#he's had enough of strange owls recently

[demetrius-haggarty]

Dearest cutest Demetrius Meech!

Hello!

I am so sorry disturb you, I won't bother long. I am sure you have a lot to do. Lots of things that are far more important than answering such a simple, unimportant letter as this one. I like how your hair smells. What I wanted to ask you - and you can choose to ignore this question (pleasedon'tignoreitIamsosorry), erm, is it true, and again, I am so sorry if this question is too private, that the male Gryffindor students like you, you strong strong lion, don't have a bathroom? Anyway! Who really needs to know, right? Certainly not me. Maybe, yes. You look great, my dearest Meech! I love your goggles!

Okay! ADIEU!

Cindy Haggarty Clawford

Cindy,

In short, of course we have bathrooms. As for the rest of your letter, I am a little confused. Why did you phrase it in such a way? If there is anything else on your mind that you want to ask, then please ask.

Demetrius Haggarty

*Meech once again remembers Theodora's advice about unwanted advances. He is too nonconfrontational. The Gryffindor sighs and adds the following:*

P.S. Please, refrain from smelling my hair in the future or maybe rewrite your letter on a clear parchment in the future? I can read what you crossed out. It makes me uncomfortable confused scared uncomfortable.

*In his true Meech fashion, Meech doesn't want to waste another parchment just for the words he crossed out at the very end. Instead, he dips the tip of his finger into the ink bottle and properly covers up his writing where needed. Unlike how Cindy did it.*

[caffedrine]

Matias Asbrink - I fell in love with you that day – Choose your true love - Event Summary

This is mostly a summary for me - I make no promises on the accuracy of what’s happening. I’m not nearly fluent enough to get half the jokes/innuendo much less accurate plot points.

One morning, Emma woke up to find herself in a strange room. She looks around in a panic before her memory comes back. She is in a guest room in the Achroite castle. 

(That or a very nice ski lodge)

Her memory comes back to her - she was eating dinner with her new friend, Prince Matias, but it had grown late so he had let her stay in one of the castle’s guest rooms. 

Well, Emma isn’t a bad guest. She should get up, get ready, thank Matias for his hospitality, and leave. 

She hears the sound of knocking on her door, and then Matias’ voice calls out asking if she is awake yet. 

Emma calls back she is and opens the door to Matias. He’s as impeccably dressed as always, without a single hair out of place. He smiles at her and asks if she slept well last night.

Oh, Emma did. A little too well, she just got up and hasn’t fixed her hair yet. She apologizes for being so unkempt.

Matias assures her that she’s just fine, if anything, she’s cute in a new way like this. She reminds him of little snow fairies playing in the powder snow.

But that aside, they have something serious to talk about. You see, Emma broke the rules last night.

Huh?

Emma recounts last night - she doesn’t recall doing anything wrong, but maybe these are some of the laws that defy her common sense. Suddenly all she can see is the cold expression on Matias’s face as he condemns criminals to jail. Her heart beats in her ears as her veins turn to ice.

Matias is usually very kind and gentle, but he acts the complete opposite towards criminals. Even though they are friends, Emma doubts he will show her any mercy. 

Ominously, Matias tells her to accept her punishment, and Emma nods, closing her eyes.

. . . !?!!!!

What kind of punishment is this? Emma’s eyes snap open to see Matias’ face, his eyes sparkling sweetly right in front of her. Her forehead, where he kissed her, feels sensitive. 

As she stands there in shock, Matias caresses her cheek. He reminds her about their ‘lovey-dovey’ rules, which state if they have a day off the following day, Emma spends the night in his bed. He asks why she didn’t come to him last night - she especially loves cocooning up in his blankets. Up to now, she has always praised his owl embroidery. 

Or was she so excited for the punishment that she was teasing him? Don’t worry, he’ll kiss her as much as she wants. 

(All day, any day)

Is Emma still asleep? Is this some bizarre dream to taunt her?

Matias has noticed by now that Emma hasn’t responded to him in a while. He says her name sweetly as if prompting her. Then his face comes close for another kiss. 

Emma shrieks and asks Matias what he thinks he’s doing. Confused, Matias admits to trying to kiss her again - oh, could it be that she’s not in the mood for kisses?

Emma asks why in the world should he kiss her? Did he work too much as is still tired?

Matias looks upset, shouldn’t they want to kiss each other? Isn’t this normal for them?

Well, no! Emma reminds Matias that they are just friends!

. . . Friends?

Matias mutters to himself to calm down, no matter what is going on he just needs to stay calm. Looking up at Emma pleadingly, he asks if this means she’s dumping him and they’re no longer lovers.

(Will his imaginary ex-wife take him back?)

What?

Matias asks why she looks surprised. She was there too, through their tumultuous breathless times, and enough hardships to freeze one’s heart. Has Emma already forgotten the happiness they found, bursting through the snow like daisies?

Emma looks at Matias, at his ardent expression and grows concerned. He’s always been one to march to a beat of his own tune, but even for him, he’s acting strange. 

Emma apologizes, she doesn’t remember anything. She’s only met Matias recently, nothing like what he’s describing has happened. 

Matias looks upset, then he looks like he’s come up with something. Did Emma say that had just recently met? But from his point of view, they have been together for a while now, and while it’s still early, they are in their honeymoon phase.

He’s had a daydream like this before. He was wondering what would happen if he went backward in time and met an earlier version of Emma.

Oh my gosh, he daydreamed so hard that he made it his new reality!

Emma considers that, if you ignore all the delusional daydream wording, Matias is essentially saying he’s from the future. It’s too unbelievable- but on the other hand, the Matias she knows does not play practical jokes like this. So, maybe this is real.

Matias asks if this means that he and Emma are not lovers, does that at least make them friends? Oh, so all those plans he had for today . . .

Matias hangs his head, depressed. Emma tries to peer into Matias’ face, but he simply looks gloomy. She tentatively asks what were his plans today.

Well, he was planning on going on a date with her. He had made plans and arrangements for all their activities, but now . . .

As if for proof, Matias pulls out a sheet of paper from his breast pocket. 

Emma reads the small, neat lettering, her eyes going wide. He’s put a lot of effort into today.

If it means so much to him, Emma is willing to go on a friendship date. She has the day off from work and nothing in particular planned. 

Matias perks up and asks if she’s sure. Emma nearly flinches from the sex appeal centered on her and nods in response. Of course, she will, just as long as Matias keeps it friendly, unlike before.

Matias can agree to that. When in Rome and all. They are friends at this time, so he won’t go beyond that boundary. Emma nods, even if this is future Matias - he’s still fundamentally the same person she became friends with.

After she finished getting ready, Matias’ first stop is the Achroite Royal Academy—specifically its library. 

The sight of tall bookshelves reaching up to the vaulted ceiling full of books lifted Emma’s heart. In comparison, Rhodolite’s library was small and simple. Emma looks all around, almost spinning in place and Matias laughs. He explains that he didn’t realize it was her first time coming here, and he’s delighted that she’s so pleasantly surprised. 

With a sweet gaze directed towards her, Matias guides her around the library. He explains that the Royal Academy hosts royals and aristocrats from all over the continent, allowing the librarians to purchase books freely. Achroite needs to be unbiased in their knowledge.

Most of the books are academic and law-related, but they boast a wide selection of other genres. Including Emma’s favorite romance novels, all gathered in this particular section. When he was a student, Matias could often be found here.

Emma asks if he is seriously saying that this entire section is romance novels? 

Yes, cultivating one’s emotions is a particular skill for adolescents. 

Oh, and here! This is one of future Emma’s favorite books. Emma accepts the book and flips through the pages. She thanks Matias, even a cursory glance through the pages shows promise. 

If she wants to read for a bit, she should do so in the lounge. Matias begins to lead her further into the library. 

When they come across the sofas, Emma sinks into one. Sitting next to Matias, Emma suddenly realizes how quiet and empty the library is and asks Matias about it. 

Matias explains that the library is usually full of students, but this time of day, they are attending lectures. Also, this is a very slow time for outside visitors. Emma asks if he finds this atmosphere peaceful, and Matias does, though that’s not the point. He likes to watch Emma’s emotions play out on her face as she reads. He doesn’t want anyone else to see her, it’s his own personal treasure. 

Matias smiles at her, his snow-colored eyes burning with a heat that could not be chalked up to just a friend. 

Overwhelmed, Emma tears her gaze away from Matias and focuses on the book. 

Matias doesn’t seem to mind and continues. After they get married, he would like to build a library just for her in the castle. That way she can read all she wants, and he can enjoy watching her figure all he wants. Oh, and then he could make her coffee, and just as she finishes, he can bring it to her, and she will be all embarrassed and bashful . . .

Emma has heard Matias talking about his future Queen before, but it’s weird to picture herself in that role. Trying to distract herself, Emma opens the book to read it. Matias doesn’t mind and continues elaborating on his fantasy, distracting Emma from reading the book. 

Together they leave the library and head to the center of town. Matias is giving her the full tour, and Emma is enjoying it. 

Suddenly Matias stops at a shop and asks if Emma doesn’t mind waiting for him while he buys something. Emma doesn’t mind, and while he’s in the shop, she admires the woodworking displayed at a nearby stall. The woodworking of Achroite is truly marvelous, it looks easy to use but the lines are soft and gentle. 

Matias returns shortly, with a large, overloaded pack. Emma blinks at it, then asks if he wants her to help carry some of it. 

Matias assures her that he is fine with this - the weight is nothing to him. 

Okay, but maybe Emma should call for a carriage?

Nope, Matias would rather continue with their friendship date. If he promises to have her home in the evening, would Emma consent to continue with him?

Emma doesn’t mind, but is Matias certain he can handle this?

Of course! When he was a part of the National Guard, Matias once had to walk for three days without sleep, all while carrying a 50kg pack. This is nothing!

Wondering what Matias intends to do with all his items, Emma lets him lead her away to a secluded lake. It is frozen over, and the top sparkles in the sun. 

Emma marvels over it, it truly is beautiful, and the scenery reminds her of a scene from the book. 

What she had been able to read during Matias’ monologue was a girl who lived by the lake and one day met her soulmate. 

While Emma recalled the scene, Matias spreads out a quilt on a nearby tree stump. He admits that he included this in his date plan because of that. He urges her to sit down on the stump and wraps her up in the quilt. Emma thanks him and he assures her that he wants her to be toasty-comfortable.

Matias pulls a log out of the pack and begins setting up a campfire. He explains that as beautiful as it is, the lake is also famous for its cold temperatures, so the blanket won’t be enough. Once he has a happy fire going, he pours water into a cup and heats it up over the flames while he begins grinding a pack of coffee beans.  Emma watches as he sets up the water and coffee beans to start making coffee. 

Emma praises Matias’ outdoor skills, and he admits he gained most of them while he was in the military. They would often have to camp, so he had learned several skills to avoid freezing. 

He hands her the freshly brewed campfire coffee as well as a baked apple. Emma is happy as she eats and drinks, remarking on this luxury. Her happiness makes Matias happy.

Emma asks if he ever cooked like this for his fellow soldiers - and he has. Granted, he would cook meat instead of fruit, but he thought Emma would prefer apples.

In the military, there are a great many hardships, but it’s important to keep morale high. Good food and enough to keep their bellies full does wonders on keeping soldiers content and easier to command.

Emma is happy by all of this, but also happy to have learned more about Matias.  As friendship dates go, Matias put a lot of effort into making this one perfect. She looks at Matias, who is sitting next to her, his snow-colored eyes staring back. As she begins to feel overwhelmed by his raw sex appeal, he wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her close to him. 

Suddenly Matias tenses up and pulls away. He almost forgot they were friends and not lovers and apologizes for almost breaking the rules.

