is suspicious of why they want memento photos of a failed school festival. Eiki lies and tells Sosha he fell in love at first sight with a girl from the festival. Sosha teases him for moving on from Princess Kae so fast, but hands the pictures over anyway. Even though we live in a world of computers and drones, Sosha can only give them polaroids.

Kawaki and Himawari spot Batora in one of the festivals looking shady. If you remember, he said he couldn’t make it to the festival, which means he is a LIAR. So our dynamic duo ditches Eiki and runs off to confront the big bad butler.

At the mansion, all of the extra security ninjas have been knocked out. Kawaki sees Batora with a kunai standing over Kae’s bed. Kawaki breaks through the glass door with his bare fist, and he’s one second away from beating Batora down when the butler just...keels over. Kae screams because her precious butler just got wounded defending her.

Purple Mask then skitters out from behind the bed. Kawaki chases them out to the garden, but instead of the measly kunais they used last time, Purple Mask shoots off a dozen shadow flame missiles. WHY DIDN’T YOU START WITH THOSE, ASSASSIN-CHAN?

But Kawaki is wearing the protagonist hat today, so he corners the assassin to a wall. Purple Mask rips off their cloak to reveal a bunch of exploding tags. Cue self-immolation.

Kawaki joins Himawari, Kae, and Batora in the princess’s room to clear the air. Batora explains he wasn’t intending to be at the festival, but he was chasing down a suspicious figure he’d seen nearby, and he followed said figure onto the Academy grounds. Kae then asks Kawaki if it’s true he delayed reporting the assassination so she could enjoy the festival. Kawaki refuses to answer, but everyone in the room is fluent in tsundere, so they realize Kawaki does consider the princess a friend.

Later, at the debriefing, Naruto and Shikamaru say the assassin’s body is too burnt to identify, but they did find messages from the Land of Bamboo. Apparently the mastermind was the prince’s caretaker, who was conveniently arrested off-screen. 

The next day, we see Sosha handing out her latest expose: “A new love interest appears: Has Makeout Paradise turned Eiki into a playboy?” At this point, Sosha’s newspaper is starting to feel less like journalism and more like bullying. But that’s an after school special for another day.

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Spooky Stories to Hold Them Close

Shinobu Kochou x They/Them Reader Modern AU

A/N:  I’ve got camping on the brain so I wrote a camp AU. There is a manga character mentioned in here but I morph them a bit to fit what I’m going for so I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Please enjoy!  Shinobu: If there are any spirits out here tonight tell me, does this sound like Shakira? lolay lolay lo- 

Word Count: 4,821

It was summer again, and (Y/n) groaned as they removed their camp issued baseball cap to swipe at the sweat that had accumulated over their brow. Not even the cheap material could save them from the intense heat of the day. God, they would kill to be back at the counselor’s cabin to enjoy just a smidge of AC but no, instead they were out with the unruly boys of Cabin K, making sure that they carried out their punishment of hard labor after causing a food fight in the mess hall.

“Come on boys, those canoes better be sparkling if you’re going to be taking your sweet time like this.” (Y/n) called, fanning themself with their hat.

“There’s a spider in this one!” Zenitsu cried. “This is so gross, there’s no way anyone’s ever cleaned these before!”

“Don’t worry Zenitsu, I’ll get it.” Tanjirou smiled earnestly.

(Y/n) felt bad for that kid. He was such an enabler though. The others looked up to him and respected him a lot. Who knows how much better it be if he knocked their heads more often. But because of his soft and nurturing demeanor, Tanjirou was always getting caught up in his cabin mates’ shenanigans. Speaking of which...

“Inosuke! If so much as a toe goes in that water you’ll be at the craft table with the junior kids making macaroni art until the only color you know yellow!” (Y/n) warned.

A strangled wail mixed with a roar left the boy’s mouth, the sound didn’t even sound like it could come from a human being. It was like that boy was a feral boar. Given how he’s kept coming back year after year, he may as well be just that.

“It’s hot! I’ll wash the boat in the lake!” He yelled, pulling the canoe closer to the sandy beach.

“Inosuke I’m serious! Macaroni art! That, and I’ll call your mother!” (Y/n) yelled back.

“Damn you and your sick threats!”

“My, still at it are we?”

(Y/n) sighed, turning with a tight smile towards Shinobu as their fellow counselor came up beside them. They tried not to let their eyes wander too long over the expanse of soft looking skin Shinobu’s shorts left exposed.

“Yeah, and as you can see, Tomioka ditched me to go help Sabito with something.” (Y/n) huffed, returning a watchful eye over Inosuke as he dragged the canoe back up to the others.

“Oh, you poor thing.” Shinobu tutted, stepping closer to rub (Y/n)’s back as a sign of sympathy. The proximity brought the scent of sunscreen and damp earth to (Y/n)’s nose. It was an intoxicating scent that (Y/n) had grown to associate with Shinobu always.

“Yeah, are you getting ready for swim lessons right now? Tradesies?” They asked hopefully, mustering up the best puppy dog eyes they could make. They only succeeded in making Shinobu laugh though, which honestly, wasn’t a bad constellation prize.

“Mm, no, sorry. You’re not the only one wanting to get relief from this heatwave.” Shinobu pinched the front of her shirt pulling at it to circulate some airflow. A motion (Y/n) definitely did not follow with their eyes.

“I did grab you and the boys some water though.” Shinobu said, digging into the drawstring bag that was slung over her shoulder and presenting (Y/n) with four bottles of cold water. “And to think I purposfully didn’t get one for Tomioka and he isn’t even here to stare off into the middle distance. Such a waste.”

“You’re such a bully sometimes, you know that?” (Y/n) chuckled, placing all bottles at their feet except for one, “remind me to stay on your good side.”

“You’d really be on my good side if you came to the counselor fire after the kids turn in. The theme is Fright Night, sponsored by yours truly,” Shinobu winked playfully.

Immediately (Y/n) felt a tad ill. “Fright Night?”

“Yes!” Shinobu nodded, a small, yet very excited grin on her face, “it’ll be held at Hangman’s Clearing, of course, a full night of frightening tales and games by the fire... and delicious treats! Provided Mitsuri doesn’t eat them all on the way. You’ll come, right?”

(Y/n) wasn’t particularly fond of the supernatural or chilling tales of murder or other dark themes. In fact, it would be fair to say they loathed them. They hated being scared and this themed get together should have had (Y/n) running in the opposite direction. ‘Should have’ being the key in this situation.

Shinobu looked so hopeful, waiting expectantly for (Y/n)’s reply. It would be impossible to say no to that face. A face that (Y/n) looked forward to seeing every summer and was always desperately looking for an excuse to see as often as possible. It couldn’t be that bad, right? (Y/n) could handle a few spooks in exchange for hanging out with Shinobu all night. Yeah, they could do this.

“It’s not a trick question, (Y/n). A simple yes or no would suffice.” Shinobu teased. “Though if it helps sway your decision at all, it would make me really happy if you would come.”

And with that, (Y/n)’s fate was sealed.

“Okay, sure, yeah, I’ll come.” (Y/n) bashfully agreed, their heartbeat picking up in pace at Shinobu’s delighted giggle.

“Great! I’ll see you at the clearing at ten. Don’t be late or,” she suddenly latched on to (Y/n)’s arm, startling them, “the ghosts will get you!”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” (Y/n) laughed weakly. Their skin tingling from where Shinobu had grabbed them.

“I better get to the beach, the kids are getting antsy.” Shinobu said before proceeding to pull her shirt over her head. She was wearing her swimsuit of course, but still. (Y/n) nearly had an aneurysm because of the casual reveal. “See you later, (Y/n).”

“Sssseee you. Bye. Thanks for the water.” (Y/n) then made themselves busy by taking several sips of said water.

“Anytime,” Shinobu’s eyes traveled past (Y/n)’s body before returning to them with a sympathetic smile, “looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

“Huh?” (Y/n) squinted before their eyes blew wide and they jerked their head back in the direction of the canoes. “Tanjirou, why is there a canoe in that tree! I swear I can’t leave you guys alone for two minutes!” (Y/n) stalked over to the boys and Shinobu watched their back, laughing as (Y/n) ran up to Inosuke and tackled him to the ground before he could scale the tree with another canoe.

***

Night fell much too quickly after a full day of scheduled activities and once all the campers had retired to their cabins for curfew, (Y/n) knew their time to mentally prepare for the counselor fire had run out. At least they hadn’t had to walk to the clearing themself, as they had bumped into Mitsuri and Iguro at the edge of the forest entrance.

Iguro seemed miffed that his alone time with the bubbly counselor had been interrupted but Mitsuri was all too happy to catch up with (Y/n) about their day as they walked to Hangman’s Clearing.

Soon the light of a fire could be seen between the trees and they met up with the other counselors who had decided to join in. Sitting around the fire, (Y/n) saw Kyoujurou and Tengen talking to each other while poking at the fire. (Y/n) frowned, wondering where Shinobu was.

“Boo!”

It took everything in (Y/n)’s power to swallow the scream that threatened to spill from their mouth as arms wrapped around them from behind. Instead it turned into a pitiful and embarrassing squeak. (Y/n) wasn’t sure which would have been better.

“Oh dear, (Y/n). Did I startle you? I’m sorry.” Shinobu released (Y/n) from her hold and patted their shoulder.

“It’s okay!” (Y/n) promised, not wanting Shinobu to feel bad. “Besides, that’s kind of the point of tonight, isn’t it?”

“Right! I’m glad you could come (Y/n). I didn’t know if you liked scary things.” Shinobu said as they followed Mitsuri and Iguro to the fire.

“Yeah...” (Y/n) replied, lying against their better judgment. They just wanted Shinobu to think they were cool, impress her somehow maybe. “Horror is.. great.”

“Is this it?” Tengen asked, leaning his back against a sturdy log.

“Yes. Gyomei is staying behind to keep an ear out for the kids, as are Sabito and Tomioka. Sanemi said the whole thing wasn’t worth his time.” Shinobu explained as she took her own seat at the fire, motioning for (Y/n) to sit next to her.

“Did you even really invite Tomioka?” Tengen snorted.

“Of course I did, but as you all know, Tomioka is a wet blanket so he declined and Sabito decided to stay with him.” Shinobu clapped her hands against her thighs, “Now, enough about them. Let’s get the festivities started, shall we? Mitsuri, you brought the goods?”

“I sure did!” Mitsuri cheered, taking the nearly overflowing backpack she had been toting off of her shoulders. It landed in the dirt with a heavy thud. “I’ve got s’more fixings, jiffy pop, chips, sodas, water, hotdogs...”

“Wow Mitsuri, you really went all out. How did you carry it all?” (Y/n) marveled.

Mitsuri flexed one of her biceps, smacking the muscle with her hand. “Strength, pure will power and an intense love of all things delicious!” She said, her lips curled into an adorable smile.

The counselor fire started out great. For the first hour they all talked and ate, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the twinkle of the stars, laughing with each other as they recalled the memories that they had made over the years.

But like anything else, the conversation dried to a slow trickle and most of the food had been polished off. The once hearty blaze of the fire was now a low flame with glowing embers. Shinobu took it as her cue to begin the main event.

(Y/n) blinked at the sudden brightness that flashed beside them. They squinted against the light and saw that Shinobu was brandishing a flashlight, highlighting her face for a moment before moving the light to cast shadows over the sinister smile growing across her face.

“Anyone have a scary story they’d like to share or are you all content to dive into the main event?” Shinobu asked, placing her free hand confidently over her chest.

“Oo! I got one, Shinobu! Pick me!” Mitsuri called, calling out in her seat beside Iguro.

“Alright, catch!” Shinobu tossed the flashlight to Mitsuri who caught it with an excited squee.

“Okay, so, um.. oh! Once, there was this girl who woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t go back to sleep. She decided that she wanted a midnight snack and remembered that there was still a piece of her favorite raspberry cheesecake left. A perfect creamy treat! She could practically taste it already.”

Mitsuri wiggled on the log, leaning forward in her excitement. Light from the fire illuminated the green tips of her hair making them appear to glow.

“So she got out of her warm and comfy bed and crept into the dark, cold hallway, thump thump thump, and down the squeaky stairs, squeak squawk squeak, until she finally made it to the kitchen.

Mitsuri reached out towards the fire with her free hand and made a motion like grabbing a door, slowly pulling it back.

“She opened the refrigerator door and then—“ Mitsuri slapped her hand down upon her thigh with startling force, “to her absolute horror, she remembered that she had eaten the last piece of cheesecake at lunch the previous day! There was no more cheesecake to be had, and she had to settle for confetti cake ice cream when what she was really craving was the cheesecake!”

Mitsuri shook her head sorrowfully, and Iguro rubbed a soothing hand over her back while she collected herself.

“The end.” Mitsuri finished, clicking the flashlight off.

“Haha! Good one Mitsuri. The emotion behind your tale made it feel so real!” Kyoujirou loudly proclaimed. Shinobu giggled from her seat beside (Y/n) who also couldn’t help but laugh as well.

“It was real!” Mitsuri said seriously. “It happened to me just a couple weeks ago!” she shuddered.

“I don’t know, that was hardly scary Kanroji.” Tengen shrugged.

“I’d like to see you do better!” Mitsuri pouted.

“I could, but I’d rather let Kochou get on with her activities. Her knee is bouncing. Impatient, Kochou?”

“Ha ha! That it is!” Kyoujirou laughed.

“I can wait,” Shinobu countered, her leg ceased its bouncing due to being caught. “Does anyone else want to share a story?”

A chorus of head shakes met Shinobu’s question and she shrugged, a sly smiling curling at her lips.

“Very well then, Mitsuri, the flashlight please.”

“You got it!” Mitsuri cheered, tossing the light back to Shinobu.

Shinobu clicked the light back on, her eyes roamed over her audience one by one.

“Have you all heard of the serial killer Douma the Cannibal?” Shinobu asked.

“Of course,” Iguro spoke up. “He killed at least seventy women throughout the 1910s until well into the 1920s. However, their still connecting cold case murders to him even now. Some experts believe he could have killed well over two hundred. A really despicable monster to say the least.”

