#hope you found something here insightful at least!

[kaznejis]

Your opal eyes are all I wish to see- Erik Lehnsherr x Reader

Professor Erik Lehnsherr was an enigma, it was undeniable to anyone who crossed his path. He emanated a magnificent presence; intelligence, authority, power. But, he was also kind, when he wanted to be. Reverent smiles when a student offered an insightful point during one of his seminars, a chuckle when a hint of true personality slipped out during their answer, a smirk when the debate prose grew heated.  A true beacon of trust, solemn kindness to all of his students; but, sometimes, in the darkest depths of the night, tucked safely into the comforts of your duvet- you felt that part of him reserved an extra sense of kindness for you. 

A/N: Hi! Thanks for reading, I (hopefully) intend to make this into a series of stand-alone but affiliated oneshots. This one can act as a form of 'introduction' to this series.

*NOTE* You ARE 18+ in this, just some innocentish, legal teacher x student happenings. If my renowned university allows it, then I guess Xavier's school would too.

Read it on AO3! / Word Count: 4.6k / Series masterlist

Professor Erik Lehnsherr was an enigma, it was undeniable to anyone who crossed his path. He emanated a magnificent presence; intelligence, authority, power. But, he was also kind, when he wanted to be. Reverent smiles when a student offered an insightful point during one of his seminars, a chuckle when a hint of true personality slipped out during their answer, a smirk when the debate prose grew heated. 

A true beacon of trust, solemn kindness to all of his students; but, sometimes, in the darkest depths of the night, tucked safely into the comforts of your duvet- you felt that part of him reserved an extra sense of kindness for you. 

It was small at first, minor episodic moments that could have been passed off as nothing. A nod of gratitude at a correct answer, a click of thumbs when something you noted reminded him of a point, a smile as you approached him with a question after class. He had been your saving grace in the bleak sadness of those first days at the school- initially you had viewed the ‘Gifted School’ as your punishment, punishment for the twisting of cells within your body and soul; for the inherent iniquitous poison that resided upon the tips of your fingers and the tears that dripped from your eyes. At the flicker of a breath you could force a being across the bridge between living and death; make the decision for them, shove their teetering body upon the ledge their soul balanced upon. It had been too much, too much power. You had been too much of a burden to your family back home, what’s to say you weren’t one here? 

Despite those dark, dragging days; months followed your enrolment upon the school and gradually, you grew comfortable and found home in the place you had once seen as a finale to any semblance of normal life, an eternal imprisonment. So, as you came to see the school as home; you grew comfortable with the teacher that graced the presence of your studies three days per week: Monday, Wednesday and Friday. 

His methods of teaching were interesting- he tended to treat his students more as ‘friends’; seeing as though he opted to teach the older students over the sniffling children of the school, he saw no means for punishment or lecturing- instead opting to have what he liked to call an ‘academic discussion’. His classroom was an open, equal playing field for all- a chance to truly be understood by an, arguably, more unorthodox mutant; as compared to Professor Xavier or McCoy. Most days he would grace the classroom’s presence donning his selected dark turtle neck of the day, similarly dark chinos and his trusted, sharp lace-up loafers. 

You spent many-a-day looking forward to his sharp, attractive outfit of the day. 

On the days where you didn’t have a class with him, you prayed, hoped, begged that you would pass him at some point in the day; book yourself at least a fleeting smile into his obviously busy schedule. Some days he would provide you with just that, a genuine smile and a passing question on how you were finding his assigned reading; sometimes you would even be able to develop that into a conversation. Some days, you would be unlucky; your paths simply unfated to align on that specific day. But, some days, you do pass him; your heart picking up speed as you near him in the hallway- on those days, in those unlucky moments, he would simply pass right by you; not even sparing you a fleeting second. Leaving a grating emptiness within your stomach. It was safe to say, those successful meetings had become everything. Your own driving force to make yourself presentable on the days where you weren’t guaranteed to see him, an excuse to leave your room on the days where nightmares blurred the edges of your vision and infected the depths of your twisted soul. 

It was a Friday when it truly started, transcended past your lone imagination and your regretful dreams, past the moans and pants of Erik into the depths of your pillow beneath the blanket of night, your own hand sneaking between your thighs. It had been the average Friday at first- breakfast with Jean, mutant politics with Professor Xavier at 9, and then at 10:30: mutant history with Professor Lehnsherr. 

It had been warm- a soothing, blurring comfort laying upon the grounds of the school; there was a bonfire planned for that night, a signal to the beginning of Summer, the break from classes that would be due to come. You had practically bounced into Erik’s classroom; excitement blurring any sense of formality as you failed to wipe the grin from your face- he turned to you as you entered, pausing his conversation with a student already mobile at their desk; a confused smile instantly graced his features, his eyebrow raising in amusement. 

“Morning Y/N.” Professor Lehnsherr, unlike his counterparts, only used first names with his students- even playing field, and all. 

“Morning Professor Lehnsherr.”

To that he instantly chastised you, “How many times have I told this class that you can just call me Erik? I beg Y/N, what do you have against my god given name?” 

You shrugged, grinning earnestly as you rifled through your backpack, today was one of the good days, “Nothing, nothing at all Prof- Erik.” He chuckled at your correction, hands on his hips as he turned fully towards you now- dismissing the student he had been talking to entirely, but presumably unintentionally. 

“Well, what’s gotten you so chipper today, Y/N?” 

“Oh!” You grinned wholeheartedly towards him, practically purring at the attention he was granting you, “It’s the summer bonfire tonight, of course.” 

“The night where Y/N gets absolutely wasted with no remorse, she means.” Jean tittered beside you, winking at you as your face instantly bloomed with heat. You couldn’t even be angry at her in that moment, because the laugh that bloomed from Erik’s chest made your own embarrassment all worth it. 

“Well sounds like you all have a good night ahead of you.” He was leaned against his desk now, boundless legs crossed at the knee and hair falling upon his forehead as he grinned to himself. 

“Will you be there, Erik?” You questioned tentatively, breaking the urge to suck your lip between your teeth; a desperate attempt to silence the leaking of your own secrets in his mere presence. 

Raising his eyes to you, Erik seemed to watch you for a moment; his eyes unreadable and face expressionless as he lounged there, every length of his stature going still. Biting your tongue, you could barely breathe; silently lavishing in his gaze as your heartbeat thundered in your ears- your surrounding classmates, Jean- all succumbing to a blur as you watched each other; two beasts stricken in the wild, the string connecting your mind to his pulled taut; similar in more ways you could ever know. After what felt like forever, eternity, mere seconds- he rose, smoothed a hand over his slicked-back hair and straightened his posture, “We’ll see.” 

And at that, the moment ended, he turned away entirely- scratching his worn-down chalk against the blackboard as he began his lesson; the only part of him available to you was the harsh lines of his back as you regained your ability to breath, digging crescent moons into the skin of your thigh as the surrounding classroom came back to you in waves. Scrambling to open your book and prepare your quill- you used the familiar ministrations as a chance to even your breaths, preparing for the inevitable event of him turning back towards the classroom, turning back towards you. 

As you, finally, began to catch up with his words and write your notes- Jean’s chair scratched against the floor beside you as she leant towards you, her voice that followed was lower than a whisper, intentionally audible only to you, “What the hell was that?” 

She had noticed it too. Gulping, you shook your head, barely raising your eyes from the book  before you, “I have no idea.��� 

The remainder of his lesson passed in a blur, the ache between your legs and the confusion filling your chest all too noticeable as you failed to truly focus on the lesson before you. Your lack of focus meant you had specifically been unable to understand the essay prompt Erik had presented to the class- your sudden silence was almost deafening, the other students very obviously used to you  picking up the slack in discussion as you would usually grasp the opportunity of any attention Erik would spare you. 

You made the rash decision to approach Erik at the end of class, your own strive for academic success stubbornly drowning your own nerves towards him. As the other students filtered from the classroom, you diverged from Jean with a promise to see her at the party later; to which she could only reply with a pointed grimace towards Erik. Erik, who had promptly lowered himself to the seat at his desk, his gaze laser-focused upon a stack of papers before him; his gaze did not rise as you approached.

Clearing your throat, you teetered awkwardly beside him, your fingers a constant twitch at your sides, “Erik, I was wondering-” 

“Sorry Y/N, I can’t help you today- I have an obligation immediately after this.” Oh.

You blustered for a moment, your nerves and twirling fingers reaching a screeching halt as he effectively cut you off. Oh. The twining line that you believed existed between the two of you instantly snapped, the wretched, torn fibres hanging limply at his rejection. Blinking, you could only stare as he resolutely refused to look at you; his fingers lay upon his lips, his index finger rubbing against the chapped, pink skin.

He seemed almost bored by your presence. 

At that thought, you made your exit, and did it hastily. Without even sparing him another word, you backed out of the classroom; your heart stuttering and knees quivering- the walk to your room was agonising, the eyes of students and teachers alike followed your harried figure; confusion and empathy following your form as you will yourself to just make it to your room, just make it to the safety of a closed door. 

As the door slammed behind you, you could only breath; confusion and hurt swirling within the dregs of your stomach as you heaved brokenly. Erik had never dismissed you like that; had never talked to you like that. What had you done to deserve that? Had your question of whether he would be attending the bonfire offended him? The mere thought of associating himself with a gaggle of students; immature, unaware, uninteresting students. You realised, that was all you were to him. As he had been your saving grace, the aid that motivated you to climb from your bed in the mornings; you had been nothing but apart of his job, a hindrance to his time as you only extended the time he had to endure your presence- all in your plight to force yourself upon him. Horror replaced the confusion then- the realisation that you had been nothing but an embarrassment to yourself in his presence- his esteemed, intelligent presence. 

You vowed, there and then, that you would leave him alone- contribute nothing more than what was necessary, ignore him in the hallways, direct any questions you had to your other professors. It was for his benefit more than anything, you wanted to garner nothing but a positive impression upon him. 

The remainder of daylight saw you sulking beneath your duvet; scribbles adorning your diary as you lamented your feelings for Erik, chastised your own stupidity; the happiness that had graced your presence that morning didn’t allow even the slightest linger. As evening dawned and as the dining hour passed; your door suddenly flung open, Jean at its helm; a plate of tray of food in her hand and a displeased impression upon her face. 

“Y/N! You’re going to miss dinner.” She allowed herself entrance to the room, placing the tray upon your bedside and throwing the covers from your sulking form, “You know you can’t drink on an empty stomach, eat.” 

Admittedly, the smell of the delicious meal effectively coaxed you from your dwelling; instantly, to Jean’s chagrin, you began to eat with the manners of a starving wolf, your body becoming accustomed to the feeling of hunger that had been turning your stomach for hours, “Thanks, Jean.” Stopping your tirade, you allowed her a smile; to which she instantly raised an eyebrow at how pathetic it was.

“Hey,” Frowning, she joined you upon the mattress, a hand moving to lay against your back, “What’s got you so down?” 

Placing your fork down, you huffed; a heavy exhale falling from your nostrils as you stared resolutely down at your plate, “I’m such an idiot.” 

“What? Why-” 

“Professor Lehnsherr; I tried to approach him after class today and he dismissed me completely… Oh Jean I’m such an idiot-” 

“Y/N, you’re not an idiot- why would he do that? He’s always up to have a chat after class with anyone, but especially you.” 

You paused, lowering your face into your hands; the comfort of Jean’s hand rubbing circles upon your back, coaxing your feelings forward, “I think I’ve made him uncomfortable.” 

“Uncomfortable?” 

Nodding, you turned to her then, a frown marring your features as you held back your own tears, “You know, my crush on him- I think I’ve gone too far, he feels that he can’t even speak to me anymore.” 

You could only watch in shock as Jean laughed at that, a grin lining her features as she raised an eyebrow incredulously, “Y/N, he’s a grown man and a teacher! If he was uncomfortable I’m sure he would do more than just ignore you.” Jean shrugged, a lopsided smile upon her face, “Maybe he was just having an off day- remember how weird he was at the start of today’s class?” 

You nodded, a true smile finally adorning your features, “Maybe,” You sniffled, “Well- this just provides all the more excuse to get drunk tonight.” 

“And, all the more excuse to put a pretty dress on to take your mind off of Professor Lehnsherr.” She practically sang his name, giggling as you rolled your eyes before rising, offering you her hands and dragging you towards the hellscape that was your wardrobe.

The ceremonious activities began with a bang that night, literally- Professor McCoy having added too much gasoline to the bonfire’s mass, causing the first lick of fire to essentially skyrocket upwards; causing screams of genuine terror to erupt. Howling with laughter, you and Jean had stumbled towards the drinks table- each pouring yourself a cup of punch before discreetly adding vodka, from Jean’s own trusty flask, into each of your cups. 

“To getting over crushes,” Jean grinned, though you didn’t miss the way her gaze drifted towards Scott, “Cheers!” 

“Cheers!” You crashed your cup against hers, giggling obnoxiously as some spilled from hers- only to gag upon your first sip of the apparent poison within your cup, “Jean! How much did you put in here?” 

She shrugged, a cheeky grin painting her features as she sashayed her hips to the music that had began, all the while moving backwards towards the bonfire and the crowd beginning to form. Shaking your head, you followed her; greeting your friends and fellow students as you entered the crowd- pushing forward before finding the perfect spot directly in front of the fire. You had the perfect view of the opposite side; it seems that the school’s faculty had formed their own group towards the edge of the student-crowd, mingling and laughing over bottles of beer respectively. You didn’t pay much mind towards others in the crowd as you danced and drank and laughed with Jean. That was until, a commotion erupted from the professor’s crowd as a figure joined them. 

To your shock, it was Erik. Erik, dressed in an unbuttoned plaid shirt and black jeans to match the undershirt hugging his chest; his sleeves were rolled up to the elbow. The usual pomade that held his hair in place had been forgone in favour of his natural waves; a lone strand of longer hair protruding upon his forehead as he accepted a drink from Professor Xavier, a genuine grin directed towards his friend. You could do nothing but stare, frozen in place as your cup hung limply in your palm. He turned then, his gaze scanning past the campfire, towards the crowd you stood at the forefront of; his search allowed you the split-second of grace to look away, turning hastily towards Jean as you grabbed her hands. “We should refill our drinks.” Jean agreed readily, pulling you out of the crowd, away from Erik’s waiting gaze. 

At the mere reminder of Erik, his existence- the way he had dismissed you that morning; the drinks began to flow freely. Cup after cup was downed as you lost any care for the way others were seeing you- finally, truly, you were letting go, foregoing the emotional baggage that lay upon your shoulders just for one night. 

It was well past midnight as you wandered away from the bonfire, bored of watching Jean make out with Scott, “Congratulations.” You grumbled to yourself as you shoved your way through the overgrowth, the trees casting foreboding shadows upon your vision as you trampled over stray branches. After a minute of walking, you stumbled upon an old shed; the building’s wretched curves and rotting wood illuminated beneath the moon as you stood before it. Just as you were about to turn, return to the safety of the campfire; a rustling sounded on the other side of the building. Curiosity peaked your mind as you peered round the rise, only for shock to bridle them simultaneously as your gaze fell upon Erik, sat upon the steps in front of the building, an unlit cigarette poised between his fingers. He looked up instantly upon the sound of your unconcealable gasp. 

“Oh-” You breathed, shocked at the sight of him, “I’m sorry, I’ll just-” 

“You’ve caught me,” He huffed, holding his hands up- a willing criminal succumbing to their crime, his cigarette still hung limp between his fingers, “I’ve been caught.”

Your drunken conscience only allowed for a broken giggle to form from your mouth, for your knees to tremble and your feet to stumble in his direction. He raised an eyebrow at you, mirth painting his smirk as he looked you up and down unashamedly. You could only watch as he fumbled around in his jean pocket for a moment before retrieving a lighter; turning it in his hand- once, twice; before placing the cigarette between his lips and lighting it. The blunt, ember end of the cigarette illuminated his face in the darkness; the bustle of the bonfire long behind you in the shadows of the building he sat beside- he took a prolonged drag of the cigarette then, the smoke clouding your nostrils as he exhaled. 

Chuckling, he turned towards you, the cigarette balanced upon his lips and reducing his voice to a blabbering murmur, “Don’t smoke, Y/N, nasty habit to get rid of.” You could only nod; mystified by the drink and the smoke and the heed of his gaze, his heavy eyelids and messy hair, his presence rendering you silent, mute as you could only stare right back at him. 

Your heartbeat only skyrocketed as he patted the step beside him, beckoning you over with a tilt of his head; a puff of smoke abrogating from his mouth as he did so. You complied, discreetly wiping the sweat from your hands upon your knees as you lowered yourself beside him, allowing him a polite smile as you curled your arms around the bare skin of your shins. You were dangerously close, the harsh scent of cigarette smoke and cologne lost to the administrations of the day, invading your senses- you could only breathe it in, breathe in the moment, the proximity of his form. You didn’t know what to say, what to do- you only knew the Erik that wore restricting turtle necks and had perfectly slicked back hair; not plaid shirts and battered nikes’. It seemed that he was too aware of this, opting to smoke his cigarette silently beside you, allowing you your own time to process this interaction. 

Finally, you found your voice; the sound of it a mere croak at first as you turned towards him, your knee knocking against his abrasively, clumsily. God, you were so drunk,  “Could I- could I have a try?” 

His gaze bled into yours before it dropped to the cigarette between his fingers, he gestured to it at first; to which you nodded in confirmation. His features morphed into one of amusement, impressed as he handed it towards you; tutting all the while, “Naughty.” 

You laughed, head hanging back loosely as the alcohol broke the filter that had at first clouded your, already dulled, senses, “I just want to try new things, Professor.” To which you then attempted to take a drag of the cigarette, though you failed entirely, breaking into a fit of coughs as the smoke preemptively wafted into your open mouth. 

Erik grinned, shaking his head as he plucked the cigarette from your fingers, “See, like this.” You watched as he puckered his lips around the bud, inhaling, demonstrating before exhaling smoke directly into your face. If you had moved forward only a few inches, your mouths could have met in a kiss, your mind spoke insidiously. Once he handed the cigarette back to you, you followed his administration; though you were still unable to stop the hacking coughs from rising within your lungs, practically throwing the cigarette back at him as you spluttered into your elbow. 

“How do you even get used to that?” 

He shrugged, returning to his own routine of inhaling and exhaling, “Like I said, nasty habit.” 

Exhaling quietly, you allowed silence to settle over the two of you; an embalming sense of bliss filling your senses- the sounds of the bonfire had long since calmed now, the party having wound down for the night as people presumably either left for their rooms or huddled in groups around the fire. The blurred edges of inebriation left only a residual floating sense now; your heartbeat having calmed, simply basking in the proximity of Erik’s presence, closer than ever before; closer than the dreams that awoke you at night, that plagued every day and every interaction with the man beside you. 

His own resolute silence dawned upon you then; shit, maybe he wanted to be alone? You instantly began to rise to your feet, “I’m sorry, Erik, I-” Before you could continue, a hand curled around your wrist; dexterous fingers caressing the skin there as he stared up at you; his gaze open, unabashed. However, the moment ended as soon as it started, he seemed to catch himself; his gaze darkening as he snatched his hand away- almost as if he had made contact with boiling hot coals, not the cool skin of your wrist. You stood there for a moment, shoulders taut and shock unbridled as you stared at the spot where his caress had just laid. 

Abruptly, he stood; a hand carding through his hair as he disposed of the cigarette- the bud smoking upon the ground as he began to pace; shaking his head all the while, “I’m sorry Y/N, Oh, I’m so sorry-” 

“Professor, what-” 

“Please,” He begged brokenly, his voice broken as he pleaded with you, stopping his pacing a mere step before you, “Please, don’t call me that.” 

His words were strict, final. You could only nod, regret and embarrassment fizzing within your throat as you garbled out an apology, “I’m sorry, Erik, I-” 

“God,” He sighed, his eyes practically rolling back as he stood before you, his hands clenched at his sides; as if he were holding himself back, “I wish you didn’t call me that either.” 

“I- I’m sorry, I don’t-” 

Erik turned, pacing back towards the step before lowering himself upon it, his head instantly falling to his hands as the tips of his fingers entangled into his hair; his whole demeanour clenched in distress. You sincerely did not understand what was happening. When he spoke next, his voice was low, but grating with emotion. Emotion that resided deep within his bowels, within the very vessels of his soul as he raised his head towards you, “I’m a terrible teacher.” 

The confusion ebbed and flowed through your bloodstream now, practically a part of you as you could only gape at him, “What? No-” 

“No, Y/N.” He spoke, silencing you, “I am awful, horrible. I have thoughts that no teacher, no man should have.” 

Swallowing nervously, you advanced towards him; coaxing yourself forward as if approaching a stalking predator; his gaping mouth practically waiting to engulf you, feast upon your blood and bones and soul. “Erik, I don’t understand-” 

“Y/N.” He rose, instantly crowding towards you, his hands moving to caress your shoulders and arms and waist; engulfing the feeling of your skin like a man hungry past the bounds of starvation. You could only stand there, panting. “Day and night, awake and asleep; I think of you. You reside in the light of every dream and the deep darkness of every nightmare; you are always there.” It was his turn to pant now, your hot breaths mingling upon the cold air as you willed, begged yourself not to give in, not to look down at his lips. Before you could reply, he shook his head, tears swimming in his eyes, “You don’t have to say anything, please, never feel pressured to say anything back; to return my horrible, wretched thoughts. I’ll leave, I’ll leave the school, I’ll leave you alone-” 

You swallowed the sound of his words with your own lips, a hmm the only sound that remained of his rant as you moved to clutch his cheeks, his jaw, the ends of his hair. The two of you stumbled backwards as you gasped into his mouth, your lips moving with intense fervour as he manoeuvred you backwards- encasing your neck with his arms as he propped you against a nearby tree- the bristles and branches scratching against your form allowed no solace as your lips engulfed Erik’s, your soul ricocheting against his as you moved in perfect tandem. Tongues and bodies intertwined as you gasped and moaned and panted against his mouth; your leg hitching around his waist as he dragged a hand downwards before trailing a finger across the skin of your kneecap- he was everywhere, the feeling of him electrifying as he moved down; his tongue forming shapes upon your throat as his breath burned hot against the sensitive skin there.