He shuffles away from her slightly, laughing awkwardly with a troubled look on his face. When he returns to his own time, he will have to have lots of fun with his lover - until he is satiated.

Emma awkwardly notes that he kind of overshared there. Matias points out this has a lot to do with her - in the future at least.

Emma shakes her head; she still can’t fathom them being more than friends. Even though Achroite is relaxed on classism, Matias is still a prince. 

Matias asks if she truly can’t imagine falling in love with him. Was their date today that bad?

Of course not! Emma had a lot of fun, and she genuinely enjoyed spending time with Matias, even as just a friend. 

In her heart she knows that Matias is a just man, but sometimes, when his eyes grow cold as he is sentencing a criminal. . .

It’s not that she doubts that there is a future with Matias, it’s more that she can’t see herself getting with someone who, on some level, she finds scary.

Matias thinks for a bit and offers to tell her what it is like being lovers. He does not doubt that if she understands the love he has for her, she would want to be his lover.

Emma assures him that she knows his love well enough, after all, she could feel the love he has for her in everything he did today.

Matias disagrees, he may have slipped up at the end there, but he was actively restraining himself to match the friendship rules they set in the beginning. This isn’t what he’s usually like with her. He asks her permission to describe their lives together.

He doesn’t expect her to immediately agree to be his lover, but take it slow, one step at a time.

Okay?

Emma considers this and agrees. Beaming, Matias decides to start at the beginning. 

His daily routine is to wake up with her at his side and watch her adorable sleeping face. When she starts to wake up too, she begins by rubbing herself against his body. He snuggles her, and she very cutely clings to him. When she finally wakes, she has the sweetest dazed look on her face, and that is when he kisses her good morning. 

(I wouldn't try narrating morning sex as a reason to start dating, but you do you, Matias)

Emma listens to Matias, her face hot with embarrassment. She tries to picture herself as the woman writhing up against Matias, but it falls flat. 

It occurred to her that Matias lover is someone else. 

Maybe it really is a future Emma that he loves, but that’s not who she is. There’s more between them than sweet words and physical affection - they must have endured so much together to form their emotional bond. Right now, Matias loves and misses his future Emma to the point he’s clinging to her, trying to force her into becoming the woman he loves.

Emma watches the lake as Matias continues to describe their perfect honeymoon-like life. The day grows colder, and eventually, they take a carriage back to town, and Emma dozes off inside.

When she wakes up again, she finds herself back in the Achroite Castle guest room. The sky outside the window is bright with the late morning sun. 

She hears a knock at the door and jumps out of bed as Matias calls out a good morning and asks if she’s awake.

Emma opens the door to find Matias on the other side, perfectly dressed with every strand of hair in place. He asks if she slept well and would like to join him for breakfast. 

Emma stares at him, unsure if this is her Matias or the one from the future. After a long moment, Matias asks if Emma is feeling well. 

Emma assures him he’s fine, but Matias insists. They’re friends, right? She doesn’t need to put on a tough exterior when around him. Emma assures him she really is fine, she just had a really bizarre dream that was so real, she’s just having trouble making sense.

A strangely real dream? Oh, Matias has those all the time. He has lots of daydreams like that!

Daydream . . .? Emma recalls future Matias also mentioning realistic daydreams. But this dream of hers felt like something different. 

Tentatively, Emma wants to ask Matias a question. She asks if he sleeps with a blanket with owls embroidered on it. And is this blanket particularly soft?

Oh yeah, he does. Um . . . How does she know about the blankets in his bedroom?

Emma quickly explains that a maid told her about it.

Huh, it’s kind of weird for her to go out of her way to ask about his blankets. Could it be . . . She’s curious about his bedroom? Does she want to spend time, wrapped up in his blankets, relaxing in his room?

Does she want to come to his room?

Before Emma can reply to that, Matias pulls back, shaking his head. He’s gotten ahead of himself, there is a rule in the Asbrink family precepts that a woman must never visit a man’s room without a proper chaperone.

He quickly assures Emma that he is a proper gentleman and would never do anything to her, but rules are rules. 

This actually relaxes Emma. This is the Matias she knows and is friends with, someone who cares about rules and is a bit strange, but overall, a nice man. 

Matias stops talking about the family rules and smiles at Emma. He explains that he enjoys seeing her smile first thing in the morning - it gives him energy to tackle the day. 

That . . . Is something future Matias had mentioned as well. Her heart beats loudly as she thinks about a future she has yet to see. One where she and Matias are truly lovers.

[allineedisonedream]

omg i stumbled across your blog recently and your art is gorgeous!!! i love the style and the way you draw dick in particular so much!

also i couldn’t stop thinking about your tangled au it’s so clever! it got me thinking of an au of your au (if that’s presumptuous or annoying feel free to ignore this ask lol). but it always bugged me slightly in the original tangled that rapunzel could remember stuff from when she was a baby bc babies can’t do that lol (obv she also has magic glowing hair so suspension of disbelief and all). but what if dick was actually older when slade (or court of owls tbh take your pick) kidnapped him? like he came under bruce’s care just like in canon after his parents died, and was around long enough to become brothers with jason, and tim had just been adopted when dick and bruce have a fight and dick storms off. not as bad as comics and bruce doesn’t kick him out bc he’s not an ass lol, but maybe dick wants to do more with his powers and bruce is overprotective, so dick storms out fully intending to come back, but slade has been watching him and takes this chance to kidnap him. and when bruce goes looking for him all he finds is a bloodstain and no dick.

and obviously dick is very keen on escaping the creepy dude who’s kidnapped him, but slade brings him to the basement of the tower and begins to torture/brainwash him sort of like the apprentice arc. and over time bc slade sucks and is good at the whole brainwashing thing, dick slowly looses his memories and eventually can’t remember a life outside of the tower at all. and he continues to grow up in the tower with slade as his “father” and he always has this sense that something isn’t quite right, but he can’t put his finger on it. like he has all these weird torture-like scars that he can’t remember getting, but slade tells him that it was from when he was young and before slade rescued him, and that’s why the world is so scary and dangerous and he has to stay in the tower where slade can protect him. and ofc he does bc slade loves him and wouldn’t lie to him right? and he doesn’t know why the name richard doesn’t fit him quite right, or why his heart races when slade appears unexpectedly (that’s how love works right?). but he stays in the tower like he’s supposed to until wally and roy show up.

and slowly after traveling with them he begins to get weird flashes of both painful and good memories, and strange sensations of deja vue. while meanwhile bruce is still all brooding and mourning bc it was his fight that led dick to run away. and added angst is that jason and tim actually remember and miss dick, even though tim had just started to get to know him. and damian is angsty bc he’s the only one never to have met dick (handwavy on the ages just like dc lol). meanwhile the kingdom still remembers and mourns the charismatic adorable prince that they lost.

and then when slade eventually catches up to and captures wally and roy, dick offers to give himself up and promises never to escape if slade spares them. and it’s extra sad bc he finally remembers what he’d be giving up. he remembers bruce and alfred and his brothers, and he remembers all the trauma slade put him through, and he’s willing to go through it all again to save wally and roy (bc is it really dick grayson if he isn’t super self sacrificing lol). and ofc it eventually ends happily and dick is delighted to go back to his family with his new friends and see his old brothers and meet his new brother all with a new haircut.

but yeah overall your au wormed its way into my brain and i couldn’t stop thinking about it lol, it’s so good!!!!

Ahjajfk thank youuuu<3

And OMG, this is amazing! Beautifully written, yes, absolutely love all the details, especially Slade's and Dick's relationship in all this. I've actually thought about him being taken later on so Tim and Jason would also remember Dick. But I think I started overthinking everything and made it way too complicated (I think I wrote about 20 pages of notes and stuff, I kinda got lost in them. I was/am pretty obsessed with this AU), so I just reeled back a bit and stayed close to the plot. It also simplifies things; I don’t have to rewrite the whole story, which, with my overthinking skills, would take forever. 💀

And that part with Slade making Dick forget who he was is great. I kept the whole AU pretty open with some stuff for imagination. My running idea at the moment is that he got sick when he was 8, so Bruce found the flower, and later Slade kidnapped him, making him forget everything and thinking Slade is his father.

But yeah, OMG, this is awesome. I totally love it. I tried to make it as detailed as possible story-wise, but at the same time, I really needed to limit myself to finish fast because I was scared I would lose interest or don’t have the patience haha But Now I’m kinda even more excited about how people will react to the next chapters. 👀

[dantheserialkillerman]

Dan Hiroki X GN!Childhood Friend Reader Pt. 2

Contains: Continuing story and Gender Neutral Reader General warning: Long-post TW: Possessiveness/Suicide/Implied grooming

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful crow. Her wings were like the tips of quills freshly dipped, and her claws sharper than the hook of a fisherman's rod—a perfect little bird. Everywhere she went, the forest's creatures would glance at her in astonishment and envy; no owl, robin or dove could compare. The crow knew this and, for a time, enjoyed their praise. What was love, if not the wish to capture? The desire to own what you could not own yourself? Yet, as the days went by, she could not help but feel unsatisfied, for none would approach her, and, eventually, she found herself an idle idol. That was until, one fateful morning, a hunter entered the wood. The man searched far and wide for the perfect game but would deem all beasts crossing his path too dull, ordinary, and a waste of his talents. His frustrations grew until his eyes fell upon the beautiful crow. Having never seen such perfection, the man raised his gun and decided such magnificence could not exist without his consent. In that final breath, staring down the barrel of the rifle, the crow realized a terrible truth: She had finally experienced her first and last act of true love.

You would like to think you will meet again one day, perhaps in a better place, surrounded by the fragrance of the buna tree. 

A memory:

Under the branches, as the rain fell, he leaned his head against your shoulders:  "Do you love me?" "Only in summer." 

There is a strange beauty in defeat. To give up and to let go is an art so painful and euphoric that few can ever master the discipline. Yet, you could not help but try. You had to say goodbye to a bit of life, an old name, to live once again. Sometimes, still, you could smell the hints of a campfire if you closed your eyes for long enough.

After finishing university and moving away from your relative who took you in, you travelled around Japan for a while. It took years to get used to the constant hustle and bustle of the world, and you often felt displaced in the city's hectic life compared to the countryside you grew up in. However, life had finally returned to a somewhat more peaceful state. Not exactly familiar, but it was a softer difference. Recently, you were appointed as a history teacher in a small-town high school. It was a safer career than you had once dreamed of, but it would keep you hidden. That's all that mattered. You enjoyed the mountains near the town.

When you first arrived, some things were unexpectedly painful. The starting months felt like a constant exorcism, a battle not to jump and think you summoned the ghosts of old friends whenever a student came up to ask a question. But the pain was comforting in a way. They had lived and affected the world around them. Even if it was silently, you could carry their legacy and find forgiveness in supplying a future to others. A future they were denied. This was your cleansing.

The students on their end were pleasant, consistently hard-working and upbeat. And, of course, over time, you developed favourites: the creative Hana Kai, the outspoken Yuki Yamamoto, and, especially, the thoughtful Nanami Shirakawa.

Strangely, even with your reservations about closeness, you became rather popular, even finding, at the end of some classes, notes left on your desk: 

Dear Teacher,  Thank you for the class.  Dear Teacher,  I am glad you are feeling better.  Dear Teacher, Please smile more often.   

Despite years of developing a numb compliance with life, you could not help but feel touched. It was nice to be liked and somewhat accepted back into a community, even if it was only a false image they loved. 