“Very true.” Shinobu nodded solemnly, “His parents ran a cult, believing he was some kind of messiah or deity. They let him do whatever he wished. It started with the killings of small animals but quickly escalated once that had lost its appeal. We don’t know much of motivations, but it’s believed he killed simply because he enjoyed it. Famously developing a taste for his victims after he ran out of places to store them.”

(Y/n) shivered, clutching themself in a hug as they waited for Shinobu to continue. This was worse than any old ghost story, the girl beside them was talking about an actual person! Well, at least he was dead right? Right?

“He was apprehended right here in this very clearing actually.” Shinobu said, looking around at the dark forest that surrounded them “The mob hung him, strung him up in one of these trees, hence the name Hangman’s Clearing.”

(Y/n) swallowed thickly. Why here, he couldn’t be dead someplace else? And they made a fucking summer camp here, what the actual fuck? Suddenly the woods seemed much more sinister.

“He deserved it of course,” Shinobu continued with a sigh, “but just think of what we could have learned if they chained him up instead. There are still many bodies unaccounted for. But perhaps,” Shinobu turned to (Y/n), making them jump a little as her hand slid behind them to pick up a box.

“But perhaps tonight, in the field where he gasped for his last breaths, we can learn something from beyond.”

Oh hell to the fucking no. She was holding a goddamn ouija board and matching planchette.

(Y/n) felt the hairs on the back of their neck rise to attention. There was no way, how could they get themself out of this? Calling upon the spirit of a serial killer was not what they had signed up for. Everyone else however, seemed to lean in and stare with excitement at the prospect, even Mitsuri quickly hopped out of her seat to sit on Shinobu’s other side.

“Oo, oo! Shinobu what a good idea!” she cheered.

A good idea? Mitsuri, honey, what is wrong with you, respectfully. (Y/n) held their face in their hand. That girl had been their only chance of escape, but she seemed just as invested as everyone else!

“Thank you, let’s get this set up then, shall we?” Shinobu grinned.

Tengen and Kyoujirou pushed the logs around into a makeshift table and everyone kneeled around it. Shinobu placed the board and planchette neatly in the middle, beckoning everyone to place a finger on the planchette.

(Y/n) jolted to attention as Shinobu placed her hand over theirs, giving them a questioning glance.

“(Y/n), are you still with us?” She teased.

“Yeah, sorry.” They gulped, watching in dismay as Shinobu smiled at them and pulled their hand up to the board, curling all fingers but one and playfully pushing it against the planchette before placing her own over the wood. There was no getting out of this.

Shinobu then went on about how the board worked and what not, (Y/n) didn’t really listen, too busy trying to find their happy place and pretend they weren’t there.

“Are there any spirits with us tonight?” Shinobu asked, pulling (Y/n) out of their head at the most inopportune moment.

At first there was no movement, for which (Y/n) was thankful, but ever so slowly the planchette did move.

“K-Kyou, you aren’t pushing it are you?” (Y/n) couldn’t help but ask.

“Not at all my friend!” Kyoujirou heartily replied as the planchette continued moving in (Y/n)’s direction.

The fact that it was moving in their direction wasn’t the issue, but rather the fact that (Y/n)’s corner of the board had ‘yes’ written on it.

“Ah, a yes! This is so exciting!” Mitsuri wiggled.

“Nice, how flamboyant!” Tengen added, pumping his free fist.

“What is your name spirit?” Shinobu continued.

(Y/n) let out a shaky breath as the planchette moved away from them. Watching with dread as it skimmed across the board.

‘D’

‘O’

‘U’

‘M’

‘A’

Fuck.

“Where are the victims you buried in these woods, you worthless, demonic bastard?” Shinobu tensed beside (Y/n), concentrating heavily on the board, her tone was commanding as she demanded an answer.

(Y/n) would have found it extremely attractive if they weren’t already scared out of their mind. The taunting of a serial killer ghost was the last thing they wanted to be a part of. Especially if they were talking demons, (Y/n) was too young to die like this. Well, they’d never be at an age where death by demon possession would seem favorable, but that was not the point!

The planchette moved across several letters and (Y/n) lost track of what was being spelled out. Which was just as well, ignorance is bliss after all, right? They waited for the others to figure it out with bated breath.

“Follow the sounds of the woods and we’ll find the signs, hm?” Iguro muttered. “Sounds like a trap.”

“What does it matter? Not like ghosts exist anyway. This is all a part of the ambiance, right Shinobu?” Tengen laughed, laying back on his forearms.

“I wasn’t pushing the planchette if that’s what you are suggesting, Uzui.” Shinobu answered seriously. “But if anyone else wants to confess to it, by all means don’t waste our time.”

“I didn’t!” Mitsuri denied while Iguro shook his head.

“I didn’t either.” (Y/n) also spoke up, an undetectable tremor pulled at their vocal chords.

“Nor have I!” Kyoujirou boomed.

“Then there is only one way to know for sure that this is all legitimate,” Shinobu said, brandishing the small lantern she had lit to illuminate the board, “we break off and search the surrounding woods.”

“Break off? Like, search in the dark alone?” (Y/n) couldn’t help but ask for clarification. Couldn’t they all just head back to the cabins together and watch a movie on Tengen’s smuggled DVD player and forget this whole mess?

“No, not alone,” Shinobu smiled, looping her free arm through (Y/n)’s, “that would be too dangerous. Pairs would be better.”

“I’m going with Kanroji.” Iguro immediately declared. Mitsuri wiggled and clapped, happy to go with him.

“Guess that leaves you and me,” Tengen grinned, fist bumping Kyoujirou, “let’s kick some ghost ass!”

“Yes!” Kyoujirou enthusiastically replied.

“Great, then it’s decided!” Shinobu nodded, squeezing (Y/n)’s arm closer to her as she stood up, pulling them up with her. “Meet back here in half an hour?”

A range of approvals sounded and once they synced up their watches (since phones weren’t allowed at camp), the three separate pairs went off in different directions into the dark woods.

(Y/n) used to love these woods, coming back summer after summer, it was one of the things they looked forward to every year. It only took about twenty minutes for them to learn to hate it as Shinobu led them through the bramble and roots by lantern light.

“You’re being awfully quiet, something on your mind?” Shinobu asked after an owl hooted in the distance, startling (Y/n) a bit.

“No, I’m just,” (Y/n) made a vague gesture with their hands, “concentrating, I guess.” They finished lamely.

Shinobu hummed in amusement, “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. It is all rather exciting isn’t it? I hope we find something.”

“Mhmm.” (Y/n) forced a smile as Shinobu looked over her shoulder at them. It quickly fell from their face once Shinobu turned to face front again, guiding (Y/n) further down the darkened path.

(Y/n) had never been more tense in their life. They didn’t know if they were thankful for Shinobu’s commentary as they kept walking or if they wanted her to be quiet so they could hear any approaching threat. Whatever the case, they kept their mouth shut. Only answering Shinobu with one word responses, affirming or negative noises or just the shake or nod of their head when Shinobu would look back at them. If Shinobu thought it odd, she didn’t comment on her fellow counselor’s behavior.

After awhile, (Y/n) attempted to pretend they were somewhere else again. Still with Shinobu, but somewhere nice like an amusement park or a beach at sunset... maybe sunrise instead. (Y/n) was jostled from their musings when Shinobu stopped suddenly, causing (Y/n) to bump into her.

“Did you hear that?” She whispered, spiking (Y/n) blood pressure through the roof.

“No.” They squeaked.

“Listen.” Shinobu hushed, pulling (Y/n) down to their knees, they both crouched to the ground, listening so hard their ears were buzzing.

A snapping of a branch in the distance, the rustle of leaves.

“What,” (Y/n) swallowed, “what was that?” They whispered.

“Shhh,” Shinobu exhaled, covering (Y/n)’s lips with her fingers as she continued to listen.

It was quiet again, and as Shinobu gave up on listening and removed her fingers from over (Y/n)’s mouth—

“KYYYYAAAAAHHHH!”

A loud scream could be heard far off in the trees, then everything went quiet again for all of three seconds before (Y/n) absolutely lost it.

“Oh my god!” They gasped, clutching Shinobu’s arm tightly to their chest, their eyes wide and unfocused. “Oh my god, that sounded like Mitsuri! Oh god, oh fuck! Shit!”

“(Y/n)?” Shinobu looked at them, a bewildered expression molding her face as she observed their sudden outburst. She quickly moved to comfort them though, setting the lantern down to hug them, rubbing their back as it shuddered with ragged breaths. “Hey, it’s alright. You’re okay.”

“For now!” (Y/n) frantically retorted. “It’s only a matter of time before whatever got Mitsuri and Iguro come for us!”

“(Y/n), wait—“ Shinobu tried to calm them, but they just kept spiraling.

“Why did I agree to this? I should have left the second you took out that ouija board, but no! I stayed just so I could spend more time with you and now we’re gonna be murdered by a demon serial killer ghost before I could finally work up the courage to ask you out!”

“(Y/n)!” Shinobu tried again, speaking a bit sharper this time, forcing (Y/n) to look at her and hoping to calm them with her attentions. “Hey, we’re going to be alright. You’re alright. Listen to me, okay? I set this all up.”

“Huh?” (Y/n) weakly croaked.

“I messed with the ouija board. We weren’t really communicating with anything. I planned for us to split off into groups. We heard Mitsuri scream because—“

“Who’s ready to die!?” A loud maniacal laugh sounded behind them and a chainsaw roared to life.

(Y/n) screamed, otherwise paralyzed in Shinobu’s embrace. Their head tucked under Shinobu’s with their cheek pressed snugly against her chest as they waited for the chainsaw blade to tear through their skin.

“Sanemi, turn that off right now! Stop, damn you!” Shinobu yelled over the noise.

“Okay, okay!” the false murderer, Sanemi, turned off the whirring blade with a tisk. “I was only following your own instructions, Kochou. Why are you looking at me like I was really gonna... oh damn, are they okay?” Sanemi winced, gesturing at (Y/n) quivering in Shinobu’s arms like a leaf.

“Do they look okay to you?” Shinobu huffed, more angry at herself than Sanemi. She continued rubbing at (Y/n)’s back, trying to coax them out of their tight ball while Sanemi stood by awkwardly at the side, rubbing his neck and looking into the woods.

“I’ll uh, gather everybody up and take ‘em back to camp.” Sanemi eventually spoke up. “You have things all under control here?”

“Yes, please go. Thank you Sanemi.” Shinobu shooed him off, not even looking away from (Y/n) as she did so. As Sanemi lumbered back into the forest Shinobu continued to help (Y/n) calm down.

“It’ll be okay, you’ll be alright. I’m so sorry. It’s all over now. It’s just you and me and I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you.” Shinobu promised. “Can you look at me (Y/n), please?”

Ever so slowly, (Y/n) pulled back. They were still visibly shaken and meek which pulled heavily on Shinobu’s heart.

“I’m sorry.” (Y/n) shuddered, closing in on themself as they looked away from Shinobu, “I ruined your event.”

“Hey, you didn’t ruin anything.” Shinobu spoke in a no-nonsense tone. “I should have noticed you weren’t having a good time.”

“I was having a good time at first. I just really wanted to spend time with you, I thought I could handle it.”

“You can spend time with me whenever you want; all you need to do is ask.” Shinobu smiled softly. “And if anything makes you uncomfortable I want you to tell me right away, okay?”

“Okay,” (Y/n) sniffed.

“I think we’ve spent enough time in the woods tonight.” Shinobu stood, holding her hand out for (Y/n) to take.

“Yeah,” (Y/n) chuckled weakly, accepting the hand and rising to their feet. Shinobu kept her hold on them as she picked up the lantern and guided (Y/n) back to the cabins.

Once they reached the clearing, the other counselors involved in the night’s festivities surrounded them, making sure everything was alright. Mitsuri gave (Y/n) a long, comforting hug while Kyoujirou squeezed their shoulder warmly. Tengen and Iguro shared a few kind sentiments and Sanemi grumbled out a sincere apology for scaring them so badly.

As everyone was turning in to their bunks for the night, Shinobu stopped in front of (Y/n)’s bunk as they were pulling back the covers, waving Tengen’s contraband DVD player in her hand.

“Hey, so, I figured you might have a hard time sleeping tonight. Would you want to watch a movie with me?” She asked.

“Yeah, I think that would help a lot. As long as it’s not horror anyway.” (Y/n) added.

“No, I’ve learned my lesson,” Shinobu shook her head making herself at home in (Y/n)’s bunk as she untangled the ear buds, “a romantic comedy is just about as far from horror as one can get I think.”

(Y/n) tried to give Shinobu her own space, but the small bunk didn’t leave much room for that and Shinobu didn’t seem interested in preserving her personal space anyway. Instead pulling (Y/n) to rest against her side after she set everything up.

“Are you comfortable?” She asked, finger poised over the play button.

“Yeah,” (Y/n) nodded against her shoulder, “thanks.”

“Of course.” Shinobu nodded, pressing play.

As the movie played they quietly made fun of it together and commented on the events as they transpired. Once earning Tengen’s wrath for laughing a little too loud while the rest were trying to sleep.

“You know,” (Y/n) whispered during one of the lulls in the story, “if you wanted to watch a horror movie with me some other time I think I could do it if you stayed by my side like this.” They bashfully admitted.

“Well, there is one coming out that I’d like to see this fall...” Shinobu informed with a teasing smile and (Y/n) scoffed lightly.

“I don’t like how quickly you came up with a plan, but I’ll look forward to it.” They said.

“Hey, it’s still a ways off. I hope to have several tamer dates between now and then.” Shinobu casually dropped.

“You do?” (Y/n)’s face grew warm, “With me?” They added just in case, making Shinobu giggle and nod her head.

“Yes, with you. So think of what you want to do for our next free day.”

(Y/n) grinned and snuggled further into Shinobu’s side.

Eventually they fell asleep while Shinobu’s fingers lightly scratched the back of their neck. She turned off the movie and carefully set the DVD player on the floor below. Then she curled up against (Y/n) and fell asleep as well.

[maxwell-grant]

What are your thoughts on Jekyll/Hyde and his archetype of the human periodically changing into a monster ?