Just as his hand began to move south, just as his fingers intertwined with the edges of your skirt- a twig snapped in the nearby wood. Instantly the moment died, Erik disconnected himself from you entirely; his shirt half hanging from his frame and hair a mess as he panted at you, eyes wide; form trembling. You could only stare back, chest heaving and back firm against the base of the tree, your leg still hanging limp in the air as the contact point had since retreated. 

Gulping, you patted at the hair on top of your head, wiped at the moist upon your lips, “Erik-” 

He didn’t spare you the grace of another word as he retreated, moving backwards; his stricken gaze never leaving yours as he retreated into the dark of the trees, back to the bustling of the party. Once his figure disappeared, you could only collapse against the tree entirely; tears pouring from your eyes and glistening upon your cheeks as you sobbed, your whole body feeling nothing but anguish.

TBC

[atlabeth]

northern attitude

geyser (where hurricane is introduced)

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

summary: you and luke meet for the first time. (or luke saves you from a monster, you argue with each other the whole time, and he realizes that he doesn't want to survive alone anymore.)

a/n: by popular demand, hurricane is back for a sequel! and potentially more. lol. enjoy some insight into her (justice for weird little girls) and try not to think about the fact that she dies 6 years later! title comes from new england king noah kahan for these new england icons

wc: 4.6k

warning(s): some inner luke angst, monster encounter and short fight (luke gets a bit injured), they argue but in the fun way. they're just lil nine year olds

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Luke muttered. 

He didn’t get an answer back. He was, after all, talking to a fish. 

Maybe it didn’t like that he was a criminal. Luke had snuck his way into the New England Aquarium—he wasn’t going to cough up twenty-five bucks to look at marine life—in desperate need of a reprieve from the city, and he fought the urge to check his back every second. If there was one thing he’d learned from being on his own, it was that kids traveling alone always attracted attention. The last thing he needed was attention. 

Talking to a fish probably wasn’t good for that, but Luke wasn’t exactly in the best headstate. 

Because honestly, he didn’t really know what he was doing in Massachusetts. He tried staying in Connecticut after running away, but it still felt too close to home. He could still hear his mom yelling, could still see her glowing eyes. So he bought the cheapest bus ticket he could find to Boston, hoping a state in between would help. 

That was the second thing he’d learned while traveling on the road: everything was way too expensive. And for a kid with no job living off the allowance he’d saved up and some extra money he took out of his mom’s wallet, that wasn’t great. If Luke couldn’t get something dirt cheap, he stole it. His father may not have answered any of his prayers in the past few years, but at least he had naturally quick fingers. 

Luke sighed as he turned away from the fish, who was clearly not interested in striking up a conversation. He weaved his way through the crowd as he tried to think of where to go next—it wasn’t the smartest decision, but he was tempted to get a little whale plush from the gift stop—when he heard the middle of a conversation. 

“You made a mistake coming here, dearie.” 

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as Luke froze in place. He couldn’t even murmur an apology to the people who bumped into him because the gears in his head were turning rapidly. 

“Let go of me—” a voice protested in response. 

“Quieting down would do you some good. Did your mother not teach you manners?”

He was still trying to see who it was when he finally found it. A middle-aged woman moved through the crowd with a girl around Luke’s age, her hand wrapped tightly around the girl’s arm. Her nails were more like claws, and she had a strange gait that she tried to cover up. That was when he knew. 

See, Luke had gotten used to distinguishing creeps from freaks with all his time on the road. Cutting a monster down would turn them into dust—normal humans would call the police. And if there was anything more dangerous for a runaway juvenile than monsters, it was the police. 

But if a monster had ignored every single person in this building to get to you, it meant he’d somehow stumbled his way into the path of another half-blood. And Luke wasn’t going to let another half-blood die right in front of him. 

So he took a deep breath, hoped the five second plan he made up in his head would work, and moved in.

“May, where have you been?” Luke tried to put on his best brother voice, and made himself as imposing as a nine year old could be. He didn’t focus at all on the monster, instead communicating to trust him as much as he could with his eyes. “Mom’s been worried sick!”

Both you and the woman turned to look at him, and Luke immediately knew he made the right choice from the blatant fear in your expression. 

“Sorry,” you said, letting your shoulders fall and your gaze drop to the ground. Luke tried not to let his relief show over you playing along. “I really wanted to look at the sea turtle—” 

“You should’ve said something instead of just wandering off,” he insisted. “We can all go look at it together—once Mom is done lecturing you, at least.” Luke took your hand and you let him pull you over to his side, positioning himself in front of you ever so slightly as he looked up at the woman. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her. I appreciate it.” 

“You should be more careful,” she said eerily. It felt as if she was staring right into his soul. “You never know the kind of things that are out there.” 

“I know,” he said, shaking his head. “Sisters, am I right?” 

As soon as they were out of hearing distance, he lowered his voice and tightened his grip on your hand. “Come on. Try and look casual.” 

“You know what she is,” you whispered.

“Yes,” he said, then he shook his head. “I— not exactly. But I know she’s a monster.”

“I knew it,” you muttered with vindication. Luke felt your eyes on him. “So you’re like me?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“One of your parents is—” You stopped, as if you still weren’t sure. 

Luke knew the feeling all too well—desperately trying to tell someone what he was only to be met with that look adults loved to give. You’re clearly talking nonsense, but I feel bad for you so I’ll humor you. And all the normal kids he’d tried to tell the truth to thought he was just playing a game. 

“A god,” he finished quietly. “Yeah.”

You started to look back, but Luke stopped you. 

“Don’t.” Their chances of getting attacked in a place so full of people was lower, but Luke had dealt with some particularly bold monsters. One able to disguise themself as a human would have an advantage—Luke learned people hated listening to kids, especially ones they could pass off as delusional. “You don’t want her to catch on.” 

“Who are you?” you asked. 

“My name’s Luke,” he said. “What about you?” 

You said your name, then you glanced at him. “You know a lot about all of this. More than me.” 

“Are you a runaway too?”

You nodded, and a part of his heart broke. You had no right to be out here, not when you were so young. 

And he says so, too. “You shouldn’t be out here on your own. It’s dangerous.” 

You frowned. “You’re out here on your own too.” 

“I’ve been on my own for a few months,” he said. “I know what to expect. How long have you been out?” 

You shrugged. “A week.” 

Luke let out a ragged sigh. “You’ve got bad luck if monsters are already coming after you.” 

“They already have,” you murmured, and you looked back at him. “How old are you if you’ve been doing this for months?” 

Luke frowned. “Nine. How old are you?” 

“I’m also nine,” you shot back. “So you can’t say anything to me.” 

He opened his mouth to retort—Luke hadn’t been a child in years, not since Hermes left him alone with a cursed mother and a burning rage inside of him that he couldn’t let go of, no matter how hard he tried. But if you chose to run away from home too, then you were in the same boat. Kids like you two didn’t get to be kids. 

“Fair,” he conceded. “But it’ll be a lot easier to give her the slip if we work together.”

“…I can deal with that.” You cleared your throat. “Thank you for saving me, though. I… I just froze.” 

“It happens more than you’d think,” Luke muttered. “We have to throw her off our trail, though. She’s not gonna be happy.” 

“She’s probably ecstatic,” you said, shaking your head. “She’s got two kids to eat instead of one.” 

“Aren’t you an optimist?” he remarked. 

You chuckled. “Sorry. It hasn’t been a great day.” 

“It’s fine.” Luke didn’t know the last great—god, even good—day he’d had, even before he ran away. Honestly, this conversation with you had been the highlight of this month. “But we can’t just leave. She has our scent, so she’ll be on us as soon as we’re on our own. It’ll be even easier out in the open. We’ve gotta set security on her trail to get her off ours.” 

You nodded as you turned another corner. “We should get to the gift shop. It’ll be less populated, but still enough to hide us.” 

Luke nodded. “Smart. And security’ll have an easy path there in case of shoplifters.” 

“So tell a sob story, get security, set them on her,” you said, looking at him. 

“Then get the hell out of here,” he agreed. 

“Think we can get a souvenir for the occasion?” you asked. “We’ve probably earned it with all this dodging.” 

Luke thought about that whale plushie again. “Maybe.” 

“The stairs are that way.” You gestured with your head, and Luke turned—he’d been going the completely wrong direction.

“Thanks,” he said. “You know this place?” 

“I’m from Boston,” you nodded. “And I’ve been here a lot with my mom.”

Luke figured he should have guessed by the accent. He didn’t know how long he was going to stay, but it would be useful to have someone with him who knew the city.

“You’re still pretty close to home,” he noted. 

You shrugged. “I’ve been doing all the things I’ve wanted to do now that I’m officially on my own. I know I’m gonna have to leave eventually, but…” you sighed and shook your head. “I guess I’m scared. Brave enough to run away but too scared to make it official.” 

Luke understood that more than you could know. It took him feeling like he was going to burst out of his skin before he got the strength to leave Connecticut. 

“You don’t wanna leave your mom,” he guessed. 

You nodded. “I love her more than anything, but I’ve already put her in too much danger. I’m leaving until I can figure out how to keep her safe.” 

You’re a kid, Luke wanted to say. It should be the other way around. But he’d already been hypocritical enough for today, and you’d probably say the same. 

“That’s sweet,” he said. “Stupid, but sweet.” 

“We’re both nine-year-old runaways,” you said. “You don’t get to tell me what’s stupid.” 

He chuckled and shook his head, letting the matter drop as you finally got to the gift shop. Luke had been stressed about how to strike a balance between cautious enough to keep your backs covered but confident enough to not be questioned, but it turned out talking with you was all he needed. 

On the way to the front, Luke caught sight of a whale plushie. His fingers itched to grab it, but he kept his eyes on the better prize of not dying and came to a stop at the cash register. 

“Hi,” Luke said, getting the attention of the employee at the front, hoping he sounded adequately fearful. “There’s a woman out there that tried to get my friend to go with her. Tall, middle-aged, dressed in grandmother-y clothes with glasses. She grabbed her arm and threatened her.” 

“You kids aren’t joking around, are you?” the cashier asked. 

“No,” you said, and Luke was shocked by how close to tears you sounded. “It was really scary— my parents were in the bathroom and I was waiting for them, and she just looked so nice, but—” somehow, a tear actually fell from your eye as you let out a sob— “but she tried to take me away.” 

The woman shook her head as she went back and grabbed a walkie talkie from below the register. The moment she turned away, you glanced at Luke and nodded, and he just stared in awe. She relayed Luke’s description then said a couple other things, then she crouched down to be on their level to look you straight-on. “Where are your parents?” 

“They’re in the bathroom on the second floor,” you provided. “We came here because we didn’t know where else to go.” 

She sighed, falling for every part of it. You were much better at garnering sympathy than Luke was. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I called our security— they’ll be here in a second to get a statement from you.” 

You nodded, sniffling a bit as your lip quivered. “Thank you. I— I just want my mom.” 

The employee put her hand to her heart, and when you went for a hug, she reciprocated. “Don’t cry. You’re gonna be safe, okay? I’ll wait with you until security gets here. One of our guards is already out there looking for her.”

“Okay,” you agreed. Luke caught your eye from behind her back, and you dropped your act in a second to smile knowingly at him. He just shook his head with a slight smile of his own—you were good at this. 

Eventually, two security guards arrived—Luke doubted they would be good for handling a shoplifter, much less a mythological monster—but they took yours and Luke’s statements, and were about to leave before you spoke up. 

“Our parents are definitely looking for us,” you said, already back on the verge of tears. “Can— can you take us to them? When they went to the bathroom, we were by the coral reef.” 

“‘Course.” One of them nodded and looked at his partner. “I’ll get them back to their parents—you look for the suspect.” 

After a short discussion, the three of you set out, you still holding Luke’s hand as he leaned closer to you. 

“On my signal,” he murmured. “We’re gonna blend into the crowd and get out of here.”

You nodded. You were so close to the exit, but you allowed the guard to take you up the stairs, and thankfully the crowd around the middle of the giant ocean tank was huge. Luke counted off quietly, and when he got to three, you split off, blending into a group of kids on a school field trip to get back to the stairs. 

You started moving at a much quicker pace, the exit within your sights, but just as they were about to make it, Luke spotted their monster. And now, she was definitely a monster—Luke couldn’t remember the name, but she’d shed her disguise, looking like some kind of bird-human hybrid thing. It didn’t really matter in his opinion, because she really looked like she wanted to kill the two of you. 

Luke cursed and grabbed your arm, immediately pulling you flat up against the wall with him. “She’s here.” 

“We told security about her,” you protested. “How hard could it be to find her?” 

“A bit harder when they’re gonna be seeing something different.” Luke glanced at you. “You said you’ve already dealt with monsters before.” 

You nodded. 

“Do you remember feeling like you were the only one who actually saw what was happening? Like you saw the monster for what it was while it was trying to kill you, and everyone was still freaking out, but not as much as they should have been?” 

You nodded again. 

“Well, that’s a thing. Normal people can’t see what monsters really look like—only we can.” Luke peeked his head around the corner again. “And if she’s shed her disguise, it means she wants to go in for the kill. And it means we’re completely on our own.” 

“We’re not on our own,” you said. “We’ve got each other.” 

Luke found himself smiling. It had been a while since that was true. It had been a while since he’d smiled. 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “And it’s harder to kill two half-bloods than one.” 

He poked his head out again and immediately withdrew it, cursing under his breath as he stared up at the ceiling. “I never should have come to this city.”  

“Excuse me?” You stepped away from the wall as your brows furrowed. “Boston is the greatest city in the world.” 

“If you’re gonna be wrong, be wrong quietly,” Luke urged, gesturing with his head for you to get back. “And you are wrong, by the way.” 

“I’m not wrong.” You crossed your arms, refusing to budge. “Did you know that we have the first public park? And the first public school! And we have the T! Where are you even from?” 

“We can talk about this later,” he insisted. “We’re trying to hide. Have you ever hidden before?” 

“We don’t need to hide when you’ve insulted my Commonwealth’s honor,” you said. “Especially when you’re in our aquarium. Where are you from to be talking so badly about the Bay State?” 

“Connecticut,” he finally said, hoping that would get you to finally quiet down, but that only ramped you up further. “Place called Westport.”

“Connecticut?” you marveled, throwing your hands up. “You’re from some podunk town in Connecticut and you’re insulting Boston?” 

“Okay, Westport is not a podunk town—” Luke started, but he didn’t get the chance to finish defending his hometown before he caught sight of their monster—and she’d caught sight of them. 

Luke cursed even harder under his breath with words no nine year old should have known, then he grabbed your hand and pulled you along into a jog, interrupting your immediate protests. 

“She’s got us pinned,” he said, trying to keep his voice low enough to not be detected while making sure you could hear him. “Together, our scent is too strong. We’re not gonna be able to lose her—we’ve gotta kill her.”

“Could the fish help with her knowing where we are?” you asked as you started running with him. “Because they’ll be happy to help us. They don’t like her either.”

Luke did a double take. “What?”

“I can hear what they’re saying,” you said, as if it were completely normal. “It’s a little overwhelming with so many in one place, honestly.”

If they weren’t on the run from a monster, Luke would have worried a bit more about the fact that you were crazy. But he wasn’t awarded those kinds of luxuries these days. 

“We’ll—” Luke let out a sigh, because what did you mean that you could hear what fish were saying (especially because they clearly weren’t conversation prone)— “we’ll get out of here, and get the upper hand, and we’ll kill her. Okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded. “But Boston is still the greatest city in the world.” 

He huffed, taking his eyes off the path forward for a moment just to look at you. “Are you seriously still on this?” 

“Of course. We also have the greatest baseball team in the country.” You gestured with your free hand. “Do you see how many people here have Red Sox hats on?” 

Luke laughed out of pure shock. Was this the kind of stuff he’d been missing out on while traveling alone? 

“Listen,” he said. “If we get out of this alive, you can tell me all the Red Sox facts you want. But we actually have to work together through all this. Deal?” 

“Deal,” you said immediately. “You’re way more focused than I am.” 

Luke let out a loose breath and shook his head. “Well, I’ve had to be. Do you have a weapon?” 

“I took a kitchen knife before I left,” you said, “just to be safe. It’s worked pretty well.” 

“Do you know how to use it?” 

“I’m really good at chopping vegetables,” you said. “And I killed a monster with it the other day.” 

“Glowing reviews,” Luke chuckled. “I’m pretty good with my sword, so we should be okay.” 

“You’ve got a sword? How?” 

“...My dad left it for me before he left,” Luke said. “I guess he wanted to do one good thing for me in his life.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said. Luke offered a tight smile. 

“Doesn’t matter much anymore,” he said. “Soon as we get outside, we get to the street and get to some empty alley. We hide on either side, wait for her to find us, then take her down. Okay?” 

You nodded resolutely. “Let’s do it.”

The beginning of the plan wasn’t too difficult. Your faces would probably be plastered all over the place once the staff realized you were missing, but that was a problem for another day. You knew the area well so you took charge—and you took the time to spout random facts about the city on your way, of course, like a nine-year-old tour guide—and soon enough they were indeed in an empty alleyway. 

You and Luke stood on each side, weapons in your grasp now that you weren’t surrounded by a whole aquarium of people, and he watched as you stared straight ahead, trying to keep your breathing steady. Besides the whole hearing fish thing, you seemed pretty well-adjusted for where you were. 

But then again—you’d only been at this for a week, and the way you talked about your mom, your home life was the complete opposite of his. 

Luke shook his head. It didn’t matter what your life was like—you both ended up in the same place. 

His thoughts were mercifully ended when Luke heard sharp nails scratching against the brick of the alleyway. He grimaced, his grip tightening on his sword, and he looked over at you. Your eyes were slightly wide, but you nodded when he did. You were ready. 

“You two are clever,” the monster sang, her voice just as grating as her nails against the wall, “but I never miss a meal. And those measly workers just wouldn’t sate my appetite.” 

Her steps got closer and closer, and Luke held his breath. Right before she would be able to see you both, he yelled, “Now!” 

You were out first, immediately lashing at her with your knife. She took the cut against her shoulder and slashed at you in turn, but you dodged out of the way, giving Luke a chance to come in with his sword. But his angle was off, and she deflected the blow then sunk her claws into his arm. Luke cried out, landing a kick on her chest as he ripped himself out of her grasp, but her focus was already back on you. 

You stabbed at her with your knife and actually landed it in her chest, but it wasn’t Celestial bronze—all it did was make her angrier. She screeched and tackled you to the ground, knife still sticking out of her, claws poised to rip your throat out. You grit your teeth as you wrestled her arms away from you, but your strength was fading fast. 

Luke’s eyes widened and he grabbed his sword from the ground. He wouldn’t make it in time, but you could. 

He called out your name and threw his sword, and you didn’t even have to look to snatch it out of the air. Storms raged in your eyes as you stabbed the monster through the side.

“You shouldn’t have come here, dearie,” you spat. 

The monster’s scream dissolved with the wind as she exploded into dust, dousing you in yellow powder. The sword fell out of your grip as you coughed, and you just laid on the ground, drained.  

“Gross,” you grumbled. 

Luke wiped his hand across his forehead as he fought to catch his breath, ignoring the blood seeping down his arm. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” you said between coughs. “I’m great.” 

Luke went over and offered his hand, and he pulled you up after you took it. “I’m so sorry. I guess I’m a little rusty.” 

“Neither of us are dead, are we? I’d say it went pretty well.” You grimaced as you wiped the powder off your face, groaning again. “This is gonna take forever to get off.” 

Luke chuckled as he took his backpack off and took out a towel, which you accepted gratefully. A demigod always had to be prepared. “You say you’ve only been on your own for a week?”

You nodded as you started cleaning your face and arms off. “Not my first monster, though.”

“It never is,” he murmured. Luke tipped his head back towards the sun and closed his eyes, letting out one final, long breath as the buzz from battle started to fade. And along with that, his adrenaline—the wound on his arm began to sting, and he sighed. He really didn’t feel like dealing with that. 

“You’re hurt,” you said, and Luke opened his eyes. 

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “They’re surface level.” 

You frowned. “Are you sure?” 

“I’ve stitched myself up a few times, and this doesn’t need them,” he said, his lip curling at the memory. He was not a very good doctor. “I have some first aid stuff in my bag—once we get out of here, I’ll fix it up.” 

“You said we,” you said. 

Luke blinked. “I did?” 

You nodded. “When we get out of here.” 

He blinked again. He didn’t even notice—didn’t even really think about where you would go after the monster was dead. It was kinda sad, but Luke was pretty sure he’d smiled and talked more in this one hour with you than the past few months on his own. He’d already started thinking of you and him as a collective. 

“What d’you think, then?” he asked. “You wanna stick together?” 

You frowned. “You’re willing to kick it with a girl you just met?”

He shrugged. “You fight well, obviously. And you’re way better at making people feel bad for you than I am. That’s useful when you’ve got nothing.”

“We’re kids on our own,” you said. “It’s not that hard to get pity points.”

“I’ve been told I’m… abrasive,” Luke said. “Besides, I like you already. You were arguing for your baseball team while running for your life. It’s annoying, but impressive.”

“People also say that about me,” you said sagely. Luke smiled and held out his hand more. 

“So? You wanna join forces?”

You stared at it for a while. “Even if I spend the next couple of hours telling you all about the Red Sox?”

Luke chuckled. “I did say you could if we got out of this alive. And I feel pretty alive.” 

It took you another second, but you nodded intently and shook his hand. “Then you’ve got yourself a deal, Luke.” 

“Glad to hear it,” he said, his smile widening.��

You handed him the towel and he went to put it back in his bag when he saw the… souvenir he’d taken before you left the gift shop. He grabbed the whale plushie that had been on his mind all day and held it out to you. “Here.”