However, you could not help but wonder what they would do if they knew that one of their favourite teachers, at night, away from their wool sweaters and bad jokes, dreamt of stone cottages and warm summers? How could they understand how your mind was captured by the sea and the calling of the woods? Even worse, you couldn't imagine their judgment if they knew of the gray eyes that haunted your subconscious. A demon. Shuten-dōji with a laugh: 

I could just die for you. I could just kill for you. And I could just love you until the end. I am you, and you are me. Cut off my head, and I'll grow another on the back of your mind. 

You would wake in terror and yearning. Most nights, you could not go back to sleep. Instead, you would find yourself sitting at the kitchen table, marking or reading anything to suppress the sweet evil lurking behind your fantasies. You had to forget before you lost yourself to dreams. 

In the waking world, you distracted yourself with a growing hatred for the biology teacher, Taisuke Henkyoji. In all fairness, it appeared he despised you in return when it became clear you would not fawn over him. 

He was from a wealthy family with designer clothes, fancy watches, and a carefree attitude. His name was seen everywhere, from the hospital where his brother, Kusuke, worked as the chairman to the only hotel within town. It was a world so far removed from small village roots, worn clothes, and scuffed shoes that you wondered if you could even find it on a metaphorical map. 

However, you could not help but see how he only possessed a dull attractiveness, only passively acknowledged until placed in a position of power. Therefore, it didn't surprise you that he was popular among teenage girls. Yet, out of all those teenagers, you could not help but worry about one in particular. The thoughtful Nanami Shirakawa, who was awkward and sweet, with big dreams and an introverted personality, which reminded you of someone you had to bury so long ago. 

Sometimes, you would catch her absent-mindedly doodling hearts in her notebook or fiddling with her phone with a wistful smile. Other times, while walking the halls, you would pass her peaking into Henkyoji's classroom. It was clear she was infatuated with the man.

It was a worrying love. Innaproate and not helped by Henkyoji's overly friendly and even disturbingly flirtatious behaviour. You had even tried to warn him of Nanami's feelings:

"You need to shut her down gently, Henkyoji-san. This whole situation is unhealthy."  "And you care, why? Jealous?" 

Of what? That comment made you immediately uncomfortable. You tried to go to the principal, who also quickly dismissed your concerns: 

"Henkyoji-san is from a highly regarded family. Such a suggestion could sully not only their image but the school's reputation," - a sigh- "There is nothing to worry about, Y/N... especially if the only evidence you have is an off-hand comment and the crush of a teenage girl. Please, don't bring this topic up again." 

Yet, it echoed in your mind when you noticed how sullen Shirakawa had started to become. There was a growing dullness behind her eyes, a letting go that was much like yours. You could see a dangerous defeatism. 

After class one day, as you saw the young girl merely gaze at her desk the entire lesson, neither moving to take notes nor really paying attention, you decided it would best to ask her to talk:

" Shirakawa-Kun, I just wanted to know if you are feeling okay," You tried to smile empathically, "I know it can be awkward talking to your teacher." "I am sorry, " she rubbed her eyes harshly. " I am just drained." You could see the fear behind her expression. An invisible subject, something cold and dead whose images reflected back a once firey disposition that burnt itself out into ash. "Shirakawa-Kun, I apologize for being so direct, but I know something is wrong."  "I really am okay," she paused for a second, fiddling with her bag, "I really have to get home...my mother needs me to help...she'll be worried if I am held up for too long."  You sighed, realizing any further conversation was a losing battle, "This may seem unorthodox...but please take my number," you pulled out a piece of paper and began to write, "If you need someone to talk to, call me, and we can set up a time to meet in my office." "Thank you." She took what you handed her with a slight reluctance and placed it in her pocket "Please, even if it's not me, know you do not have to handle this alone. I know what it's like to feel the world crashing into you. I promise." 

You closed your eyes as she left and sighed. I know what it's like to love and fear someone in the same breath. I know what it's like to be alone. 

It was easy to imagine him there next to you, as you often did, clothed in black, in a nice jacket, and without colour save for his red lips. Ah, what would you do? Is this what you felt like? Fragmented? 

You could not sleep that night. Sitting at your kitchen table, reading, until at 1 A.M, a single message appeared on your phone:

Dear Teacher, Thx for everything. It was nice to know someone cares. I hope you have a good night. -Shirakawa

When morning came, you were unsurprised that Shirakawa was absent from class. However, you could not have imagined the reason the headmaster pulled you out of your homeroom.

"Why would she try to kill herself?"  "She's a teenager, Y/N! I have no idea why she would do such a thing; I just called you in to let you know about the situation. Do not discuss this with anyone but the staff."  "It was him, wasn't it..." "I said not to bring such a topic up again!" "You can't ignore this forever! Please, just listen to me!" "Go. Back. To. Class. We will pretend this never happened."

Guilt spread throughout your body as if you were drowning. How could you have turned away? Why did you not write back? You felt yourself transform into a frightful and hideous creature that had been tied to the buna tree so many years ago. A coward. A failure. Another child almost died because you didn't act fast enough. Kikue. Reo. I'm sorry.

You had cut class early that day and ran to the hospital. My fault. It's all my fault. You needed to apologize in person. You needed to ask Shirakawa. You needed to know the truth. Fuck Taisuke Henkyoji.

Dishevelled, sweating, and breathless, you ran to the front desk and requested the room number. 

"Are you...okay?"  "Please, I'm here to see Nanami Shirakawa," - a breath- " I'm one of her teachers," The woman at the desk looked annoyed, "Well, you're lucky. It seems she's currently taking visitors; let me phone up the room...I'm not paid enough for this-" A voice...soft... melodious...that itched your memory interrupted, "Is everything alright here?" No...You could not speak. Your throat refused to open. The world swam for a second. "Sir, were just up to see Ms. Shirakawa?"  He was beautiful. He looked just like him. "Yes, she seems to be doing...well...as one would expect in such a situation."  "Hmmm," she hummed, uninterested, "Sorry to ask this of you as a civilian, but since you are here, could you please assist...who were you again?"  "Shirakawa's history teacher," You replied shakingly. It's not him. It cannot be him.  "Your name?" The woman rolled her eyes. You took a deep breath. You had changed your name when you lived with your relative. You were not you anymore, even if it was him somehow, "Y/N."  "Y/N?" The man turned to you fully. Shuten-dōji. He looked like your Shuten-dōji, "What a..." He paused as if startled before quickly composing himself, "Lovely name..."  "It's pretty common," He looked at you with such intensity you thought the ground would swallow you up. It can't be him. It wouldn't make sense for him to be here. You were literally in the middle of nowhere. The lady at the desk signed, "Well, you two are very sweet, but if you could kindly take Y/N up to see Shirakawa, that would be very helpful. I have to talk another call...so..."  The man gave the woman a bland smile and beckoned you to follow him. You could feel the sweat build upon the back of your neck; his grey eyes followed you like a snake to a mouse, refusing to let you out of his sight.  "You didn't ask me for my name,"  "I'm sorry?"  "My name, would you like to know it?"  "Oh, my apologies. I'm just a bit scattered today,"  "That's understandable, considering..."  "Yes, considering I would like to know your name."  The man laughed and mumbled, "You sound just like them...look just like them... you could even think," A distant look filled his expression, "It's like looking at a photograph," He seemed to catch himself, "Ah, sorry, I had a close friend that left me many years ago; I lost myself for a moment. I believe we are both scattered today." You wanted to change the subject as soon as possible. A coincidence. It has to be. The world wouldn't be so cruel. The Kirin would not be so cruel.  "How do know Shirakawa-kun?"  "I saved her from drowning."  "What?!"  "I'm a very strong swimmer." He glanced at you with subtle amusement, and then a look of distant grief entered his eyes. "My name is Dan Hiroki." You stopped. No. "Is something wrong?" Yes. Something is very fucking wrong.  "Oh, it's nothing...It's been just a long day..." You needed to leave as soon as possible, "Actually, I just remembered I forgot something at home-" "Hmmm," He hummed as if thinking, "I think you should see Shirakawa-kun." He stopped and grabbed your arm as if trying to ensure you could not flee. His grey eyes, searching as if trying to figure something out, "I fear she needs all the moral support she can get right now." You bit your lip hard, thinking of a way to escape this. Fuck. What if he recognized you? What would he do? A man capable of killing without remorse, you shivered just imagining the type of torture he would inflict. How could you leave without looking suspicious? "It..." Shit. "Your right. However, I really can't stay for long." He continued to walk, not letting go of your arm, until stopping before the elevator, "You really do look just like them...It's been so long...ah, memories... memories, a cruel mistress."  "I can't imagine," the evaluator dinged.  "Fufu, for some reason," He pulled you inside, "I feel like you might," You could feel the red string of fate being pulled, "Yes, I would love to get to know you, Y/N." 

You would like to think you would have met again one day, perhaps in a better place, surrounded by the fragrance of the buna tree. You never thought you would meet in a hospital. You never thought he wouldn't recognize you. 

A memory:

"Please don't cut off my head, Minamoto no Yorimitsu" "I promise, but only in summer."

One day, you thought you would meet again, surrounded by summer.

A memory:

"Tell him I died. He would come looking for me otherwise. You know why I am asking this. Don't let me bring you shame. Please let me go."

The ride is silent until the final ding. He smiles at you once you reach the right floor.

A memory:

"Y/N, wait for me next summer?" "You know I always will be here.

His left eye twitches and his smile grows.

"Shall we go see your student?" He pulls your arm gently, his now fully lopped with your own. "I don't think I have much of a choice." "Be careful, Y/N," He chuckles darkly, "I might just grow fond of you." "There is nothing to be fond of." You walked out together and felt his hand tighten around your bicep as if worried you would run away.

A memory:

A place filled with tiny stone houses, crumbling temples, and giant windmills with rotor blades like dragons' teeth, gnawing away at the occasional gale. "Do you believe in the Kirin?" "I believe humans are cruel, and Gods are crueller."

The red string of fate tugged again as you headed towards the hospital room and into an unknown future.

You fear Dan would never let you go if he discovered your true identity. You feared much worse than death. There truly is a strange beauty in defeat.

A memory:

This was your home. All you could ever want. "Hey, Y/N, look up! There's a flock of crows." "Actually, I think it's called a murder."

[the-al-chemist]

Crossroads

A/N: Lovely anon, what a lovely suggestion. In this one, Bill has a wobble, and gets a small and much needed dose of sweetness.

This one touches on a subject close to my heart (and the hearts of many of us) — how do you keep loving something after you’ve been disillusioned by a person with whom you associate that very same thing?

The letter arrived over breakfast on Bill’s penultimate day at school. At first, it appeared like any other; delivered by a very normal looking owl, contained in a nondescript parchment envelope. On the envelope was written the single half-sentence: For the attention of (and only of) Mr William Weasley, Esquire. There was no address, but that was not so strange. An owl could find someone without an address, if it was well-trained enough.

It was only when Bill went to open the letter that he noticed anything unusual.

As he tilted the envelope to turn it over, the black ink seemed to fade so that there appeared to be nothing written on it at all. He tilted it back, and the writing reappeared. He moved the letter away from his face, and the ink faded away again. The writing could only be read if he held it directly in front of him, at just the right distance and at just the right angle.

That was bizarre.

Frowning, Bill turned the envelope over. It was sealed with black wax that bore no crest or coat of arms, only a circle with twelve partitions, like a clock. Beneath the seal, four more words were written in the same mirage-like ink: Confidential. Open in private.

There was no place in Hogwarts that was less private than the Great Hall. Bill pocketed the letter and hastily finished up his breakfast, before making his way back up to his dormitory in Gryffindor Tower. With the curtains drawn around the four-poster bed that would only be his for one more night, he opened the envelope and unfolded the parchment within. His eyes widened with surprise as he read its contents.