Jekyll & Hyde was the 2nd horror story I read following Frankenstein, I got it off the same library and it always stuck very strongly with me even before I got into horror in general. I even dressed up as Jekyll/Hyde as a kid for a school fair by shredding a lab coat on one side and asking my sister to make-up claw gashes on my exposed arm and paint half of my face, although in hindsight I think I ended up looking more like Doctor Two-Face than Jekyll/Hyde, but I was 12 and didn't have any Victorian clothing to use so I had to make do. The first film project I tried doing at film school was intended to be a modern take on Jekyll & Hyde, and I didn't get much farther than a couple of discarded scripts

Much like Frankenstein, Mr Hyde as a character and a story is something that's kind of baked into everything I do artistically. And it's not just me, as even in pop culture itself, none of us can escape Mr Hyde. I would go so far as to argue Mr Hyde may be the single most significant character created by victorian fiction, if only by the sheer impact and legacy the character's had.

(Fan-art by guilhermefranco)

Part of what makes Mr Hyde such a powerful and lasting icon of pop culture is that the very premise of the book invites a personal reading that's gonna vary from person to person. Because everyone's familiar with the basic twist of the story, that it's a conflict of duality, of the good and evil sides, but everyone has a more personal idea of what those entail. Some people make the story more about class. A lot of readings laser-focus on sex and lust as the driving force, and there's also a lot of readings of Mr Hyde that tackle it to explore a more gendered perspective, and so forth.

I don't particularly take much notice of the Jekyll & Hyde adaptations partially because the novel's premise and themes have become baked so throughly into pop culture and explored in so many different and interesting ways, that I'm not particularly starving for good Jekyll & Hyde adaptations the way I am for Dracula and Frankenstein. The Fredric March film in particular is one that orbits my head less because of the film itself (although I do recommend it), but because of one specific scene, and that's when Jekyll first transforms into Hyde on screen.

Out of all the things they could have shown him doing right that second, they instead took the time to show him enjoying the rain.

Just Hyde taking off his hat and letting it all cascade on his face with this sheer enthusiasm like he's never been to the rain before, never enjoyed it before, and now that he's free from being Jekyll, he gets to enjoy life like he never has before. It's such an oddly humanizing moment to put amidst a horror movie, in the scene where you're ostensibly introducing the monster to the audience, and it makes such a stark contrast to the rest of the film where Hyde is completely irredeemable, but I think it's that contrast that makes the film's take on Hyde work so well even with it's diverging from the source material, even if I don't particularly like in general interpretations of Hyde that are focused on a sexual aspect.

Because one, it understands that Jekyll was fundamentally a self-serving coward and not a paragon of goodness, and two, it also understands one of the things that makes Hyde scary: He wants what all of us want, to live and be happy. He's happy when he leaves the lab and dances around in the rain like a giddy child, he's happy when he goes to places Jekyll couldn't dream of showing up, he's happy as a showgirl-abusing sexual predator. Hyde is all wants, all the time, and there's not that much difference between his wants, his domineering possessiveness, and the likes exhibited by Muriel's father and Jekyll's own within the very same film, which also works to emphasize one of the other ideas of the original story, that Edward Hyde doesn't come from nowhere. That no monster is closer to humanity than Mr Hyde, because he is us. He is the thing that Jekyll refused to take responsability for until it was too late.

(Art by LorenzoMastroianni)

While many of the ideas that defined Mr Hyde had already been explored in pop culture beforehand, Hyde popularized and redefined many of them in particular by modernizing the idea. He was the werewolf, the doppelganger, The Player On The Other Side, except he came from within. He was not transformed by circumstance, he made himself that way, and the elixir merely brought out something already inside his soul. To acknowledge that he's there is to acknowledge that he is you, and to not do that is to either lose to him, or perish. Hyde was there to address both the rot settling in Victorian society as well as grappling concerns over Darwinian heritage, of the realization that man has always had the beast inside of him (it's no accident that Hyde's main method of murder is by clubbing people to death with his cane like a caveman).

I've already argued on my post about Tarzan that the Wild Man archetype, beginning with Enkidu of The Epic of Gilgamesh, is the in-between man and beast, between superhero and monster, and that Mr Hyde is an essential component of the superhero's trajectory, as the creature split in between. That stories about dual personalities, doppelgangers, the duality of the soul, the hero with a day job and an after dark career, you can pinpoint Hyde as a turning point in how all of these solidified gradually in pop culture. And I've argued otherwise that The Punisher, for all that his image and narrative points otherwise, is ultimately just as much of a superhero as the rest of them, even if no one wants to admit it, drawing a parallel between The Punisher and Mr Hyde. And he's far from the only modern character that can invite this kind of parallel.

The idea of a regular person periodically or permanently transforming into, or revealing itself to be, something extraordinary and fantastic and scary, grappling with the divide it causes in their soul, and questions whether it's a new development or merely the truest parts of themselves coming to light at last, and the effects this transformation has for good and bad alike. The idea of a potent, dangerous, unpredictable enemy who ultimately is you, or at least a facet of you and what you can do. That these are bound to destroy each other if not reconciled with or overcome.

You know what are my thoughts on the archetype of "human periodically changing into a monster" are? Look around you and you're gonna see the myriad ways The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde's themes have manifested in the century and a half since the story's release. Why it shouldn't be any surprise whatsoever that Mr Hyde has become such an integral part of pop culture, in it's heroes and monsters alike. Why we can never escape Mr Hyde, just as Jekyll never could.

It is Nixon himself who represents that dark, venal and incurably violent side of the American character that almost every country in the world has learned to fear and despise. Our Barbie-doll president, with his Barbie-doll wife and his boxful of Barbie-doll children is also America's answer to the monstrous Mr. Hyde.

He speaks for the Werewolf in us; the bully, the predatory shyster who turns into something unspeakable, full of claws and bleeding string-warts on nights when the moon comes too close… - Hunter S. Thompson

There is a scene in the movie Pulp Fiction that explains almost every terrible thing happening in the news today. And it's not the scene where Ving Rhames shoots that guy's dick off. It's the part where the hit man played by John Travolta is talking about how somebody vandalized his car, and says this:

"Boy, I wish I could've caught him doing it. I'd have given anything to catch that asshole doing it. It'd been worth him doing it, just so I could've caught him doing it."

That last sentence is something everyone should understand about mankind. After all, the statement is completely illogical -- revenge is supposed to be about righting a wrong. But he wants to be wronged, specifically so he'll have an excuse to get revenge. We all do.

Why else would we love a good revenge movie? We sit in a theater and watch Liam Neeson's daughter get kidnapped. We're not sad about it, because we know he's a badass and he finally has permission to be awesome. Not a single person in that theater was rooting for it to all be an innocent misunderstanding. We wanted Liam to be wronged, because we wanted to see him kick ass. It's why so many people walk around with vigilante fantasies in their heads.

Long, long ago, the people in charge figured out that the easiest and most reliable way to bind a society together was by controlling and channeling our hate addiction. That's the reason why seeing hurricane wreckage on the news makes us mumble "That's sad" and maybe donate a few bucks to the Red Cross hurricane fund, while 9/11 sends us into a decade-long trillion-dollar rage that leaves the Middle East in flames.

The former was caused by wind; the latter was caused by monsters. The former makes us kind of bummed out; the latter gets us high.

It's easy to blame the news media for pumping us full of stories of mass shootings and kidnapped children, but that's stopping one step short of the answer: The media just gives us what we want. And what we want is to think we're beset on all sides by monsters.

The really popular stories will always feature monsters that are as different from us as possible. Think about Star Wars -- what real shithead has ever referred to himself as being on "the dark side"? In Harry Potter and countless fantasy universes, you have wizards working in "black magic" and the "dark arts." Can you imagine a scientist developing some technology for chemical weapons or invasive advertising openly thinking of what he does as "dark science"? Can you imagine a real world leader naming his headquarters "The Death Star" or "Mount Doom"?

Of course not. But we need to believe that evil people know they're evil, or else that would open the door to the fact that we might be evil without knowing it. I mean, sure, maybe we've bought chocolate that was made using child slaves or driven cars that poisoned the air, but we didn't do it to be evil -- we were simply doing whatever we felt like and ignoring the consequences. Not like Hitler and the bankers who ruined the economy and those people who burned the kittens -- they wake up every day intentionally dreaming up new evils to create. It's not like Hitler actually thought he was saving the world.

So no matter how many times you vote to cut food stamps and then use the money to buy a boat, you could still be way worse. You could, after all, be one of those murdering / lazy / ignorant / greedy / oppressive monsters that you know the world is full of, and that only your awesome moral code prevents you from turning into at any moment. And those monsters are out there.

They have to be. Because otherwise, we're the monsters - 5 Reasons Humanity Desperately Wants Monsters To Be Real, by Jason Pargin

(Two-Face sequence comes from the end of Batman Annual #14: Eye of the Beholder)

For good or bad, Hyde has become omnipresent. He's a part of our superheroes, he's a part of our supervillains, he's in our monsters. He lives and prattles in our ears, sometimes we need him to survive, and sometimes we become Hyde even when we don't need to, because our survival instincts or base cruelties or desperation brings out the worst in us. Sometimes we can beat him, and sometimes he's not that bad. Sometimes we do need to appease him and listen to what he says, about us and the world around us. And sometimes we need to do so specifically to prove him wrong and beat him again.

But he never, ever goes away, as he so accurately declares in the musical

Do you really think That I would ever let you go...

Do you think I'd ever set you free?

If you do, I'm sad to say It simply isn't so

You will never get away FROM MEEEEEE

(Art by Akreon on Artstation)

[littlestarofthewest]

Valentine drabble request you say? Well, if you're up for it, could I maybe request something Morbell related (if you even write that)? Maybe a flustered Micah trying to find a good gift for Arthur? Thank you!

I've never written Morbell before but I gave it a shot. Hope you like 😆

Guns make for good Flowers

Pairing: Arthur x Micah | Words: 2260 | SFW

Micah lifts up the bottles in the box one after the other, trying to find a full one. It's hard to get smashed if you don't have the booze. Behind him, Pearson talks to Strauss, saying something about when to give his present to Susan. Micah wonders what the occasion for a gift would be, but then he finds two full bottles and forgets all about it.

At least until two days later. Mary-Beth, Tilly, and Karen are talking about gifts as well. Micah hangs around, curious after all, and finally catches on. Valentine's day. It seems that everybody gives somebody else a gift. 

Micah shrugs it off. He most certainly has better things to do with his time and money than gift shopping. Besides, he knows for sure that nobody would give him anything, so why would he bother?

Despite his disinterest in the whole ordeal, it keeps coming up. Abigail has something for Jack, of course, and Jack wants to give something to Sadie to cheer her up. Sean's got a present for Karen, Charles is making something for Tilly, and so on. 

Every day, Micah hears something new, caring about it or not. Even lazy Uncle gets involved, and two days before Valentine's day, John, of all people, found a great gift for Abigail. 

Micah's about to give him shit for it when all the conversations of the last days wander through his mind. Mary-Beth insists on giving a present to the O'Driscoll boy, Molly and Dutch give each other gifts, and Susan takes care of Hosea, but there's one name Micah hasn't heard at all. Arthur.

For the rest of the day, Micah keeps snooping around. This time, he actually tries to find out who will give something to whom, and by evening his first assessment still stands. Nobody thought about Arthur.

While most of the gang already sits by the fire, Arthur comes in late after a job. He hands Pearson two rabbits he must have shot on the way and puts some money in the collection box before he passes out on his cot, not even caring to take his boots off.

The sight gnaws at Micah, and the happy chatter of the others annoys him even more. He wishes he could laugh about Arthur being left out, but somehow it doesn't sit right with him. 

Micah can certainly live without an ugly Valentine's card, but ever since he joined the gang, he's never seen Arthur rest longer than needed. It's a shame that the gang members forgot all about their little workhorse.

After emptying his bottle, Micah gets up to find a place for the night. He doesn't need much sleep, but shutting his eyes for a moment can't hurt. On his way, he avoids the singing Reverend, and Uncle who's asking around for money. That's how he ends up hiding behind a wagon, Arthur's wagon. 

Micah sits down and leans against it, enjoying the irony. He can hear Arthur's quiet snores, knowing that this man is in for a surprise soon. If Arthur's lucky, he'll be out of the camp on Valentine's day. Maybe that's what people are counting on.

----------

"You want some company, mister?"

Micah turns to the girl approaching him. She's fairly pretty, and probably older and therefore more experienced than she looks. All in all, she would be a nice thing to spend his money on, but ever since yesterday, Micah's thoughts drift when he's not careful. 

Instead of taking a closer look at the girl's ample bosom, Micah thinks about Arthur, and the money in his pocket feels heavy as if it wants to stay in there. "Not today, sweetheart."

Micah downs his drink and walks outside, looking along the street. On the other side, the general store's doorbell is ringing when a customer leaves, and Micah is drawn to it like the moth to a flame.

It's empty inside except for the store owner, who greets him with great enthusiasm. Micah ignores him to take a look around, his eyes falling on some journals and pencils, but he knows Arthur has enough of those. 

Walking along a shelf with booze, Micah stops, horrified. He asks himself what Arthur might like, and it dawns on him that he's looking for a gift for Arthur. He didn't mean to do it, but the thought of Arthur not getting a present seems so wrong.

It's probably just him thinking ahead. Micah might act as a simple bully, but he has ways to make people lean his way. If everybody but Micah has forgotten Arthur, then they might be grateful that he thought of him.

Booze doesn't seem enough, though. Micah checks out the products for horses, knowing how fond Arthur is of his horrible black monster, but again, it's something Arthur could get himself. Even a watch doesn't come close to an appropriate gift.

With an annoyed grunt, Micah leaves the store, looking along the main street again. There's a tailor, but Micah can't be sure about Arthur's size. He could invite him to a drink at the saloon, but Micah doubts that Arthur would agree to it. 

Taking a deep breath, Micah looks up at the burning sun, hoping for inspiration, when something hits his eye from the side. A reflection. Turning to it, Micah watches a guy who puts a shiny new rifle onto his horse, and Micah's eyes fall on the building behind the man. It's a gun store.

An idea pops up in Micah's head, and he crosses the street with a smile on his face.