You frowned. “When did you even have the time to get this? You definitely didn’t pay for it.”

“Idle hands are the devil’s playthings,” he said. “They won’t miss it. It’s a much better use marking the start of our friendship. Besides,” Luke shrugged, “you did say you wanted a souvenir.” 

You smiled as you took it. “Looks like we’re a trio, then.”

“Welcome to the team,” he said with a grin. “It’s a small one, but I think we’ll make it work.”

“Me too,” you nodded. “And it’ll be nice not being alone.”

Luke thought back to all the nights spent sleeping under bridges, commandeering benches, purposefully choosing overnight buses so he would have somewhere to rest. Constantly watching his back because he had no one else, wondering if each night he camped in the woods would be his last. 

He looked at you, a girl who ran away from home because she didn’t want to hurt her mom. Your clothes were covered in yellow monster dust, sweat dripped down your forehead, and Luke had nearly gotten you killed—but you were still smiling. And he found himself smiling too. 

“Yeah,” Luke murmured. “It will be.” 

[toujoursrab]

Prompt: Persist | Pairing: Jegulus (@into-the-jeggyverse) | Word Count: 1008

“What do you want now, Potter? I’m trying to practice.” Regulus snarled once his broom came to a halt in front of the Gryffindor stands. James Potter stood there, leaning against the barrier, his hazel eyes focused on Regulus. Despite being hidden behind a pair of circular glasses, Regulus could make out the mischievous glint in them. Slytherin Quidditch practice had ended almost thirty minutes ago, but Regulus noticed the Gryffindor team’s captain watching them—him—for the last hour.

“Don’t let me stop you, Reggie. I’m enjoying the view.” A bright smile formed on James lips with every word that he spoke. Regulus swallowed and glanced away. James Potter’s smiles were bloody dangerous because they always left Regulus feeling weird. He didn’t even correct him for the ungodly nickname.

“The team is gone, I’m sure you’ve memorized our plays. You were here last practice too.” Slowly, he lifted his head and allowed his eyes to fall back onto James. His grip tightened on the golden snitch that was captured in his fist. “I’d like to finish out my practice in peace.”

“You noticed me?” The Gryffindor’s hand went into his dark hair, causing it to become messier as he pushed his dark locks from his forehead, ruffling his hair. Eventually his hand found the back of his neck. Regulus noticed this was one of James habits. “You didn’t tell Vanity.”

“Whether you have insights to our plays or not, Gryffindor isn’t going to beat us. You’ve lost the last two matches against us. Your Seeker is shit, I commend taking a chance on a third year but surely there were better options?” Before Regulus could go on to critic the Gryffindor team further, James breathed out a laugh. Regulus heart skipped a beat.

“I don’t care about your plays. I’m not watching your team, I’m watching you.” And another beat.

Despite the current state of his heart, Regulus rolled his eyes. “You watch me all the time. At meals, in the corridor, in the library, during our rounds.” Which Regulus suspected James had paired them together on purpose. “You even walked in on me in the prefects’ bathroom.” A memory that still made Regulus blush.

A look of offense formed on James’ face. “I told you that was an accident!”

“Uh huh.” Regulus waved him off. “What are you and my brother up to, Potter? Why must you persist in asking me out every chance you get when I’m not interested? Is this a kink of yours?”

“Padfoot has nothing to do with this. I keep asking you out because I fancy you, and you haven’t accepted my offer for a date yet.” And maybe he did like the chase—Regulus didn’t have to know that part. James was confident the younger would accept his offer for a date sooner or later. In his mind he and Regulus would be great together, he described it once to Remus that they were like yin and yang. It just made sense. Plus, for Regulus to notice James looking at him all those times, he had to be staring back. That meant something.

Regulus wasn’t quite sure he believed Potter. He never showed interest in him before the end of Regulus fifth year, and even then it was James observing him before waving when he noticed Regulus looking back at him. Surely Sirius put him up to this; a new Marauders prank. There was no way someone as bright, fit, popular, so loved and bloody perfect as James Potter would ask out Regulus Black. They were too opposite. It would never work. The only things they had in common were Quidditch, and the fact that Sirius was their brother. Although, Sirius didn’t like Regulus much these days so maybe he would scratch the last one out. Regulus had spent a lot of sleepless nights overthinking this.

“I’m serious about this, Regulus. I want at least one chance, just one date to prove to you that we could work. You might even learn to fancy me!” There was some form of hope in James eyes, he leaned in on the railing. “One date, and if you’re not into it by the end I’ll leave you alone.”

The Slytherin didn’t need time to think before he was declining James’ offer once again. “I don’t want to go out with you, Potter.”

“Regulus—please.” He almost sounded desperate, and Regulus felt himself start to fold just a little bit. He blamed the weakened state of his heart along with James Potter’s stupid smile and messy hair. “Hogsmeade is this weekend. We would have so much fun! Butterbeers, Zonko’s, Scrivenshaft got in new quills, you told Rosier you needed a new set.”

Regulus was just about to open his mouth and make a comment about how James had no right to listen in to his private conversations, when James’ eyes sparkled with mischief and his face broke out into a brightest grin. “How about this. I’ll play you for it.”

“Excuse me?”

James motioned to the golden snitch that was still nestled in Regulus’ closed fist. “First one to catch the snitch wins. If I win you go on a date with me and if you win I’ll never ask you out again.”

It was the sixth year’s turn to let out a laugh. Regulus was the best seeker currently on a Hogwarts team, and James only played seeker once in his Hogwarts career, two years ago when the Gryffindor seeker had gotten ill and he had to fill in. James caught the snitch, and it was a bit impressive, but that game was against Ravenclaw and their team wasn’t up to par that year. There was no way James would be able to catch the snitch before him. Accepting this offer was an easy out. “You got a deal, Potter.” Before Regulus could finish his sentence, James was already summoning his broom.

(And if Regulus decided last minute to let James catch the snitch and win, that is nobody’s business but his own.)

[the-clumsywitch]

Ways to use Tarot for Mental Health Maintenance

@local-dragon-owner asked me to make a post about the ways in which tarot can be helpful for mental health maintenance. I've been thinking about witchcraft and health in general and also about tarot and health. Anyways here is the post!

Disclaimer: This will not be a post about how to use tarot to predict mental health outcomes. This is also not a substitute for help from a licenced or certified mental health professional.

Using tarot for when you don't know what you're feeling

There are times when you might feel something but don't always know what it is you're feeling or why you're feeling that way. I always reference Blanche from the Golden Girls when it comes to this feeling, she called the feeling "magenta". You can simply ask two questions, "what is this feeling?" and "why am I feeling this way?" This might be helpful for anyone but especially those that attend mental health therapy. Having at least some insight into your feelings to share with a therapist.

Tarot to ease your mind about potential outcomes

Even the most calm and collected person can have moments of doubt or worry about the outcome of a situation. Instead of asking your cards for a concrete outcome, ask the cards the following question "what is the best possible outcome of this situation?" If the card is what you consider a positive card then meditate, pray, and/or do spellwork to encourage that outcome. If the card is one that makes you feel uneasy or one that you'd rather not have as an outcome for a situation. Ask the cards again "what can I do to change this outcome?" or if you feel that this is not applicable to the situation "what can I do to find peace with this outcome?"

Tarot for self reflection

Tarot can also be a great tool to gain a deeper understanding of yourself, you can ask yourself some of the following questions.

What are some of my strengths?

What are some of my weaknesses?

What parts of myself do I hide?

Why do I hide certain parts of myself?

Who would I be if I felt completely safe to be my most authentic self?

I hope you found this post helpful and please reach out to a medical professional if you are having mental health struggles. Tarot and divination in general are wonderful tools but there is nothing wrong with realizing that you need medical intervention. You owe that to yourself and you are worthy of receiving the best care possible, mind, body, and soul!

- Erika, The Clumsy Witch

[burnednotburied]

Chapter 4: Uncloaked

AO3 Link | Masterlist

Pairing: Abby Anderson x fem!reader

Fic Synopsis: Abby goes looking for Owen and ends up on the wrong end of your knife.

Tags/CWs: angst; slowburn; enemies to friends to lovers; talks of purity culture/ideals and “sin”; internalized homophobia and some comp-het feelings (they’re both so gay but so dumb about it); animosity between WLF and Seraphites; blood/gore; descriptions of being hanged; religious/cult-like ideas

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

You watched from the wide window in the second room as Abby walked away and headed towards the coast, your fingers lifting the blinds just enough for you to peek out.

Yara was already drifting off to sleep on the couch behind you. Even Lev was starting to succumb to his exhaustion, his head leaned on the couch’s arm, his eyes blinking slowly.

Quietly, you instructed them both to get some rest, promising to keep watch. Yara mumbled a Yes, Prophet and pulled her legs up just enough for her brother to have room at the other end. He moved from where he knelt on the floor by her head to curl up by her feet, finally allowing himself to close his eyes.

You couldn’t imagine that they had been able to get much rest in their last few days on the run. But you were here now. You would keep them safe.  

You turned your eyes back to the window, to the Wolf, expecting to find her out of your line of sight by now. Instead, you found her standing still, just far enough away for you to be unable to read her expression.

She stood there in the rain for several moments, swaying on her feet, looking back and forth between the coast and the building like she was trying to make a decision.

Stupidly, you wished again that she would stay.

As if she had heard your thoughts, Abby turned and started walking back in your direction, her mind made up.

You smiled and ran to meet her, carefully shutting the door that separated the two rooms as you went, leaving Yara and Lev to sleep undisturbed.

When Abby was once again outside the door, you swung it open, watching her blink at you incredulously with her fist raised, ready to knock.

“Wolf,” you said, trying to hide your pleased smile.

“Prophet.” She let her hand fall.

You stepped aside to let her in.

She brushed past you.

Again, you closed and locked the door, leaning back against it with your hands behind you.

This first room didn’t have furniture. At least not anything to sit on. Abby dropped her bag and sat on the floor across from you, leaning back against the wall with her forearms resting on her drawn-up knees.

You wanted to question her decision to come back, hoping she might give you some insight into why there seemed to be this pull between you two.

You had always longed for connection, feeling so thoroughly set apart from your people that you might as well have been completely alone. They revered you—worshipped you—but they didn’t love you. Not in a way that you truly felt.

You were nothing more than a symbol. An object to worship. No different than an intricately painted mural on a wall. A counterfeit version of the Prophet they once had.

So you didn’t have people who loved you. Who saw you.

That was what you wanted more than anything.

And here was this Wolf, who had fought alongside you and spoken to you like you were a real person. She smiled at you and called you a “good girl”, making you feel what felt like the most tempting sin. And she called you Prophet like it was a joke between the two of you.

You hadn’t wanted her to leave, and here she was. Not leaving.

Maybe this wasn’t one-sided. Maybe it wasn’t all in your head. The fact that she came back was proof that she felt it too.

You studied her face, as if that would reveal something to you.

It didn’t.

You broke the silence. “I’m not actually a prophet, you know.”

This clearly wasn’t what she expected you to say. She probably thought you would ask her why she came back. But you figured her honest answer would be similar to yours: She just felt like she had to, and she didn’t know why.

Abby seemed grateful to bypass the interrogation, so she scoffed, feigning shock. “You mean to tell me you’re not a wise, all-knowing seer of the future, cosmically and singularly chosen to lead the righteous few?”

Your smile returned as you shook your head.

“So how’d you end up with the title?” she asked, genuinely curious.

You had spent a lot of time thinking about this over the years. You decided to give her the simplest answer.

“Honestly, I think I was just the first child who turned twelve after the Elders decided that they wanted a new prophet.”

“Why would that matter?” she asked. When she saw your confused look, she added, “That you were twelve?”

“That’s when we get the…” You gestured to your face, drawing lines on either side of your mouth to indicate the scarring.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

She let her legs straighten in front of her, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning her head back against the wall. Her eyes stayed on you, watching you carefully. “Well, at least you got to bypass that fun little rite of passage.”

“I have marks like any other Seraphite,” you said. “I just carry them differently.”

Abby looked curious, like she wanted to ask you to go on. Instead, you pushed off from where you leaned against the door and began unfastening the long cloak that you still wore, glancing up briefly to see the Wolf’s eyes widen and her cheeks flush ever so slightly as she leaned forward to watch you.

It did feel scandalous. Removing the cloak in front of her. Even though you were clothed underneath.

Slowly stripping a layer away with her eyes on you, transfixed. Enamored. Like you were something beautiful—maybe even desirable.

It felt good in a way that you had been taught was bad.

You hoped that, as time and distance came between you and Haven, the Elders’ voices would fade away in your mind. Their rules and demands had always been a suffocating weight on you. But maybe now it was your choice. You got to decide what was true and how to live.

You promised yourself you’d revisit that line of thinking later.

Beneath the cloak, you wore what you always did. A long, simple white dress. The fabric was soft and light. Thin, although not sheer. The sleeves were short, leaving your arms mostly bare, and the whole thing ended just above your ankles. It flowed enough for you to move without any difficulty, but it was properly fitted to your exact measurements at the top.

At Sanctuary, your servants had always been responsible for your dresses, making new ones as your body changed, growing taller and filling out. You hadn’t initially been comfortable in dresses, never having worn them as a child, but after eight years of it being the only option offered to you, you’d grown accustomed to it. Comfortable, even.

Now, you felt naked in it.

The cloak had protected the dress from most of the mud, blood, guts of the day, but it hadn’t totally shielded it against the rain.

The fabric was damp against your skin, clinging more than it usually would.

You kept going, remembering why you had removed your cloak in the first place.

Holding the cloak by the collar in your right hand, you lifted your left arm to show the Wolf the scars that covered the back of your forearm.

Her eyes were focused elsewhere, slowly wandering down your body. Skirting along every line and following every curve, she took her time taking you in. You couldn’t describe the look on her face if you tried.

You shivered, and that movement finally brought her attention back up to your eyes. And then lower, to the arm you had been trying to show her.

Abby seemed to come back to herself, remembering what you had been talking about and why you took off your top layer.

She stared at the marks, quiet. You transferred your cloak to your left hand, lifting the right arm to show the matching scars there.

Neither of you said anything for several moments.

“I’m sure that wasn’t it,” she said, meeting your eyes again. You let your arm fall.

“Hmm?”

“I mean, I’m sure your Elders chose you for a reason. A bigger reason than just when your birthday happened to land.”

You thought for a moment about your other theories. The fact that your father had been a loyal soldier who died protecting the first Prophet. The fact that you were an only child, and with your father dead, you had no family other than your mother, who had always been the most devout follower. The fact that, when you were a child, your teachers said you were the perfect student. Quiet and obedient. They said you would make a wonderful wife someday. Something that left you feeling strangely uncomfortable, but your mother had taken great pride in. She used to talk about her hope that you would be chosen to marry one of the Elders themselves.

Maybe the same things that would’ve made you a good wife also made you a good Prophet. At least as far as what the Elders wanted from a Prophet. They never really wanted you to lead. Just for you to become the face of their initiatives. A mouthpiece. Maybe even a scapegoat.

You decided not to tell Abby any of this, already feeling that she knew so much about you while you knew absolutely nothing about her.

You almost pointed this out when she spoke again.

“You can sit, you know. You should sit. I’m sure you’re tired.”

You weren’t supposed to sit on the ground. Or kneel. For anyone or any reason. Although, you’d already broken that rule a few times tonight. You’d knelt to cut Abby loose from the ropes earlier, and again when she had been setting Yara’s arm.

It was a stupid rule anyway, you decided. And what was it you were thinking about earlier? About making your own decisions about what is good and true from now on?

The floor was dirty though. And your dress was white.

You stepped away from the door, closer to Abby, and spread your cloak out on the floor, sitting on top of it.

Abby scoffed. “Princess.”

You tilted your head, confused, not offended.

“You don’t know what a princess is?” she asked in slight disbelief.

“It’s a word that was used to describe the daughter of an Old World monarch. Or I suppose the wife of a prince, which would’ve been the son of a monarch,” you said matter-of-factly. “I just don’t understand what that has to do with me.”

“I—” Abby started and then stopped. “Never mind.”

You narrowed your eyes, unsatisfied with her lack of an explanation, and decided to ask the much harder question after all.

“Why did you come back?”

“Huh?” she asked, suddenly nervous.

“Why’d you turn around?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“No, I mean—” She sighed, avoiding eye contact. “You guys will die without me—without my help.”

You didn’t like that answer.

“You think we can’t take care of ourselves? That we need a Wolf to protect us?”

“Honestly? Yeah.”

“Wha—”

She cut you off. “You’ve never left that island, I’m assuming, until today. You’re a capable fighter, but you don’t know anything about this world—”

“I—”

“You can argue with me if you want, but you know I’m right. And the girl is badly injured. Setting the bone won’t be enough. She needs much more medical attention if she’s going to make it. And the kid is… a kid.” Her eyes meet yours again, determined. Insistent. “So yeah, I think you could use my help. And you would be smart to accept it.”

Abby was right. You knew she was.

You wanted to ask why she cared though. But you didn’t bother, knowing she wouldn’t have much of an answer. Instead, you relented, leaning back on your hands behind you, arms straightened.

“So what’s the plan?” you asked.

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

Abby breathed out, relieved that you weren’t fighting her.

“Right now, to stay here and rest.”

You nodded your head towards the door between the two rooms. “Yara and Lev are already sleeping.”

“Good. You should join them.”

You smiled a little, making Abby’s heart beat faster. “So I should just go to sleep and trust the Wolf who came into my life under mysterious circumstances?”

She let out a short laugh, dumbfounded. “I came into your life under mysterious circumstances?! You attacked me, knocked me out cold, and hung me up by my neck.”

When you laughed softly and leaned closer, her heart raced.

“Technically, I didn’t do any of those things,” you pointed out.

“No. You just tried to kill me afterwards.”

“I apologized for that.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I asked you if you were okay.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“You’re right,” you said, gazing into her eyes. “I’m sorry.” She could tell that you were being sincere.

She cleared her throat, looking away. “Go to sleep.”

“No, I don’t think I will,” you said, smiling again, arguing just for the sake of it. “Maybe you should get some sleep and I’ll stay up.”

Abby let out an exasperated breath.

She couldn’t help but look at you, sitting on the floor with her in an old trailer like you weren’t the most ethereal thing she’d ever seen. In that dress that looked incredible on you.

It made her wonder what you would look like without it.

She wanted to reach out and touch you. To let her hands lazily travel the same path that her eyes had taken when you first took off that cloak. She wanted to hear the sounds you would make as her fingers grazed your bare skin.

She wanted you.

Her own thoughts surprised her.

Abby hadn’t spent much time thinking about what—or who—she was into in the past. Being with Owen had made sense. He was nice and funny. He made her laugh. He liked her. And her dad loved him. They were young.

But when he kissed her, she’d get this unsettling, jittery, nervous feeling. One that she could never tell if she liked or not. But she always heard people talking about having butterflies in their stomach, so Abby thought maybe that was normal. Still, she was always the first to pull away, always retreating from his touch when things got too… overwhelming.

When her dad died, she didn’t let anyone touch her for the longest time. Owen stuck around, though. He kept trying. They joined the Washington Liberation Front, and Abby felt like that gave her a purpose. She had training to stick to and orders to follow while she continued to listen for word about Joel Miller, any hint about where he could be.

She kept pushing Owen away until, eventually, he let go. Abby could remember the moment she realized it was over, although neither of them came out and said it. It affected her more than she thought it would. She was devastated. Almost like she was losing another part of her dad. Like she was watching every piece of her life crumble and fade away until she was left with something completely unrecognizable.

Then Owen and Mel got together, and things got even weirder. Mel, who had once been one of Abby’s closest friends, started treating her like an enemy. Always looking at her with distrust, pulling Owen away when he tried to talk to her.

It got worse after Jackson. Abby didn’t know if that was because of what happened there or because Mel was pregnant. Probably both.

Abby kept her head down. Threw herself back into the flow of things in Seattle. She focused on making her body strong, following orders, and killing Scars whenever she got the chance.

And sure, sometimes someone caught her eye. Maybe a character in a movie she’d watched with Manny, or someone she’d crossed paths with in the WLF compound. Now that she thought about it, those people were almost always women.

She found those thoughts easy to ignore, so nothing ever came of them. Abby didn’t think she was well-suited for a romantic partnership, after what she did to Owen. She was sure didn’t deserve it. So she always brushed those feelings off and kept moving forward. She had work to do. A city to fight for.

She had known you for just one night and everything was changing. She could feel it happening. Her life was never going to be the same.

She wanted to be good enough for it. She wanted to deserve this change.

So she was going to protect you and your friends. Because it was the right thing to do, and because she really wanted to.

And if that meant she got to keep you close, she wouldn’t complain.

Abby couldn’t fucking believe that she was into a Scar.

But she couldn’t stop looking at you. Your eyes. Your lips. Your body. It was like every piece of you had been hand-crafted for the purpose of driving her crazy. She couldn’t walk away if she tried.

Hell, she did try and she didn’t even make it down the street.

All of this, and you hadn’t even touched her yet. Maybe you never would.

And she didn’t even know your real name.

But it was becoming more and more clear to her that you were a really good person.

Abby wasn’t sure if she was a good person, but she wanted to be. If she hadn’t been before, she could start now.

The door between the rooms creaked open, and Lev’s head poked out. When he saw her sitting there with you, he froze, his eyes narrowing disapprovingly.

“What’s she doing here?” he asked, his eyes remaining on her while he spoke to you.

“She’s going to help us,” you said.

“We don’t need—”

“Yes. We do,” you said firmly.

He let it go, turning to face you. He looked worried, saying nothing.

“Is it Yara? How’s she doing?” you asked, already moving to stand.

Lev just looked down and shook his head. He stepped aside, opening the door further as you rushed into the room to check on her with Abby following close behind.

Yara was on the couch, curled into the fetal position. She was shaking, breathing heavily and unevenly.