Dear Mr Weasley,

There are many things that wizards still do not know about magic, about its nuances and limitations. So much about our world and our kind is still incommunicable, unspeakable, shrouded in mystery. Only the brightest and most brilliant minds may seek to solve the unsolvable and comprehend the incomprehensible.

We have recently received intelligence that you are perhaps of such mind. In light of your recently proven academic excellence, it is my pleasure to offer you a position as an Unspeakable.

Should you choose to accept, please respond by owl. Your response should bear the single word ‘Crossroads’, and should be addressed to Level Nine, Ministry of Magic Headquarters, Whitehall. Do not include your name in your response, and do not tell anyone of your acceptance. We shall send further instructions upon receipt. Unfortunately, due to the highly secretive nature of our work, we are unable to answer any requests for further information about the position you have been offered. Information will only be given upon employment.

Yours sincerely,

A Colleague, The Department of Mysteries.

Bill blinked as he reached the end of the letter. He could barely believe it. The Department of Mysteries wanted him?

Him? An Unspeakable?

Just a few weeks ago, Bill would have dismissed the idea out of hand. He had never thought about becoming an Unspeakable before, not even once. There was only one thing he had ever wanted to be, and that was a Curse-Breaker. That was what he had worked for, that was what he dreamed of, and that was what he was going to be. He already had an offer of a job from Gringotts, one he had accepted with pride.

But, now…

He hadn’t told anyone yet — not even Charlie or Penny — but he had been reconsidering his choice of career for the last few weeks, ever since what had happened inside the Buried Vault. Ever since Professor Rakepick had shown her true colours, had tortured Merula and threatened Artemis, before abandoning them inside the Vault.

Bill hadn’t seen it coming. That was the worst thing about it. They had all been shaken by her cruelty, but for him, it had felt like a deeper, more personal betrayal. He had trusted her entirely, had been blinded by his admiration of her and her flattery of him. He had genuinely thought that she had seen potential in him. He had thought that was why she had helped him to get the job at Gringotts, because she had believed that he had what it took to fulfill his dreams. But that wasn’t the case. She had only been using him to get closer to the Vaults, to whatever it was inside. She had never believed that he really could make it as a Curse-Breaker.

Now, Bill wasn’t sure that he even wanted to make it as a Curse-Breaker anymore.

Rakepick had been the one who had got him the job offer from Gringotts. If he took it, he would owe his whole career, his whole life, to her. He would always be in her debt, and every Galleon that he earned would feel like dirty money, forever. Then again, he had worked so hard to get the grades he needed for a career in Curse-Breaking that rejecting the offer from Gringotts felt like an awful waste.

If Bill had ever believed in fate, or the idea that the universe had a plan, he might have thought that the letter in his hand was a sort of sign, that it was his way of knowing that he should give up on Curse-Breaking. The Department of Mysteries wanted him on account of his ‘academic excellence’. He could accept that offer, and his hard work would not have been in vain. It was tempting. His eyes flicked to the top of the letter in order to read it again, but as they did, the ink disappeared from the parchment until only one word remained.

Crossroads.

All it would take was for him to fold the parchment up and post it back to the Ministry of Magic. If he did that, he would be free from his debt to Rakepick, free to do… well, whatever it was that Unspeakables did. He would be untethered. He would be able to chase a new dream.

And yet, he hesitated.

In that moment of hesitation, he heard the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs and the dormitory door opening. He stuffed the letter back into his pocket, and not a moment too soon, for the curtains around his bed were pulled open.

“There you are!” his dormmate, Myron, exclaimed. He flumped back on his own bed and picked up his guitar, strumming it absent-mindedly as he spoke. “You know McGonagall was looking for you, right? She wants your badges.”

Professor McGonagall was kind, but stern. Bill did not want to disappoint her on his last day at Hogwarts. He went straight down to her classroom, where he found her detransfiguring a pile of cauldrons back into cats. She stopped when she saw him, and he side-stepped a cat as he made his way across the room towards her.

“I thought you may be too busy tomorrow to return these before the Leaving Ceremony,” she said, as he placed the two badges in her outstretched palm. The expression in her eyes bordered on affectionate. “Your parents will want to celebrate your many achievements, I’m sure. Head Boy, straight Os in your NEWTs, a job offer from Gringotts… They must be very proud. I certainly am.”

Bill tried not to react at the mention of Gringotts. He forced a smile and nodded his head, but McGonagall was clearly not convinced by his feigned nonchalance.

“For someone who has so much to be pleased about, you could look happier, Mr Weasley.”

“Sorry,” said Bill. “Just… I have a lot on my mind, that’s all.” McGonagall raised one eyebrow slightly, and he sighed. “I’m considering packing it in. Gringotts, I mean. I got a job offer from… from somewhere else this morning, and I think I might accept it. I am starting to think I might be better off with a different career path than Curse-Breaking.”

A few moments of silence passed after he made his confession, during which Professor McGonagall’s face was entirely passive. He had no idea what he had expected her to say when she finally spoke, but it certainly wasn’t, “Would you like a biscuit, Weasley?”

Bill blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“A biscuit,” the professor repeated. “Would you like one?”

“I, er… Yeah, sure. Yes, please.”

McGonagall nodded her head curtly, before walking across to her desk. In one swift movement, she sat in her seat and conjured both a tartan biscuit tin and a second chair, which she looked at pointedly. Bill took a seat. Somewhat apprehensively, he reached forward and helped himself to one of the biscuits from the tin.

“Cheers, Professor,” he said, still baffled by what was going on. Professor McGonagall’s eyes stayed on him as he took his first bite of the biscuit.

“Mr Weasley,” she said, “I have been your Head of House for seven full years. I don’t remember a time in which you did not wish to become a Curse-Breaker. Even before you chose your OWL subjects, you appeared to know what you wished to do with your life. I cannot help but wonder what exactly has prompted this change of heart.”

The look she gave him was meaningful, and Bill could only assume what its meaning was. She knew precisely what had prompted this change — after all, she had been the one he had come to in the immediate aftermath of Rakepick’s betrayal — but she wanted him to be the one to say it. He swallowed.

“Well, you know what happened in the Buried Vault, Professor. I’m not certain that I want to be Curse-Breaker after that.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” said Bill, “I don’t want to turn out like Rakepick.”

He had thought that his teacher might offer him some sort of sympathy, but McGonagall only tutted.

“Now, don’t be ridiculous. I took over this job from Professor Dumbledore. I haven’t transfigured myself into him yet, have I?”

“No, Professor.”

“Well, then.” It seemed that Professor McGonagall considered that to be the case closed. But, then, she continued, “I understand that Patricia Rakepick was somewhat of a hero of yours.”

”I wouldn’t say that.” Bill might have said that, once upon a time. “I mean, I used to really admire her work. I read about one of her expeditions once, before she came here. It wasn’t why I wanted to go into Curse-Breaking, I already did before that, but it definitely solidified that idea.

“So, yes, I was really excited when she came here. And then, when she was here, she was a sort of mentor to me. She was a mentor to me. She did a lot for me. And I...” He frowned. “I did want to be… maybe not like her, but the sort of person that could be her equal one day.”

Bill couldn’t think of anything worse than being Rakepick’s equal now. He didn’t want to be anything like her. He hated that he ever had.

Professor McGonagall sighed. “I’m sorry to be the one to have to tell you this, Mr Weasley, but Patricia Rakepick will not be the last person in your life to let you down. This is what happens. We admire people, we think we know them, and then they disappoint us by not being the person we thought they were.” She pursed her lips. “So, the next time your relationship with someone turns sour, are you going to let that spoil everything that you associate with that person?”

“That’s not…”

“You may be leaving Hogwarts tomorrow, Weasley, but today I am still your teacher. Do not interrupt me while I’m giving a lesson.” McGonagall fixed Bill with a stern glare that made him fall instantly silent. “You need to learn how to protect the things that really matter to you. Your beliefs, your ideals, your dreams. No one person should have the power to take those things away from you. Not even, dare I say, Patricia Rakepick.”

“I’m not sure I understand, Professor.”

“Take Rakepick out of the equation for a moment. If you had never heard of nor met Patricia Rakepick, would you still have wanted to be a Curse-Breaker?”

Bill nodded. “Yes.”

“Precisely. This was something that you wanted for yourself. Are you really going to let her take that away from you?” asked the professor. “Are you really going to allow her such a hold over you? Because if so, you will never be able to be her equal, let alone be better than her.”

“I never said that I could be better than her.”

“But, could you?”

Professor McGonagall’s question gave Bill pause. He took a breath before answering it.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“I think that you could.” McGonagall smiled a thin-lipped smile. “And if the Department of Mysteries are offering you a position with them, then it would appear that they think so as well.”

How could she have known about the Department of Mysteries? Bill looked across the desk at her quizzically.

“I was once had a bright and brilliant young mind, too.” She reached across and closed the biscuit tin, then placed it into one of the drawers of her desk. “Is that all, Mr Weasley?”

”I suppose so. Thanks, Professor. For… Well, everything, really.” Bill stood up and made to leave the classroom. Before he reached the door, another question entered his mind. He turned back and grinned at his teacher. “Professor, have those biscuits always been in your desk?”

McGonagall inclined her head. “They have.”

“How come you’ve never offered me one before? That definitely sounds like the sort of thing that should be a Head Boy privilege.”

He had never heard Professor McGonagall laugh before. It sounded strange to him, but not unpleasant.

“You’ve always been too self-reliant to require a biscuit,” she told him. “That is why you made such an excellent Head Boy.”

in spite of everything, Bill laughed too. McGonagall was right, he had always been self-reliant. He had known what he wanted, and had achieved his goals. They were his, not anyone else’s. They most definitely weren’t Rakepick’s. He was not going to let her take them from him, not now, not ever.

He returned to Gryffindor tower for his last night in the castle that had been his second home for seven years, and threw the letter from the Department of Mysteries into the fireplace.

[hannahhook7744]

The Day(s) We Met.

Chapter 2: Joyce 'Joy' Penelope Foxworth.

Summary: Hannah Hook meets Joyce 'Joy' Penelope Foxworth. 

Trigger Warnings: smuggling. 

Co-written with @casinotrio1965 .

------------------------------------------------------------

Hannah opened the door to the room FG had pointed her to. Keeping a tight grip on her bags and shooting Skia (who was in her crow form still) a stern look—silently telling her to stay in that form until they knew that they were alone. 

Joy, who was watching her pet bunny Taffy run around, looked up and saw a strange girl in pirate getup.

“Oh hi,” Joy started. “Are you my new roommate?”

“Aye.” Hannah looked around the room, trying not to grimace at the third bed that obviously had been half-hazardly shoved in there. Most likely recently.

“Nice to meet you ! I’m Joy—” She pauses to pick up her pet bunny . “And this is Taffy !’

“Nice… to meet you too?” Hannah hummed, not sure what else to say. “Uh. This is…Rogue—” she gestured to Skia, coming up with a name on the spot. “And this—” she gestured to her pet owl, who was on her other shoulder. “Is Icarus.”

Her pet raccoon hissed from his cage. “Oh, and that's Midas.”

“Cool pets but… Icarus isn't gonna eat my rabbit is he? Cuz…” Starts Whispering, so Taffy won’t Hear . “Owls in the wild eat rabbits for breakfast”

“No, he won't. He's well trained, I promise. But if it 

makes you feel better, I'll keep him in his cage when Taffy is out.” Hannah offered, figuring she should at least try to get along with her roommates. 

“Thank you. That means a lot!” Joy said very relieved. “So … tell me about yourself . If you want to—”

Hannah interrupted, trying her best to look apologetic and not on edge. Silently  hoping that River hadn't been caught hiding at the docs yet and that Luke still had plenty of air from where he was hiding in her suitcase. “Uh, sorry to interrupt but I thought there were supposed to be two of you?”