---------

The whole day, the camp is busy like a beehive. People hurry back and forth, giving away their presents, and soon, everybody walks around with something new. A lovely shawl around a girl's shoulders or a new necklace or braclet - made, bought, or probably stolen -, bottles of booze, books, a new shirt, or even boots. 

The only person not in the midst of all that is Arthur. He's sitting on his cot, writing in that stupid journal of his. Micah keeps a look on him for a while, but nobody's approaching him, and Arthur doesn't seem to be giving away a gift of his own. 

Micah is tempted to keep what he bought to himself, but the longer he looks at Arthur, the more curious he gets about what his reaction would be to the present. Even if he tells Micah to piss off, Micah wants to know. He wants to hear it from Arthur.

When the rest of the gang seems busy enough, Micah walks over to Arthur, the gift hidden under his coat. He gets in position, ready to greet Arthur, but Arthur already slaps the journal shut and looks up to him.

"What do you want, Micah?"

"Oh, I could think about a few things I'd desire," Micah says, determined to stand his ground. "The question is what you want."

"Peace and quiet," Arthur grunts, and Micah is about to tease him about Valentine's day when he takes a look at Arthur's table. 

Yesterday, it was empty except for a photograph and the stupid little glass flower. Now there are arrows, cigarettes and a cigar, sweets, hunting and fishing materials, and other small trinkets. 

Micah can feel his heart sink. He's been so focused on thinking that nobody would give Arthur a present that he didn't consider the obvious alternative. It looks like everybody gave Arthur a gift. 

Arthur follows Micah's gaze and rubs his neck as he looks up to him. "Look, Micah-"

"I've got something for you," Micah interrupts him, forcing himself to say it before he can chicken out.

"What?"

Micah gets the box out from under his coat and pushes it at Arthur, who looks like it's stuffed with dynamite and might explode in his hands. He still opens it, and his mouth falls open.

There's a chance Micah might have overdone it a little, but he didn't want to look cheap. The revolver he bought has a unique grip, and the letters A and M are carved in next to a coyote. Micah's not even sure why. He just liked the look of it, and in a weak moment, he entertained the idea that the M might not stand for Morgan.

"Remember the holster I gave you?" Micah asks, feeling the need to explain himself. "Didn't make much sense without a gun."

Arthur still looks like he's in a trance, running his fingertips over the weapon. "You're giving me this? Why?"

If Micah only knew. He's still not sure what devil rode him the last few days. "I'm actually a pretty nice guy, cowpoke."

"Yeah, right," Arthur huffs, but he takes the weapon out of the box, squinting at the engraving.

Micah feels heat rushing up his neck and to his ears, afraid that Arthur might catch on to the double meaning of the letters.

"So, don't shoot anything I wouldn't," he says before walking away.

"Micah!" Arthur shouts behind him, and when Micah turns around, he sees that Arthur has gotten to his feet. "Thank you."

Arthur's voice is quiet, barely audible over the camp's noises, but the words still ring in Micah's ears. He can't remember the last time Arthur has spoken to him in a friendly manner, and he definitely never thanked him. Micah tips his hat, unable to speak, and he decides to get out of there.

He heads for the main campfire, but then he takes a detour, passing behind one of the wagons and heading into the woods. He finds a quiet spot and pulls out one of his own guns. It looks a little worn compared to the new one Micah gave Arthur.

With a sigh, he puts it back in his holster, ready to get himself something to drink and pass out somewhere, when a figure steps out of the trees next to him. Micah's about ready to draw and shoot, but it's only Arthur.

"You following me, cowpoke?"

Arthur doesn't say anything, his hand hovering over his holster. Micah's heart beats faster, but it makes no sense that Arthur would pick today of all days to shoot him.

With a swift movement, Arthur draws his gun, but he points it at a nearby tree instead of Micah. "That's a fine weapon, not cheap. Why would you give me that?"

"What would you want me to give you? Flowers?"

Arthur comes closer, the weapon still in his hand. Micah figures that he probably shouldn't mouth off to him, but he can't help himself.

"Why would you give me anything at all?" Arthur asks.

"These degenerates out there have been talking about giving each other gifts all damn week, but nobody ever mentioned your name. Just didn't seem right."

Arthur huffs a laugh. "So you decided to be my Valentine?"

"Shut up, Morgan, or I'll-"

"You what?" Arthur interrupts him. He's not raising the gun, but Micah knows full well he's playing with his life, so he stays quiet.

Arthur swirls the gun around and slips it back into its holster before stepping even closer. "I've got something for you, too."

Micah looks Arthur up and down, waiting for a knife to appear, but instead, Arthur grabs him by the throat. Adrenaline rushes through Micah's body, but Arthur's fingers only rest there, not choking him. Micah swallows a few times, knowing that Arthur can feel it. He wishes he could draw his weapon or fight back in any way, but he's too curious about what Arthur might do. 

For now, Arthur's holding Micah's gaze with those piercing blue eyes, then he runs his fingers along Micah's neck, down to the first button of his shirt that he actually cared to close. Arthur fists his fingers into the fabric and pulls Micah close. They're only inches apart, breathing the same air.

Micah's still waiting for something terrible to happen, a trick, or Arthur at least insulting him. Instead, Arthur puts his other hand on Micah's neck, his fingers digging into his hair. He draws Micah closer, so slowly that it borders on torture. Micah's heart is about to leap out of his chest, but then it just seems to give out when Arthur kisses him.

It's not nice and soft, but harsh and with force. Arthur kisses him as if he needs to punish Micah, but Micah can't say that he minds. He grabs Arthur's arm, feeling how his muscles strain, unwilling to let him go. Not that Micah wants to escape. 

He lets Arthur in, getting a good taste of him when their tongues rub against each other. Arthur barely gives him a chance to breathe, and when he finally lets go, Micah feels like he could pass out any second.

Arthur leans in, his lips touching Micah's ear as he whispers to him. "Tell anybody about this, and I'll make good use of that new gun."

Micah's still too overwhelmed to answer, only able to look after Arthur as he disappears into the trees. Taking in a deep breath, Micah leans back against the tree behind him. From all the possible outcomes, Arthur picked the one Micah didn't see coming in a million years.

With a sigh, he walks back to camp, longing more than ever for a drink. When he settles down by the fire with a bottle, he finds Arthur already sitting there. They share a look, and one thing becomes clear to Micah. He's prepared to give Arthur the whole damn gun store if he can get another kiss like that. 

[joshslater]

Christmas Dream

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

Andrew knew right away it was a dream. That in itself was weird. He had read about lucid dreaming, but never experienced it himself. Normally when he dreamt everything made sense, no matter how impossible or out of place the elements of the dream were, until he woke up. While the memory of the dream rapidly disintegrated from his short term memory without bogging down his long term memory, he could recognize the ridiculousness of the fragments of the dream he could grasp before they too slipped through his conscious inspection. But standing in the snow outside an impossible castle, wearing only his pajamas it was clear he was in a dream.

He hadn't attempted any of the tricks given in any of the lucid dreams texts he'd read, but perhaps just knowing about them made them work, eventually. Like learning about the FedEx arrow, if you hadn't noticed it before. Once you see it you can never not see it. He tried to remember any of the practical tips. One was to push a finger through the opposite palm to prove you are in a dream. He held out his arms in front of him and slowly moved his right hand's pointing finger towards his left-hand palm. They connected as you would expect if you were not dreaming. Well, absence of proof isn't proof of absence. Parts of the castle were levitating after all.

He walked closer to the castle, walked through a big archway, and into a large courtyard. Everything looked serious but cute at the same time. Like the castle in Austria or Switzerland or wherever that the Disney Land castle was modeled after. At one point there must have been a hanging or beheading there, but still it had a feeling of being friendly. No angry French gargoyles or winged stone grotesques looking down at you. No drawbridge to keep you out, or in.

But no people. There were fires lit everywhere in those metal basket fire things placed on the cobbled courtyard floor. Everything was dusted with snow, but there were steps and trodden paths all over the place. He stood still to take it all in. There were quite a few large doors leading out from the courtyard, most of them open and with welcoming light flickering from inside. He raised his gaze up the walls and saw row after row of windows, each one with a lit candle inside. Above that were the towers, reaching high above where he stood. Some of them were clearly floating in the air, with bridges leading to them from other towers. It felt like the first level of a game. Was this where got his first weapon and gear?

There was something else also. A noise like a constant sea, or a wind sweeping through the castle. He couldn't feel any breeze, but then he was standing barefoot on snow on cobblestones and didn't feel a thing. There was also.... like a faint pink mist around him, around the entire courtyard. It was thicker closer to the doors, like it was flowing out of the castle, or into it. And smack in the middle of the square was a small hearth with a black cauldron hanging over a lit fire on a tripod, looking suspiciously like Halloween props. He moved closer.

It looked out of place in the large courtyard. Next to the fire stood a little tray with small metal steins. There was a smell of autumn spices and fruit wine as he moved close to the small cauldron and its dark contents. The setup was obvious, mulled wine and mugs, but would he dare Alice in Wonderland the situation? It was his dream, he decided, and picked up one of the steins. It was warm from the nearby fire, but not hot. He dunked it into the cauldron to scoop up some of the liquid. He hesitated again. You are not supposed to smell anything in dreams, are you? Perhaps if you lucid dream you get to do whatever. It was already clear he was dreaming in color.

The hot liquid was sweet, boozy, and well-spiced, but as soon as he'd swallowed his first sip the world began to slow down. To his horror he could see the licks of the flames in the fire move slower and slower, like one of the drugged-up addicts in the Judge Dredd movie. The good one. He put down the mug on the ground, afraid he would spill the hot liquid on himself if he collapsed. He moved as fast as before, but the flames were just getting slower. As he looked up he realized that the pink mist wasn't mist anymore. It was people dressed up in white hemmed red Santa clothes moving around him like flash. DC, not Gordon. But they were all also getting slower and slower. They all looked like they moved with a purpose, and none of them gave him even a glance as far as he could see, though at the speed they were moving he could absolutely miss it.

Although they were of all different ethnicities they all looked remarkably similar. All boys similar in age to him, all of them of similar height, slim, athletic build, cute faces with an overall clean look. This part of the dream he recognized from before. He had struggled with his sexuality, desperately trying to like girls, but somehow he always dreamt about boys before waking up sticky. Always cute, slender boys that were totally out of his league. That's another big reason why he hadn't come out yet. He felt coming out as a pudgy teenager would just bring forth the full brunt of bullying with no upside.

Now he was surrounded by a flurry of handsome boys, all dressed up as small Santas in tight, red pants, loose-fitting white hemmed red jacket, and a red hat with a white, fluffy ball at the tip. Peaking out below the pants were black shoes or boots that looked far more rugged than the rest of the outfit. Amazed he was looking around him at the slowly slowing traffic that he almost jumped of surprise when he found someone pacing right next to him that appeared to be observing him. So he wasn't invisible to them after all. "You can see me?"

"Of course I can," he said in a high pitched voice. "Drink more so we can have this over with." The observer looked like all the other boys rushing past him, lean, pretty, and clad in Santa clothes. In addition he looked bored bordering on annoyed. That did nothing to make him less attractive to Andrew. Fair skin, chiseled features, and tufts of blonde hair was peaking out from under his Santa hat. This was clearly some sort of Christmas fantasy so Andrew decided to call these boys elves. "Ok," he answered, grabbed his half-filled stein from the ground, and drank the rest. Everything around him rapidly came down to normal speed, or something close to it. It still looked like everyone was in a hurry, but their movements didn't look unnatural anymore.

"Come with me, he is ready to receive you," the elf next to him said. "Who is?" "Santa. It's my job to bring you up to speed. Follow me," and he dashed towards one of the open doors without checking Andrew was following him. Andrew was caught off guard and took a moment to start following him, so he had to sprint to catch up. "What about?" "Be quiet unless spoken to. This is a place of efficiency." "What about getting me up to speed?" "I did. You are."

They reached a set of grand stairs. Five people could easily walk next to each other up or down the stairs, and indeed they met several other elves rushing down the stairs and a few passing them running up. The stairs were a consistent marble staircase but the flights looked very different from each other. He could only see doors or hallways around the stairs, but the floors were made of different materials and architecture. Even the ceiling height differed. The first few floors looked like what you would expect from a castle, but then they passed floors looking like modern offices, like concrete factory or warehouses, even one floor appeared to be wood, like a barn or a stable. He wished he had counted properly from the ground floor, because he soon lost track of how many flights they ascended. He was astonished he'd manage without running out of breath.

Finally his guide turned in a different direction, not following the impossibly long stairs up another flight, but instead turned left down a hallway, and then left again into the belly of the building. This floor looked a bit like a castle again. Everything was tall and wide and big, and hefty lit torches lined the walls, sitting in ornate brass holders. Suddenly they came to a stop in front of two massive, white, ornate doors. Andrew's guide turned to him and looked him over. Andrew suddenly felt self-conscious again, having forgotten about himself while taking in the strangeness of the sprint. His hair was damp with sweat, his checkered pajama shirt was stretched around his body, and his jammie pants clearly showed his erection. Andrew thought he could detect a flash of a sneer or smirk in the face of the elf. "Good enough," he said and opened the door for Andrew.

Inside was a grand waiting room with marble floor, high white walls, and several sets of comfortable looking armchairs, and a large desk next to another set of doors. Behind the desk sat another handsome elf who looked up at them as they entered. He had a more tanned skin than the first elf, and black hair. "He'll soon be ready for you," he told them unprompted. "Have a seat." Andrew tentatively moved to one of the armchairs, while his guide just stood there motionless and looked bored. The other elf had returned his focus to a book that he appeared to study carefully. As soon as Andrew sat down in the armchair the elf behind the desk looked up and announced "He will see you now." Andrew's guide elf motioned impatiently towards the inner set of doors. Andrew jumped up, and quickly joined him as he opened the doors.

