#i am asking myself questions i do not know the answers to

[httpsxarien]

this is me trying

✰ pairing: batfam x batsis! reader

sypnosis: you come home after a year in your senior high dorm, albeit with a heavy heart. your father, bruce is proud, alfred cooks your favorite meal, your family is happy to see you. but all you can think about is how you lost the honor roll, your passion, and maybe yourself. they say it’s okay. you wish you believed them.

a dedication to: for all the readers who are burnt out & trying their best. i love you. ♡

you’re not sure how long you’ve been staring at the floor.

maybe ten minutes. maybe thirty.

your school psychiatrist’s office smells like chamomile tea and printer paper. she keeps her voice gentle, even when your eyes keep drifting to the rain outside. you’ve been here for three sessions now, and every time she sees you, she asks you the same question:

“have you been resting?”

you lie. “yeah. a bit.”

your voice is hoarse, half from the lingering cough, half from everything else.

she doesn’t press, just writes something down in that notebook of hers and says softly, “you’ve been sick a lot this term.”

you nod.

“you haven’t attended classes in over a week.”

another nod.

“and when you do come in, your hands shake when you present. you said you’ve been waking up anxious. forgetful. losing interest in the things you love.”

you don’t say anything.

it’s not new. you’ve had these feelings before, but you thought you were past it. you thought you were okay. you told yourself you were okay.

you’re not.

“have you considered… visiting home?” she asks, her tone impossibly soft. “you don’t have to go forever. just a weekend. i know you think you’ll fall behind if you rest, but you’re not behind. you’re just.. exhausted.”

you laugh, but it breaks in the middle.

“i don’t want to worry them.”

“i think they’d be more worried if they knew how much you’re hurting now.”

you don’t answer.

because she’s right. and the truth is, you don’t feel strong enough to pretend anymore, not even in front of them.

you’re curled up in bed that night, hoodie zipped all the way up, panda plush pressed to your chest. your window’s foggy with rain. the campus is quiet, except for the sound of your phone buzzing.

he’s checking in again.

you pick it up, voice barely there. “hey.”

“hey, angel..” his voice says, warm and familiar, you swear you can hear his smile a little worried. “you sound tired.”

you smile even though you’re not sure it reaches your eyes. “i am.”

he asks how you’re feeling. you give a vague answer. he doesn’t press.

“you should go home for a while,” he says gently. “they probably miss you like crazy.”

you exhale slowly. “i don’t know…”

“what’s stopping you?”

you’re quiet for a beat. “i just… i don’t want to be a burden. not to them. and not to you and your mom either. you guys have done so much for me already and i just.. i don’t want to be too much.”

“you’re never too much,” he says, voice firm and kind all at once. “you’re a person who’s hurting. that’s not a burden. and i’m not keeping score. neither is my mom.”

your throat tightens. your eyes sting.

he lets the silence settle, then softens his voice: “if you want, i can fly you there myself. cut the trip in half.”

you let out a laugh through your stuffed nose. “i don’t think my dad wants metahumans flying into his city.”

he snorts. “ bruce wayne doesn’t like metahumans?”

“yup.” you say dryly. “he probably has ‘no metas’ tattooed on his property line.”

he laughs, and the sound warms something aching in your chest.

“well, i’ll fly stealthily,” he says. “hoodie on. no display of superhuman strength. he’ll never know.”

you smile, letting your head drop back against your pillow.

you laugh. for real this time. a breathy, tired little laugh that still manages to sound like sunshine.

“you’re ridiculous.”

“and yet,” he says smugly, “you love me anyway.”

“unfortunately.”

he goes quiet, then murmurs, “you’re always welcome home. okay?”

you press your cheek into your panda plush and close your eyes.

“okay.”

…

you don’t think it’ll matter much. you type the message half-asleep, just as the rain starts hitting your dorm window harder.

“hi. i’ll be going home this weekend. probably for good. i’ve been sick for a while. see you.”

you hit send in the family gc. no emoji. no punctuation. just simple and quiet.

you don’t expect much. it’s just a message.

but less than five minutes later, there’s a reply.

the groupchat erupts.

boy wonder : YOU’RE COMING HOME??? 😭💙

jaybird : what do you want for dinner?

steph: I MISSED YOU SO BAD??

timmy turner: do you need anything? want me to clean your room? okay i won’t but i’ll try

cass: ❤️❤️❤️

duke of essex: tell me what movie we’re watching when you get back. i’ll save popcorn.

scary child: Good. The manor has been awfully quiet without you.

which, coming from him, feels like a handwritten love letter.

and then..