“Oh! You must mean Amira! Yeah she’s taking her pet tiger for a walk . Don’t worry she’ll be with us shortly…” 

“Nice, nice. I'm guessing this is my bed? Unless it's for Amira's Tiger or one of yours?” Hannah gestured to the bed closest to the door. 

“No, that’s your bed for sure !” 

“Right. Thank you. So…. Wanna tell me about yourself?”

“Sure! My  hobbies are History, reading, listening to music, animals, animal care, sailing, treasure hunting, fishing, playing games, pizza, climbing, singing, and yodeling.”

Hannah was thinking more like what her last name was and who her family were but she wasn't gonna complain. Any excuse to unpack was good enough for her. 

“My mom Is Jenny Foxworth and my dad is Nibs Darling who used to be a lost boy for Peter Pan himself!”

“Oh. Cool… I'm uh, Hannah Hook. But I'm guessing you already knew that.”

“Yeah FG Informed us ahead of time .. So what’s Hook like as a dad?”

“Uh, like any other dad I guess?... I'm not sure.”

“Oh right.. Sorry. So What do you like to do for fun?” Joy asked sheepishly, embarrassed.

Hannah sat down on her bed. “Sailing, writing, playing games…drawing. Sword fighting. Treasure hunting. Reading. Lots of things.”

“No way! I like sailing, playing games and treasure hunting too! Guess we have three things in common!”

“Sweet—also does this place have a bathroom? I really gotta go.” It was a lie but the redhead didn't need to know that. 

“Uh yeah right next to our shared closet .. “

“Alrighty then. I'll be right back.” Hannah smiled nervously, before heading to the bathroom with the suitcase that held Luke in it. 

Leaving Joy behind to think that her and Amira's new roommate was more than a little odd.

[icantpickafictionalman]

Late Night Drive

Adam x reader

It was late, late enough to see the stars clearly. Sitting in the drivers seat, Adam had been silently focused on the road for quite some time now. Name, in the passenger seat, looked bored.

"Can we do something?" She asked, flicking her fingers across the seat of Adam's car.

"Oh~ gettin' frisky are we? I gotta say I never pictured you being the car sex kinda girl but-"

"No, I mean like anything. Like put a playlist on. Or... are you hungry? Can we stop at a gas station?" Adam turned his head. They had been driving for so long, they were almost at point B, there was no need to stop. "Come on, tits, you can't be serious." He said, earning a wide eyed look from her in return. "What do you mean 'come on'? I'm hungry. Look, map says there's one right around this corner." Adam sighed, before eventually shaking his head. "No, alright. We're... we're almost there. I'll get you something from the trunk once we get out, okay?"

"No?"

"No?"

"No!"

"God I- do you even know what you want?"

There was a silence that seemed to answer his question pretty easily.

"Adam, it's like at the end of this road, come on just pull over-"

"No I am not- I am not pulling over! We're almost there!"

"Fine." She spoke calmly, before Adam turned his head to look at her fully.

"What do you mean 'fine'?"

Sending Adam a smirk, eyebrows raised, she pulled the handle, but strangely, the door didn't open.

The silence came back.

"Did you... did you child lock me?" She asked, staring down at the handle.

Once again, there was no answer, and as Name turned her head around to Adam like an owl on the hunt, she saw him sitting with both hands on the wheel staring sheepishly in front of him.

"Adam." She said softly.

"Did you child lock me?"

"Hm?" He was quiet.

"Oh my fucking- what the fuck man! You dick, who do you think I am?" The guilty look on his face reappeared, causing Name to scoff, turning her head back to the road.

As they neared the gas station, Adam quietly spoke up.

"What did you say you wanted?"

A/n : please do leave a request, I've had such bad writers block recently and I want to hear all your creative little scenarios you come up with 💗

[mari-writes]

🦉⭐️❤️

Six months.

It had been six months to the day since Bokuto had seen his best friend.

He kept track with his daily planner—a graduation gift from Akaashi—absorbing the dates as they passed with a growing sense of unease.

The planner was a bright gold color, with a cartoon owl on the cover and on the bottom corner of each page. It made Bokuto smile when he used it which, surprisingly to some, was every day.

“It will help you f-focus,” Akaashi had said shyly, holding it out with shaky fingers. “I know you’re nervous about college, with balancing classes and practice. So, um, I hope it helps.”

Bokuto smiled at the memory. It was helping! He’d even taken Akaashi’s advice and color coded his schedule (purple for volleyball, pink for classes, blue for personal stuff).

On the surface, things were going well for university student Bokuto Koutarou. But that creeping unease, as more days passed without seeing Akaashi in person, continued. 

Something wasn’t right. 

He knew he missed Akaashi’s sets; they were still the best he’d ever had. No genius or overachiever would surpass him. There was just something special about how Akaashi set to him. Like he knew exactly what he needed. Like they were on the same wavelength. 

(Admittedly, it was sort of scary sometimes, that connection.)

He also missed their lunch hangouts. Taking the train together. Going to the convenience store for onigri and ice cream. He missed watching movies, pouring over Akaashi’s favorite books and poems (Bokuto had learned so many new words).

But there was something else. Something he couldn’t put his finger on. And whatever it was kept him up at night.

He found himself pondering the unfamiliar feeling at all times of the day: As he walked to class. When he prepared to serve a volleyball. At a party, dancing and mingling with other students.

It wasn’t like he didn’t talk to Akaashi anymore. They were in contact at least twice a week, sharing photos and updates about practice, articles they’d read or some food they’d tried.

They video chatted too. Bokuto loved seeing his friend, even just through a screen, with his piercing blue-green eyes and hair that had been getting a little long recently. Talking to Akaashi made him happy. Content.

Which made these weird feelings all the more confusing. Why did he want to see Akaashi so badly? Why did the sixth-month mark sting so much?

What was wrong with him?

Bokuto’s final class of the week was English on Thursday afternoon. Despite his emotional morning, he was in good spirits. He’d completed the class readings and even watched the English film his professor had recommended. Bokuto loved that she embraced art and pop culture as a way for them to learn.

He shuffled into the classroom, text book and planner held close to his front. He greeted his professor and made his way to sit, thanking his classmates as they congratulated him on his team’s success at a recent match. 

Class flew by. His professor took that last ten minutes to explain the homework assignments, and give them a new playlist of English pop tracks to listen to. Bokuto eagerly wrote the list down in the margins of his planner.

He wondered if Akaashi knew any of the songs.

Bokuto shook his head as he headed to the volleyball gym. “Stop it,” he muttered to himself. “He’s not here. And that’s okay. You’re okay…”

Volleyball practice went smoothly. Bokuto kept pace with his team, earning a few high fives and pats on the back from his upperclassman.

He felt okay. Stable. Good, even. 

But as he walked home, the strange feeling returned. An ache deep in his gut. A tightness in his heart.

It didn’t go away. Not when he entered his apartment. Not when he was in the shower. Not when he was making dinner, hunched over his stove listening to his teacher’s English playlist. 

And somehow, he knew it was for the lack of Akaashi at his side.

Bokuto sighed, stirring his noodles absently. He didn’t get it. He’d just chatted with Akaashi the night before. Why wasn’t that enough? He didn’t miss his other friends the same way. He was fine just seeing them sometimes. But with Akaashi, he couldn’t even—

“One night he wakes, strange look on his face Pauses, then says: ‘You're my best friend.’ And you knew what it was: He is in love.” Bokuto froze.

The song continued, the chorus echoing through his small kitchen, and now Bokuto was zeroed in on the words.

“You can hear it in the silence, you can feel it on the way home. You can see it with the lights out, you are in love, true love. You're in love.”

He dropped his spoon, hearing it clatter loudly onto the floor as his entire world shifted on its axis.

Suddenly, everything made sense.

“Oh,” Bokuto said. His own voice sounded far away, like he was outside of his body. He glance at his phone. He recognized the singer, she was one of the biggest artists in the world, but he’d never heard this song.

He scrambled to start it over, this time closely following along.

“One look, dark room, meant just for you. Time moved too fast, you play it back…”

Akaashi, was all Bokuto could think. Akaashi, Akaashi… 

“You keep his shirt, he keeps his word. And for once you let go, of your fears and your ghosts.”

Bokuto sucked in a breath. He grabbed his planner from the kitchen table, hands shaking as he flipped it open.

He stared at the faded Polaroid photo of him and Akaashi, posing together at his graduation, still taped to the first page. Their arms were around each other’s shoulders and Akaashi was smiling softly, leaning into his embrace. 

And Bokuto was looking at his friend, eyes full of a fondness that at the time, he hadn’t really understood. 

Now he did. 

“Oh,” Bokuto said again, blinking. “I’m in love with him.”

The revelation was like a slow descent into a hot bath. Heat traveled from Bokuto’s toes, up through his limbs into his belly. When it made it to his throat, he gasped for air. Something between a sob and manic laughter burst out of him.

“I love Akaashi Keiji!” He exclaimed, swinging around to shut off the stove and move the pot off of the heat. He had to do something. Dinner could wait. There was no way he could do homework right now, and for once, even volleyball felt insignificant.

He grabbed his phone, heart pounding wildly in his chest. He felt like he’d just finished a five-set match. Sweat erupted on his fingertips as he brought up Akaashi’s contact. He stared at the sight of his friend’s profile photo. He was beautiful. Bokuto had always thought so, but now that he understood his feelings, it was different.

Soft-looking hair. Stormy eyes. Bowed lips. Everything about Akaashi was so pretty, and strong, and sexy, and Bokuto realized he had never been so attracted to another person in his entire life. 

So, that’s why he felt different without Akaashi. Why he missed him so much. Why he craved his presence, his touch. Why six months without him had left Bokuto feeling so empty.

He didn’t want Akaashi as only a friend. He wanted him as so much more than that. In every way.

Bokuto finally managed to press the call button. It rang once, twice, and almost a full third ring before Akaashi picked up. 

“Bokuto-san?” 

The sound of his voice sent a full-bodied shiver up Bokuto’s spine. “H-hey, ‘kaashi.” He swallowed and took another deep, calming breath. “So, I need to tell you something…”

*

They met that weekend. Bokuto requested Saturday practice off, citing family matters that required him to go home, and his coach thankfully agreed. He took a cross-city train to Fukurodani on Friday afternoon, too impatient to wait any longer.

The volleyball team was just leaving when he arrived, and some of them noticed, waving and eagerly asking him about his new life as a collegiate player.

“Captain’s in there,” Onaga smiled, motioning towards the gym as he encouraged the other players to move on. Bokuto nodded. He wondered if Onaga knew what was happening between them. But he didn’t dwell on it. He had more important things to do.

He found Akaashi stood in the middle of the court, fiddling with his fingers, obviously waiting for him. When he heard Bokuto enter, his head shot up.

Their gazes locked. 

They moved into each other’s orbit like it was the most natural thing in the world. Bokuto barely registered closing the distance. He didn’t recall who initiated the kiss, either. It didn’t matter.

They didn’t say anything, because they didn’t need to—they’d talked enough last night. Words were no longer required. 

All that had been missing from their relationship had been made right.

Bokuto had no more reason to hold back.

//

Written for BokuAka Week Day 1 on Twitter. Thank you so much for reading this little thing! If you enjoyed, please comment and share. It really helps me out. You can also tip me on Ko-Fi if you’d like. 🥰❤️ 

(Song: “You’re in Love” by Taylor Swift)

[bowietea]

I just recently found your dst self insert/oc (?), who's very cool, and couldn't help but be curious, so any random facts about wowie or even with wilson?