Abby watched as you rushed over to the girl, putting your hand to her forehead to check for a fever. The look on your face alone told her it wasn’t good.

Your eyes found her, fearful and unsure of what to do.

She moved in closer, crouching down to be on Yara’s level. “I’m going to move your arm,” she said to the girl. Yara whimpered as Abby carefully adjusted her. “Lean into me.”

Abby picked her up.

“Where are you taking her?” Lev asked, stepping forward.

“C’mon.” She tried to walk past him, heading for the door. He stepped in front of her.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m giving her a chance,” Abby insisted, giving him a look that seemed to convince him to move aside and go along with it.

Lev grabbed his bow and quiver. You quickly put on your cloak, grabbed your own weapon, and threw Abby’s backpack over your shoulders.

You followed her back out into the rain.

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

Note: I had a really good time writing this chapter! I loved that it was mostly just Abby and reader talking and getting to know each other :)

P.S. If you're someone who's been leaving comments on AO3, please know that I love you <3

[vitaminseetarot]

PAC: Random Messages You May Need 🌈🎆⛅

Sup, y'all. I'm finally back for another pick a card reading. I really apologize if folks have not heard from me over the past month, I meant to get this reading (among other things) out a while ago. I have not been able to touch tarot for the past few weeks. Life has been… topsy turvy, to say the least. Heh heh. [sweating profusely]

I meant to have another game out and to have paid readings available by now--that is still part of the plan. What was meant for June will be in July. So this blog might go from 0 to 100 mph real soon, to move along with plans as intended!

I was loosely inspired by the Baker pride flag from 1978 for this group selection. These piles are pretty nondescript: each one contains a random message that may resonate with you. Pick based on whichever color of the Prism Oracle speaks to you most, and feel free to choose more than one. Take only what resonates.

Pile 1 - Strength (Red) Pile 2 - Happiness (Orange) Pile 3 - Illumination (Yellow) Pile 4 - Movement (Green) Pile 5 - Flow (Turquoise) Pile 6 - Trust (Blue) Pile 7 - Intuition (Violet) Pile 8 - Love (Pink)

Pile 1 - Strength (Red)

10 of Swords, Insight

You've been asked by the universe to put up with a lot, especially recently. You're reaching a finish line of a very long and brutal marathon. There have been too many times where you questioned whether or not to throw in the towel. If you have, you may also have questioned whether or not it was the correct choice. Sometimes, things don't work out, and it's better to move on. It can be difficult to hold everything up when one thing after another seems to fall apart at the seams, but either way you're being reminded of the light at the end of this long and turbulent tunnel.

Collect yourself, pick up what pieces you can. Time has shifted everything, but the essentials still stand. Gather the wisdom you have learned from this ordeal. There is still beauty to be found in the decay, glittering gems in the rough.

Maybe you don't want to get stronger. Healing may feel like a better option than grinding for difficult experience points. Give yourself the rest and repair you need. Let go of only that which is keeping you from starting again, but you don't need to throw the baby out with the bathwater. You've gained so much wisdom and strength, this trial wasn't without gain. Treasure it and begin anew.

Pile 2 - Happiness (Orange)

2 of Swords, Clarity

Whatever answers you seek are coming to you. Or perhaps they've already arrived; open your eyes and see for yourself. You may be wondering which path will satisfy you more. The process of reconciling this could take forever unless you lean on your gut here. This can't be decided based on intellect alone, for you could get stuck mulling it over for days. Imagining all the different possible outcomes could be taxing for your brain, so narrow it down. Eliminate the weakest links and home in on what excites you. It should feel like an "aha, yes!"

If you cannot see the answer right away, go within to the realm of imagination. Feel your way through. Visualize not just with sight but with yearning. Does the light of the sun make you feel hopeful? Does the cool rain make you feel relaxed? Would an art class expand your capacity to imagine many things, or would taking a science class?

The X mark in 2 of Swords is like a railroad crossing sign. Redirect that train of thought into brighter and more positive avenues of expression. Say "what if" as if you can't wait for something to happen. "What if I saw a shooting star tonight? What if my cute neighbor asked me out?" Let the future shine its beacon for you. It will all make sense in due time.

Pile 3 - Illumination (Yellow)

Ace of Cups, Reconciliation

Have you been staying up way too late trying to figure everything out? Please give yourself a brain curfew: no problem solving or saving the day after 10 pm! I'm getting that you may tend to ruminate on the same strong emotions. For some I'm getting that there is a crush here. There's inconsistent text messaging. I know it's easy to get too nervous about their reply, but try to wait until at least the next day to hear back. They may need time to formulate their words right. They may not even see your message straight away. Take it all in stride and sleep on it; if they want to reach out to you, then they eventually will.

For others in this pile, you may be going through a rough patch with another person right now and could be wondering how things will pan out. Give them time to respond, they could still be processing it. Stay on the more positive end of things with the idea that things will work themselves out. I feel like if you can manage this in a relaxed and non hurried way, the knot will untangle easily. The coffee in the Ace of Cups is very hot, so give it a chance to cool.

There is opportunity in your near future to make up for something that went awry due to a miscommunication error. You may get a chance to make up for a test, appointment, or an interview. You will receive grace for any mishaps. Remember that tomorrow won't necessarily be the same as today, so cherish both the good you have now along with the good that soon awaits you.

Pile 4 - Movement (Green)

IX Hermit, Devotion

Looks like things are progressing faster than you even thought they would. You may be blinking your eyes in partial disbelief: could this ball really be rolling? Indeed, thanks to your efforts, goals are being met and results are more evident by the day. You eschewed a lot of distractions to make this work, so give yourself a pat on the back for the level of commitment you put into it. Some of you in this pile may have just graduated, if so then congratulations! But try not to get too comfortable with your laurels, for you have a long road ahead of you in whatever you do next. This one completion is the start of many.

Does that thrill you? If so, wonderful! On the other hand, some of you may be feeling uncertain about continuing. You may be reviewing your options to see if this really is worth pursuing. Something that requires a lot of dedication and focus on it to the exclusion of all else… yeah, I can see how that can get tiring after a long time. There are folks who can get their Master's right after their Bachelor's, or have another child right after the first, but people can also happily move on to what feels more right for them instead.

It's okay to stop and assess your tracks if necessary. Taking time off is not the same as quitting. It's not losing motivation, it's recovering it. This is your passion and your discipline, not anyone else's. If you need to give other parts of your life more room to breathe, then do so with the confidence that your great work will wait for you.

Pile 5 - Flow (Turquoise)

4 of Wands, Hospitality

Have you been stuck with something for a while? There's a strong sense of a blockage that is being eroded away over time. This process can be sped up by allowing the ice to thaw a little more. "Break the ice." You may be wanting to open up and spend more quality time with other people but don't know how. Or you could be faced with meeting new people and being nervous about interacting with them. Even more so if they're roommates. A few people in this pile could be moving or have just moved. This is a chance to ease up and get to know new people.

This blockage could be a result of the past and of anxiety. The sound of a turning doorknob just jumpscared me as I typed the last sentence. You may benefit from learning about social anxiety and how to manage it. It's not an overnight job for you to fix this, though, but to just be aware of it and not allow it to get in the way of positive change in your life.

If you're struggling to figure out how to deal with meeting new people, I would suggest looking up videos or how-tos on social interaction, especially if a certain etiquette is required for an event. Learn about conversation starters and fun things you could do together like hosting a game night. Practice makes perfect, and over time the blockage will melt into the stream.

Pile 6 - Trust (Blue)

3 of Swords, Conversion

You have a very soft and tender outlook on life, which makes it all the more painful when reality doesn't conform to such a compassionate vision. It doesn't always try to respond to vulnerability in appropriate ways. Much of the time, this isn't from natural events as much as it stems from the ways in which people can treat one another cruelly. You've had some toxic people in your life who have put you through the wringer and attempted to squeeze every ounce of kindness they could from you. Making light of this pain to them only resulted in further deflection and antagonism on their part. The only outcome was to salvage whatever you could and pray for the best.

It is not your job to change their closed minded perspectives. They're on their own, here. Do not concern yourself with their messy inner world and lose any more of your energy. Also, do not attempt to regain what energy has been lost through bargaining either, as much as it hurts to press onward without looking back. You will recover, but you have to move on first and prioritize what you deeply care about most (you included).

There will come a time when your heart will be healed so you can see the brighter side of human connection again. All the beauty that your gentle soul is seeking is still there, shrouded by layers of protective petals that will one day bloom again and your life will truly flourish. For now, this is a time to give yourself all the comfort you can.

Pile 7 - Intuition (Violet)

XII Hanged Man, Spring

I get the feeling that you've been waiting quite a while for some good results to come in. This could either be from something that you started back in the spring, or are waiting to see results which may come around springtime. It is a season of flowers, so you may be waiting for this thing to blossom--that is, to be fully presentable to the public in some way. To have something to show for the time you put in. Like "hey, this is what I've been working on, this came from the seeds I planted." It could be growing in a direction unlike what you're used to, leaving you wondering how it could succeed in such unusual and burdensome conditions.

Lean on your inner guidance when it comes to the right timing. I don't believe that you're currently in a space where you need to push so hard for the best results. You can let things move at their own pace. Over tending to anything can end up in just as much trouble as neglect. There's only so much you can do before you have to let the flower do the growing and blooming for itself.

It's not always easy to sit in the place of uncertainty with the idea that doing more will provide more. But sometimes less is more. What you're creating is coming to fruition and may even turn out better than you expected. Trust in both the knowledge you've earned over time from learning lessons, as well as your natural intuition, to help you decide when it's time to take action.

Pile 8 - Love (Pink)

7 of Swords, Gossip

Let your heart lead the way here, not your worries over what others will think. Sure, you may end up with some people talking about you, but opportunities will keep passing by if you wait for everyone else to catch up to you. Leaning too much on everyone else's perspectives will only distort the vision you have for your own life journey. We all have unique journeys to go on, but unconditional kindness remains at the center of the Love card, the one thing that brings us together. Following life from a heart centered place may result in having others glance over and whisper, but that shouldn't distract you.

There is a rather delicate message here about dealing with friendships, colleagues, or possibly even family. You may have a tricky situation between several other people right now who have beef not with you but with each other. They may be coming to you to air their grievances and ask for advice.

If you care about both of these people, then it's best to approach this issue as diplomatically and impartially as possible and avoid feeding into the conflict. What would an enlightened mindset do in this situation? How would you want the other person to behave if they were in your shoes? Come from a place of pure compassion. They may choose to make amends or not, it's up to them. If their butting heads is bringing you down, it's always okay to step back and take a break. You are not responsible for what's going on in their heart, only your own, so protect yours well.

This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.

2024, @VitaminseeTarot ™

[twisted-dreamscape]

Twisted Wonderland

Reader with Magic from Another World

One of my favourite concepts to play around with in Twisted Wonderland is the idea that by their world’s standards the prefect doesn’t have magic, but comes from a world with a different magic system—I can be a bit lenient with how some systems work more than others. For example:

Winx (Believix, ‘cause it’s a magic for fairies in places where people do not believe in magic-in this case it’s the specific brand of magic the prefect uses)

No one believed you. Your rounded ears and distinctly human eyes and teeth did nothing to help your case—forget your apparent lack of magical capabilities. It was no surprise that not a single person believed you when you claimed to be a fairy. You found that for some reason, you were unable to transform in this world, which made it impossible to prove you were a fairy if you were entirely unable to transform into one. But you remained determined, and what abilities you retained outside of your core transformation, namely visions of people’s past and visions of the great seven, helped you carve a different place in this world regardless. Through your efforts, insights and general willingness to help others, enough people started to believe there was at least something more to you.

It’s in a moment of crisis, when your selflessness sees you placing yourself in harm's way, taking a risk that was not asked of you and leaving the boy you protected racked with guilt.

While the others were fighting back the Titan Earth, another phantom charged at Epel from the shadows. There was no room for the others to act, but you could. You raised the weapon you swiped before descending into Tartarus and slashed and stabbed at the creature, but it held your weapon in its fading body while another went careening into you, knocking your little scuffle over the edge.

The seniors could only listen on as you fell, the phantom before them leaving no room for distraction. When the Titan was pushed back, it was already too late.

“You said you were a fairy, you said you could fly, you said you were a better flier than me. Then, fly!” Epel stood rooted to the spot where you stood, but despite what they saw, he, Rook and Vil wanted to believe you were something more, something that could survive that hit, survive that fall and the Titan that followed; it was then that you were able to unlock your Believix wings.

It was a whole new form you had never encountered in your dimension, but you once heard of fairies from Alfea that restored magic in a long separated planet. It felt good to access your magic again, even though you may never reach Enchantix as long as you were stuck here, you were still happy you could help out your friends—it also felt good to prove everyone else wrong.

With your newly gained powers you were able to participate in classes like your other classmates, but only when transformed, unlike at home, which was…an experience. Flight class was especially interesting since you didn’t particularly need a broom, even less so if you wanted to fly quickly. Application of lessons weren’t exactly a one-to-one application but they inspired you to try things you had yet to study in your home dimension. Maybe with practice you could one day be strong enough to open a way between your worlds.

Fairy Tail (It’s funnier if the prefect is some form of Dragon-slayer)

“HOW DARE YOU!” Sebek immediately placed himself between you and Malleus, although more troubling was the way Silver followed his lead; but even worse yet was the look of hurt that settled on your friend’s face. It was one thing to title yourself a dragon slayer, but to withhold this fact and sneak your way into his good graces…evil. You were ecstatic when you learned your friend was a dragon—‘a kindred spirit’ you thought—so you eagerly revealed what you are.

Malleus was silent and Sebek was anything but, chastising your horrid character, while Silver hoped you would change your ways. You hurriedly explain what a 1st generation dragon slayer is in your world—a human trained in the ways of a dragon—and that you were in fact raised by said dragon! And Malleus was now also ecstatic! Although Sebek was still wary, Malleus needed to know everything about you and your draconic parentage! He’s surprised by how limited your magic is compared to his, but just as surprised that you can eat the element you’re limited to! He consoles you over the disappearance of your parental figure and welcomes you as family.

The age old question of your guild has been answered, “Do fairies have tails?” Yes, some. You marvel at Malleus’ when he shows you his beautiful tail. He’s a fairy, but a Dragon-fairy, he’s everything you ever wanted to meet. Your friendship has further deepened now that you’ve learned this and now he wants to know more about your guild as well.

You are able to learn magic like your classmates, but you don’t have a need for a mage stone, in fact, you don’t really ‘get’ them. Some hold magic like lacrima, but the more common ones seem to be glorified filters.

*Crystal Dragon slayer

Ruggie also takes a particular interest in you, chiefly your ability to consume ANY crystal, including something as common as glass—however this interest quickly wanes when he realizes you can’t teach him to do the same; that doesn’t stop him from trading your lunch set for a washed soda bottle. While you are interested in the crystals that Grim has been eating, even you find that there’s something gross about the murky stones, despite his tantalizing descriptions. That’s all fine to him, he wasn’t gonna share anyway.

Ojamajo Doremi

The P.E uniform for Night Raven College was a practical jumpsuit. The students took pride in styling it in a way that best suited them, even you were fortunate enough to find an older iteration, in the attic of Ramshackle dorm, that you wore like your friend’s. It was comfortable enough, when you got to wear it—that is, outside of flight lessons.

You always made an effort to transform before class, in the empty locker room, behind some bushes, anywhere but the open field, but some days, you were late. Some days you were laughed at by every single classmate as you rushed to pull on your monochrome costume before the song ended. But they could eat your sparkly dust.

Some time had passed since you received your crystal ball and returned your witch to her true form. You were crossing over from the human world to visit her when you woke up…here.

You were a full fledged witch, and your magic proficiency was at least greater than that of the average third year, but there was SO MUCH you didn’t know about this world. Surprisingly, attending this school was exactly what you needed to gain that knowledge, so while you’re still not sorted into an official dorm, you remain as something of an interdimensional student.

In light of your advanced skill level, you and Grim are not a single student, but he is still accepted as your sole dorm mate—given that you keep watch over him.

With your fairy beside you, you wonder if he could possibly be the same if he’s not a cat—a fairy without a witch that transformed into this direbeast.

Mew Mew Power (Seismic Cymbals)

You entered their world with nothing but their ceremonial robes and your power pendant. It was your only treasure and only link to your world, but there was no need for it as a janitor, right?

You kept it close regardless, nearly activating it when a wild tanuki began rampaging and again when a certain red headed jerk instigated a chase that would have been much easier when transformed—but you resisted. In the end, it was only when the monster of the magic stone mine began swinging its pickaxe that you took your stand. You held off as long as possible, even uniting your ragtag group into a fairly solid plan, but when the monster finally shook off the cauldrons, you transformed and pulled Deuce out of the way, and with the monster far enough away from the cave, you summoned your seismic cymbals and collapsed it into a crevice you opened beneath it. For the most part, teamwork did win the day, and you are still dubbed a beast tamer, but your magicless status was mostly revoked.

As you are unable to actually cast spells you are still unable to participate in most magical lessons and require Grim to cover that aspect of your grade, however, in very specific instances you are able to transform and flaunt your stuff.

From then on, the nature of your species comes into question, as a person who occasionally exhibits beast man traits on occasion, even outside of your transformation.

Persona (a blend to incorporate more features)

*It’s kind of funny how neatly the concept of Overblots connect with Shadow Selves

You were raised in a facility that studied pscience and how shadows and personas manifested and affected the world around it. You have an encyclopedic knowledge on past events where students much like you, were faced with extremely traumatic experiences and forced to take on very adult responsibilities. Despite this, your concept of reality feels distorted when you first call upon your persona in this world. In one sense, it’s reassuring to have access to your persona in this foreign space, but concerning if it’s based on similar rules to that of Tartarus or the TV world—who knows how twisted this world REALLY is and how much time you have!

Under what conditions were you brought here, and why have none of the Overblot victims been able to call upon their Phantoms as Personas after they’ve reverted? They’re basically shadows, right? It seems there’s more to it than you first believed, maybe when the Styx facilities are operational again you can study this power of yours in relation to the victims they kidnapped—with their permission.

As a student, you’re able to display some ‘magic’ by switching between personas. You share many of the same elements and even display some ‘new’ ones that have an effect akin to that of a unique magic. Your healing capabilities are immaculate and you’re one of the greatest talents in the school, but when you overdo it, you are prone to passing out, so be wary.

*Conversely

Despite being able to call upon your persona in this plain, it seems none of your peers can perceive it. Malleus and Lilia seem to be able to sense a separate, but connected presence beside you and Leona claims to smell something that is not quite human, but that’s as far as it goes.

Many are shocked by the grand feats of ‘magic’ that you can utilise without a wand or accumulating blot! But you can’t help but recall the Dark mirrors claim, “Soundless. Colourless. Shapeless. Utterly vacant.” A Joker by any other name.

*Anti-Shadow Suppression Unit (Like Aigis)

“Woah! You’re ANCIENT!”

“Brother!”

“But her design is so MID!”

You’re a robot designed to look human, but in so many areas it's obvious you’re not human, unlike Ortho, whose more techy features are intentional, yours stemmed from an inability to properly hide all your ‘additional’ features. Maybe it’s because you’re not human, but Idia is quick to get up close to you, poking and prodding, practically ready to tear you apart, but unlike Ortho (at the time), you have free will and quickly shut down his behavior. You have such a strong personality because initial tests of models before you emphasized the necessity when designing a weapon like you to have a powerful persona.

At the beginning, you found yourself actively distancing yourself from Ortho, who you felt was imitating being human, unlike you, and you wanted to avoid being compared to him as much as possible. And yet, you find yourself drawn to the Shroud brothers; the elder one somehow being more comfortable around you than he would be with a human and the younger one being fascinated in meeting another ‘person’ like him—it is your interactions that spark his sense of self.

As you grow to trust them, you do allow Idia to run some updates on you, after you analyze the changes to be made. You find your processing power to be faster and more precise, he even improves on your orgia mode, allowing you more control—if only slightly. Besides your robotic existence, Idia finds himself bonding with you over your predetermined futures. As the heir of Styx his role in life has already been decided for the sake of others, while your entire existence was designed to fight these ‘shadows’ for the sake of others. Neither of you are particularly interested in changing this reality, but rather living as best you can within its confines. You tell him about the shows and video games in your world, especially the best series ‘Featherman’ a major loss for this world not having it—at least you guys can watch the episodes you ‘recorded’.

When Ortho finally gains his ‘heart’ you two become the best of friends! You want to know everything about him and are more eager to share how your own awakening came to be. It’s a strange experience for him, but a welcome one and you’re happy to help him in these times.

Skullgirls

They are extremely concerned! What do you mean you have a parasite? Are you okay? Do you need antibiotics or something? You quickly explain that’s not what you take for parasites and that it’s not that type of parasite. You introduce your friends to a creature that’s attached itself to you and further elaborate that it’s technically not harmful to you—right now. Those who do hear your little aside simply overlook that detail. You explain that it’s not an especially uncommon phenomenon.

With the aid of your parasite you mostly take on the role of support in battles, in order to avoid harming the sentient attackers. Your parasite is POWERFUL, a little too powerful to attack a person—save for restraining or tossing them—if you want to see them walking again, so you refrain. It’s an ancient figure that bonds well with Lilia for some reason and attracts the intrigue of the octotrio—especially Azul for…reasons.

Are they crazy? Genies? An entire festival dedicated to wish making? You are horrified by the prospect of so many being brought up on the idea of consequence free wishes. You give them a brief history of the skull heart (A heart…of bones? Shut up Ace), where you were raised, no one would even dream of using it, at least not out loud, on account of the generations of horrors suffered by the land and people. You have regular discussions with Professor Trein and Riddle on the Heart and the wars fought for it and because of it. Azul on the other hand is more interested in the details of the wishes and their fallouts, you can only hope he doesn’t use it as a guide—he reminds you of the Medici mafia. For the first time, you find yourself giving some attention to the wishes you silenced long ago.