Bruce: You’re coming home?

he types it like he’s reading it over and over, like he can’t quite believe it. as if you just told him the most impossible thing.

because to him, you were gone. not lost, not dead. just gone. distant. and for a long time, he didn’t know if you’d ever want to come back.

but now?

now his baby girl was coming home.

you curl into your pillow that night, the message still open, your family’s excited replies still lighting up your screen.

outside, it rains harder. but inside, it’s warm.

you don’t know how you’ll face them. you don’t know if you’ll fall apart in their arms or if you’ll keep pretending everything’s fine. you don’t know if you’ll cry when alfred hugs you or when damian tugs you into a quiet, too-long embrace.

you thought dorm life would be freeing. and for a while, it was.

no footsteps echoing in marble hallways. no nightly sounds of grappling hooks or siblings stumbling in with bruises and tired eyes.

just your small bed, your own desk, your books, your own silence.

but the quiet eventually became too loud.

you miss them.. more than you expected to.

you miss dick’s hugs. how he’d always pull you in with a dramatic “my baby sister’s home!” even when you had just gone to the store. how his cologne smelled like something safe. something steady. you’d bury your face into his shoulder and pretend you weren’t silently holding back tears some days.

you miss jason. your partner in chaos. the one who knew when to just sit next to you in silence. he used to sneak you out for midnight joyrides, always yelling “no one makes you laugh like i do!” he was the first one who noticed when your laughter started sounding tired. he didn’t say anything. just gave you his leather jacket and said, “you can be tired around me, okay?”

you miss tim. tim who made you coffee during finals and sat through six straight To All the Boys movies with you even though he clearly didn’t care. tim who would mutter, “do we really need to cry over this again?” and then sneak a tissue to wipe his own eyes.

you miss damian.

you didn’t think you would. he’s quiet, sharp, sometimes distant. but he used to come into your room late at night without saying anything, just a blanket tucked under his arm, sketchbook in hand. he’d sit beside you while you studied, glancing at your notes and muttering corrections under his breath, even though it wasn’t his subject. you’d glance at his sketches. he always drew you like you looked peaceful, even when you didn’t feel it.

you miss cass. your older sister cassie who saw through you even when no one else could. she never pushed, never forced. just squeezed your shoulder gently when you were struggling. cass who you could confide in, cassie who loves you so much & danced with you in the kitchen when the others weren’t looking.

you miss duke and steph too! duke with his soft wisdom, steph with her infectious laugh and the way she always pulled you into dumb tiktok dances even when you insisted you couldn’t dance. steph who said, “we’re dancing until you smile again, c’mon,” and duke who’d say, “you know they’re proud of you, right? even if you’re not swinging around rooftops.”

you miss bruce, even when he made things worse by accident. like the time he asked, “why weren’t you at the recognition ceremony this year?” and you choked on your water and said something about a fever.

and he just blinked and nodded.

and you hated that you could still see it, the smallest, sharpest flicker of disappointment.

meanwhile, in the manor, alfred hears the muffled sound of bruce’s chair creaking.. followed by silence. a particular kind of silence.

“master bruce?” he asks from the hallway.

bruce looks up slowly. “she’s coming home.”

and that’s all alfred needs to hear.

within minutes, he’s already pulling out ingredients. your favorites. his heart moves faster than his hands. “miss Y/N is returning,” he hums to himself, smiling, slicing onions with precision. “oh, how we’ve missed her.”

he even calls lucius to ask where your favorite blend of tea was last ordered.

you’re already rehearsing your smile before you reach the manor gates. it’s a small one, curved just enough, eyes a little wide, voice full of light. it’s the one that says, i missed you, i’m okay, i’m fine.

its the same routine: straighten the spine, smile for your family, everything is fine, everything is cool.

all you need to do is breathe.

but your bag’s a little too heavy on your shoulder, and your heart is even heavier. last year senior high just started, and you already feel behind. your classmates talk about college apps and scholarships and futures with glitter in their eyes. you don’t even know what you want to do next week. the idea of planning your life feels like trying to breathe underwater.

you stare up at the manor, take a deep breath, and force your steps to be steady.

you already know who you need to be when you walk through that door.

you’ll be the cheerful daughter. the one who stayed out of the vigilante mess, giving up the batgirl mantle and living a life for herself, the one who took the dorms for senior high, studied hard, built a name. you’ll be the loving, energetic sister. the one who helps cass cook, who does tiktok & cry listening to taylor swift’s new songs with steph, who listens to dami rant about his books, who duke plays video games with on the weekends, who plays old music with dick and laughs at jason’s snide remarks. you’ll be fine. because you have to be.

and yet, the closer you get, the more your chest aches.

you feel like a stranger in your own skin.

like you’re playing a part in a play that doesn’t quite fit anymore. you press your thumb into your palm. hard. a grounding trick you learned a few years ago, back when things got really bad.

in the dorms, your sadness is quiet. it creeps in during laundry. it clings to your back during class. sometimes you cry in the shower because it’s the only place no one will hear.