I'm so glad you actually wanna know a little more about my girl Wowie! There's so much little details I actually have about her plus with Wilson! 💜

• the two spirits that are always beside with her are named Salem and Jinx

• if possible and her glasses taken off, she actually just has little dot eyes

• with recent ideas, she's actually related to the ancient civilization but are ancestors too her

• her favorite food are Pumpkin Cookies

• her hair style was going to be a mullet but I tried to style it into the twisty artstyle

• favorite animals are owls

With Wilson ✨️

• both share the same love for alchemy

• it was a strange bickering to friends to lovers in the beginning when Wowie was tosses into the Constant

• despite how busy they might get, just spending time in each other's presence is enough for them

• mom and dad energy with the kids

• there were too many times Wowie had to stop Wilson "experimenting" with her stuff in the name of Science

• nerd on nerd sharing braincell

• Wowie is the type of person to constantly bring Wilson deeper and deeper into curiosity for more new knowledge, but he would be the one to try to drag Wowie out of constant danger

• smashes em together like dolls he's tries to act smart but gets silly stupid around her lol

• their ship name is literally Alchemy Lovers

[baldwinivmybeloved]

(মন্দ)⠀Charper IX ⸺ Allishah x Baldwin IV

The king and the rose

The sun was slowly setting over Jerusalem, turning the sky in shades of orange and purple. As the night approached, the castle fell into an atmosphere of unease. The tension was palpable, and every corner of the castle seemed to be permeated with an air of conspiracy.

Allishah walked through the hallways with a feeling of growing discomfort. In recent weeks, he had received several anonymous notes, each one more disturbing than the last. They were short messages, written in elegant but cold handwriting, which made it clear that someone was watching her.

As he advanced, he noticed the furtive glances of the servants and nobles. At first he thought it was his imagination, but he soon realized that those curious eyes and appraising glances were real. The whispers behind closed doors, the conversations that stopped abruptly as they passed by, all contributed to his growing sense of danger.

The gardens, which used to be his haven of tranquility, now seemed full of menacing shadows. The servants' whispers, once innocuous, were now laden with innuendo and secrets. Even the soft laughter of the ladies-in-waiting had a different tone, as if they knew something she didn't.

One day, while passing by the kitchen, he overheard a whispered conversation between two maids.

"They say the young lady has been receiving strange notes," one of them murmured. "Yes, and it seems that they are not exactly admirers," the other responded, with a tone of feigned concern.

Allishah felt a knot in her stomach. She didn't want to show her fear, but she knew she had to be cautious. Her steps took her to the large room, where the nobles were discussing trivial topics. The looks she received upon entering were enough to make her feel like an intruder in her own temporary home.

Seeking a moment of peace, he headed to the library, his favorite place in the castle. Old books and manuscripts always offered him a safe haven. But even there, it felt like the walls had eyes. As I flipped through a book of French stories, I couldn't help but think about the notes and what they might mean.

One afternoon, while he was in the garden, he received another note. This time, it was attached to a black rose, a symbol of warning and danger. The message, although brief, was clear: "You are being watched. You are not safe."

Fear took hold of her, but she decided not to let herself be defeated. She knew she had to talk to someone she trusted, and Baldwin was the ideal person. His presence had always given him confidence, and now, more than ever, he needed his support and advice.

The tension in the Jerusalem castle only increased. Allishah was at a crossroads, knowing she must face the threats around her, but not knowing who to trust. The shadows lengthened around her, and every day she felt more trapped in a web of intrigue and unknown dangers.

The night air was cool and soft, and the stars shone with an intensity that seemed to illuminate Allishah's path. After the tension built up during the day, he decided that a night walk around the outskirts of the castle could offer him the respite he so desperately needed.

He walked slowly, enjoying the tranquility that only the night could offer. The breeze caressed her face, taking with it the dark thoughts that had haunted her for the past few weeks. The distant call of an owl and the rustling of leaves under her feet were the only sounds that accompanied her.

Allishah allowed herself a moment of calm, closing her eyes and breathing deeply of the pure air. For a few moments, he managed to forget the suspicious looks, the whispers and the threatening notes. She felt that the world was a safe place again, where the stars could guide and protect her.

But that feeling of peace was short-lived. As he walked down a lonely path, a chill ran down his spine. It was a subtle sensation at first, a slight uneasiness that transformed into certainty. I wasn't alone.

He looked around, trying to see through the shadows that lengthened with the moonlight. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but the feeling of being watched persisted. He quickened his pace, hoping that the castle and his safety were not far away.

Suddenly, a noise behind her made her stop. She turned on her heel, and there he was. A man appeared out of nowhere, with a cruel look in his eyes. Before she could react, he attacked her.

The first blow made her stagger. The force of the impact was brutal, throwing her to the ground. The man lunged at her, pulling her hair and hitting her furiously. Allishah screamed, her voice echoing in the night, but the sound seemed to be lost in the darkness. He struggled with all his might, clawing and punching in a desperate attempt to free himself.

Each attempt at liberation was met with more violence. The man pushed her to the ground, his breath hot and foul on her face. He pulled his hair with such force that it felt like it was being torn from his scalp. Her vision blurred with pain, but she continued to fight, her survival instincts driving her to resist with every fiber of her being.

Desperation took hold of her as the attacker began to tear at her clothes. Allishah felt the vulnerability of her situation, the terror of what was to come. He screamed again, a scream of pure desperation and fear.

But just when the darkness seemed to completely envelop her, a figure appeared from the shadows. Baldwin, mounted on his horse, with an expression of suppressed fury on his face. The king lunged at the attacker, hitting him with unexpected force for someone of his status. The man was knocked down, and Baldwin stood between him and Allishah, protecting her with his own life.

—Stay away from her! Baldwin shouted, his voice ringing with authority.

The attacker, surprised and frightened, fled into the darkness, leaving Allishah trembling on the ground. Baldwin quickly dismounted and knelt beside her, his eyes filled with concern and anger.

-Miss, are you okay? Has he hurt you or abused you?he asked, his voice softening as he saw Allishah's condition.

She nodded, tears streaming down her face. Although she was hurt and scared, Baldwin's presence gave her a comfort she had never felt before. She knew that as long as he was around, she would be safe.

[omaenanimonoda]

does anyone read fic bit text posts?

this is from the 'missing' collection of chapters from my mid-sized fix it. i just had a random urge to reread it a couple of days ago, and i know few have seen it.

She told Da Qing: they first met in a library.

Xinyan was getting in some early studying for entrance exams and looking for a dark, quiet corner to focus in when her attention was completely diverted by a young man sitting in a beam of sunlight, eyes closed and face upturned like a napping cat.

His relaxed state contrasted so deeply with the massive pile of books in front of him that she couldn’t help sitting at the brightly lit table to satisfy her curiosity. He turned slowly at the faint sound of her chair scraping on the floor, mouth twitching with the hint of a smile and a blinking, owl-like gaze.

She quietly introduced herself, they started to make small talk, and his shy, sincere demeanor along with what seemed like utter bafflement with the world around him hooked her completely. He seemed so sweet, and so lost.

Xinyan learned quickly that he wanted to go to school, but had no idea yet how to make that happen. His reading pile didn’t center on any particular topic, or even college applications – it seemed to be split into sections from the two aisles closest to the table.

In her element and with a new mission, she gave him pages of notes on her recent experience and a copy of the long to-do list she still had to get through herself in order to get into DCU. The application documents seemed to terrify him, but she didn’t think anything of it at the time – who wasn’t intimidated by these things?

Shen Wei seemed to always be at the library no matter when she went – so they studied together frequently, though she could never quite pin down exactly what he was focusing on.

He always seemed to want to change the subject when Xinyan asked- telling her that there wasn’t anything he didn’t want to learn. She tried to suggest that spreading himself too thin might be exhausting, and that he’d have to pick a major soon enough. He didn’t seem at all worried about that, though, so she eventually let it go. They never met anywhere but the library or a nearby café, so she didn’t know where he left to go home to, afterward. He never talked about his life outside. But soon enough, acceptance letters came in, financial aid got sorted, and they were both there on move-in day at the DCU dorms.

And then over the years while they got to know each other better, she’d just picked up on strange things that accumulated over time. Shen Wei was never sick, would disappear at odd times but seemed to have no social life, never really gave any details about his past. And still even after a couple of years he would have the weirdest gaps in knowledge – which he’d started coming to her for, since he seemed to know he could trust her with the strange questions. It hadn’t taken Xinyan long to realize that he didn’t show this side of himself in front of their other acquaintances at school.

And one time when she’d gotten a horrible case of food poisoning, he’d visited with homemade soup, a thin broth that miraculously didn't turn her battered stomach. She’d been nearly delirious, but after his half-day visit she recovered strangely fast – much faster than should have been possible.

He’d asked her about it afterwards, and his surprise at her quick recovery had seemed a little forced. She already knew by then he was a terrible liar, but she also had no intention of prying into something he clearly didn’t want to share. She’d known since childhood that some people just carried a bit of strangeness, usually nothing threatening, who also usually managed to be better in general at blending in than Shen Wei. When she finally learned about Dixing, as the world was falling apart around them, it just all started to fall into place in her head. And she'd known, immediately. It would fit so well. It wouldn’t explain Shen Wei's unusual personality, necessarily, but it would explain just about everything else.

~

Da Qing seemed to hang onto every word she spoke about Shen Wei's past, their past, when they’d been in school together, but he also seemed to be trying very hard to keep something back. After she finished he sat, subdued, for a minute before responding almost in a whisper. “I knew him for a long time. A long time. It’s a complicated story, but – we knew each other before the end of the last war. Before Dixing and Haixing were formally separated. I knew him even before Lao -” his face twisted as he choked on the words.

She was a little confused about the specific time period he was referring to, but somehow still knew who he was referring to.

“Chief Zhao?” He curled in even further on himself.

She said, cautiously, “I know he was in the hospital for a while afterward, but haven’t heard anything since. I – there wasn’t much time, but I think – he and Shen Wei were very close, weren’t they? How is he holding up?”

To her surprise, he folded nearly in half and started sobbing into his knees.

Her stomach dropped. “Oh no – is he not okay? What happened?”

“No he isn’t - that – - that wasn’t him." Now she was definitely confused. The situation was clearly even worse than she'd realized. Da Qing shuddered, struggling to get control over his breathing to speak. He looked up at her, seeming to assess something for a moment before taking a shaky breath.

It’s a -a long story. That person is - he’s good. But he’s someone else. He – " Da Qing whimpered softly. "How do I explain this? Xinyan sat there, silent, baffled. He asked, "How much time do you have?” ~ When Xinyan listens to the message from Li Qian, she nearly walks into a wall.

After finding a chair to drop into and replay the recording 3 more times because how could she be saying what it sounds like she’s saying - she immediately texts Da Qing, then goes in search of evidence of the hospital visit.

There is no record of anyone like Shen Wei being admitted, but it turns out to be true that Zhao Yunlan was an inpatient for several days. She finds the ones who were on duty in that ward at the time and asks who visited him – they describe a large group of people who lingered at first, and then one that stayed for days before Zhao Yunlan woke up - and then they took off without proper discharge. Heart hammering, she shows them an old photo of Shen Wei that she’s kept on her phone. They confirm that it was the same person.

Her head goes fuzzy for a bit – someone helps her back to another chair, and she’s still stunned when her phone finally buzzes with a response from Da Qing. He apologizes profusely, saying that it’s all true and that he was just too preoccupied by the chaos that led up to it to update her, but confirms they’re both alive and seem healthy, physically at least.

Hands shaking, Xinyan asks for him to let her know when things are settled enough that she could see him.