Bayonetta

“So…you’re naked?”

You explain that your hair is your clothing. Ace claps back that could be said for most people, but they’re still naked—the school requires that you wear the uniforms provided to classes. In the end, you get a top hat and solidify that nudity and a statement piece is the dorm uniform of the Ramshackle dorm.

You have yet to perform a traditional Umbra Witch summons, apart from the fact it would be way too embarrassing, you understand that you’re still young and not ready to put your schoolmates or your eternal soul on the table because Leona doesn’t wanna play nice with the other kids. You are however quite adept at the summons written about in school texts, the cost is lower and open to a little personal flair.

Meanwhile, your weapon handling is undeniably masterful! Beanfest would have been in the bag if your blaster hadn’t stalled at the last second! Lilia is so amazed by your versatility that he gifts you one of his old weapons from his armory—just keep this a secret between you two.

You auditioned for the VDC, on your own, but your moves were a bit…mature for a school performance (Beauté 100 points!). But, as manager your insight has greater value, you help Deuce and Epel loosen up and introduce some…’flexibility’ to their movements.

Shugo Chara

‘All kids hold an egg in their souls, the egg of our hearts, our would-be selves, yet unseen.’

You were able to see them, but yours had never manifested one in your world—your heart’s egg. Because of your special vision you were an unofficial guardian, so you were privy to some information on them, but you had always craved the impact that having your own would have on your life.

It’s shortly after Riddle’s Overblot that you and Grim awake to an egg with the silhouette of a crow on it in your bed! Grim has NO idea what it is, and leaps from the bed! He is a dire beast and it’s your job to teach him about human things, so you kindly explain it, meanwhile in your mind, of course a house warden would understand it! After everything you had seen them do, this should not be new! You eagerly show it off to all your new friends…only for them to be just as bewildered as Grim! Ace even teases you about having painted an egg for such a lame prank, Deuce bombards you with questions and observes like one would a newborn child, while Riddle quickly searches for medical references—maybe you're actually fae! The fae scentiment is one that also intrigues your horned friend after you show him your egg, he even graciously offers to supply it with magic in your place!

Your chara doesn’t reveal itself until after you defeat Azul. It’s so cute in its little feather cape and hoodie—a mysterious look for such a sweet thing. Oddly enough, EVERYONE in the school can see your chara—you were kind of hoping to play some invisible tricks, but this is okay too—you wonder if it’s a magic thing.

Your chara is so observant, calm and collected. It likes to help people, so there are times when it strays leagues from you in an effort to do so! Azul initially liked it because many enjoyed seeing the adorable little creature—which was great for business, AND FREE! But, over a series of chats, he found that he maybe, sorta, kinda appreciated its understanding and kindness, and he would maybe, sorta, kinda punish anyone who would bring it harm—a sentiment shared by many others.

You can’t help but feel that your coming here was undoubtedly the impetus for this growth.

Your chara change is a broach with what appears to be a mage stone similar to the one Grim has, but decorated with raven feathers. You find that in those times when you ‘change’, you embody the essence of maturity, your insight increases too and you just…get it.

It’s during the Vil’s overblot that you awaken to your chara transformation. Your midnight wings are functional and your black and gold outfit is reminiscent of an opulence not unlike that of the ceremonial robes or even the fairest queen—this extravagant display only further angers Vil. You hold a key blade or key wand and mirror shield in your arms that are sufficient for your amateur level. You’re still new to it, but together you’re able to talk Vil down and support the rest of the NRC Tribe in knocking him back to his senses.

By the time Styx attacks, you have some control over your transformation and the powers that come with it, but you’re still not on the level of the housewardens or even the third years, and like the others, you fall.

When the gate to the underworld is under siege you discover that your key can be used to buff and debuff. For some of the weaker phantoms, you’re able to dissipate their lingering negative emotions, erasing them entirely, while for the stronger ones you boost the potency of your friends’ spells.

Splatoon (Octoling, because Azul)

The first thing they noticed was your eyes, and your pupils' infinity shape. It's not until you remove your hood that they REALLY realize you are NOT human—nice tentacles, I guess. At first, it’s kinda weird to the humans, fae and beastmen, but the merfolk, they are fascinated! Especially Azul.

You describe yourself as an octoling—a descendant of ancient octopuses. You are NOT a mermaid, you are entirely unable to participate in Book 3 as is, but he is interested in you all the same. Before the dorm, you have something else to offer Azul. You are insanely fashionable and your voice is immaculate—and he wants control over it all. You offer your performing services to him should you miss the deadline, but you have a much more valuable skill you ‘failed’ to mention.

After having successfully booted you and your crew, Azul notices paint (ink?) in his office! It’s made such a mess! It’s gotten everywhere! All the way up to the vault!

The moment he opens the vault…you leap from the ink, grab a stack of contracts and jump back in! He is stunned for a moment, and even after he comes to his senses he has no idea how to explain what he needs the staff to do. And then you’re gone.

Through certain occurrences, Azul still overblots. You’re able to relate to him after what the Octolings had been through, and what they had done. You reassure him that things were on a positive trajectory when you left and tell him his tentacles are pretty.

Hunter x Hunter (Nen, Specialist)

You have a distinct presence to you that just can’t really be defined. There are times when the simple act of you turning causes aggressors to flee and other times where you're almost imperceptible—even to Rook! You introduce yourself as a hunter, presenting your license with great enthusiasm and the man is smitten! In his eyes, you’re a beauty like no other! As a hunter himself, he wants to know everything about you and everything about the test you underwent to attain that license! He is one of the select students who seem to be unconsciously manipulating Nen.

Another person who has a significant interest in you is Lilia, when you first exited your coffin you made sure everyone in the vicinity knew to stay far from you; your Ren surged forth before you even stepped out, just enough to warn those in the room, unfortunately Lilia was in the room. You were VERY lucky that nothing came of it in that moment, or rather you both were. However, since that occurrence, he’s had his eye on you. From time to time you can feel him exerting a little Ren himself, but someone as cute and kindly as him wouldn’t bring his sweet underclass man and ward’s first friend harm right…RIGHT!?

Initially it came as a shock that magic wasn’t at all related to Nen, but a different practice altogether. So, there are still limits to what you can do in this school for aspiring mages, but not many. In fact, there are some feats that you perform that have people questioning your species!

You explain that your Nen ability could be likened to that of their unique magic. Yours is known as True Heart’s Reflection, it allows you to peer into impactful moments of your target’s past with the caveat that the detail of the visions are directly linked with how greatly they weigh on the target in the moment (every flashback and vignette/story moments that are referenced but the prefect technically wasn’t there for).

I feel like there’s still more that could be done with this, but that’s for another day or even another writer 🤗

[sissiarte]

THEY ARE HERE!!! I'm very excited to finally share the full designs hope you guys like them <3

These are only like a base, they'll wear more layers on top and have more weapons and armor some times (and like, wear other clothes) but I wanted to have at least one reference for myself that I can use and later on work on top of and give them more outfits (playing dolls with them basically)

I had a lot of thought behind the designs so if you're interested, there's an infodump below the cut. It's very long and messy so read at your own risk

I tried to have some sort of historical accuracy (even if it's a fictional story and the exact time period when it happens is ??) mainly bc I'm tired of how celts are portrayed in media (they wore tacky colors please stop with the grey brown leathers fur), and a bit bc I'm a nerd and I can't do anything if I don't do some research before.

On the other hand I wanted to make good character designs that told things about the characters and stuff, so I had to juggle a bit both things. Plus there's not much variation in clothing styles, so I had to do what I could.

I wanted to use colors, jewelery and styles to group or distinguish the characters. So Láeg and Emer wear a very similar color palette, Cú Chulainn has some blue in his mainly red outfit (and also the under tunic thing resembles Emer's) and Ferdia has some red in his mainly blue one.

Láeg and Cú Chulainn wear the same kind of thing, but I gave Cú Chulainn more layers in reference to the 34683 shirts thing. I went no pants wider belt for Ferdia bc honestly I didn't know how else to make a clear distinction as "this one character is from a different place", there's only so much you can do with the few styles there are.

Jewelery choices! This was a lot bc I really like torcs and I wanted to use them again to give Ulster characters and Connacht characters different kinds of torcs. My first instinct was to give Connacht those very heavy ones that have rings at the ends, but then I did some research and those were only found in england so. Then I went to look what kind of torcs were found in each place and I found that they were the same!!! Obviously!!! Bc they are next to eachother!!!

So I took creative choices and as I found some bracelets in Ulster that looked like torcs I went okay those done (plus they are way easier to draw) And I gave Ferdia the spirally one and Cú Chulainn the "bracelet" one. Plus gave a matching bracelet to Láeg. Emer wears a lunula bc her father is described as wearing one in The Hound of Ulster and I liked it.

(some pics for reference: from left to right the torc Ferdia wears, the bracelet Láeg wears and from were I based Cú Chulainn's torc, and the lunula Emer wears)

Also important, the headpiece Láeg wears. I used to draw Cú Chulainn with a similar one just because I liked it, but then after reading I liked that Láeg is the only one wearing it. At first I was going to give Emer a similar one but in the end decided against it to make it exclusive to Láeg and to not give her more jewelery than to Ferdia. I wanted Ferdia to wear a lot and be like, more stylish I guess bc I feel he cares about that stuff (I mean part of the bribe to fight Cú Chulainn was a brooch so)

And I think that's it! Sorry it was a lot hfasjkd but I wanted to share it. If there's something I have missed and you're curious to know about feel free to ask! I might have a long ass answer like this or it might be just because XD And if you have comments or opinions they are also welcome! I'm no expert or anything (just a big nerd) so I apreciate any insight.

And if you've gotten this far thank you for reading my yapping <3

[augustjustice]

you wanna feel how it feels? (let's exchange the experience), 1/?

AO3 Link

Summary: After the Spring Break from hell, Eddie and Steve become fast friends, with a possible hint towards something more…except they're never quite sure what the other one is actually thinking. But maybe, just maybe, walking a mile in each other's shoes can lend them some much needed insight.

Notes: The long awaited first chapter of bodyswap fic is finally, finally here! This chapter is primarily just set up for the shenanigans yet to come.

I went ahead and added a taglist below for some of the folks who have been following along with the progress of this one. Apologies if I missed anyone, and if you'd like to be added to or removed from the list, please just let me know!

It was a typical Saturday night in late April–at least, typical post-the radical turn of events that had started with Eddie’s own personal nightmare during the Spring Break from hell, that series of dominoes tipping over and taking his life up to where it was now. And where he found himself was at Hawkins’ very own local Dairy Queen with Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, and a rabid pack of six hungry teenagers and one formidable preteen who could rule them all with an iron fist if she wanted, following up yet another successful session of Hellfire with some celebratory ice cream. 

Being able to hold a meeting of the Hellfire Club at all was cause for celebration in Eddie’s book, especially since the school would no longer allow them to host events on school grounds, despite the fact that all the charges against Eddie that had started the witch hunt in the first place had been dropped. Hawkins wasn’t exactly a forgive-and-forget kind of town, something Eddie had always known and been even more acutely aware of given the even more frequent, vitriolic stares that had been following him around since March. 

Still, he was soldiering on for now, at least until graduation–thanks in no small part to the apocalypse stopping crew currently clamoring over each other at the front counter. Despite the school’s best efforts, the club venue had been relocated to the Munsons’ newly minted trailer, courtesy of the government suits. And with the revival of their D&D campaign came the start of this new tradition–begun by none other than Steve himself, who had pulled up to Forest Hills to pick up the kiddos that first night, stuck his floppy-haired head out of his BMW like an overgrown puppy, and offered to meet everyone at the local DQ, his treat. The Corroded Coffin boys had begged off coming that first time–and the week after that, and the week after that–but, still. Standing under the hazy fast food fluorescent lights and with the promise of a chocolate malt ahead, life–for the moment, at least–was as good as Eddie could ask for, all things considered. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” With three quick snaps of his fingers, Steve tried to corral the kids into some semblance of order, one hand already settled in its customary position on his hip. “One at a time, you guys. Try to cut, ah…”

“Brandi,” the brunette behind the counter supplied helpfully when she saw Steve squinting at her name tag, face blooming into a bright grin. 

Eddie was pretty sure he recognized her from his second senior year math class, and there was a vague memory of seeing someone who sort of looked like her in the cafeteria tickling at the back of his mind, sitting a few tables from the jock zone amongst the lucky hopefuls looking to catch the attention of a baseball or basketball playing potential boyfriend. If so, that definitely explained the big moon eyes she was currently shooting Steve’s way. 

But Steve only returned her smile with a harried one of his own, his attention still firmly focused on the demands of his many babysitting charges. Eddie tried to tamp down the sick twist of satisfaction he felt when Brandi deflated slightly. 

“Right. Try to cut Brandi here some slack, alright? Believe me, slinging ice cream is plenty of work without having a bunch of little menaces shouting in your ear.”

As the group finally managed to file themselves into something that resembled a line–with plenty of jostling and grumbling along the way–Erica gave Steve’s polo a sharp tug and then jabbed two fingers in his direction.

“Free ice cream. For life,” she emphasized, the same way she did every week, like Steve needed the reminder. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve waved a dismissive hand in her direction even as he pulled out his wallet, same as he did week in and week out, putting on a show like he didn’t already know he’d be footing the bill for most of the munchkins’ orders. 

Robin had explained the situation to Eddie when he’d asked after their first DQ outing, with the same airy tone they all often used to describe the truly mind-boggling shit they had been through over the last few years. 

“Oh! It’s a leftover debt, from when we infiltrated the secret Russian base under Starcourt. Free ice cream was Erica’s price for getting involved. Never underestimate her ability to drive a hard bargain.”

Eddie had nodded, trying not to let how gobsmacked he felt about the entire story show. “Yeah, I, uh…wasn’t planning to. Lady Applejack is a force to be reckoned with.”

“You have no idea,” Robin had agreed, looking almost strangely…proud about the fact. 

That evening, when Eddie sidled up to join them, leaving Robin in position to guard the three booths sequestered off towards the back they had claimed as their own, he caught the tail end of the sheepies excitedly recounting tonight’s session for Steve. 

“And D20 is…good, right?” Steve asked, still watching the register as Brandi passed a vanilla cone with a hefty serving of whipped cream and sprinkles off to El. 

“Yes, Steve, it’s only the best roll you can possibly make in the entire game.” 

The no duh tone of Dustin’s voice was enough to have Steve raising an eyebrow at him, completely unimpressed. 

“Like sinking the winning shot after the final buzzer at the championship game kinda good,” Lucas explained, much more helpfully, his grin wide.

“Oh,” Steve nodded, and Eddie couldn't help but get distracted by the way his lips, pink and shining with a hint of chapstick, parted perfectly in understanding.

Eddie seized the opportunity to catch Steve off guard, hooking an arm around his shoulders and tugging him into his side. Delight bubbled in his chest at the way the gesture made Steve let out a loud, startled laugh.

“Should've figured that's all it'd take to rope you into playing sometime, Harrington,” Eddie shook his head solemnly. “Sports metaphors.”

“Always with the sports metaphors,” Dustin echoed. 

Steve reached out and swatted the brim of his cap, the force of it just enough to send it slightly askew and trigger a string of cursing from Dustin.

“Hey, I never agreed to that,” he argued, ducking out from under Eddie’s arm in one seamless motion. Jock reflexes, Eddie had decided, were both a blessing and a curse. 

He had learned that lesson firsthand in the past few weeks, as Eddie had grown more and more comfortable indulging in a little light rough housing with Steve, despite the fact that he knew there was no way in hell he had any better shot than their gangly freshmen did at not getting his ass handed to him. Eddie was stronger than he looked, sure, but he wasn’t exactly former basketball captain level athletic, not by a long shot. 

But was it really losing when he got to be pressed up against the firm planes of Steve’s chest, wrapped up in his strong arms–even if it was in a death lock grip–or occasionally pinned to Eddie’s own bedroom floor by him? Eddie definitely didn’t think so, and part of him was also just happy his recovery was going well enough he could scuffle, again. On his good days, at least. Doing it with his hot friend–and crush–was just an added bonus. 

“You know, it’s not my fault Lucas knows how to explain shit to me. I’ll stop talking in basketball when one of you two nerds actually manages to tell me what Mordor is.”

Dustin let out a huff. “If you just read the books–”

Steve cupped a hand around his ear, leaning down towards Dustin and hamming it up for all he was worth. “Huh? What was that? Cuz it didn’t sound like much of an explanation to me, Henderson.”

Eddie tugged a strand of hair across his mouth, trying to hide his grin. “Harrington, trust me when I say–you do not want to open that can of worms. Do you have any idea how long I can go on for once I get started? Hours, man. Days, probably.”

“Can’t be any worse than that time Robin tried to explain, uh…shit, what was it called? German New Wave? Or, no, maybe that was French Expressionism. I don’t know, the point is, it can’t be more boring than that was.”

“It's French New Wave!” Robin called from the back despite the distance, freakily intune with Steve as always. “Or German Expressionism. And sounds like you're due another lesson, Stevie-Evie. Don't worry, I've got a tried and true method to guarantee it all sticks this time.”

Steve groaned, dragging a hand over his face and into his hair–but his apparent grief at the thought of another Buckley-led film history lesson was quickly diverted when he realized it was his turn. 

From there, placing the rest of their orders passed by with little fanfare–apart from the brief, minor hiccup that came when Steve tried to pay for Eddie’s treat on top of everybody else’s. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Eddie waved a finger at him, just barely managing to step around Steve and hand his fistful of dollars over to Brandi. “Your money’s no good here, my liege.”

The title was enough to produce a patent Harrington scowl, all drawn eyebrows and pouted lips. 

When he opened his mouth to protest, Eddie cut him off again. “Seriously, Steve, I’ve got it. One shake isn’t gonna break the bank, you know?” 

“I know that,” Steve huffed. “I just–would it seriously kill you to let me treat you once in a while?”

Steve had done more than enough, and Eddie thought he damn well knew that. Between literally saving Eddie’s life when he’d been about to bleed out in the Upside Down and then sticking around through all of his recovery in the weeks after, the amount he had done was approaching near superheroic levels. 

“You know you don’t have to hover, right, Harrington?” Eddie had asked him one day towards the end of his stay in the hospital, gnawing anxiously at his bottom lip, as he watched Steve look up from the Sports Illustrated sprawled across his lap.

The truth was he hadn’t wanted to say anything, too afraid bringing it up would lead to Steve doing just as he was suggesting…finally leaving. But the anxiety humming in his ears that Steve was just here out of pity had finally become worse, forced the words from his mouth. 

“You saved Dustin, man,” Steve had replied, expression earnest, “and helped distract the bats from me and Nance and Robin, too. I’m not going anywhere. So, you know…get used to it.”

He had punctuated the last statement by giving Eddie a light, friendly slap on his knee, and Eddie had to bite back the beaming, relieved grin that threatened to split his face. 

Steve had stayed pretty much a permanent fixture in Eddie’s day-to-day life after that, proving time and again he was serious about being in it for the long haul. Even through all the embarrassing shit, like Eddie hobbling around on his cane like a baby deer on shaky newborn legs, or needing somebody to help him wash his hair. Not exactly the ideal position to be in with a hopeless high school crush that had come burning back to life with a vengeance, but Steve would hear none of it when Eddie tried to insist he didn’t need to go out of his way like this. 

“What, you want Henderson in here instead?” Steve had asked with a snort. “You gotta be kidding, Munson. Like I said, better get used to being stuck with me.”

“Happy to be stuck together with you anytime, big boy,” Eddie had flirted, the shameless bravado in place to cover up the very real fluttering of his heart.  

In other words…Eddie had already accrued more life debts to Steve Harrington than he could ever hope to repay. And while Steve might have insisted he was more than happy with nursemaid duty, Eddie really wasn’t looking to turn himself into a charity case. Not if he could help it.

So Eddie let his grin grow, obnoxious and wide enough to show off all his teeth.

“It might,” he quipped. “And how would you feel, Harrington, knowing that this was the thing that finally managed to do me in? I’m just trying to spare you the guilt, man, I know what a complex you’d get.”

“Whatever, Eds,” Steve scoffed, steering him towards the designated babysitter’s club booth with a nudge of his elbow, hands full of his and Robin’s matching strawberry sundaes. 

Steve took his customary spot on Robin’s side of the booth, the pair of them, as always, practically glued at the hip. Their friendship, Eddie had learned, was a boundary free zone, one that frequently involved holding hands, devolving into childish slap fights with little warning, and falling asleep sprawled on top of each other while watching bad daytime soaps at the Harrington house. Only their vehement denial and the goo-goo eyes Eddie caught Robin making at the red-haired chick–Vickie, he now knew–from band convinced him Dustin’s loud, frequent, and insistent claims that they were dating were total bullshit. 

As he was just about to slide into his own place across from them, a commotion at the table behind them called for Eddie’s attention. 

“Eddie, El wants to hear you do the roar again!” Mike requested. 

Eddie tilted his head to one side, stroking his chin, as though trying to recall what exactly Mike was speaking of. Biting his lip to keep from smiling, he gave Mike a shrug. 

“No clue what you’re talking about, Little Wheel.”

A chorus of cries rang out from both tables the party had overtaken, shrieks of “Eddie!” and “C’mon, man!” reverberating again and again in his ears. 

Spinning on his heel as though he was set to ignore them, Eddie answered Steve and Robin’s expectant expressions with a quick, subtle wink.

When he leapt up from the floor and into a crouch on the booth seating, Eddie felt a sharp tug at his sides, his scar tissue very eagerly making itself known. Gritting his teeth, he refused to let the hot flash of pain show on his face as he loomed over Will and El, hands curving into claws as he reached towards their table.

“Kas the Bloody-Handed demands vengeance!” he bellowed, letting his voice drop into a deep, growling register. 