The room revealed as the doors opened was nothing like what Andrew had imagined. Instead of an impressive office in the style of the waiting room preceding it, the room was styled like the inside of a forest cabin. In fact, looking out the windows it looked like a snowy forest landscape dimly lit by stars. In a corner of the room a fire was crackling, and right next to it was a small desk with a man sitting behind it. Compared to the man the simple wooden desk was hilariously undersized. Although sitting down he could tell the man would rise to a sizeable height standing up. He had black boots on that, unlike what the elves wore, were polished into a reflective pitch surface, reflecting the fire. His red woolen trousers were tucked into the shin high boots. Around his waist Andrew could hint a black belt in the same shiny black leather as the boots, but only because the desk was so small and the belt was massive, 4-6 inches wide. But above that his body was naked.

A massive upper body, while not as defined as a bodybuilder sure had at least as much muscle on it. He was strongman competition ready. Even though he probably looked more muscled hunching forward over the desk, making his shoulder and traps pop into big hunks of ham, there was no denying this man could deck most people. His skin complexion was slightly darker, like Mediterranean, and his body hair most certainly was. He was covered in black hair. Arms, chest, shoulders, all of it. And looking at his face he sported a thick but neatly trimmed, black beard, black eye brows, and black hair, topped with a red and white Santa hat. In this case Andrew was pretty sure it was THE Santa hat.

He looked a bit lost and pushed some papers around until he found a book on his disk. He scratched his chin through the beard while opening it. "Let me see... Let me see... Andrew was it?" his voice boomed in the room. "Yes, Sir!" Andrew responded, quick as he could. While the man acted gentle enough, he didn't look like he would respond well to fools.

"So, what do you wish for?" he said, looking up from the book, haven’t barely looked at the first page. "Eh... The new PlayStation." "That's just something you want, not a wish," the man said, almost with disdain before going back to the book. Andrew felt stupid. Was there a difference between wanting something and wishing something? Should he have wished for an end to all wars and global warming?

The man silently flipped through the book, sometimes going back and reference something from an earlier page. "So you stole a wallet at Walmart in second grade?" Andrew felt a chill and a panic as he was racking his brain for any time he had been at Walmart in second grade. He knew he hadn't stolen any wallet, but was there another wallet incident he could think of? "The wallet I found at the parking lot? I handed that in to a cashier," he answered, still not sure if that was it. The man flicked forward a few pages. "Ah! And then the cashier kept it. I see... I see..."

He then continued to skim forward in the book, occasionally looking up at Andrew. Minutes felt like hours. Andrew didn't even know what this was all about. Was this some sort of sentencing? Was this the actual afterlife? Had he died? Somehow his heart kept racing. "Tell me about miss Sullivan, your neighbor up the street. Why did you mow her lawn?"

"I've done it many times. She talked to mum about it and offered me a job, so I went there sometimes during the summer and mowed her lawn and got $10 for doing it." Words just poured out of Andrew without him even breathing. He was sweating and not sure what the man was after.

"What about last summer?" he asked. "She got ill, not sure what. She didn't want anyone to see her in case it was contagious. But I thought I should just continue as before." "And you got paid to do that?" "No, I'm not even sure she knew I did it." "Did that make you disappointed. Not getting paid?" "No" Andrew knew immediately that that was a lie. "I mean, yeah, I would have liked to be paid. But at least I got a workout." "You work out a lot?" "No. No, I don't." "And yet you'd like to look like you did?"

Damn, he kept making everything look bad. Andrew wanted to shout "Yeah, I wish I looked like the guys on the football team or the basket team or the swim team or any other fucking sports team, but I don't because I'm a loser that isn't good at any of that or good enough in school to not spend all my free time to catch up with everyone else so it's not going to fucking happen!"

"I just don't have time." "Time for miss Sullivan's lawn apparently."

With a loud thud he closed the book, making Andrew jump. He looked straight at Andrew. "I think you need some time as a proper helper." Then he shifted his gaze towards the elf Andrew was surprised to realize was still behind him. "Make it so"

"Yes," the elf responded and ushered Andrew out of the room.

Back in the waiting room the elf behind the desk looked up at them exiting the cabin room. "What's the verdict? Naughty or nice?" he asked. "Helper duty," Andrews guide responded. Andrew felt that things were happening outside of his control that he needed to be more aware of. "Wait. What's happening? Helper duty?" "Don't worry. It'll be fine," the guide elf responded. "Don't say don't worry. Tell me what's going on." "Ok, then. Do worry. You are going to become a helper. Just follow me." and he started to walk out of the waiting room back out into the corridor outside. The receptionist elf had stood up, walked around the desk, and patted Andrew in the back to motion him to start walking. Reluctantly Andrew started to walk, following the first elf. To his surprise the other elf followed him.

All three of them turned down the corridor in the opposite direction of the stairs and walked further into the building. Andrew was thinking about the encounter he just had. Somehow he wasn't sure if it had been a good or a bad one. He clearly wasn't getting any useful answers from his guide. The way they were walking, one in front and one behind, was kind of telling. Like he had just been sentenced and was on his way to receive his punishment. As if there was anywhere he could run. And he was still hard. Big fucking oblivious dick just happy to see everyone. Like a stupid puppy not understanding the situation. But did he?

After some twists and turns they stopped in front of a much more mundane door. One of many they had passed, and there were many more ahead of them in the corridor. The first elf opened the door and they all stepped inside.

This room was reminiscent of a locker room. Well lit, white walls, green plastic floor, a shelf system along one wall with rows after rows with labeled boxes, and in the middle of the room, a knee-high, sturdy bench with something akin to a gym mattress as a top.

No sooner had the door shut behind Andrew before the guide elf jumped him and started kissing him. Andrew's brain just went completely blank at first, not knowing what to do. He'd never kissed a handsome dude before, or any dude, and the kiss with Sophie didn't really count as a kiss really. They were just practicing. A few seconds in he realized he should perhaps do something too and grabbed hold of the elf. He started to actively kiss him back, or tried at least. He wasn't quite sure all the parts of his body were doing what he wanted them to, but holy fuck what was going on? Then he felt the other elf behind him, breathing at his neck. He could feel him kissing his neck while his hands went up inside his T-shirt. He was almost out of air and begun to feel light-headed when the first elf pulled away from their kiss. His vision came into focus again and he looked straight into the steel blue eyes of the boy. He was smiling for the first time Andrew had seen. Crisp white teeth, pinkish lips, and smooth skin. This was as up close as you could get and he was still gorgeous. They were both panting. "I need you... to take off... your clothes," the elf managed.

Andrew was happy to oblige, and the other elf behind him helped him out of his T-shirt. Andrew untied the drawstring on his pajama pants and stepped out of them while the first elf came back from the wall of boxes with some items, the first of which was a pair of grey socks. "Here, put these on." Andrew sat down on the bench and put on the socks, where we was joined by the receptionist elf. He kept rubbing Andrew's shoulders and back, and gave another kiss on his neck as he reached down to put a sock on his second foot. "You've never slept with anyone before, have you?"

Andrew turned to look at him directly. He hadn't really given him a proper look, as the elf had walked behind him all the way. He looked like a Brazilian photo model with tanned skin, hazel eyes, and pitch-black hair. His flimsy Santa jacket was opened and revealed a magazine cover perfect view of pecs and abs, and below that a bulge in his pants straining to be released. Andrew, naked except for the socks, was already showing his willingness with an almost painfully erect penis. "No..." It was like Andrew's brain was shortcircuiting next to this beautiful boy and couldn't come up with proper sentences.

The elf guided him to a bridge position. "Here, roll over." He kissed his way down Andrew's spine down to his butt. Then he dabbed his finger in Andrew's precum and started to slowly massage Andrew's butt hole. Then gently going in and out, then using two fingers, then three. Andrew thought he would explode with cum right then and there, but somehow that didn't happen. He kept his eyes closed and thought of the handsome boy behind him that was loosening his asshole.

When he opened his eyes he saw something sliding in below him. The other elf, the blonde guide elf was on his back in front of him on the bench, completely naked. Andrew was staring down at the elf’s balls and erect dick just below his face. He looked up over the body, the same perfect abs and pecs as the other elf, and all the way up to his handsome, chiseled face. He saw that the Santa hat was still on, so not completely naked after all. He looked down at the dick on offer in front of him again. He realized he was salivating. Tentatively he lowered himself and began to lick the tip of the penis a few times. Then he did a quick attempt at putting it in his mouth. Then he started to suck it in earnest. At the same time he could feel the reception elf entering his butt.

Andrew tried to keep the same pace with his sucking as with the penis going in and out of his butt. That way he felt like he could just zone out into bliss and not think of anything but pleasure. When he eventually did orgasm all three came at the same time. Andrew wasn’t prepared for any cum, and more as a panic reflex swallowed everything that got pumped into his mouth, just as he came on the bench and the second elf in his ass.

"Now these." Andrew realized he had been standing there on all four, frozen just trying to process what had just happened. "What?"

"Put these on," the but for his hat naked elf repeated, holding out a pair of red trousers of the same kind as they wore. As he put his feet down from the bench Andrew realized his legs looked different. Then he realized that his upper body looked different too. It was the same lean abs and pecs as all the other elves. Almost dazed he took the trousers, stepped into them, and slid them up his legs. Were his dick and balls any different than before? Perhaps. Hard to tell.

"These should be your size now," the other elf said, and placed a pair of black boots in front of him. Sturdy, no-nonsense, military style black leather boots. "I..." Andrew began, but couldn't really verbalize what he felt. There were a faint trail of hair from his pubs to his belly button, flanked by the most pronounced V he had ever seen in real life. It was one thing to see the bodies of all the elves, but on himself was another thing all together. He pushed one then two feet into the boots, tied them, and let the trousers hide them.

"Almost done. Just these two left," the guide elf said, handing him a jacket and a hat. Andrew grabbed both and quickly put them on. "Now what?"

"Now you look like a helper. Always were one."

The room is black save for the faint blue light from the alarm clock on the nightstand. Andrew stared into the black ceiling wide awake. He glances over at the clock. 05:16. A bit too early to run downstairs and check the Christmas stocking. He's supposed to be almost grown up after all. What a weird dream. Hot, but weird. He sticks his hand down the pajama pants. Sticky, but not bad enough to not sleep a few hours more. As he turns to the side he feels the boots on his feet.

[missmitchieg]

Alex, Not Alexis

When Alex Mercer was born, his doctor called him a baby girl. His parents dressed him up in a pretty pink onesie with white stripes and took him home. They named him Alexis Abigail Mercer. They liked to call him Lexi for short.

At a year and a half old, Alex was sat in the living room watching Sesame Street while his mother, Rebecca cooked dinner and his father, George sat reading the newspaper. He smiled and giggled when Suzanne Farrell appeared in her pretty pink tutu and danced around like a ballerina. He clapped as she twirled and stood in fifth position, and Rebecca decided then that her little "Alexis" was going to take ballet lessons when "she" turned two.

At two years and a month, Alex was put into his first ballet lesson, clad in a pretty pink tutu, just like Suzanne. He was taught how to stand in position, how to move his arms and hands so he could dance, just like her. He smiled proudly at himself as he twirled in his little tutu, his proud mother watching with happy tears in her eyes.

When Alex started school a few years later, he was nervous to be in a new environment. He's always been a little anxious about trying new things and about being away from mommy and daddy. The little boys and girls at school already seeming cliqued up and excluding him did not calm him down.

For a few years, he would come home from school upset and crying because the other kids laughed at him for panicking, needing his Epi-pen, or whatever bad thing happened that set him off like a boy pulling his pigtails. When he didn't, he would tell his mom he was sick, because he did sort of feel sick, and ask for chicken soup and a mom-approved show on the TV.

But when he felt alright, he would just go and suffer the consequences. Until one day in third grade when he met this boy named Luke Patterson. Luke was nice to him and would yell at bullies for being mean because "She's not doing anything bad! Just leave her alone!" and run to tell a teacher to get them in trouble.

"Thank you, Luke, for making them go away." Alex would tell him and push his bangs out of his face, behind his ears. He was sort of starting to hate his long bangs and long hair. But he loved his pink clothes.

"No problem!" Luke would respond and grab his hand, and they would take off together in search of crickets and grasshoppers to chase.

They stayed best friends all though out the rest of their elementary years, and into middle school. His parents loved Luke for Alex. A little boy who shared their sweet "Alexis'" faith and was nice to "her"? He seemed absolutely perfect. Until they got to know him.

See, Luke was sort of a stubborn, rebellious boy who liked rock bands and electric guitar. It only got worse when the pair met Bobby Wilson in the seventh grade and introduced them to Reggie Peters, who wore leather jackets and Bobby only encouraged Reggie, Luke and Alex sneaking out to see bands they liked, and who called their sweet baby Alex. Little did they know it was because Alex had asked the three of them to call him that.

Alex laughed as he stood in the arcade with Bobby, Reggie and Luke, beating Reggie at Street Fighter for the third time that day. Their arcade trips had soon become a regular thing, and they had learned to ignore the strange looks they got from the fact of the four of them being three boys in rebellious rocker boy garb and a girl in a baby pink hoodie, grey baggy shorts, hair shoved under a black snapback, and Nike sneakers.

"Way to go, Alexis!" Reggie cheered him on, fist in the air in celebration at his best friend winning yet again.

Alex blinked and felt his smile falter just a little, giving Reggie a fist bump. "Thanks, buddy."

Reggie took notice of her smile shrinking, though, and frowned a little, tilting his head. "Hey, you ok? Something bothering you?"

"What? No, I'm fine. Just-" Alex stopped to take a deep breath, shoving the anxiety building up in his stomach down. He knew his friends would be fine with such a small change, so why did the idea of asking this of them make him want to throw up the pizza they just ate? "I- Can you guys stop calling me Alexis? I don't like that name. I want to be called Alex." He admitted and bit his lip, bouncing on his heels.

"Oh, sure." Reggie shrugged like it was nothing.

"No problem, Alex." Luke agreed with a smile.

"Alex it is." Bobby nodded. "But is Lexi still ok?"

Alex considered it for a second and nodded with a smile. "Lexi is still ok, but thanks for asking first."

"Hey, we just want you to be comfortable, Alex." Bobby smiled and Alex chuckled, bumping shoulders with him. "Thanks, boys."

"Anything for you, Lexi." Reggie promised. "Besides, it would be weird of me to call you a name you don't like when I ask everyone to call me Reggie instead of Reginald. Just feels wrong." He said, scrunching up his face when he spoke his full name.