She can hardly believe she’s typing these words.

Da Qing says he’ll do even better – he’s willing to bet anything that Lao Zhao is going to demand that Shen Wei finally carry a cellphone. Da Qing will give her his number as soon as it’s activated and she can call him herself.

Xinyan finally breaks down at the thought, crying so hard that some unknown, sympathetic person finds an entire tissue box to push into her hands.

[doctorloup]

I’m going to talk about the Dark is Rising, and there will be spoilers.

cws:  Disablism, isolation, growing up queer, undiagnosed trans and neurodivergent. I was recently talking with a new friend of a similar age to me about our shared childhood reading. I had been joking about being some sort of chosen one because I was born at dawn on the winter solstice. He asked if I was also the seventh son of a seventh son. I said sadly no I was not, I was not in fact even a son, I have been called a daughter but never a son, but speaking of seventh sons, had he listened to the BBC production of… He finished my sentence with “…The Dark is Rising?” as if he’d read my mind. For a great many of us elder-millennial and Gen X British people this book was a formative part of our childhoods.  For me, the strange little undiagnosed-autistic changeling child who hid in the library, it, and other books like it were a refuge.  The children in them were thoughtful and brave and I understood their motivations, unlike the real children at school who were incomprehensible erratic yelling beings that never listened to reason. I read the third book of the Dark is Rising sequence first: Greenwitch. I would comb the small local library in the south Manchester suburb I grew up in for anything that looked vaguely fantastical and read it voraciously. Along with Susan Cooper there was Joan Aiken, Ursula Le Guin, Tamora Pierce, Penelope Lively, Diana Wynne Jones and of course Terry Pratchett who once kindly told a fourteen-year old me how to beat level twelve of Tomb Raider II (“don’t kill the monks”, he said “when there are monks fighting mafia you’re obviously supposed to help the monks and kill the mafia”). Often, I ended up reading books from the middle of a series before the beginning because it was what was available to me.   In Greenwitch, the Drew Children who we meet in Over Sea, Under Stone, must recover a lost thing of power from a very typically folk-horror wicker being, a being that is shown as very distinctly female. It is the first book which features both Will Stanton, from the Dark is Rising and the Drew Children. Will Stanton is an Old One, but also a young boy, a being of the power of the Light, old before his time. He is quiet, thoughtful, and always cut off from his peers, and of course, we share our solstice birthday. This loneliness, this I could understand. In Greenwitch all the power of the magic of the Light and Dark is not enough to make the titular being give up her treasure, but the compassion of Jane Drew persuades her to do so. This strange, powerful femininity, the femininity of this creature weaved by women, ancient but also newborn, this I could understand.  This being who was too old and too strange to bow to the binary power of the Light or the Dark, this I could understand.

When you are a neurodivergent child you live outside of the rest of humanity, old before your time, understanding too much but also bewildered by their strange behaviour. When you are a nonbinary child (and it is difficult to explain how intricately these two things are linked in me) you live outside of gender, not understanding why you must obey these strange rules for girls and not obey the rules for boys, never quite relating to one or the other, but forced to perform the one you were assigned. In both Jane and Will I saw a little of myself. So it has been throughout my life, wondering why I did not entirely relate to either male or female characters, why the pagan faiths I looked into insisted on forcing magic and power into this prison of two, never understanding until very late on that there was a hidden magic of queerness and genderfluidity out there, erased and suppressed, but still bubbling beneath the surface. I have often found sanctuary in monsters and immortal beings because they are free of constraint, free of humanity, and free of expectation.   The final two books in the series, along with those of Diana Wynne Jones, Alan Garner’s the Owl Service and Jenni Nimmo’s Snow Spider trilogy also gave me a lifelong love of Wales and the Welsh language. Growing up not too far from the Welsh border meant we spent a lot of time there on holidays. It still feels a little like coming home to go to Wales, although I am not in any way Welsh to the best of my knowledge.

Listening to the BBC audiodrama brought back those old memories to me. You can hear the ice and snow in the shivery soundscaping, feel the wild strength of rushing water and thundering binaural hooves.  I think I detected in the score reflections of the music of that one version of the Box of Delights, another Christmas favourite of my childhood. Toby Jones’ performance as the Walker engendered the same compassion in me as it did when I first read Will objecting to his treatment. One of the episodes of my horrible clown audiodrama contains a small homage to the scenes of the Wild Hunt.

These are the sounds of my childhood being retold. I recommend the Dark is Rising to you, funky little tumblr goblin children. I bequeath you the blorbos of my youth. May you find the refuge in the things you love, that I did in this book.

[asktheplethaura]

If Only , If Only - Unicorn Wars Fanfiction

(((Chapter Twenty-Two)))

((**introductory jingle** New Super MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMAAAAAAAAAAAMAMAMAMAAAAAA))

~~

During his short duration with the sergeant of the Lone Owl Troupe, Azulin learned the hard way that perhaps, there were others as mentally fucked up as he used to be. This big bear was a walking embodiment of nothing but spite, anger, and constant neurological confusion.

After the night hours had come and it started to get a bit darker outside- a cool breeze seemed to grace the blue bear, cooling him down from what surely would have been a heart attack or heat stroke. His heart was beating so fast, hurting his chest with every lingering thump. It was almost as if someone was taking a hammer to the inside of his rib-cage and repetitively smacking the shit out of it with the sharp end meant for removing nails.

Azulin caught himself tearing up from the pain, and because of how much he had ended up emotional recently- it was just a tiring sensation. His eyes were already dry and the area around him was blurry.

Doing the best he could to satiate the dryness of his eyes, he stretched over his shoulder, and rubbed the side of his face into it with what limited movement he had available.

They both stopped at a peak point on a hill- the bigger bear tying Azulin to a tree with minimal space to move.

"Come now, Unicorn Pacifist. You surely can't be that tired already. We are but a meager few hours into our walk and we have so far left to go, yet. I didn't tell your sergeant this- but I decided to take a little detour. It is quite the scenic view, isn't it?" the big bear chortled, smirking as Azulin glowered at him, before turning his head away. Not like he could turn it far. He was given a mere 4 inches of leverage for his aching limbs and he got the feeling that this twisted sergeant bastard didn't leave him that much space on purpose.

Just as he had started to block out the mentally diluted bear and his crazy ramblings- maybe even finding enough exhaustion to fall asleep- he was slapped in the face, back into awareness.

Scruff held an annoyed glint in his eye, deep purple staring into arguably beautiful cyan.

Eyes that were so rare in this world of bears who often sported pink, amber, purple or green. They were almost alluring up close. Dazzling.

Like gemstones.

Sergeant Scruffy seemed to have a thought, before an absolutely, disgustingly evil expression crossed the stern, already contorted features of the larger bear. Azulin found himself get chills all of a sudden, grimacing at the expression.

"You know... it's interesting." Scruffy got closer and closer to Azulin- strangely calm, despite the twisted smirk he carried on his lips. "I have met traitors before. Many of them in fact, and they all ended up in the pits at the opposite end of the forest line. Transported by special task forces."

Azulin got uneasy, feeling something stirring deep within himself that he didn't want to be re-awakened. His tendency for cruelty.

'No. I can't do that. If I am going to change everyone's lives and get us our happy ending... I need to find a different way...' he internally reminding himself, feeling his hands tighten into fists within their binder that kept them behind his back. 'I will never be that way again. ... I just... I need to find a different way to do this... that's all..'

He was snapped out of his trouble train of though by the feeling of cold, serrated metal up against his face.

ba-dump. Badump....

His heart rate was increasing, he had no choice but to attempt to grab that Razor that Sargento had managed to sneak into his hand.

He wiggled a little bit in the binding that held him to the tree- his cyan/cerulean eyes never losing their contact with Scruffs own darkened, soulless ones.

"Let me see you cry and beg for your life, you wretched pacifistic scumbag. Let me hear you scream you are sorry from the top of your lungs. Or else I just may have to pluck one of those pretty little eyes out of your cute little head. I may even sample some of your organs for dessert, if I feel hungry enough."

Scruff let out a bone-chilling cackle, finding amusement in Azulin's mortified expression.

Just as Azulin went to use the words Sargento had used against the bigger bear before- he found himself getting forcefully grabbed by the shoulder as the sergeant leaned down, whispering into his ears in an almost sweet tone- despite the situation.

"Don't think for a second that using anything against me will help you. Your sergeant may be aware of the written laws of this military camp we came from. But I am aware of what loopholes are needed to get out of them." Scruff grinned wickedly, and grabbed Azulin by the hips.

~~

((AUTHORS NOTE))

((TW: This is a warning for the upcoming remainder of the story. There will be an implied 'attempt' or 'starting attempt' at non-con. Nothing actually happens, though. That being said, the hint of an attempt at non-con is NOT promotion or acceptance of these actions in real life.

This is a work of literature with bad characters and should just be treated as literature and nothing more. My friend is considering writing a non-con ending for this part of the fic, with the same warnings applied. This is for the purpose of adding a worse end to the story for more negative emotional strife. Let me know what you think in the comments and I will give her the verdict. If it is okayed by the readers- she will write an 'alternate ending' or 'alternate scene' and have me edit it later.))

~~

Sudden panic ran through Azulin's entire body, his entire expression going from understandably frightened to absolutely petrified in under a second as he started to squirm under the bigger bears touch. His body trembled and he found himself panicking enough to start breathing excruciatingly hard.

Nerves and sensitivity heightened- the blue bear teared up, fearing the worst- something that not even he would ever have done in his past life...

Scruff laughed at the small soldiers pure fright- seeming to be enamored by it. The smell of fear rushing through Azulin was like a drug. The sensation of a fast beating heart and quivering limbs amused him every single second.

"What's the matter, soldier? You seem to be at a loss for words..." Scruff moved closer, getting right next to Azulin's face again as he dragged his knife across the cheek of the smaller bear. "Surely I don't have to persuade you to actually talk back. That's what conversations are, right? We are just having a good, ol' chat is all..."

Azulin's breath hitched as his hands fumbled, trying to reach the razor blade that was stuck in the waistband of his military pants. His hand couldn't quite get a grasp on the small blade though- he teared up more, shaking like a leaf as he tried desperately to move away from the sergeant.

"Evil little two-faced scumbags like you don't deserve to be treated like everyone else. Everything done as punishment is your fault, and your fault alone." Scruff smirked and pulled the knife back- before stabbing Azulin in the arm, making the blue bear scream out in pain.

This, in turn, though, made the small captive instantly lash out, and bite into the sergeants arm, tearing a chunk of flesh out with little to no resistance due to the sharpness of his teeth.

Sergeant Scruff exclaimed in pain, before snarling and stabbing Azulin in the leg- right where his legs were bound to the tree.

Given not even a moment, the blue bear started to thrash- immense pain building in his limbs as he desperately did his absolute damndest to get away. His hands trembled, and he finally managed to stretch around and move his lower body close enough to his hands to grab the razor and start sawing at the rope around his limbs at break-neck time.

The second he had a free arm, he clocked scruff in the lower jaw so hard it sent the bigger bear stumbling back.

A dark glint entered the eyes of the sergeant before he reached into his other leg pocket, pulling out machete.

"You wanna do it the hard way? Let's dance, ya pathetic little worm."

((To Be Continued))

[talesfromsiteredacted]

Weird Habits My Coworkers Have

A collection of foibles among my fellow weirdoes here at Site (REDACTED). Yes, kiddoes... Rabbit's spilling the beans again. And now... the randomness begins.

About some of our D-Class personnel (Numbers withheld to protect the D-Class, yes they are criminals but they're human too ya know):

One of our recent arrivals is obsessed with Animal Crossing. Was a real shocker to find the 'Fuck Tom Nook' tattoo on his chest. The real strange tat was the one of that stupid museum owl holding a very... adult looking fish. Below his waist even. Yikes.