His performance was met with what might as well have been a standing ovation, in his book–a series of delighted shouts from the boys, eerily similar head shakes from Max and Erica while they both visibly fought back their smiles, and El letting out a peel of giggles as she hid her face in her brother’s side. 

When Hellfire had started back up again, Eddie had considered starting over from scratch, maybe even trying this deep into the game to veer their campaign in a different direction. He didn’t want something that they all loved to become somehow���tainted, by reminders of everything that had happened. 

“Nah, man, just leave it like it is,” Steve had suggested, one afternoon when Eddie’s fretting had finally bubbled over to the point he couldn’t hold it in any longer. “It's good for their…trauma processing? Or something. I don’t know, you’d have to ask Owens about it. The point is, they wouldn’t want you to change it. Not unless you want to.”

In the end, Eddie had heeded Steve’s advice, figuring he knew more about the way those little hellions ticked better than probably anybody else, at this point. 

Moments like these made him glad he did, proof positive his instincts had been spot on. 

Eddie dropped, satisfied, down into the booth, his foot knocking straight into the side of Steve’s under the table. A little spark of pleasure shot through him when Steve simply bumped his Nike sneaker against Eddie’s Reebok in answer and then left it there, pressed close together.

“No wonder you did drama,” Steve observed, twisting a bite around in his mouth as he sucked up the bright red streak of strawberry syrup. “You’re a total natural, man. Kinda, like…hypnotic.”

Eddie tried not to make it too obvious, how closely he was following the way Steve licked up every last morsel.  

“Yeah, until he dropped out like a quitter.”

“What can I say, Buckley? Organized–well, anything really–just ain’t for me.”

“Says the guy who literally runs an afterschool club,” she pointed the end of her plastic spoon at him in accusation. “Sounds to me like you’re full of it, Eddie.”

“She’s got you there, man,” Steve agreed with a shrug, a drop from his sundae dribbling onto the table as he swirled it around yet again. 

“Oh, napkins!” 

Slapping a palm against her forehead, Robin clambered over Steve and out of the booth, not so much as hesitating to give him a chance to stand up. 

“You know, if you wanna see more where that came from–my flare for theatrics, that is–you could always, I don’t know. Stick around when you drop off the kiddos next week?” As Eddie posed the question, he wondered if the lilt in his voice sounded too hopeful. “I won’t even make you play. You have my word as a dungeon master and a gentleman.”

“Yeah, uh…fat chance of that happening,” Steve murmured, voice low, almost like he didn’t want Eddie to actually hear him, “your friends fucking hate me, dude.”

“They don't hate you,” Eddie protested automatically, feeling the need to defend them even as his own heart sank in his chest, “they're just…a little skittish, after everything that went down with Jason. You–you get that, right?”

“Sure,” Steve shrugged, looking down as he stirred his spoon through his steadily melting soft serve. When he glanced up at Eddie again, a tenseness crept in around the edges of his smile that Eddie desperately wished he could help wipe away. “I get it.”

Robin returned to the table before either of them got a chance to say anything else, sliding over Steve’s lap with enough clumsy limbed flailing it prompted a, Sheesh, Rob. Watch the elbows, will you? out of Steve. 

Seeing an opening, Eddie quickly changed the subject. 

“So, speaking of the ins-and-outs of living in the institution that is our organized society–how is Family Video treating my two favorite, upstanding, and gainfully employed Hawkins citizens?”

Robin snorted. “It’s minimum wage, Eddie. How good could it possibly be?”

“Well, I mean–you could trade places with me if you wanted. Be gainfully unemployed with a side hustle that went up in smoke since that whole–you know, accused of being a ritual Satanic murderer thing put the local law enforcement on your tail.”

Both Steve’s eyebrows shot up at that. “The cop’s still giving you trouble?”

“Not in so many words, but, uh–let’s just say they’ve made it pretty clear I’m not exactly their favorite person, right now. So, yeah. Officer Callahan must have circled the trailer park like–three different times, last night.”

“But…you were exonerated,” Robin protested, the force of her distress clear from the way she slapped a palm down flat on top of the table. “That–that’s a total misappropriation of police funds, not to mention harassment of a private citizen.”

“You ever think that maybe they’re just keeping an eye on the place?” Steve suggested hopefully, “You know…after everything that happened.” 

“Your adorably positive outlook has been noted, Stevie. Noted, but ultimately dismissed.”

“Want me to talk to Hop for you? Get him to tell them to stand down?” 

“Nah, man,” Eddie gave a forceful shake of his head, hair whipping around him in a messy cloud, “I can handle it. I’ve got plenty of experience, evading the Hawkins Police force.”

Rubbing a finger over his sideburn, Steve tilted his head from side-to-side in consideration, before he casually added, “Guess we all do, now.”

“A band of fearsome outlaws, that’s us,” Robin agreed, her nose crinkling as she laughed, loud and bright. 

“More like Robin Hood and his merry men.” At Robin’s pointed glance, Eddie was quick to amend, “…And women, of course.” 

The conversation flowed along at a rapid fire pace from there, the three of them at first trying to assign different characters from the story to all the members of the party before devolving fast into a debate about which cinematic performance of the lead character was the best–and sexiest, though Eddie didn’t divulge that was most of the metric he was using for his answers–and thus which adaptation came out on top. Robin fell into the same camp as him–Errol Flynn all the way–while Steve was a firm defender of the Disney version because, That little fox guy is cute and charismatic, guys, you can’t even argue with me on this one. 

When he had slurped up the last remnants of his malt, Eddie stretched his arms above his head, leaned back against the booth’s cracking red vinyl, and sighed. 

“Fancy a smoke break?” he asked, pulling the pack from his pocket and waving it tantalizingly for Steve to see.

Steve laughed with a roll of his eyes.

“You know I quit, dude.” 

“And so should you,” Robin added pointedly, an argument she’d made countless times since Eddie got out of the hospital, pretty much every single time she caught him lighting up. 

“Cut me some slack, Buckley,” Eddie said, same as he always did. “I’ve been through a traumatic experience. Ciggies are good for the stress, since I can’t exactly smoke weed outside this fine, family friendly establishment.”

“Uh-huh,” Robin replied, deadpan and unconvinced as ever, “we’ve all got our fair share of U.D. related trauma, Eddie. That’s not an excuse to suck on those…little sticks made out of cancer.”  

“Alright, well. Fancy a stand-outside-with-me-and-bullshit break, then?” Eddie directed at Steve. 

Robin raised an eyebrow at him, and Eddie couldn’t quite read the expression on her face. It seemed…knowing in a way he was too afraid to totally unpack. 

She saved him the trouble of having to do so by letting out a put upon sigh, dramatic enough for him or Steve either one when they got going, and a true reflection of the fact she had stuck it out through almost four years of high school theater. 

“Stealing away my own best friend to go join your boys’ club, Eddie? Really? And right in front of me, too. You know, this is just like second grade, when Trevor Milligan convinced all the boys in our class girls had cooties, and Bobby B. wouldn’t race me on the monkey bars anymore.” 

Laying a hand over his heart, Eddie had to fight down the grin that threatened to split across his face. “I solemnly vow to bring him back all in one piece, Buck. I know who's top dog around here.”

The nod she gave him was swift and authoritative. “And don’t you forget it.” 

With a wink and a click of his tongue, he mock saluted her. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She turned to Steve, giving his bicep several sharp pokes. “But just because I'm the girl doesn't mean I deserve to get saddled with child-rearing responsibilities, you know!”

“We're not children,” Red interjected with a dry sort of exasperation from the next booth over.

Her point was immediately undermined by Lucas, using the makeshift catapult he'd made from his spoon to fling a maraschino cherry at Dustin. The other boy let out an indignant squawk when it missed his mouth entirely and got caught right in his curly hair.

Even from behind her glasses, it was pretty obvious what sort of look Max was giving her boyfriend.

“Correction…I'm not a child.”

“Sorry.” Lucas's grin was sheepish.

“Rob,” Steve said flatly, ignoring the kids’ antics to instead pin her with his own look, like she was being ridiculous. 

Which was…pretty fair, this time, in Eddie's opinion. He wasn't sure he'd ever met anyone with quite the same intense level of tired dad–mom–whatever energy as Steve had, and all before he'd even hit his early twenties. When it came to babysitting duties, he definitely wasn't a slacker.

“I'm just saying, as a feminist, I thought you should know,” Robin waved her spoon at them, managing to pull the move off without so much as a drip of her ice cream plopping onto the table.

“We agreed that you'd be the fun uncle,” Steve argued, the lack of protest from Robin proving that was, in fact, a conversation they'd already had, “so then be the fun uncle while Mom and Dad step outside.”

“Mom and Dad?” Robin echoed, eyebrow raising and face scrunching in transparent disbelief–and Eddie had to admit, he was caught on the exact same thing.

Steve only waved a hand at her, rolling his eyes. 

“You know what I mean. Look, it’s only gonna be like fifteen minutes, tops. If you do it I’ll–” Steve spun his hand around in several aimless, pinwheel like motions before finally snapping his fingers in revelation, “I’ll let you put on whatever movie you want at work on Monday!”

Robin stuck her hand out to him. “Make it ten, and you’ve got yourself a deal.” 

Tapping a finger on his top lip, Steve pursed his mouth in thought for a moment. 

“...Twelve,” he bartered. “And you can make it a black and white one. With subtitles.”

Robin’s face lit up, teeth glimmering with the sheer force of her glee.

“Look at that. You really do know the way to a girl’s heart, Steve.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve grumbled, giving her hand one firm, business-like shake. 

Eddie was already up, having impatiently shimmied several paces away from the booth, by the time Steve stood and fell into step beside him.

Cupping his hands around his mouth, Eddie couldn’t resist shouting over his shoulder, “Make sure they eat all their vegetables!”

Steve met Eddie’s shit-eating grin with one of his own before adding, “And no scary movies before bedtime!”

Seven individual hands all popped up, shooting them the bird as one.

By the time they stepped out onto the sidewalk, they were both stumbling into each other’s sides with laughter. 

—

Once they were outside and had managed to pull themselves together, Eddie stuck one of the smokes in his mouth and went straight for his lighter, his craving growing palpable. But, as that meant he had to rummage around the tangle of other things jammed inside his pocket, just laying in wait to come spilling out–like a nearly empty pack of Big Red gum, a crumpled receipt, and the spare die Eddie kept on his person in case of D&D-related emergencies–he fumbled it, the BIC hitting the ground with a sad thump.

“Jesus H. Christ,” he complained out of reflex, both from general annoyance and just a tinge of embarrassment, feeling the burn of it with his klutziness deciding to come out around Steve in full force. 

Nat 1 on charisma, Munson. Critical failure.

Steve waved a dismissive hand at him. “I got it, man, I got it.”

And before Eddie could protest, he was stooping down beside him to pick the lighter up off the asphalt of the Dairy Queen parking lot, giving it a toss into his hand like the total show off he was.

Eddie was about to make a crack about it, something along the lines of You just gotta demonstrate your athletic prowess in front of us lesser mortals, doncha, Harrington?–except, well. He didn’t get the chance. 

Because, one second, Steve was popping up and waving the lighter cockily at him, grin bright on his face, and, the next…

The next, and totally without warning, he was leaning in close, cupping his hand to light the cigarette dangling from Eddie’s lips for him. 

Eddie inhaled on instinct, taking a long drag as the cherry glowed to life, a stark red in the fading light of dusk. As for the sudden rush that went to his head–he had little doubt that it was just from the hit of nicotine alone.

And–maybe it was a trick of the low light. But for a long, breathless moment, Steve’s eyes seemed to linger on Eddie’s mouth, and Eddie’s heartbeat kicked up in answer, rabbiting wildly in his throat. The air between them grew thick, heavy-laden with tension that seemed to almost crackle like electricity. 

Eddie took the cigarette from his lips slowly, dropping his hand to let it hang at his side. And, still, Steve’s gaze never wavered, eye line still leveled directly at his mouth. If one of them were to just finally cave into the building pressure, sway forward and close that distance between them, maybe they could…

But, then, from one blink to the next, the heated expression on Steve’s face cleared, replaced by a guileless, easy smile. 

…Eddie tried to tamp down on the flare of disappointment he felt at the sight of it.  

“You know, man–Robin’s totally right about those things.” 

Steve dragged a finger across his throat, pretending to choke as he briefly mimed his own dramatic death scene. The Eddie of a year ago wouldn’t have believed it–but the Eddie of now knew better, had been exposed to Steve’s silly antics on more than one occasion. He could be just as big a goofball as Dustin, as any of the kids, as Eddie himself when he wanted to be. 

“You really should cut back.”

It was all so…normal. Casual. A light chiding about bad habits in an airy tone, like…

Like everything before hadn’t happened at all. 

Eddie stared at Steve for a long moment, trying to read the expression in his wide, hazel eyes. But…they were totally and completely inscrutable to him.

And, look. Eddie was queerer than a three dollar bill–had been since gawky adolescence hit him like a freight train, all too-long limbs and sudden, embarrassingly consistent morning wood. Dudes or chicks, it didn’t matter. Like Bowie, Eddie was an equal opportunist…for all the good it had ever done him, able to count the times he’d made a pass and hadn’t struck out on one hand. Being Hawkins local freak would do that to a guy, and that was before the murder charges and cult-leader accusations. 

But the thought that Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington was anything other than stalwartly heterosexual in the most apple-pie, white-picket-fence, boy-next-store way imaginable? The idea should have been laughable. And a year ago, Eddie would have done just that, laughed it off with a no way, man rolling easily off his tongue.

But now…now he wasn’t so sure. 

Because there was something electric about the growing familiarity that had popped up between him and Steve the closer they’d gotten since their fateful spring break excursion to the Upside Down. He felt it, when Steve slung his arm over the back of the couch when Eddie sat next to him during movie night, or laid a hand in the small of Eddie’s back, easy as anything, to keep him steady when the kids all jostled ahead of them to get through the door at the arcade. 

Maybe it was all just some vestige from Steve’s high school glory days, leftover jock rituals Eddie knew nothing about. Maybe it was total wishful thinking on Eddie’s part, as his crush steadily grew into something gargantuan. Shit, that’s what he tried to tell himself most of the time, if only for his own sanity–but he was still reluctant to say it was all in his head. Especially when moments like this kept cropping up more and more. 

…Eddie was too afraid to push it, though. Hardly over a month old, technically–even though some days it felt like a lifetime–the friendship between them was new. Not delicate, not hardly, but still not something Eddie was looking to scare off when it’d only just gotten started. 

So as the uncertainty settled over him, Eddie finally ducked his head for an instant, gnawing at his bottom lip. Then he reached over and gave Steve’s temple a teasing tap. 

“Sometimes, I just wonder what’s going on inside that pretty head of yours, Stevie.”

The flirtation was thick, sure, but it was easy enough to play it off the same way he always did–just some harmless teasing between two guys, nothing serious. Plus, Eddie figured Steve was more than used to his antics by now. Sometimes, his over-the-top personality really did pay off. 

But behind those words was the truth of Eddie’s thoughts, swirling over and over again. 

Fuck. If only I could get inside his head. Then, maybe I’d be able to figure out what the hell he’s thinking. 

For a split second, he could have sworn Steve’s shoulders stiffened, posture going unexpectedly rigid. But then Steve laughed, brushing the swoop of his hair back, fingers dancing tantalizingly close to Eddie’s own, and Eddie was left to wonder if it was just more of his mind playing tricks on him. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, man. I’m like an open book. Ask anybody around and they’ll tell you–you don’t have to put yourself out to get an answer. It’s pretty much all, like…hair care tips and sports stats, 24/7 up here.” 

“Come on, Steve,” Eddie scoffed, “I don’t believe that shit for even a second.” 

Steve only shook his head, smile still firmly in place. 

“Not sure what to tell you, dude. It’s true. Besides,” the word came out lower, almost as if Steve was talking to himself, “between the two of us, pretty sure you’re more the man of mystery than I am, dude.” 

At that, Eddie let out a startled bark of laughter. 

“Me?! You cannot be serious with that one, Harrington, no way in hell. Have you seen me? If anybody’s the open book here, it’s me. I’m practically a screaming headline on the late night news. Every single thought and feeling I’ve ever had automatically comes flying,” Eddie pressed his hand against his lips and made a sound like an explosion, splaying his fingers out, “straight out of my mouth. Always has. Just ask my old man, he used to bitch about it all the time. ‘Quit that blubbering and toughen up, Eddie, or life will steamroll right over you.’”

Steve’s lips pursed, the same knowing but insulted look he always wore when the infamous Munson patriarch came up in conversation. 

“Your dad sounds like a real jackass, Eds.” 

Eddie could only hum his agreement. 

Everybody in Hawkins knew Al Munson, low down no-account that he was. His reputation preceded him–and Eddie, more often than not. But Steve had more of the inside scoop than most, Eddie having opened up to both him and Robin about his home life. 

Still, he wondered at the vehemence with which Steve defended him, any time the mention of his absentee patriarch came up. By contrast, Eddie didn’t know jackshit about the Harringtons apart from the fact that they were hotshots around town. Steve never mentioned them, not really, and Eddie had never run into them the times he’d been over to Steve’s place. Which was…pretty weird in and of itself, wasn’t it?

Yet another mysterious piece of the puzzle that was Steve Harrington. 

“I don’t know, man,” Steve shrugged, voice gone quiet again, tugging Eddie out of his reverie. “I kinda think your book might be in Hobbit, or whatever it’s called from those books you guys love so much, because I don’t really see you that way at all.” 

Reaching out, he suddenly caught a strand of Eddie’s hair between two fingers. Eddie sucked in a sharp breath at the gesture, face going hot. 

“Besides, haven’t you ever heard of tall, dark, and mysterious? If the hair fits.” 

Steve gave the curl a light tug before dropping it. Eddie immediately snatched it back up, tugging it like a curtain across his mouth, desperate to hide the faint color on his cheeks. 

“Guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree on this one, dude.” 

Steve let out what sounded like an amused huff. “Looks like it.”

When Steve looked down at his watch, Eddie realized, in the time they’d been talking, that he’d smoked his cigarette down to a nub.

“We should probably head back inside,” Steve gestured over his shoulder with his thumb, “before all of Lucas’s toppings somehow end up in Dustin’s hair, and Robin decides to ground them all until they’re twenty-five.”

As he stubbed out the bud with his shoe, Eddie fiddled with his rings, trying to subtly shake off some of the tension that had seemed to build up in the air around their conversation. When he met Steve’s eyes again, he was all cheery smiles, hoping he didn’t look too manic as his cheeks stretched with the force of it.

“Well, now, we couldn’t have that,” Eddie agreed, even as he added, “–Thought she said she wasn’t parenting material, though? Pretty sure fun uncles don’t have to ground people.”

His own uncle was more like a father than anything else, and still he’d never really bothered to try grounding Eddie–his disappointed stare always did more to deter Eddie away from his own stupidity than anything else ever had.

“Sure, she says that, until somebody gets chocolate ice cream on her new favorite button down. Then it’s goddamn,” Steve let out one long, forlorn beep followed by two shorter ones–an unmistakable imitation of Pac-Man’s game over death knell, and proof of just how much time he spent at the arcade with the kids, “over for everybody involved, including me somehow.”

“I mean, you did call us Mom and Dad, man. Guess that makes us responsible whenever the kiddos misbehave.”

Steve sighed, long and loud and clearly just a little exaggerated for Eddie’s benefit, if the way Steve widened his eyes in mock fear was anything to go by. 

“Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about. Those little shits can stir up all kinds of trouble in ten minutes flat. No telling what the damage is.”

So, with one last jocular pat to Eddie’s back, he began herding him back inside the shop.  

And when Eddie’s own traitorous heart gave a twist at such a small, meaningless gesture? All he could do was send a silent curse up to the sky, and do his best to ignore it. 

—

That night, Eddie fell through a tangle of twisting, nonsensical dreams.

At first, he was in the stolen RV, relieving a memory. The Upside Down crew–Nancy, Robin, Steve, Dustin–stood all around him, preparing for that fateful last trip to try and stop Vecna. After reciting their orders, his hand clapped down on Dustin’s head in reassurance, a last show of camaraderie before they headed off into battle.

But then, without warning, the ground seemed to shift right beneath his feet. 

Coming out of the haze, he found himself staring at a refrigerator, standing in a kitchen he didn’t immediately recognize. On autopilot, with a feeling like his body was being tugged by invisible strings he couldn’t quite control, his hand swung down again, the motion identical as he gave Dustin a fond scuff over his cap. Except…Dustin was shorter, this time, and undeniably younger. And Eddie, well–the Members Only jacket hanging over his shoulders was definitely not his own, though he thought he had spotted one identical to it hanging in the back of Steve’s closet.  

He barely had time to register those weird little details before the world was going topsy turvy yet again. 

Eddie was on his back, a swirl of bats circling overhead like a storm against the violent red splash of Upside Down sky. As his sides screamed in agony, wooziness clenched down on his mind with a vice grip, not at all helped by the fact that the scene around him kept changing. 

One second, he was shirtless, dampness and grime clinging to his chest hair, Nancy Wheeler’s mouth a grim line as she stared down at him with an oar in hand. Then he blinked, and Dustin’s face swam into view above him, fuzzy as Eddie’s own vision blurred around the edges. 

Blink. Wheeler and Buckley, fighting off demobats like two warrior women worthy of only the grandest of campaigns. 

Blink. Dustin, screaming his name so harshly, his throat had to be raw from it. 

Blink. The outline of Eddie himself, shouting up at the sky, demanding they give him all they’d got despite the fucking bone-deep terror he knew he’d been feeling. The out-of-body sensation that slammed into him, existing somehow both inside and outside the moment all at once, was so jarring Eddie’s stomach lurched, like he was going to be sick. 

Back and forth, again and again, like the world’s worst, most bizarre merry-go-round…until finally, Dustin solidified, Eddie’s own memory draping over him like a well-worn but ill-fitting shirt. He flinched a little as he felt dampness drip against his cheeks, and a long moment stretched on before Eddie fully realized that it wasn’t rain hitting him in the face, but instead the fat tears currently racing down the bridge of the other boy’s nose. 