"Or Bobby instead of Robert." Bobby cringed.

"Or Luke instead of... Um, Lucy." Luke admitted and bit his lip, watching his best friend's reactions carefully.

"Luke fits you better." Alex told him, silently promising to keep his real name a secret from the rest of the world for all eternity, and he saw appreciation in Luke's eyes at that. So his best friend was both Christian and transgender (and maybe so was he). It didn't have to be a big deal. Luke was still Luke, and he would always be just Luke to Alex. He smiled, silently pointing his thumb at the game machine.

"I like Luke!" Reggie grinned, giving him a comforting pat on the back.

"Yeah, man. It sounds cool. Sounds like a rock star name." Bobby commented and Luke chuckled as he put another coin in the slot to play (and lose) again.

So it was settled. His boys called him Alex and Lexi and he called his boys Luke, Reggie and Bobby. It worked for them. It felt right.

He knew he couldn't just ask his parents to stop calling him the name they picked out that they loved so much, so he just didn't. And he definitely wasn't planning on ever telling them that he was pretty sure he was a boy like his best friends, not a girl like they had previously thought, because he'd heard the awful way his very conservative, very religious parents had talked about "disgusting queers and their sick desire to poison the youth and watch the world go up in flames".

So yeah, he was very much content with keeping it a secret until he turned eighteen and moved out so he could do whatever he wanted to, like cut his hair and legally change his name and get a whole new wardrobe that he didn't have to hide in the back of his closet behind pretty church dresses and ballet class tutus. Like his cool hoodies and pants and sneakers. He still loved the color pink. It was still his favorite. He was just a boy that liked pink. Not a girl. It didn't have to be a big deal.

And he did keep that secret, very well. For a while. Some punk kid at school told his parents and they told Alex's parents, who promptly threw a massive tantrum about having a daughter, not a son, and how they did not raise "Alexis" to be like this. How they were not going to raise a "queer" and Alex needed up to clean up "her" act or "she" could find another place to live because "she" could not stay there if "she" was going to be like that.

"And what if I like the way I am, dad? What if I like that I think I'm a boy, and like that I think I might like Luke?" Alex finally snapped and crossed his arms, and both of his parents were shocked into silence.

"Really, Alex?" Luke asked softly, uncharacteristically quiet for once. He looked up at Alex from the couch where the pair were previously finishing Math homework together, his eyes wide and hopeful.

Alex softened and gave Luke a little smile, nodding slightly. "Yeah, Luke."

"And Luke, how do you feel about our Alexis?" George sneered at Luke and sent him a bitter glare, almost daring the boy to challenge him, and Luke, well, he never said no to a dare or a challenge.

Luke pursed his lips at George and gave him a sickly sweet smile. "Well, I dunno who Alexis is, sir, but I do know that Alex is one of the coolest, smartest, most talented and amazing boys I've ever met." He answered, putting an emphasis on "Alex" and "boys" just to piss George off.

"Luke." Rebecca spoke up, fists clenched and eyes trained on Luke. "Say that again." She ordered slowly, as if asking him to speak again would change the words that came out of his mouth.

Luke scoffed, standing from the cough and dropping his text book to the floor. "I said, ma'am, that Alex is one of the cool, smartest, most talented and amazing boys I've ever met, and I like him, too." He smiled and took Alex's hand in his, giving it a comforting squeeze and smiling when Alex squeezed him right back.

"Get out of this house! Both of you!" George commanded, pointing toward the door.

"Bye!" Alex waved and walked out with Luke, as if this was something perfectly normal and fine, getting on his bicycle. "Let's head to Bobby's. Reggie's already there with him."

So now Alex was taking up residence in the Wilson garage. He guessed he really should've known they would find out some way or another. He wasn't openly telling people he was a boy named Alex, but he also was necessarily acting like the little ballerina princess people used to know as Alexis. No, now he was just that "girl" that always hid "her" hair under hats before just cutting it all off, and that "girl" that played the drums and hanged out in the arcade or played basketball with a bunch of guys.

Reggie came soon after, when his parents' fighting had just become too much for him to handle. Alex always felt bad and wished there was some way he could snap his fingers and magically have everything be fixed, but there was nothing he could do to help anyone. That didn't help his anxiety, either. The only thing that helped, was drumming. So he drummed, a lot.

The boys ended up forming a band that they called Sunset Curve. (Reggie came up with it. Reggie also designed their logo. Both things he was very proud of. And the boys loved it.) It took them a few years, Luke and Alex deciding they were better as friends, Luke moving into the garage, and some gigs at book clubs, but they were starting to get big. Big enough to play The Orpheum.

And then three of them ate some bad hot dogs.

Alex guessed the afterlife wasn't so terrible. Sure, he was dead and he couldn't eat pizza or Bobby's mom's famous meals anymore, but dying brought him and Luke and Reggie to Julie. With Julie came Ray, and Carlos, and Flynn. And sure, he couldn't actually talk to Ray or Carlos, but he could talk to Flynn with Julie's whiteboard or Julie relaying messages to them, so he had that.

And then came Willie.

Sweet, funny, handsome Willie that was nice to him, and answered his questions, and used the name Alex had asked him to. Sweet, funny, handsome Willie that showed him how to move objects by focusing his energy into his hands, and gave him a new coping mechanism for his anxiety. Sweet, funny, handsome Willie that liked to cause trouble with cops, and went by "they" and "them", which Alex would always respect, because he knew what it was like to be misgendered and he was never going to do that to his sweet Willie.

There was just one little thing bothering him on one random Saturday. He hadn't yet told Willie that he himself was trans. He was going to! He wasn't going to keep that a secret from someone sort of like him. He just hadn't gotten around to it yet, but now he would.

"Hey, Wills." He piped up as they were sat in a museum, shouting a little and talking through his stressor of the week.

"Yeah, Hot Dog?" Willie smiled, running their finger through Alex's soft blond locks.

"I'm trans. I'm a trans boy." Alex told him after a moment of hesitation, leaning into Willie's gentle hand.

Willie raised their eyebrows and their smile widened, scooting closer to Alex. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Ok."

"Willie?"

"Hmm?"

Alex blushed and chewed on his lip, taking a deep breath and looking Willie in the eye. "I really like you. A lot."

Willie gasped softly and felt their jaw drop as they looked at Alex, a soft smile forming on their face. "I like you, too, Lexi."

Alex smiled at the way the affectionate nickname sounded on Willie's lips, raising a hand to tuck Willie's hair behind their ear. "Then, can I kiss you?"

Willie let out a giggle and nodded, leaning in slowly. "Yes."

Alex leaned in the rest of the way and pressed his lips against Willie's, his hand grasping Willie's neck gently. He pulled away slowly after a while and bit his lip, still unable to hide the smile on his face. "That felt really good."

"Yeah." Willie agreed.

"Can I do it again?"

"God, yes." Willie nodded immediately. "Yes please, Lexi."

Alex giggled then and kissed Willie again, softer and slower this time.

So, yeah. Maybe the afterlife wasn't perfect, but it came pretty damn close if you asked Alex, so he wasn't going to complain.

[lu-undy]

(it is me, sad boi)

Prehaps Spy is coming home from work, it was absolutely horrid, people were mean to him, he got yeeted down the stairs. And he really wants to cry.

But good ol snipey steps in and lets him cry, but doesn't let him do anything bad to himself? 🥺

Here it is!

“Frenchie! You dishonored this entire unit!” Soldier exclaimed at his colleague as he entered the resupply room.

“Bloody hell, Spy, why didn’t you sap that sentry?” Demo opened a wide eye.

“Yeah, Spy, you useless, d’you - Argh?!”

A blade had flown to the wall an inch away from Scout’s eye, ending up planted on the wall of the resupply room.

The battles of the day had just ended in a loss and the mercenaries had regrouped in the respawn room. Spy ignored his colleagues and headed straight back to his quarters.

“Yeah, yeah, go back to your room and smoke your cigarettes till tomorrow!”

Sniper went to the blade and retrieved it from next to Scout’s head, taking the opportunity to tower the young man.

“What? What are you lookin’ at?” The Bostonian answered, looking up at his taller colleague.

The Aussie growled and took the blade in his pocket before turning away from Scout.

“Yeah, go back to your useless boyfriend! He didn’t do anythin’ right today and we lost cause of him - ARGH?!”

The kukri landed on the wall, where Spy’s blade was, and the door opened and closed again as the sound of Sniper’s heeled boots faded away.

There was a knock at the door with the knife symbol.

“Go to hell!”

“Spook.”

There was a second of silence.

“Spook, can I?”

Sniper didn’t hear Spy sigh and melt further down on his sofa, in front of the fireplace. He took the doorknob in his hand and slightly twisted it. He gently pushed the door and entered. 

“Spook? You left your door unlocked?” 

It was unusual enough to be mentioned. As Sniper entered, he locked it, for his and Spy’s peace of mind and came next to his lover. He removed his hat and aviators that he put on the coffee table and took a seat next to his lover. 

"Hey…" 

No answer from Spy and Sniper noticed the bottle of wine in his hand, the disheveled looks, the tie, half-undone and the lock of hair sticking out of his mask. 

"Luv'?" 

Spy took a deep breath and sighed. 

"Go away." 

"What? Spook-"

"Go. Away." 

Sniper sighed. 

"I'm not gonna let you get piss drunk on yer own." He took the bottle off of Spy's hand and took a generous gulp of it. "Oh, mate, that's a shite one." 

"It serves its purpose." 

"What?" 

"It makes the pain physical, that way it is much easier to heal." 

Spy was still not looking his lover in the eye and stared angrily at the dancing flames of the fireplace in front of him. He didn't feel their warmth.

"Here." Sniper passed him the bottle and it lasted for half an hour, maybe more. The bottle went from gloved hand to naked one, back and forth, until Sniper put it on the coffee table. There was still some wine left inside. 

"Spook?" 

"What?" 

"Don't listen to them. We lost as a team." 

Spy scoffed. 

"They are right. My inability to sap that sentry cost us the victory today. But what infuriates me is not that I did not succeed."

"What is it?" 

"The humiliation both from the enemy and my own team."

"What d'you mean?" 

"I have received more of the infamous jarate and mad milk today than in the past months combined." 

"Why?" 

"At first I thought it was a coincidence. But non. It turned out that the enemy Scout and Sniper had a bet going on, about who would cover me the most often in their atrocious fluids."

"Twisted bastards." 

"You use your jarate too." Spy said. 

"Yeah, but I don't just use it for humiliation. I get the job done with it, and move on."

"Hm. Oui. Maybe. In any case, I was sent in a spiral of endless respawns. Each time I got within a few metres of the sentry, they would find me out by throwing their glass jars or bottles at me, before their Pyro would burn me to death. I can still smell their filth on me." 

"Then let's go and take a shower." Sniper suggested.

"Non." 

"Right, you know what? Keep bein' grumpy, I'll make you take a shower." 

"What?!"

"C'mere." Sniper pulled his colleague out of the sofa and dragged him to his private bathroom. He turned the shower on and closed the door. 

"Sniper, this is ridiculous."

"You're bein' ridiculous too. Now, shush and let me do the right thing for you." Sniper undressed his lover and pulled the shower curtain open. "Come on, chop, chop." 

"Non."

"Spy, you're standin' here, naked and you'll catch a cold. Get in there, oh?" 

Spy bent forward until his head bumped Sniper's chest. He raised his hands and clung on to him. 

"I have been such a failure today." 

"No, what're you talkin' about? You weren't alone eh? Demo or Soldier could have taken the sentry out if Medic had popped on them. God knows what the nurse was up to. I was bullied relentless by the bastard in a suit."

"Am I… a bastard in a suit?"

"No. Not you. You're… You're everythin'." He laced his arms around the slim frame of the naked, sad Frenchie. 

"Mundy?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Don't let go of me." He asked, clinging to his work shirt, and the Aussie smiled, albeit sadly. 

"It's alright… I've got you…" 

"M-Mundy… I am tired… I am so, so tired…" He pushed his head deeper in his lover's chest. 

"I know, love, I know. But I'm here, eh? It's just one of those days."

"Stay with me, please, don't leave me." 

"I won't, I won't." Mundy slipped his hand in his lover's greasy hair and brushed the salt and pepper locks back. He bent his head down to drop his lips on his lover's forehead and Spy closed his eyes, arching his eyebrows up, pleadingly. "Look at you, you fragile thing… Get in the shower and wash yerself, you'll see, you'll feel better afterwards." 

"Non…" 

"C'mon, listen to me, now."

Spy opened his eyes and looked up at Sniper. 

"Come with me." 

"In the shower?" 

Spy nodded.

"I don't want to let go of you. Everything feels so… empty, without you." 

Mundy smiled. 

"Right, let me get out of my clothes."

"May I help?" 

"O'course." 

With four hands on his clothes, Mundy got out of his clothes very fast. As soon as he finished, Spy, or Lucien in the intimacy, latched onto him. 

"Hey, now… Are you alright?" 

The Frenchman nodded, his head still against his chest. Mundy pulled him under the shower head and closed the shower curtain. 

"Here we go. Now, which one's your fancy shampoo again…?" He asked, looking at the bottles. 

Lucien just enjoyed the hot water trickling down his head and his lover's body. He felt Mundy's fingers work in his hair and soon, the foam came to his ears, deafening him. He closed his eyes and waited for a while. Mundy was washing his own hair and then, he pulled his lover under the water again and rinsed it all away from him. Next came the shower gel. 

"Love, I gotta unstick you, hold on."

"Non…!" Lucien held his lover harder, digging his fingers behind his back. Mundy chuckled. He loved Lucien as much as he did Spy. The only difference was that Spy would hide Lucien's sensitivity and softness under a thick mask of arrogance and cold-bloodedness. But Mundy knew it, the Frenchman would show his vulnerable side only to him, and he loved that.

"Please, sweet thing, I promise I won't be long."

"Make it quick." 

Mundy spread the shower gel on his lover and Lucien mirrored him on his tall lover. In the end, Mundy took a bit of foam on the tip of his index finger and tapped the tip of Lucien's nose with it. The Frenchman pulled his nose back and his eyes crossed on the foam hanging there, making Mundy laugh. 