We have one who is afraid of... pasta. Yes, dude freaks out over noodles. Can't even look ramen in the bowl and not lose it. Dr. Glass is working with the poor guy.

There's another one who sings. Everywhere he goes, there's a jody or a sea shanty coming out of his mouth. I don't really mind, he's got a good voice. The one he has about the Ishimura had me laughing. I like this guy, I hope he makes it.

About some of the junior researchers:

Dr. Glass' intern plays the cello, very well. If she hadn't chosen psychology, she could have been in an orchestra. She and a few others formed a quartet and give a few recitals here and there.

We have quite a few amateur golfers here. As such, I think we're the only site with a driving range and a team. They're terrible, but they enjoy the game I guess. I'd rather watch paint dry myself.

Speaking of paint... I'm not the only artist here. Dr. Pathos-Kain's assistant does fantasy paintings. I have one he did of a snowy temple, and I swear I could walk into it, it looks real enough. Iris thought it was a photograph.

We also have some jewelry makers here. My friends make stuff that puts the high-end stuff to shame.

Then... there's Doctor Bright's assistant, who juggles. Never met anyone who could juggle knives, bottles, guns, and Bright's crazy all at once, but she does it in style.

About the Doctors (here is where names get dropped)

Dr. Gears has a collection of rocks. Well, quartz crystals. He doesn't believe the crystal healing stuff, he just digs the crystal structure.

Dr. Pampas is fond of mushroom hunting.

Dr. Clef likes to make his own ammunition. O5 wisely banned its use after one of the unloaded shells blew up on his desk, while he was at lunch.

Dr. Glass is fond of thick sweaters. They make him look like Ned Flanders.

Dr. Bright plays Magic: the Gathering. He's Site Champion three years running. He plays a red-black burn deck. And... whoops me every game. I'll get him yet, though.

Dr. White likes to make movies. Not the kind you're expecting, though. Nope. Dr. White is, surprisingly, into making documentaries. Mostly about birds. He's done some mockunmentary stuff too, his 'Targeting Habits of the Canadian Goose' one had the Canadians here laughing.

And finally... not even the anomalies are safe.

079 has a poster of Cortana on his wall. He saw Halo, and fell for her. It's kinda NSFW, but no one is gonna tear it down.

353 is secretly a Sailor Moon fangirl, but denies it. Hey, I like Sailor Moon too, no shame in it if it makes you happy.

076-2 is a big fan of fighting games, as expected. Turns out, he's also been infected by Elden Ring. And has refused testing until he beats the last boss.

073, however... is more into Minecraft. He's built a lot of neat stuff, including a whole ass city in the desert. If 076-2 ever found his server location... it won't last.

682 likes pop rocks and cola. We however, are not fond of his atomic fire burps after consuming them. Last time, we almost had to turn on the sprinklers, and a D-Class had third degree burns.

106 is fond of rabbits. We caught him in the site school, cooing to the class rabbit, a white angora named Cloud. It was almost too cute to recontain him right then, but we got him his own black rabbit. He named it Mickey. Mickey is cute.

And lastly, me. Hey, only fair I spill a few of my secrets too, right?

I'm very attached to my cat Liam. He's outlasted boyfriends, jobs, friendships... I swear the daft fluffball is immortal sometimes. I found him as a kitten, my first week here in fact. He looked at me, gave me the saddest, most pathetic meow ever, and... I had to take him in. He's a goofball, but I adore him. Even if he steals pens.

Not a lot of people here know this... but I used to want to act. I tried a few classes, but it wasn't my thing. I'm no actress, but writing... that I still do.

One final secret: tomorrow I have a special surprise for my young friend, 053. I'm bringing my furry pal Liam to come hang out for a while. She's always wanted a pet, well... one less grumpy than 682, even if the big scaly jerk is wrapped around her finger. So... Liam is coming for a visit. There's something else... but that's for tomorrow, folks. And on that note, goodnight.

[kiwikiwikiwisstuff]

1-1

TWO YEARS AGO

(It was a cool night, the summer was ending and there was a lot of people taking a walk in those streets. That night, a pair of Hashiras were walking there too, it was of the few times that they no have a mission and they just take advantage to have a night to relax. A moment later, there was a crowd at one point murmuring at a sign and others heading in a certain direction.)

Person 1: What kind of show do you think will it be?

Person 2: I don't know, but it seems interesting, who will be the ones behind this?

Person 3: I just hope they don't bring that shit from the East… we already have enough with the foreigners who have arrived recently

(Obanai just stare at Shinazugawa as they were listening in there)

Obanai: (...) Do you want to get in there, Sanemi?

Shinazugawa: What will we gain by entering? Besides, what do they are talking about?

(At one point, they felt a presence behind them)

Uzui: Hey, hey, what we have there? Are you free tonight too, guys?

Rengoku: (he was eating some kind of street food) What are you watching?

(Obanai and Shinazugawa had poker faces when they noticed them)

Obanai: To what?

Rengoku: Are you going get in the circus or something?

Shinazugawa: I don't know what we gain by entering a stupid circus

Uzui: C'mon, Sanemi, don't be boring, or are you afraid of clowns? (he laughed a little with Rengoku)

Shinazugawa: the only clown in there is you, Tengen (he said with a serious face)

(Rengoku and Obanai seemed like they both were enjoying their stupid discussion)

Uzui: (a little annoyed) Ok, I bet you can't last more than ten minutes watching the show, or are you a chicken? (he laughed)

Shinazugawa: What does the last thing have to do with it? You give me cringe vibes, man

Uzui: (chicken sounds)

Shinazugawa: (sighs) How annoying are you... let's go, where do we need to buy tickets?

(In the distance you could see a ticket booth. The four approached and it caught their attention that there were some well-trained monkeys in that wooden cubicle. There was a sign that the amount of money was optional.)

Rengoku: Nice! They are monkeys in the entrance! I think that I'm already liking this circus!

Uzui: It seems cool, I think the show will be fun, no, Sanemi?

Shinazugawa: (rolled his eyes) Whatever...

Obanai: What if we don't pay?

(A group of boys tried to enter without paying, but a large snow leopard was keeping watch along with a hawk and a monkey, which looked quite brave. The feline growled intimidatingly at the boys and they lined up to pay)

Obanai: I better no ask...

(It was the Hashira's turn and they give a generous amount. The monkeys' eyes shone and seemed happy. A young, playful monkey looked to Sanemi and tried to bit him, but a Shima bird pecked his head as an Ezo owl do the same to the little monkey)

Uzui: Hehe the monkey doesn't likes you, Shinazugawa

Shinazugawa: Shut the fuck up

(Finally they entered and the animals that were at the entrance just looked at them. The snow leopard looked them staring, it seemed intimidating, but it was curious, especially about the boy who had white hair… no, the one with the face of a chihuahua, not the tall one, in fact, it gave a little purr when he passed by it)

Rengoku: Nice kitty...

(When they sat down, the show was already starting)

A strange voice: Ladies and gentlemen... boys and girls... from China and northern Japan, you are very welcome to the extravagant show of nomads, artists who live day to day, Carpe Diem as they say further out in the East… who live from the pleasures of life regardless of the prejudices of society… be all very welcome… to the Whole of Sinners

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

How is Robin's sense of self? Has it changed over the years, or does he still have good grasp on his identity? Has Abel influenced it at all?

═══ HEADCANON INQUIRIES ═══ LEAGUE VERSE

This is one of my favorite topics to explore with Robin (I probably say that a lot but I mean it) - its an incredibly deep dive that I'm happy you're interested in. It's also a part of Robin's character that I've been slowly inching my way into as I don't want it to come across as something sudden; it's a delicate subject matter that I truly want to capture in an accurate sense. There are so many repercussions of isolation by itself but also in relation to Robin's own traumas and physical condition?

He has practically lost what it means to be a person.

Something I, as a writer, have been dipping my toes into is really revamping Robin's character in terms of how much he genuinely lacks in terms of human interaction and how much his physical conditions impact his frame of mind. More recently I've been fiddling with the idea that Robin is, tecnically, a walking folklore or even a cryptid to the people of Ionia. He has too many weird attributes and if you describe him in a prose heavy way he immediately becomes horrifying; this is something I've been actively experimenting with in my threads with my mutuals and have noticed in a few other interactions. I'm not sure why I had never thought about it before, but I feel its quite a natural progression for him considering where he currently is.

Example; His words are not harsh as he stalks around the ronin, staring down at him with those horrifically wide eyes, the fire of the campside less a warm invitation and more a damning inferno within the reflection of his iris. Robin always did have that strange way about him, a strangely uneven splice of a man and something otherworldly. Perhaps he was now, simply something that never was supposed to return - a being who knew too much of what lay beyond, one who knew too much of what could be crawling within.

Example 2: The realization of a thief dawned upon the mage and he, with the slow creeping nature of an owl, rotated his blind gaze in the direction of the brush where the man hid. Irrefutably nightmarish was the hollow stare which locked onto the hiding jackal, one which screamed of death and horrific ends to all those foolish enough to steal from the land the mage had cultivated.

His condition erases more and more of him per day, and it plucks at his individualism as he merges further into the wildnerness of Ionia; he has no one to pull him from taking the same steps everyday. Much like how animals in nature practice the same motions from dawn to dusk - he is the same, he goes down the same paths, gathers the same berries and herbs etc. It can be easy to see how this has twisted his perception of himself; he gives himself "jobs" to do because it is his only way to see others and have a moment away from the mundane schedule of his life. He has always seen his worth in his work, every verse, every timeline - he is tied to what he can produce and without any interuptions he will never stop. And given that he no longer needs to eat or sleep anymore, he is consistently going without end. I imagine one of the only people to really tell him to slow down and stop would be @yanlei while he was with the Order of Shadows - perhaps one of the only people in his whole life to make him feel like a human being, instead of a workhorse, instead of a failure.

Even worse throughout all of this is how humans are cultivated and created through our memories, we are made from all of the little things throughout our lives. Big events, small events, every tiny little interaction changes our perception of ourselves and our lives. Robin is currently, and has been, gradually forgetting his life from before his murder; he hardly even remembers his family and they were his main driving force for everything he ever did. He remembers their names, how many siblings he had, how old they were...but their personalities are lost on him. Without those memories, what is he but the moss growing up the wall of his shack? How can he hope to ever properly heal without having the ability to open those memories back up and look at them with a fresh stare? What is left of life when the rest has gone?

His purpose in life is clear when there is a task; he knows little of who he is without it.

As for Abel he is a totally different story in and of itself. "Abel" originally formed when Robin was 15 years old and took over several spaces within his life that were empty. It became his mentor, his only "family" - even going as far as to use his father's voice from his memories, and it also taught him things he asked it to. Robin is acutely aware of Abel's nature and is generally mistrusting of it; however it has not lied to him even remotely as much as he believes. Abel taught him how to speak and how to navigate the deeper underbelly of Zaun that ROBIN WANTED TO GO INTO. Robin was disillusioned when he could not find the answers he wanted, and was arrogant enough to travel into a place of unethical work in order to try and find a solution to the loss of life tormenting him.

Abel simply gave Robin the tools in which he asked for, but every decision, every mistake, and every error was caused by Robin alone. Even in death, Bel pushes Robin to break his habits and find people to communicate with, it rewards him for it and offers him ways to heal but only HE can cause the change he wants to see and experience. Until he can find it within himself again that he is a human and not a beast within the woods, he will have moons for eyes, and a gait that follows the breeze swept through the trees - what comes after..? He has yet to see.