He knew this moment well, viscerally, a long, hellish stretch that had revisited him night after night the past month–and one he’d do almost anything to forget. 

His final goodbyes exchanged, Eddie’s eyes slipped shut of their own accord. It wasn’t peaceful, exactly–some part of Eddie deep down still railed, pissed as hell at what was happening to him–but he was also so fucking tired, after days on the run. Worn out and fed up, and ready to just get some fucking rest.

So, when the blackness swallowed him, he couldn’t help but wonder if this time, it really would be for good.

–And then a faint, familiar voice rang out in the distance.  

“Dustin?!” Eddie heard Steve scream, like a tether pulling him back into his own body. “Eddie?! You gotta be fucking kidding me, where the hell are you guys?!”

The heavy thud of footfalls drew closer, and Eddie practically felt the ground shake as another body collapsed beside Dustin. 

The world flashed, spun again. Suddenly, Eddie was sliding across the rough terrain of the alternate world on his knees, the sound of Dustin’s soft cries making his heart ache…and his own lifeless body spread out on the ground in front of him. 

Large hands fisted in the front of Eddie’s vest, tugging at him urgently. 

“Munson! Munson!” Steve’s words spilled from Eddie’s mouth as his grip on the fabric tightened, giving him a hard shake. “Eddie, come on! I told you not to be a hero. Don’t even think about it, dude–you’re not dying on us now!”

Eddie remembered this, too. Steve’s steely, urgent tone, brooking no arguments, like he could actually will Eddie back to life if he wanted to. Except this time–this time Eddie actually felt the terror behind the words, the urgency making Steve’s voice tremble in his throat. Experienced, in real time, the relief hitting like a truck, flooding through his veins, when his own brown eyes slipped open. 

“Did-Didn’t realize you were my commanding officer, Harrington,” the Eddie on the ground murmured–more like croaked, the sentence breaking unpleasantly in the middle.

“You’re damn right I am,” Steve answered, jaw clenching, and Eddie could feel his muscle twitching with it, “if that’s what it takes to get you to stick around, man, consider me a five star general.”

He’s alive, he’s alive, the Steve in his head sang, again and again, thank fuck, he’s alive.

Because, there and then, he…was Steve. The twin emotions of Steve’s own swelling hope that Eddie might make it coupled with Eddie’s own real shock from what Steve was feeling at the time warred inside him, threatening to overwhelm him. 

Then, like the force of that emotion had thrown him, Eddie landed hard on his back again. Confusion hit him as he glanced down and realized that he was shirtless–Steve was entirely shirtless. Because this had been his memory, before, and now Eddie was back in it. 

The revelation had barely settled before agony quickly drowned out anything else, the demo-bats starting to gnaw at his bare sides. One of their tails wrapped tightly around Eddie’s throat, and his hands shot up, uselessly trying to pry it off. He could feel that darkness creeping in again, the familiar sensation of being knocked unconscious rising up to meet him. 

Fourth time’s a charm, I guess, the voice inside Eddie’s head was wry, and it still definitely wasn’t his own. You made a good run of it, Harrington, but looks like your luck finally ran out this time.

The resignation of it, the acceptance, was enough to shake Eddie to the bone. 

No-no-no, no! Some desperate, deeply buried part of him screamed out. You–You’re the goddamn hero, Stevie. You don’t get to give up.

When the oar slammed down near his head this time, Wheeler calling out a quick Hey, there with Robin and Eddie himself at her sides…Eddie had never been so happy to see someone in his entire fucking life, freaky out-of-body experience be damned. 

The vision, memory, whatever it was…it released Eddie, finally. 

And then Steve was there, standing before him, clad in nothing but sleep shorts and his gray Hawkins Phys Ed shirt, his hair mussed. Darkness surrounded them on all sides, too fuzzy and dim for Eddie to make anything out apart from the figure facing him. 

Steve’s lips moved, the shape of them making out what Eddie thought was his name. Dread dripped down his spine, however, as he realized that no sound–not so much as a peep–followed. 

“Stevie?” he answered, the panicked shrillness evident in his own voice even as he couldn’t hear Steve’s own. “I can’t–shit, man, I can’t hear you.”

Steve’s face drew down into a frown, forehead wrinkled, concern and frustration warring on his face. He tried to speak again, but still, Eddie couldn’t hear a thing. Hand flying upwards, Steve gestured to his own ear, finger tapping it once. 

Eddie shook his head. “Sorry, dude, I–I’ve got nothing.”

On instinct, he reached out a placating hand. Glancing down to see it extended towards him, Steve did the same. Eddie felt his chest clench a little, finding comfort in the thought that even in a moment like this, when they couldn’t hear what the other was saying, they still managed to broach some common ground. 

Their fingertips brushed. A spark ran through Eddie at the touch, seeming almost to infect their surroundings as red lighting suddenly flashed all around them.

Between one blink to the next, Steve disappeared. 

Before he had a chance to cry out, Eddie realized, horror steadily climbed up his throat, that the figure now staring back at him was…himself? 

And not a memory version this time, either. No, this was a living, breathing double. 

His doppelganger’s brow furrowed, head tilting to one side, a bit like a confused puppy.

It was like the sound had been turned on all at once, because when the other Eddie spoke, he could finally hear him.

“Eddie?” his mirror image asked, looking past Eddie, around him, anywhere but directly at him.

If he had ever made it to that shrink Owens recommended, he bet they would have had a field day unpacking whatever this was.

Hands Eddie hadn’t even realized had still been clasped parted, slipping away from each other.

And then, Eddie was sucked back into darkness, feeling adrift as any chance at seeing Steve, his doppelganger, anything and anyone vanished into the distance. He was lost, totally and utterly, and he felt it, every bit of it, the weight crushing in on him as the last dregs of the dream faded away.

—

The next morning, Eddie woke up in Steve Harrington’s bed.

Part 2

Taglist: @highkingpenny @tinytalkingtina @starryeyedjanai @sidekick-hero @thefreakandthehair @lingeringmirth @eriquin @bifuriouswaterbender @fuctacles

[awkward-walking-potato]

Precious Little Bunny

Satoru gojo x reader

The first time I saw him, I knew my life would never be the same.

It was just an ordinary day at Jujutsu High, or at least as ordinary as a day could be in a place where curses lurked around every corner and sorcerers trained to battle the darkness. I was new to the school, fresh out of my last mission and still getting used to the idea of being around other sorcerers. My curse, though mostly harmless, had always been something of an embarrassment. It wasn't something that helped me in battle, didn't grant me any special power or insight. All it did was this: whenever I got happy or excited, a pair of fluffy bunny ears and a cotton tail appeared on my body, impossible to hide.

I’d learned to keep my emotions in check, to stay calm, even when I felt anything but. After all, the last thing I wanted was to be known as the girl with the ridiculous bunny ears. And for the most part, I had succeeded—until that day.

I was walking down the hallway, trying to find my classroom, when I felt it. A presence. A powerful one. I turned the corner, and there he was—Satoru Gojo, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, the one everyone talked about in hushed whispers, like he was more myth than man.

But he was no myth. He was standing right there, casually leaning against the wall, his snowy white hair perfectly tousled, and his signature blindfold concealing those mysterious eyes. He was tall, confident, and had an aura that practically crackled with power. My heart skipped a beat, and I could feel the warmth spreading through my chest, the unmistakable signs of a crush blooming far too quickly.

And then it happened.

I felt a familiar tingling at the top of my head and at the base of my spine. No, no, not now, not in front of him! I tried to force it down, but it was too late. My bunny ears popped out, soft and twitching with my nervousness, and I just knew the tail had followed suit.

Heat flooded my cheeks as I tried to turn away, hoping he hadn’t noticed. But of course, he had.

“Oh?” His voice was light, teasing, but there was an undercurrent of curiosity that made my stomach do flips. “What do we have here?”

I froze, every muscle tensing as I turned back to face him. He had pushed up his blindfold just enough to reveal one eye—a brilliant shade of blue that seemed to pierce right through me. A slow, mischievous smile spread across his face.

“A bunny? How cute.”

I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. Instead, I stammered out some incoherent excuse, trying to cover my ears with my hands, but they were too big and fluffy to hide. Gojo took a step closer, and I felt my heart race, the tingling sensation only growing stronger.

“What’s your name?” he asked, tilting his head as if he was examining a curious new object.

“I-I’m Y/N,” I managed to get out, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Well, Y/N,” he said, his voice warm and playful, “you’re the most adorable thing I’ve seen all day. Do those ears appear whenever you’re around someone you like?”

I stared at him, my eyes wide. How did he know? Was it that obvious?

He chuckled softly, a sound that sent shivers down my spine. “You can’t hide it from me, little bunny. You like me, don’t you?”

I opened my mouth to protest, but nothing came out. I felt trapped under his gaze, and not in a bad way. It was like he could see right through me, right into the parts of me I tried so hard to keep hidden.

And then, just when I thought I couldn’t get any more embarrassed, he reached out and gently tapped one of my ears. I nearly jumped out of my skin, and he laughed—a genuine, delighted laugh that made my heart skip another beat.

“Relax,” he said, his tone suddenly softer, almost tender. “I think it’s cute. You don’t have to be embarrassed around me.”

I stared up at him, completely at a loss for words. No one had ever reacted like this before. Usually, people found my curse weird or awkward, but Gojo… he seemed to like it. He seemed to like me.

“From now on,” he said, leaning in just a little closer, “I think I’ll call you my precious little bunny.”

My breath caught in my throat, and I felt the ears twitch again, giving away just how flustered I was. But I couldn’t bring myself to care. There was something about the way he said it, with a warmth that made me feel like maybe, just maybe, it was okay to let my guard down a little. To let myself feel.

“Don’t worry,” he added, his voice a low murmur meant only for me. “I’ll keep your secret safe. But you might want to be careful around me—I tend to have that effect on people.”

With that, he gave me a wink and started to walk away, leaving me standing there, ears still twitching, tail still fluffy, and my heart thudding in my chest like a drum.

From that day on, every time I saw Gojo, the ears and tail would make their inevitable appearance. And every time, he’d smile, sometimes ruffling my hair, sometimes flicking one of the ears just to see me jump. But there was always that warmth in his gaze, that teasing affection that made my heart flutter despite my best efforts to stay calm.

I was his precious little bunny, and despite my initial embarrassment, I found that I didn’t mind it one bit.

[rin-fukuroi]

𝐎𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐲 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞… 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 [𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

The originals of my works can be read here

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Pairings: maid!Blade??? x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, oral sex, spanking, cokworming, delaying orgasm.

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq

It just so happened that today is my birthday, so I decided to please both you and myself with a little yummy. I may have been on Tumblr not so long ago, but in fact I have been writing for quite a long time and it will never cease to bring me pleasure, so I'm incredibly happy that I can now share my creativity with others. This is the best gift I can imagine ( 〃▽〃) I hope my texts in english are at least a little closer to what I write in the original, and you don't experience discomfort while reading. Bon appetit!<3

— Everything is absolutely honest! We had an argument, or have you already forgotten? — you smile slyly, poking Blade's nose into his sad and bitter defeat.

He clears his throat, seemingly confused, looking at the menacingly red inscription «Defeat» on the screen of his smartphone.

— When did you learn to play so well?

— Ahem! — you're pouting. — How dare you, I always beat you. Well, almost…

— Did you play with the Silver Wolf?

Your lips open before you find something to say. His insight is so annoying sometimes.

— I-it doesn't matter! The main thing is that now you can start fulfilling my wish, as we agreed.

Blade sighs resignedly, throwing the phone on the table and crossing his arms over his chest.

— Just don't be silly.

— Hey! There was no such condition, I can wish anything I want.

Blade's lips pursed, his eyes closed, as he mentally cursed the minute he signed up for this stupid argument.

— Just don't even think about shirking your obligations anymore, justifying yourself by saying that your wounds haven't healed yet. I fell for it once, but it won't work twice! — you pout your lips and put your fists on your sides, giving your offended expression on your face a bit of severity. — So, I want to…

✧ ✧ ✧

— Where did you even get… this?

Blade discontentedly lifts up the hem of a long black dress along with a white apron, looking with disgust at the mesh tights hugging his legs while you are messing around from behind, helping him tighten the black satin bow on his back. You could have chosen anything as punishment, but he couldn't even think that you could ask for something so humiliating as to make him wear that ugly maid dress and tights that make him feel like a whore on call.

— I used to have to work part-time in a maid cafe, — your voice seems to darken from unpleasant memories. — I wanted to throw away this form, but I think I found a better use for it! — only Blade wanted to give you an understanding silence, but instead he lets out another exasperated sigh when you are overflowing with enthusiasm again.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice how Blade lets go of the hem of the dress with displeasure, again hiding his legs from your field of view. In fact, all this time your gaze was riveted to the muscular calves covered with mesh fabric. It seemed to you that… Sexy?

— And now what? — Blade turns around, angrily crossing his arms over his chest and seemingly looking away in embarrassment. If someone else were in your place, this person could have lost his head the second he voiced this humiliating request. But it was you. In fact, he is too greedy for your puppy dog eyes, constantly begging him to commit absolutely senseless follies, to which for some reason he continues to agree.

— Hm-m, actually, I wanted to arrange a real photo shoot for you, so that after sharing this treasure with Kafka and the Wolf! — you're really testing his patience. — But…

You stumble over the words when the image of his sexy legs, perfectly covered with vulgar tights, pops up in your mind again. It's ridiculous even for you. Initially, your request was just a way to tease your amazingly patient lover once again, but now you are desperately trying to fight the heat that treacherously spreads through your body every time you look down, unconsciously continuing to touch his back even when the satin bow has long been tightly tightened, elegantly emphasizing the curve of Blade's waist in an already tight dress. You glance cautiously over his shoulder, noticing how the black fabric hugs his chest, threatening to tear to shreds as soon as he takes a deep breath. However, you've always wondered how his own raincoat holds that muscular chest with the help of two pathetic buttons trembling with tension, but you weren't completely sure if your old uniform could withstand such pressure.

— But? — a low velvety voice, permeated with impatience, pulls you out of your thoughts and seems to bring you out of a deep trance when you notice how your fingers are gently pressed into the fabric of a tight dress.

— Damn, — you sigh softly, sitting down fatally and clinging to the hem of a lush black skirt.

Blade warily turns his head in your direction, watching you straighten up again, pulling the black fabric up to his waist and exposing a humiliating picture hidden under a skirt that he would like to never see again.

— What are you doing? — he wants to turn around and finally put you in your place, hoping that this will accelerate the approach of the long-awaited moment when this stupid outfit will leave his body forever.

But he remains motionless.

As if paralyzed, he sharply exhales air from his lungs when he feels your palms slide up from his shins, lingering on his muscular thighs. Tiny fingers press into tense muscles and Blade feels even more confused and annoyed. You're groping his body so brazenly, making him feel vulnerable, as if he's being blatantly harassed right now.

— I never would have thought that this dress would suit you so well… I'm sorry, I can't help myself, — you say breathlessly, while your fingers continue to possessively squeeze, massage and stroke his thighs through the stretched threads of tights. The tips of your fingers playfully slip under the thin mesh to feel the warmth of his body even more and explore every soft scar covering his legs.

Blade is distraught. Although you have always been the one who clearly dominates him morally in your relationship, physically he has always taken over, controlling everything that happens within your bedroom, and sometimes outside it. And now you've made him numb from the symphony of opposites raging in his chest. He wanted to grab your cheeky wrists and turn around, pressing your body into the wall behind, he wanted to dig into your lips with a rough kiss and remind you that it's his hands that should master every curve of your body, but he also wanted you not to stop.

Blade's chest heaves, threatening to tear the fabric stretched to the limit, as a heavy sigh escapes from his throat. One of your palms abruptly switches to his groin, groping for a surprisingly firm erection. His cock twitches in your palm, and your lips stretch in a smug grin. Blade remains silent, but if you could see his face now, you would be able to capture in your memory the most delightful aggressively embarrassed expression. He is literally shaking from the fact that his body reacts so treacherously to what is happening.

— I feel that you had to like it, but it should have been a punishment, — you rise on your toes to reach his neck, pressing your lips into the throbbing curve, leaving a wet kiss on the skin heated with embarrassment before pulling away.

Blade was almost ready to whine at the way the warmth of your hand left his hard organ, but instead his jaws close and he growls, turning around to you just in time for you to kneel down, climbing under the hem of a full skirt and pulling tights over his legs. He would have almost staggered back if it weren't for the grip of your hands, now pressing into his tight thighs again. Blade's lips open, threatening to pour out on you all the discontent swirling on the tip of his tongue, but he immediately swallows any curse that pops up in his thoughts when the warmth of your mouth envelops his needy cock. You dig into him so greedily, squeezing the throbbing flesh with soft lips, swallowing him deeper and deeper with each new movement of your head, ignoring any vomiting. For some reason, right now, seeing Blade like this, a passionate desire has awakened in you to make him moan sweetly to the wet sounds of your lips sliding over his hard erection.

It's so hard for him to breathe. The thick fabric tightens his chest tightly whenever he holds back another velvet growl escaping from his throat. He's so damn mad at you for making him feel so insecure and pathetic, but your narrow throat squeezes so deliciously around his girth while you recklessly take him whole, desperate to please him, that your persistence even amuses Blade. Right now he just wanted to see your face under that irritatingly long skirt, blocking him from any view of what was happening under it.

— Damn… remember that you brought it to this.

The muscles of his chest are straining to the limit, tearing the fabric that was desperately held to the last, finally allowing him to breathe and move normally. Blade pulls down the hem of your skirt, grabbing you by the hair and forcing you to your feet. His eyes meet yours, blinking in discouragement in response to his fierce gaze, as if you are a little guilty kitten who was picked up by the scruff of the neck.

— It seems to me that this stupid outfit has misled you that you can have any control over me.

— Ho-oh, wasn't it like that when you got turned on just because I squeezed your thighs? — you finally regain your former confidence by fearlessly mocking him. — By the way, although I have never worn these clothes, it was not necessary to tear them! – you look with sadness at the fabric that has parted on his chest, sadly realizing the fact that next time you will not be able to get him to wear this dress again. But your disappointment did not settle in your heart for too long when your gaze fell on the heaving voluminous chest, strewn with scars, which did not cease to cause this sweet heat in the bottom of your stomach, no matter how many times you had not seen it before.

— Shut up. You're going to pay for the fact that I had to wear these disgusting things at all, — Blade literally spits out these words before turning you around to face the wall, still painfully winding your hair around his fist. The air is knocked out of your lungs as soon as your chest and cheek meet a hard surface, and you gasp at the unexpected change of roles.

Your underwear instantly descends to your ankles, and the miniature skirt lifts up, revealing to Blade a view of your ass, the flesh of which instantly turns red from the lashing blow of his heavy palm. You flinch, and a cry of pain bursts from your throat when his blows are repeated over and over again, while his other hand releases your hair just to tinker with the fluffy skirt of a ridiculous suit. You can only hear the rustling of the fabric and the light ringing sound from his earring, swaying with each new blow. Burning with irritation and animal excitement, scarlet eyes notice the shiny moisture flowing down your trembling thighs. You've always been so greedy for any manifestation of his absolute dominance over your body that it's even touching.

The unnerving fabric rolls down on his belt and his hips immediately move forward, forcing you to press into the wall even harder from the delicious feeling of stretching and fullness when his hard cock easily plunges into your insides. Any hint of disobedience leaves your thoughts as soon as his hips begin to whiplash against your ass, forcing you to jump from each painful blow of his penis entering you all the way.

— Next time you'll think twice before forcing me to do something equally humiliating, — hoarse moans come out of Blade's chest as his strong fingers dig into the soft flesh of your ass, holding you in place, tightly pressed against the wall.

You feel the knot at the bottom of your stomach trembling and tightening, bringing you closer to the edge of your pleasure. His cock tirelessly stretches your walls that are contracting around his girth, ruthlessly cutting into the cervix every time his hips move forward, making you feel a hellish mixture of pain and pleasure that drives you crazy. You can almost see the bright light blurring your eyes when his movements suddenly stop with the last deep thrust, leaving his throbbing cock in the depths of your walls spasming in the coming orgasm. The blood is wildly accelerating through the veins that wrap around this divine member, which cruelly stopped all movements, forcing you to feel pleasant pulsations that keep you on the edge of the abyss, but not allowing you to step forward.

— B-Blade, please!.. — you whine, sobbing softly and making pathetic attempts to move your hips, which are immediately stopped by his stone grip on your buttocks.

— What is it? — Blade's voice is laced with annoying complacency. — Are you uncomfortable? Do you want me to continue?

— Yes!

— Then I guess you'll have to ask properly.

His chest rises and falls with each heavy sigh. He can see tears of despair welling up in your eyes as you squirm and squirm in his grip, trying to regain at least a little stimulation.

— P-please…

— What? I didn't hear you.

His heavy palm meets your ass again, pulling a pitiful cry out of your throat. You sob, transparent beads of tears roll down your cheeks.

— What is it? Are you speechless already?

One more blow and then his free palm wraps around your throat, forcing you to tilt your head back to meet his gaze as Blade looms over you, gazing intently at the mixture of despair and pain painted on your face.

— Please, Blade, please! I want so much… I want to cum, please…

The moment of his silence, while he reveled in the way your voice cracked, breaking into sobs, lasted like an eternity.

— Good girl.

You didn't have time to realize that, it seems, Blade finally heard what he wanted, as his hips again set the same ruthless pace, crashing into you at breakneck speed. His earring swayed with a soft tinkle from each sharp push, merging with the sounds of his hoarse growl and your stifled moans of pleasure. Blade could feel your walls squeezing his cock tight again, resisting every violent movement tearing your insides apart. His movements became careless, the rhythm lost, turning into a blind pursuit of his own pleasure.