"You look like a clueless kitten." 

Lucien grimaced and Mundy pulled his chin with one hand before kissing his lips. When he withdrew, Lucien pushed himself to the tip of his toes for more. 

The shower and the entire bathroom were in a thick fog of steam. 

"Right, let's get out now, yeah?" 

"Non." 

Mundy stopped the water running. 

"You gonna say 'non' to everythin' I say?" 

"Oui."

"At least, that one is a 'oui'." 

They stepped out of the shower and dried themselves off before heading to Spy's bedroom. 

"Here, that's your fancy pyjamas…" Mundy threw a shirt and a pair of trousers to his lover. "And that's my boxer shorts." He slipped them on.

Lucien joined him in bed and curled in his arms. The Aussie wrapped his arms around him and let his fingers lazily brush the Frenchman's silky, wet hair. 

"You feel better?" 

"Oui. Merci." 

"There we go, then. Forget about everythin', I'm here with you." Mundy adjusted the blanket around them both. 

"I… I felt terrible about myself."

"I know." 

"But somehow you manage to pull me out of these fits of… of powerful distress." 

"You're bein' dramatic."

"I am being in love." Lucien shut his eyes.

"Pfff, c'mere…" Mundy chuckled and left a kiss on his lover's brow before rolling to his back, Lucien lying on top of him. 

"Mundy?" 

"Yes, Lu'?" 

Lucien raised his head and looked down at his lover with a smile. 

"Thank you." 

"No worries."

"Non, really, I am in your debt." 

"You're bein' dramatic again, luv'." Mundy tapped the tip of his lover's nose with a grin. 

"I cannot help it."

"I know, I love you for that, and the rest." 

Lucien bent to push his lips on Mundy's and they melted in a nap, the Aussie's arms around his lover, while Lucien nuzzled in the hollow of his neck.

[abreathofthewild]

a touch of magic

Prompt: This TikTok

Tagline: Sometimes all you need in life is a touch of magic.

Summary: A Halloween in the life of Thor and Reader and their family.

Warnings: this fluff will rot your teeth.

Wordcount: 1664

Notes: I am so excited to be posting this! I was inspired by the above-mentioned TikTok and after deliberating which character I wanted to write this for, Thor felt like the most appropriate choice. This piece is self-indulgent fluff, friends. I hope y'all enjoy and that you get to have a safe and fun Halloween! ALSO: IMAGE IS NOT MINE I FOUND IT WITH NO EXTERNAL LINK ON PINTEREST.

It’s Halloween. You had chosen something simple for your costume: a long black dress with gauzy black sleeves that puffed a little at the shoulders and were cuffed at the wrist. A black witch’s hat with a large swooping brim sat smartly on your head. Typically, you went all out but this year you really wanted your kids’ costumes to shine. It had taken you six months in between the creative writing courses you taught to sew Darcy’s Belle gown and half of that time to put together Cole’s knight armor. You could hear them clambering down the stairs now shrieking with laughter.

“Mm, I love that dress on you,” a deep voice said behind you. You applied your red lipstick as the final touch, smirking at Thor’s reflection in the mirror. His massive frame took up the doorway as he leaned against it, giving you an affectionately approving once-over. You turned and sauntered over to him, taking in the picture of your husband standing there. Even after all this time, there were moments where his words still made you shiver. He matched your movements, stepping further into the room and into your space as your arms wrapped around his neck.

“Do you, now?” You stood on your tiptoes to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Maybe that’s why I wore it.” Another kiss on his lips. He leaned into you, smiling as he returned the kiss. “You don’t look so bad yourself, my wolfman.” It seemed only natural with his tousled golden hair and beard that he would recycle one of his favorite costumes and step out in the neighborhood as a werewolf. He wore a red and black flannel over a white shirt that he had cut in three spots with long slashes. His jeans were purposefully torn in a couple of places and instead of applying any product to his hair he had ruffled it and left it a bit unkempt. The best part in your opinion, however, was the fangs. “Love when you wear those,” you murmured, running your tongue along the fake teeth.

It didn’t take long for him to move you until the backs of your knees hit your bed. “Wish we didn’t have to go anywhere tonight,” he whispered, giving you a soft nip at the neck. A small gasp escaped your mouth as your gripped at him tighter. “Maybe we could get a babysitter,” he said as he kissed from your neck down the v of your dress. You could feel the familiar heat creep along your cheeks and flutter in your belly.

“Mommy! Daddy! Cole pushed me!” Darcy was exclaiming her frustration at the bottom of the stairs. Even from here, you could hear her stamping her little feet.

“Did not!” Cole chimed in with the vehemence characteristic of a seven-year-old trying to not get into trouble for bullying his six-year-old sister. You let out an exasperated laugh as Thor groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder. You sidled under his arm and grabbed his hand, dragging him along.

“It sounds very tempting hon’ but you know how much the kids have been looking forward to this year. Plus, they’d miss us. Plus,” you whispered as you pulled him in to rub the red smudges from his cheek and lips “I already got us a babysitter for tomorrow night.” You let go of his hand and gave one glance behind you, trying not to let your feet falter at the look in his eyes. He followed close behind.

The scene downstairs wasn’t so great as the one you had just left. Darcy had started crying and Cole looked a little like he had been caught doing something wrong. You went to her but she shook her head saying in between tears “I want Daddy.” You motioned to her as Thor came down the stairs.

“Of course. He’s right there. I’ll talk to Cole for you instead, okay darlin’?” She nodded, her eyes puffy and red. Her bottom lip stuck out and was still quivering when Thor knelt in front of her, wiping the tears from her cheeks and adjusting the laces on her dress sleeves. Even upset she was the prettiest little girl you had ever seen (you were biased), especially with the soft yellow of the ballgown she wore. Cole on the other hand looked quite miserable, his armor sticking out at odd angles because his arms were crossed. You took his hand and walked him a few feet away into the living room and sat on the couch so you were at eye level. “Cole, did you push your sister?” He didn’t quite look you in the eye.

“Yes,” he mumbled. You pursed your lips and gave him a disappointed glance, waiting for him to continue. “She told me my costume was stupid,” he finished quietly. You put your index finger under his chin and gently turned his face so he was looking at you.

“Do you like your costume?” He nodded, tears forming in his crystal blue eyes. So like his father. “Well, then that’s all that matters. I know your sister hurt your feelings but that was no reason to push her. She’s allowed to not like your costume but she definitely needs to use better words. Can you think what you could have done differently?” A begrudging and wavery sigh escaped the little boy in front of you.

“I could have used my words too. I could have told her that hurt my feelings.” You gave him a beaming smile.

“Exactly. Next time, let’s work on using your words, okay? And if you need help, you can always ask Daddy or me. Now, I’m going to wave the magic wand and when I do, I want you to try really hard not to smile. You can’t smile, all right?” You tried to hide your own as you already saw the hints of one teasing at the corner of his mouth. It was an old trick your mother had used on you whenever you were unreasonably cross as a child or needed cheering up. She would tell you not to smile as she waved “the magic wand” which was really just her hand. Of course, the act of telling you not to smile alone would bring one immediately to your face. Sure enough, as you did the same to your little boy, a grin had sprung from ear to ear across his features. “There’s my beautiful boy. I need you to do one last thing for me. Can you apologize to Darcy? We want to have so much fun tonight!”

Cole bounded away with such enthusiasm you would have never known he had quarreled with his sister moments before. You followed behind him, grabbing your coat and his from the hooks by the front door. He was already standing in front of his sister and as Thor stood, he wrapped her up as best he could in his clanky armored arms.

“I’m sorry I pushed you, Darcy.” You watched with a knowing smile as she hugged her brother back. Her little voice piped up as you caught Thor’s eye, guessing he had had a similar talk with your daughter.

“I’m sorry I called your costume stupid.” He looked at you as the siblings slipped on their shoes, now chattering happily about the candy they were going to collect. You handed Cole his jacket to put on and stepped back as Thor wrapped an arm around your waist. You glanced up at him, once again taken aback by how blue his eyes were. The small crinkles of the skin there looked a little more pronounced but you knew it was from smiles and laughter. His hair had started silvering just a little around the sides, no longer the burnished gold of his youth. You brought his hand from your waist to your shoulder, kissing it tenderly. Even his hands now held some looks of a man who was still young but had worked long and hard.

He turned you towards him and you couldn’t help but allow yourself to drown in his gaze. It was tender and after all these years still full of promise. You felt something trip across the connection you shared. A hand to his heart told you it still beat for you, still thundered under your fingertips. The flame that had once burned bright hot when you first met had now turned to a steady glowing ember. One that would last a very long time.

“What?” He questioned you with a lazy grin. You just shook your head in a bit of disbelief.

“I’m just very, very happy,” you whispered. “I can’t believe you, all this, is mine to keep as long as I live.” He looked at you for a moment, stunned into silence. You could see the gears turning in his head as he thought of words to answer you, instead settling on leaning in for yet another kiss.

“As long as we live, I’m yours and you are mine.” Nothing else mattered. It was you and him and the kids. Your family. Your family. To love and cherish and nurture. He stepped back and boomed “Who wants to go trick-or-treating?” The rumbling of their father’s voice brought Cole and Darcy to ecstatic attention as they bounced in their places by the front door. They both yelled “Me! Me!” as Thor opened the front door letting them run past its threshold and ushering you next to him as he locked it. “As long as we live,” he repeated and you nodded, grabbing his hand as you turned onto the sidewalk.

Leaves danced across the pavement in flaming reds and oranges and yellow. The kids trotted on ahead, screaming in delight as they caught up with neighborhood friends. The air smelled like cinnamon and promises. Promises that the two of you would always keep. And you were safe. And you were happy. And you were alive.

[theninjamouse]

Ocean on Fire Phantom of the Opera AU Master List (To be added to as I see fit)

Strap in, this is gonna get long. Big thanks to @thaylepo for indulging me and sending many brilliant ideas. 

This is a basic rundown and ideas that would happen at some point in the story. Obviously some things could change or be added but I’ve just got to get this down before I go nuts

Shore and Grillby were childhood friends.

Shore is the child of a wealthy business man, taught from childhood that the arts are to be treasured and appreciated

However, while she may learn instruments and dance and music, she is to take over the family business, not run away to star in the opera like she wants

Grillby's father (he has parents in this au) was a famous violinist who often was called by Shore's father to perform for parties. He wound up teaching Shore fundamentals of music

Little Grillby was a shy flame. Always trailed along behind his father, clutching his tailcoats

Shore saw the tiny elemental and decided instantly: I'm going to be his BEST FRIEND

Queue stuttering, hesitant Grillby being dragged around the manor, getting into all sorts of trouble and adventures. He's a lot more hardy than Shore is, so he rather often found himself acting as a sort of guard dog. He was utterly distraught when Shore fell and broke her arm. Shore teased him about crying because she couldn’t stand to see him so upset

They also learn music together from Grillby's father. First time Shore hears Grillby sing, she grabs his face and screams with delight until the poor little guy is fully bright blue with blushing

Then Grillby's father dies. A family friend takes Grillby away to one of the opera houses to work. Grillby and Shore are 13 and 10 at this point and have spent the last 6 years together. Shore makes Grillby promise to keep singing, to keep the spark of his father alive through music. He promises

They both wait until they are out of sight of the other to cry

Grillby cries every night for the first 3 months in the opera house. As a monster, he is bullied by many of the other students. He mourns his father's passing and he misses Shore to a near unbearable level. The only comfort he has is when he sings quietly to himself in those few moments when he is alone doing his chores

Then he hears a voice, a soft and gentle voice that asks him why such a bright flame weeps. He runs away in fear and hides in his bed

But the voice asks him again and again. 'Why does such a bright flame weep?' Slowly, over the course of a year, Grillby tells the voice his story

The voice says he is the Phantom of the opera house. Grillby thinks he sounds rather young to be a Phantom

The Phantom replies that Grillby is rather young to have such a lovely voice. He offers to teach Grillby. The fire monster agrees upon hearing the Phantom's beautiful and haunting voice

After all, he did promise

15 years pass. Shore has taken over her family business and is finally able to offer herself as a patron to an opera house that has shown remarkable growth over the years, becoming well known in the arts circles

Partially thanks to the star of the show, a humanoid robot named Mettaton. Most of the monsters we know work the show behind the scenes, so having a monster in the lead is a new leap in gaining treatment that is more fair for monster kind as performers

But Mettaton is also a diva. The day Shore arrives with new managers, he throws his tantrum and quits after a rather suspicious accident.

Shore only has eyes for the fire elemental standing frozen with the rest of the crew. She suggests letting him take the lead role. Promising that she knows he can sing.

Grillby is so quiet most assumed he couldn't even talk so naturally protests break out and Shore maybe uses her power as a patron to insist. 'He promised me,' is all she says, looking right at him

So he sings and everyone is stunned at the strength and grace of his voice. The managers instantly whisk him away to prepare for the show

After the show, Shore goes to his new dressing room and they fall into each other's arms. They speak of times past, of the loneliness of being apart. But when Shore says that she wants to take him out to celebrate, he hesitates. The Phantom will not be happy if he leaves, he knows this

But he agrees and she leaves to let him change

Enter in The Phantom. Showing himself for the first time, a figure in black wearing a simple white mask over his face. White hands punched through the palms. Grillby is enchanted, dazed and follows The Phantom into the tunnels under the opera house

*Music of the Night noises*

Grillby has a bit of a Crisis because he genuinely cares about Phantom and they became very close friends as much as teacher and student but this is kind of odd?? A little frightening?

Phantom sees this, backpedals real hard but hides it and sends Grillby back upstairs before falling into bed and screaming into his pillow

When Shore finds Grillby vaguely wandering back into the theater, she goes, uh??? What happened?? Were you kidnapped? I kind of stayed up all night looking for you??

Grillby, still a little in shock because what the heck just happened "Kind of?"