This sweet feeling overwhelms your body again and your nails are pressed into a hard wall in despair. You could feel his cock swell and shudder inside, and the hoarse growl breaks into quiet moans. With the last careless but hard and rough thrusts, Blade tightens his grip on your buttocks, immediately leaving bruises on your skin under the pads of his fingers before bursting out of your insides, leaving you to spasm around emptiness as an intense orgasm covers you. Your ass, red from blows, as well as the hem of the skirt crumpled on Blade's belt, are splashed with sticky hot streams of sperm. You go limp, kneeling on the floor, when he finally lets go of your throat and hips, catching his breath after his climax.

Both of you are breathing heavily, trying to come to your senses again. You lazily rest your palms against the wall, trying to get to your feet, and finally turn around to Blade. When you came up with such a humiliating punishment for him, you could not even think that you would ever see something as beautiful as what now appeared before your eyes. The sweat-damp strands of Blade's long bangs stuck to his forehead, misty fiery eyes stare at you from under heavy half-closed eyelids, his chest rises and falls in time with his ragged breathing, peeking out of a torn black fabric and a crumpled white apron that has slipped off one of his shoulders, and the skirt is still pulled up at the waist decorated with white spots, exposing to you a view of his semi-hard penis, slightly trembling in his palm, trembling legs and stretched mesh tights, concertina gathered at the level of his ankles. Now you are literally speechless, finding this sight so beautiful that it will forever be imprinted in the subcortex of your memory.

Blade sighs heavily before lazily sinking onto the sofa behind him.

— Now this disgusting costume is finally ruined, what a pity, — his lips slightly stretch in a barely noticeable smile.

His words seem to bring you out of deep hypnosis, bringing you to your senses again. You straighten up, shifting your gaze from his hips to his smug expression on his face.

— It's okay, I'll buy a new one for next time, especially for you!

Someday he'll just strangle you while you're sleeping soundly.

[katyspersonal]

So like... thoughts on Messmer's crew? Not the man himself, just the guys he hired.

I actually found the remaining two Fire Knights just recently! :D I didn't post about it yet, but I assume this is all of them! ...I hope. Shadow's Keep has too many turns. Who knows.

This is sweet how they all are close with Messmer and stood with him no matter what.... Unlike THESE traitors:

(Sorry I forgot to copy the screenshots so have bad phone images fshhds) Like @heraldofcrow said earlier, it is really stupid how they could accept like genocides and whatever but drew the line at him being a snake sdfhfghds Well, Fire Knights definitely didn't!

Queelign was the first one I've met, and apparently in the wrong order since I missed him in Belurat and had to go back there! And I instantly hated that zealot, even before I had the picture of what exactly Fire Knights were!

^ As if Queelign's dialogue was not enough, he also dropped THIS! The reason I will ALWAYS respect Miyazaki no matter what is that he always finds the way to throw a jab at this particular grudge at human race fsdhfdsh

He is still a terrible person, but since then I warmed up to him when I've found some potential in him! He is not only the most fleshed out from the Fire Knights, but also in JUST the right way! He is very passionate and fanatical, but also very genuine and naive with his feelings. And he not only wants to be like Messmer, but also has very strong fixation on Marika! Like I keep joking, she is such a bad mother that even people who aren't her children have mommy issues over her fhhdsf

But he also, interestingly, reflects that weaker, childish part of Messmer that still wants his mom to love him. Whereas Messmer is at least good at repressing it, with Queelign it is completely loose and earnest, and the guy is probably not aware! He IS like a little version of himself in this way.. Not sure whether Messmer dislikes him, or pities him, or maybe at least several times told him to NOT try to be like him! In any case, it is really cool how there is the guy who gives that interesting insight. You could write headcanons essays on the psychology between Queeling and Messmer, or just Queelign. I wrote an essay on what could transpire if Tarnished healed him instead (I believe he dies when we find him, from deadly wounds since we only access his chamber after beating him twice).

Like, you can work with this character, you see what I mean? I never found a similar rambling potential in, say, Alfred or Lautrec. They're religious fanatics too, yet that was exactly ALL I could tell about them. MEANWHILE I've made like FIVE posts about Queelign already and they are all substancial! And, boy, any writer WANTS a strictly cruel, fanatical, irredeemable, negative character to give something to talk about besides just kicking the topic of them being bad. If you are writer, remember to similarly give the topics of discussion to your villains! I agree with what Izunia said earlier:

+ Correction though: Petrus does NOT belong in the list of fanatics xd He has opposite problem! He is a selfish, opportunistic, corrupt, cowardly parasite that benefits from the religious institution and doesn't actually HAVE any beliefs he will kill and die for. He kills for his benefit, like how he killed Reah after her being rescued clearly so she would not rat him out, ie risk his position as elite cleric! There is a good reason why of all cleric/religious/etc characters he is the only one who has no simps!

This guy kicked my ass a couple of times, but if Fire Knights are Messmer's most important people, that makes him second most important person in his army? ...okay third, after his wife Rellana fsdjhdfhssd Really clever how only the captain wears a helmet fashioned after this creature, since he keeps Messmer's military forces in check here

1) I also assume that the "loneliness" Wego experienced was from having outlived the people he held dear as not only being in the military but also elder! Because why else would he be strictly lonely, if he has friends within the covenant? Like look right here, he had a pupil! :p 2) This implies that disagreeing with Messmer was a huge risk.. but not only Messmer spared him, but also actually listened to his request!

So basically, Salza is okay with burning people and their homes, but he draws the line at destruction of like, culture, knowledge and ancient architecture fshfds And not he alone:

It were Fire Knights who asked Messmer to have the Specimen Storehouse, so there is at least historical remains about the species they destroyed! So as funny as the double standard looks, it makes a lot of sense; like it was mentioned earlier, all Fire Knights were nobles at the Erdtree! Of course they have it internalised to preserve culture and knowledge for the future! They all had to be well-educated and well-cultured people, not sympathising with the type of hatred that aims to erase as much as history! And at the same time, being educated didn't help them to consider not participating in the HoLy cRuSaDe to begin with..

And this is so human. It is very realistic. There is a lingering misconception that it is ignorance, poor quality of living, low class, bad past or all at once that makes people prone to crime, but in reality there are criminals in every class and every demographic. We should not attribute the root of all evil, crimes and harmful prejudices only to concrete group, because this is always just a matter of multiple people gathering and deciding to do something. When it is not mistreatment and despair that drives people to evil, it is power and corruption, because people ARE evil by nature.

_______________

So yeah, I really like what they did with this covenant! They did well with giving the sense of each of them being an individual by naming and distinguishing five characters like this! For Soulsborne games, this is rich x) They have some tweaks to their outfits or weapons, they have characterisation that makes them unlike each other, and THIS is what's wild; how so many people that clearly can and always could think for themselves ended up here! Queelign too! I could speculate that Alfred has been indoctrinated and brainwashed since young age, or that Lautrec lost his marbles after some sort of grasp by Fina, but Queelign apparently was no less of a noble that decided to go like his peers, nor he'd be any more embraced by Marika than everyone else with grace! He is Just Like This fshdfhs

They made the covenant very real an interesting. (Also rich for creating OCs if you like writing awful people and want to be close with Messmer 😔)

[particular-one]

you are in love.

pairing: dan heng x reader author’s note: i have so many dan heng angst drafts, it’s funny that i ended up finishing the one that's more fluffy and comforting(?). awkward and touch starved danheng my beloved. 🤍 listen to taylor swift’s you are in love for the ✨experience✨

you can hear it in the silence, you can feel it on the way home.

dan heng wasn’t a man of many words. march has chastised him multiple times about this, but he preferred to keep things as brief and curt as possible. it wasn’t like he had nothing particular to say — he likely did, if he were being honest — but dan heng found it futile to voice out his insights if it contributed to nothing.

that was, however, not the case when it came to you.

“how do you sleep in here? there’s so many things on the floor …” you quipped, hands grazing on the books neatly lined up on the shelves. on a normal occasion, dan heng would have been able to say something pragmatic like “i find it impractical to decorate.” or “i prefer it like this.”, but something about you always had his tongue tied, so the best he could do was gape at you like a fish. since when did dan heng started to act this way around you? he didn’t understand why he stumbled with his responses or why his palms were always sweaty when you flashed him your signature smile juxtaposed to the sight of you having just killed a fragmentum monster. himeko had pulled him aside one time to ask him what was up, but dan heng simply brushed it off as a natural reaction to a friend, a good friend.

himeko didn’t believe him, naturally. but even if she didn’t, dan heng was grateful that she didn’t press on.

“dan heng?” oh, right — “i manage.” was all he replied. after all that musing and pondering, it was the best he could come up without getting tongue tied again. you simply gave him a soft smile before leaning against the bookshelf. “all things considered though, it’s a pretty nice space. i wish i could have gotten a room in the astral express at least.”

“then stay.” you looked at dan heng all of a sudden, and that was when he realized that he had in fact said that out loud. “w-with us, i meant.” it seemed so uncharacteristic of him to blurt something out without thinking — but your soft laugh only further complicated the turns and backflips at the pit of his stomach.

“you’re too sweet. i would,” you took a pause, and for a moment, dan heng’s hopes soared. “if i could.” aaaand he could hear his heart fall flat on the floor. dan heng simply nodded, lowering his head in an attempt to mask his own disappointment.

the sudden hand on his shoulder felt electric, and dan heng’s eyes met yours, as captivating as ever. you still had that soft smile, with a gleam in your eyes that dan heng always lost himself in. you radiated with a warmth that dan heng could not find in anyone else, but he was so, so hopelessly lost in trying to convey any of this to you. “now, now, don’t tell me you’re going to miss me?” there was your signature grin now, the one you used to tease him with.

“yes.”

you blinked, as if it was a surprise. even dan heng blinked, equally surprised himself. and yet, you were quick to brush the answer off with another laugh — and dan heng couldn’t help himself anymore.

it was probably a good time to burst out in a lengthy speech of the extent of his feelings, but dan heng was not a man of many words. so his hand simply reached out to meet your free hand, before interlocking your fingers together before you even thought of letting go. for a moment, dan heng thought you actually would, but moments passed where the two of you just stared at each other in silence. if there was something that dan heng was exceptional at, it was probably holding a gaze longer than usual, much better than when he is expressing himself. though he didn't know how much longer he could keep this up.

“dan heng ...” thankfully, you were the first to break the silence, but you had a strange look in your face that he couldn't make out. you seemed to glance up and down but never meeting his gaze, which unnerved him even further. before he could stop himself, his hand cradled the side of your cheek, as gentle as ever. say it, say it please.

all you did was smile, before mouthing the three words that broke and mended dan heng's heart simultaneously.

i'll miss you.

you can see it with the lights out, you are in love — true love.

written by carlyle (@particular-one) copyright: all content belongs to particular-one on tumblr (2023)

[idkwhatever580]

Her pt. 2

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Prompt: after y/n gets rescued what is in store in the next chapter of her life with Natasha?

Warnings: cursing

Pronouns: she/her

A/N: I’m super excited about this one. Make sure you read chapter one first so you have some insight on how nat and y/n met!!! I hope y’all like it :)))

Here’s part one :))) I’m working on a master list I swear -> https://www.tumblr.com/idkwhatever580/749750524015984640/her-pt-1

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

Y/n’s pov

I cannot believe it’s been a whole year since I met Natasha.

She and the avengers immediately took me in and I found myself going over to the compound much more than I expected.

I still have my house in Long Island. But I never stay there really anymore. Ever since Natasha and I started dating I haven’t spent too much time there.

It only took three months for me to virtually move in with her. Although I do wish she’d come with me sometimes.

But I don’t really worry about that since one of the floors in the tower is my new soup kitchen. It’s open twenty four hours a day and there are at least 2-6 people working there at all times.

As promised Tony Stark and SHEILD helped me get my business up and running.

I make homes for the homeless. Sometimes they are bigger more communal homes and sometimes they are tiny one or two person homes.

My first two homes are side by side. They were for gran and pops. They were always my biggest supporters and still are.

My program has changed so many lives. There are so many people out there who just need a little bit of love.

Sometimes the homeless people will use the homes as a forever home but most often they get jobs. Become more financially stable and independent and then they will move out. It’s really great. Because I see so many people I’ve helped become something. Someone.

There are so many who have told me they thought they would never amount to anything. And a few of them have become very successful even as far as becoming a CEO.

I am incredibly proud of my work.

And honestly it’s so exciting to see what changes I can make every single day.

For example. Today is the release date of my nationwide program.

All over the country a program is being launched where homeless people can find shelter, rehabilitation centers, and other necessities for free so they can have a second chance at life. I am doing some interviews today.

Unfortunately Natasha isn’t here. She has a mission. I’m a little sad that she won’t be with me tonight as the program launches but the show must go on.

I check my watch and see it is time to leave for the opening ceremony and I go downstairs to find Happy.

I smile and say

“What’s up Happy! Are you ready?”

He smiles sadly and says

“Yes I am ready. But I must inform you that I am only your chauffeur tonight. Unfortunately I cannot be your plus one.”

I frown when he says this because he was supposed to fill in for Natasha and now I have nobody.

“Oh. Well. That’s okay!”

I smile and cover up my disappointment. He drives me to the red carpet and helps me out. I kiss his cheek accidentally leaving a lipstick stain and I say

“Thank you. Have a good night Happy.”

He usually goes home and I have a different driver drive me home.

I walk to the red carpet by myself and put on my best smile. I make it about halfway through the carpet and an arm snakes around me and this mystery person says

“Am I late?”

“Oh!”

I jump and put my hand to my chest and I look at my beautiful girlfriend with a huge smile on my face and I say

“Jesus! You scared me!”

My brain doesn’t even register that she’s back since I’m in the zone and then I do a double take and say

“Wait! What!?”

She giggles when I realize and I slap her chest and say

“I thought you were at a mission?!”

She chuckles and says.

“I got off early enough to make it. That’s why Happy isn’t here with you. I tried my best. But I couldn’t get the best suit”

She looks down at her suit and I look her up and down and say

“You look amazing baby. Perfect right here with me.”

I smile and give her a kiss. We always wear matching lipstick colors so that we can kiss and not get it messed up.

Then I put my hand on her chest and we keep taking pictures.

The rest of the night goes smoothly and I give a speech. I talk to a few people who have helped my journey and then we head home.

I get changed and wait in bed for Natasha. She takes a while so I complain

“Nattyyy”

She comes out of the bathroom and smiles and says

“Yes baby?”

I hold my arms out for her and pout

“I missed you”

She gets into bed with me and says

“I missed you too.”

Once we’re comfy she looks me in the eyes and says

“Goodnight my love. You have done such amazing things for so many people and I am so lucky to be yours.”

I smile and say

“I love you baby. Goodnight”

We kiss and drift off into a nice comfortable sleep.

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

A/N: guys this is so bad. It feels rushed and blah. Idk how I feel about it. I became so unmotivated and just wanted to move on to the next thing but I didn’t want to just leave it. 😭🔫

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

Not sure if this is the right place to ask this but I gotta start somewhere. I've been learning a lot about indigenous history and activism as I work on deconstruction, and a sentiment I come across a lot is bitterness towards Christianity. I cannot emphasize enough how much I fully understand. The rough bit is that sometimes when I read their work, I get the implication that there's nothing worth saving in the Church/Christianity- that to hold on to it is to hold on to all the colonialism and white supremacy and yuck.

As a disabled trans Christian, I get that, but it still hurts. I love God and am a Christian despite everything. I want to be an ally to indigenous people, but I want to follow God this way too. I know those aren't mutually exclusive, but it feels that way sometimes. Do you have any insight for me to find peace in this regard?

Thank you.

Hey there, thanks for the question, sorry for the delay!

This is something I've also wrestled with — a question I ask myself over and over, and probably always will. I cannot offer you peace, because as Jeremiah 6:14 says, "There is no peace!" — not while our faith continues to be wielded as a weapon against so many peoples. What I can offer you are some of the thoughts that have allowed me to continue to be Christian with hope that this faith can be better than what it's long been misused for, and the resolve to do my part to make it so.

First, that Christianity isn't unique in being co-opted by colonialist powers.

Any belief system can be twisted for violence, and many have been. If Christianity didn't exist, white supremacy still would — colonialist powers would have found a different belief system to twist into justifying their evils.

That absolutely does not absolve us from reckoning with the evils that have been done in Christianity's name! This isn't about shutting down critiques of Christianity with "uh well it could have been any religion" — as things played out, Christianity is the religion responsible for so much harm, and we need to acknowledge that and listen to groups who tell us how we can make some form of reparations.

But for me at least, there is some comfort in understanding that Christianity isn't, like, inherently evil or something. Recognizing that it isn't unique even in its flaws helps me look at the problem with clearer eyes, rather than wallowing in guilt and shame, if that makes sense.

Next, that there are Indigenous Christians, and Black Christians, and other Christians of color — that oppressed peoples have found things worth cultivating within Christianity! If they can find something worthwhile in this faith, it would be arrogance for me to deny it.

For instance, even when white slaveholders edited Bibles to remove too much discussion of liberation, even when white preachers emphasized verses about slaves being obedient to their masters, many enslaved people recognized how Christian faith actually affirms their equality and the holiness of their desire for liberation.

Black Theologian Howard Thurman opens his 1949 book Jesus and the Disinherited with a question asked to him by a Hindu man who knew the harms white Christianity had done to both their peoples: “How can you, a black man, be Christian?” The long and short of Thurman’s answer is that, in spite of the pain and exploitation too often inflicted by Christians in positions of power, the oppressed have always been able to see past that misuse of the Christian message to the true message lived out by Jesus Christ: a message of liberation for all.

For more thoughts on why and how to keep being Christian in spite, in spite, in spite...I invite you to look through my #why we stay tag.

___

How I wish that Christianity had never gotten tangled up in Empire! but it did, and it still is, and because for good or ill I cannot help that my spirit is stubbornly drawn towards the Triune understanding of the Divine, the best I can do is to use my privilege and what small influence I have within Christian institutions to move us towards decolonization. What some of that's looked like on the level of my personal beliefs:

I am firmly against any form of proselytizing. I don't support evangelism financially, I speak out against it, I don't platform it. (If someone wants to hear about my faith, they'll come to me — I don't run after them. And if someone does want to have that conversation, I aim to make it a dialogue, where we are learning from each other.)

I continuously work to recognize and uproot Christian supremacy within myself — the beliefs I didn't even realize where there until I started digging. That has included challenging any inkling within myself that Christianity is the "best" or "most right" religion. (One book that's helped a lot with that is Holy Envy by Barbara Brown Taylor.)

I seek wisdom from and relationship with Christians of color. Their insights are vital to our faith, and I try to use what small influence I have to uplift them.

On that last note, here are some resources I recommend as you continue to explore these questions:

This First Nations Version of the Christian Bible is gorgeously written, and a great way to explore scripture through a Native lens.

Native by Kaitlin B. Curtice is a lovely poetic memoir that explores how one person has sought to hold both her Christian faith and Potawatomi identity within herself. (She also has a new book out that I haven't read yet but really want to!)

God is Red: A Native View of Religion by Vine Deloria Jr.

Rescuing the Gospel from the Cowboys by Richard Twiss

I haven't read any of these 4 books but they look good too

This video with advice to non-Indigenous Christians

If anyone has any resources to add, please do!

[umi-adxhira]

TWTPTFLOB VOICELINES ABOUT YOU | ROXANNA AGRICHE

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Was inspired when I saw something similar about Ororon from Genshin Impact. I tried to find the @, but I can't, so whoever made that post, ily. lmk if you wanna see for other characters in this manhwa

Obviously, this is in the situation where the manhwa was a gacha game, but I found writing this fun

I. INTRODUCTION

"Greetings. How have you been? Oh, you wish to know something about me? That person I was with... Jeremy? He often trails behind me like a lost puppy. No? Ah, you mean my lover. Living in the Agriche mansion is not for the weak. I'm glad they remain loyal to me alone"

II(i). ABOUT: JEREMY AGRICHE

"Jeremy wasn't the happiest when I found a lover. He claims that he is the only one for me and I need not for others in my life. However, he tolerates them. As long as he does not discriminate aloud, I may allow him to be in their presence"

II(ii). ABOUT: LANTE AGRICHE

"Father was disappointed that I found a suitor that wasn't nobility or from a family he could profit from. However, since I am high in rank, he has allowed them to stay here as long as they do not cause trouble. I fear if I drop, Father may... dispose of them"

II(iii). ABOUT: DION AGRICHE

"Locking my partner up in my room is a far more suitable option than to walk around with him in the mansion walls. Due to events a few years ago, he wished to see me... cry. I wonder what lengths he will go to to see that familiar sight once more. If he chooses to do so... I may need to get rid of him once and for all... oh. Apologies for getting too... emotional"

II(iv). ABOUT: SIERRA AGRICHE

"Mother enjoys the presence of my significant other. I can tell she's finally happy that at least one person from our deranged family is normal. I'm glad she has someone to talk to"

III. YEARNING

"I yearn for them everyday. Their presence is soothing, like an ocean. Its calming, compares to the storm that is the Agriche. They give me solace, and peace. I wish not to be burdened of the duty of which I bear my last name, but as a girlfriend"

IV. NICKNAMES

"When we are in the comfort of my room, we tend to let go and call each other nicknames. They like to give nicknames of the opposite gender. I am Rory. Jeremy is... I believe Jenny? Dion is Diana, and... Auntie Maria is Mark. I do hope you keep this little thing of ours a secret. Or who knows what will happen..."

V: JEALOUSY

"Jealous? Of course not, I trust my partner. However, I do not trust these men and women getting too close, lingering touches to their palm and arm. Perhaps I should send my poison butterflies after them"

VI: EPILOGUE

"Ah, is that everything you wish to know? Very well then, I do not wish to take up more of your time. If you have any questions regarding my lover, please go and speak to them. I'm sure they'd give you more insightful answers to your questions then I can give"

©️umi-adxhira [13/10/2024]