Now that won't STAND

Shore starts digging to find out everything she can about this opera ghost, keeping a close eye on Grillby. There is no gaslighting here folks like in versions of the story that to this day drive me crazy

As Shore digs, accidents start happening. Loose floorboards, unlatched equipment, a falling sandbag or two. Shore catches on pretty quickly what’s happening when she catches just a flash of shadow more than once right before or after these little ‘incidents’ 

Finally plants herself down in the middle of the stage and calls for the Phantom to show his face. It takes a while then she sees a shadow just barely move. He’s up in the rafters, crouched like some kind of bat

“What is your freaking deal?” 

“Why are you trying to take what’s mine?” 

“Yours? He belongs to himself you dingbat”

That makes him laugh for reasons Shore doesn’t get

Conversation happens, a lot of dodging questions, shifting blame. Phantom is oddly charming. For being an attempted murdering/kidnapping jerk

“Are you the one who keeps trying to kill me? The sandbag dropped on my head, the broken trapdoor, the spiders in my hat??”

“Oh my God, I’m not responsible for every little thing that goes wrong in this place. It’s an old building, accidents do happen. 

“The sandbag was me though.”

Grillby materializes just to smack him in the head for that

And so it goes, Grillby and Shore trying to reconnect, Grillby trying to maintain a level of friendship (and maybe more?) with Phantom and Phantom attempting various levels of accidents to get Shore to leave the theater

Until one day he finds Shore on the stage. She’s singing to an empty theater. She’s not...good exactly but...rather unpracticed. He’s startled enough that he stops his evil giggling and untwisting of the hidden trapdoor in the stage to listen. 

He comes up silently, creeping on the edges just out of sight. When he speaks, Shore shrieks and nearly falls off the stage anyway. Her blushing does a weird thing to his Soul. Like a sort of flip flopping squeeze. 

“Well, if you’re going to think yourself worthy of my Flame, you’d better have a voice to match. Let me hear you sing again.”  

Many ‘threat’ filled lessons later-

“Hmm. Maybe there’s hope for you after all” 

“Maybe there’s more to you than a creepy stalker personality.” 

Past the Point of No Return scene happens at some point. I don’t make the rules

Also Phantom and Shore have a sword fight that maybe starts out as anger fueled but rather quickly changes to a pent up Feelings kind of deal

Grillby’s concern is quick to fade and he watches the two idiots dance around each other, wondering why exactly they don’t see how much they actually do like each other. 

It’s also at this moment he realizes fully that he loves them both

“Well shoot, I love these two morons and they love each other but won’t admit it. This is going to be very ‘fun’ to sort out”

Eventually, Shore asks for Phantom’s name. 

“My name...died with the person I was long ago.” 

“Maybe it’s time you reclaim it.” 

His name is Wing Dings Gaster and for countless years he was held by the Void. He doesn’t fully remember how he escaped, nor what he looked like before. All he knows is that his face is broken with terrible cracks and skeletal in only the vaguest sense with a body that ebbs and flows with darkness. When he first stumbled back into the light after the darkness of the Void, people screamed and ran from him. Or worse, they chased him, calling him an omen of death. So he retreated down below the theater and resigned himself to always be a watcher and made a mask to cover his face. 

He was alone for years until he heard young Grillby crying in a corner and sat as close as he dared. It took a while for him to gain the courage to speak to the elemental

Given the fluid nature of his body, it’s easy for him to change his voice to sing. It’s the only part of himself that he can see as holding any worth. 

Grillby was his only source of socialization and he’s terrified of losing him, which makes Phantom a tad bit clingy with some pretty severe separation anxiety 

Phantom is a sad, sad boy who needs a lot of hugs and therapy

Shore is kind to him despite it all (and despite the irritation at the ‘death threats’) 

Phantom finally admits that she was never in any actual danger because he might be a messed up guy but he’s not a murderer. He might have even nudged her out of the way with blue magic a few times to make sure she wasn’t hurt.

Eventually Phantom realizes he no longer wants her to leave. He wants to stand with her and Grillby. He wants to be a better monster but he doesn’t know how to do that so kind of retreats into his lair 

Grillby and Shore have to track him down. And queue the heart to heart, the great Crying Session, the Unmasking or whatever you wanna call it

And they all live an OT3 happy ending, the end

[pamgkrthwrites]

Flame of Healing | EraserMic x Reader | Chapter Two - Too Close

Masterlist | AO3

Warning: Soulmate AU, little bit of Oboro x Reader, fem reader, ANGST. 

Word Count: 2012

A/N: Reader is on the fence on if will date her soulmates. This be a major point in the story so, hold onto your hats. I’ve tried writing reader in a way so you can’t tell their race. Idk if these chapters will be daily, just been needing to write some comfort shit. WE WILL GET THERE I PROMISE. Kinda slow burn? maybe lol.

“Hey Y/N!” You heard a voice behind you.

You turned and saw your blue hair friend running towards you with a bright smile on his face.

“Oboro, how you doing buddy?” You smiled as he slowed down to stop next to you.

It had been months science the sports festival, and the next UA school festival was in a weeks time. You may have not changed your stance on not loving them, but you did change your stance on meeting them. You were going to choose your love, not a name on your wrist.

“Have you picked out what you are going to wear?” He asked as he caught his breath. 

“Yes Oboro, I have.” You smiled. 

Your friend was trying his hardest on his end to become friends with your soulmates. So far he only befriended Hizashi, or was at least on speaking terms. Apparently Hizashi was friendly to everyone, which made you giggle as you hugged your pillow at night.

“It’s in your favourite colour yes?” He asked, straightening up and looking at you deeply.

“Yes, it is.” You laughed. “And it doesn’t really matter. It feels rude to come in all fancy to meet your soulmate only to reject said soulmate. I’m just meeting them.”

“Which is very important!” He smiled all goofy.

You smiled, and you two walked home together.

Oboro rubbed the back of his neck. “Once Aizawa finds out about you being his soulmate he’ll probably get real nasty if he sees me walking you home.”

Apparently Shouta got angry at Oboro for addressing him with his first name. He only did so because of you but Shouta was seeing it as rude.

“Is he that way with Hizashi?” You asked. You loved asking about the two. It filled up your heart with a soft warmness.

“Yeah, some girl in the support class confessed her feelings to Hizashi.” Oboro stated. You felt your heart freeze. It wasn’t unheard of for people to fall for someone who wasn’t their soulmate, it just ends badly when the soulmate turned up or if the other had one. “Hizashi was cool about it and said he already found his soulmate. Though, he did check if she was you.”

That warmed your heart but also fill you with dread. He thought about you sure, but he was looking for you. 

“Aizawa cracked the shits once he found out. He went off to go find her but Hizashi stopped him. Apparently she tried to play off she was you but she didn’t have the same name.”

“It’s kinda funny people are claiming to be their soulmate yet your the only person who knows.” You laughed.

His laughed followed. His laugh always filled your heart with warmness. Not the same as your soulmates did, but in a different way. 

“I do worry though,” Oboro said. “I think they have started their relationship and I don’t want your fear of being the third wheel to become true.”

It wasn’t something you could ignore anymore. The fear that your soulmates were happy together and may fear what you’ll do to that. 

“That’s why I’m going simply-casual. Once they figure out who I am, they will just see someone they can see casually or romantically if need be.”

“So you are willing to date them.” He smirked at you.

“In the future. Right now it is I don’t see myself dating them. I do love them in a way but I can’t see myself dating them anytime soon.”

Oboro always had a sad soft expression when he heard you say that. Oboro took your hands and looked you in eyes. You felt your heart pounding as you looked up at him.

“Y/N, you have so much love to give.” He smiled sweetly. “Even if you choose not to love them, you are going to show so much love to someone else, and they will fully love you.”

Your heart raced and your cheeks burned. You were suddenly aware of how close you two were and you stared at his lips. You realised how close you were and you wanted to be closer. You didn’t understand this feeling, it was similar but not the same to when you saw or heard about your soulmates.

“Oboro!” A funky sounding voice said behind you two.

You both broke eye contact to see who was speaking, and your heart dropped.

“Hizashi?” Oboro said in a confused voice as he let go of your hands. 

“Hey there buddy.” Hizashi smiled and stopped in front of you two. “Is that your girlfriend?”

Your cheeks burned and Oboro had a noticeable redness to his ears and cheeks.

“NO! No, she is my friend!” Oboro smiled as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and brought you in.

You couldn’t stop staring at Hizashi. Dear god your soulmate almost watched you kiss someone else-

Oh god, you almost kissed Oboro.

You two became quiet, almost as though you both understood what almost happened. 

“Well, she is a cutie!” Hizashi said. However, his voice sounded strained, as though he was holding back anger. “What’s your name?”

You looked into Hizashi’s glasses, and briefly saw the anger in his eyes. Did he know you were his soulmate? Did he understand what he walked in on? Did he hate you?

You couldn’t make a sound, all you could do was lower your head and shuffle to hide behind Oboro. 

Oboro looked at you briefly before looking at Hizashi and smiled. “Sorry, she is rather shy. I’m taking her to the School Festival next week though. Maybe you two can chat then?”

Hizashi simply smiled, but with anger behind it. “That’s cool. Does her soulmate know your with her?”

Panic burst into your body. 

Did he know? 

Did his heart beat fast when looking at you like you did?

Would he stay angry at you?

What if he never loved you because of this.

You heard Oboro take a breath in to answer to you cut him off.

“I don’t actually have a soulmate.” You stated.

Oboro snapped his head around to you and Hizashi’s smiled turned into a frown.

“Really?” Hizashi asked. His voice sounded like a mix of shock and sadness. 

You pulled out your wrists which had their names covered with makeup. Of course, he wouldn’t know that Oboro did though.

“...I see…” Hizashi’s voice sounded defected. “Sorry ‘bout that Listener, I must’ve been jelly over your closeness with my pal here!”

Oboro looked at you then back at Hizashi. “It’s alright Huzashi, see you tomorrow?”

“...Yeah, sure I will!” Hizashi forced a smiled and walked off. 

Once he was out of ear and eyeshot, Oboro turned to you and whispered. 

“...Y/N, why did you lie to him like that?” He asked.

“He was scary!” You looked at him. “What else was I suppose to do? Say ‘Yes hello I am your soulmate and almost kissed your’-”

Oboro covered your mouth with his hand. His cheeks were burning red. 

“Y/N, we are never talking about that again.” He glared.

You grabbed his hand and pulled it away from your face. “If you are going to say I’m confused, don’t. Who said I had to love my soulmates anyway? There isn’t a law against it!”

Oboro took his hand away from you. You both glared at each other.

“Y/N, I’m sorry but I can’t be your rebound off of your soulmates.”

It felt like you were stung by a bee. 

Did you love Oboro? You didn’t know. You were close to him sure, but were you that close?

“I’ll see you later, Y/N.” You said before he turned away and walked on without you.

You wanted to cry.

---

Shouta was doing his homework when Hizashi started spamming him, trying to call him.

He sighed and picked up. “‘Zashi this better be importan-”

He heard sniffle on the other end. “I thought I saw her, Shou!”

Shouta’s heart dropped. Ever since Hizashi and Shouta met each other first day, they had wondered if you ould pop up soon. They checked the names of the students in the other classes and years and couldn’t find it. 

Shouta had been bullied for years for having two names, but once he met Hizashi, his life became a little less dark. His parents were happy that he found one of his soulmates, but his world didn’t feel whole without you.

He never had anyone been really interested in any of his soulmates names until that one time in the changing rooms where Shirakumo saw it. 

“Whoa, you have two names?” He smiled as he looked at his wrists.

Oboro Shirakumo was soulless, which meant he didn’t have a soulmate. Maybe he wouldn’t judge like everyone else did. 

He smiled brightly when he saw Hizashi’s name, but when it came to your name, he stopped. 

“Y/N L/N?” 

He never heard anyone but himself and Hizashi pronounce your last name correctly. He went to extreme measures to saw it correctly so he wouldn’t offend you, and he was proud of that. Shirakumo knowing how to say it and how he reacted, only said one thing to him. 

He knew you, personally.

Shouta wished he could be happy about that, that he could use Oboro to meet you, but all he felt was anger for the cloud boy.

He started to hate him and avoided him all he could. He, of course, told Hizashi, who took it as becoming friends with Oboro to use him to meet you. 

Hizashi spoke, breaking Shouta’s thoughts. “There was this cutie girl who was holding Oboro’s hands, pretty sure they almost kissed. But looking at her, made me heart thump so hard man!  But when I saw the bigger picture, my body grew angry!”

Shouta grew angry just hearing about it. Was that why Oboro reacted the way he did when he saw your name on his left wrist? Because he was dating you?

Hizashi continued. “So I walked my butt up to them. They both reacted like I walked in on a soulmate cheating yo! I tried asking for her name but she refused to give it up!”

Shouta only grew angry. He wanted to snap Oboro’s head. If that girl was their soulmate, he was holding her back from her true love for some fake shit!

“So I asked if her soulmate knew she was there, ya’know, t-to see if she was yours, ya’know?” Hizashi started stuttering as he started to cry. 

Shouta sat there, hearing his soulmate cry over the phone. He couldn’t do anything, he felt his heart was going to break from anger.

“She said she doesn’t have a soulmate.”

Lying bitch.

You were going to make this hard, weren’t you?

What did that cloud fucker do to you?

What could some soulless fucker have that was better than meeting your soulmates?!

“She brought out her wrists willingly to prove she doesn’t have one.”

…

Shouta’s heart dropped.

So… That wasn’t you…

He felt his eyes water and he hunched over his desk.

God that wasn’t you.

He was about to murder Oboro because of a misunderstanding. 

He was weak. 

So fucking weak.

Shouta looked at his right wrists to look at your name.

“We’ll find her one day, ‘Zashi.” Shouta said, as strongly as he could.

---

Oboro and you walked to the UA school festival early in the morning. You too hadn’t really talked since the almost kissed thing.

“So, you’re not going to confess to lying to them?” He asked.

“To Hizashi, yes. Just call me M/N when we are there.”

“Why M/N?” He asked, raising an eye brow.

“It’s my middle name. If they hear that and my last name, they may think I’m my cousin or something. It will keep them at a distance.”

“...If you say so.” He said as he put his hands into his jacket pockets.

You wore a hoodie in your favourite colour and jeans. Casual. 

Nothing that would provoke romantic feelings from your soulmates.