sometimes you hold your stuffed toy - yes, you brought it from childhood and it smells like home. like alfred’s soap and your old sheets and the life you’re so scared you’re growing apart from.

you’re trying.

you are. but your hands shake when you present in class. your voice trembles. your teacher’s eyes glance at your paper with confusion because you used to be their top student. now you’re just fine.

and it kills you. you used to be so proud of your name. your legacy.

you remember sitting at your desk, staring at a math test you couldn’t understand, heart racing, hands trembling, mind blank.

you remember thinking: i should be better than this. i should be better. i should be proud of myself. but you weren’t. you couldn’t be.

you started breaking in the smallest ways. not enough to be noticed, just enough that it starts to pile. you forget your umbrella. you lose a quiz paper. you get an 86 on a subject you used to ace without even trying.

you tell yourself it’s okay. you’ve always been the resilient one. the “she’s got a bright future” one. bruce wayne’s daughter, the wayne who stayed out of the shadows. the one who made it out. student council secretary. the loved actress in every school play, sharp, dependable, kind. the daughter with the good reputation.

but lately… it’s been harder to fake it. your legs feel heavier when you walk into school. your throat tightens every time a teacher hands back a paper. you can’t speak during meetings without your hands trembling so badly that you have to shove them in your pockets.

your classmates & best friends still smile at you. “you’re amazing,” they say. “you’re so put-together,” they say. “you’re so amazing! you’re gonna be sosuccessful!” and you smile. you nod. you laugh. but something in you curls up every time.

because you don’t feel amazing. you feel like you’re faking it. like you’re seconds away from falling apart completely, and everyone’s going to find out how much of a fraud you really are.

you don’t tell anyone. you don’t want to burden them again. not after the last time.

you still remember it clearly. how you broke for people that never even cared in the first place, only using you for their own sick amusement. sobbing in the hallway. locking yourself in the bathroom. going home because you felt sick, because of the tightness in your stomach, alfred knocking gently, offering tea through the door. dick cracking bad jokes. cass hugging you without asking questions. bruce standing just outside your room, quiet. unsure. they were all there. and you promised yourself you wouldn’t make them worry like that again.

so now you keep it all inside.

the pages in your school books blur from the tears you refuse to cry. your room is neat, clean, organized because it’s the only thing you can control. you keep pushing forward. because you have to.

you still haven’t forgiven yourself for last year.

for losing the honor roll. for hearing bruce ask so casually why you weren’t at recognition day, like it couldn’t possibly be that you didn’t make it.

you stare at it. your name. your subjects. your scores.

not enough for the honor roll.

you sit on your bed, still in your uniform, phone buzzing quietly beside you with messages from your groupmates. you don’t move.

and now, you’re a little better. you’re still here.

you have friends now. you’re now the president of the performing arts club. you’re not drowning anymore, not really. some days, you’re even content. but other days like this one? you feel that old ache creep in. because even if you’re not broken, you still feel like a disappointment.

especially now.

because dick texted you last night with a dozen exclamation points, saying you had a real shot at valedictorian this year. he said he was so proud of you. that you were amazing.

and you wanted to believe him.

you really did.

but all you could think was, what if i fail again?

you’re scared to go back. scared you’ve changed too much. scared you’ll disappoint them again. but the moment you walk back into the manor? you step through the front door. and it’s all exactly the same.

dick pulls you into that same hug. cass tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. tim surprises you with a signed version of the summer i turned pretty books. jason slips your hand into his jacket pocket. steph squeals. duke grins and gives you a fist bump. and then, there’s damian. you don’t expect him to say anything. you almost don’t see him move.

but then he walks right up to you, hugs you not too long, not too short, just enough. “the house was too quiet without you,” he mutters.

and bruce? bruce stands at the edge of it all. not quite knowing what to say. he doesn’t say much.

he looks at you like he’s seeing you for the first time again. his baby girl. the one who made it out. the one who didn’t wear a mask, but still fought her battles. the one he was always, always proud of—even when he didn’t know how to say it.

“welcome home.” he says. and his voice is soft.

he opens his arms.

you don’t hesitate.

you bury yourself into him, and for a moment, you forget about everything else. the pressure. the pain. the way your voice shook during every presentation. the nights you cried yourself to sleep in your dorm, wondering if anyone noticed you were slipping.

he doesn’t say much.

just,

“you came back.”

and you crumble.

he doesn’t pull away.

alfred is the one who gently slips in while the chaos of hugs and laughter swirls around you.

he touches your shoulder with his gloved hand, gentle, grounding.

“welcome home, miss,” he says with soft pride in his voice. “everything is ready, if you lot are hungry.” and you don’t realize how starving you are until he says it.

the dining table looks like something out of a dream. steam rises from every dish. your old favorites fill the air with warmth. someone even lit candles, and you don’t know who did it, but the little effort makes your chest ache in a way you can’t explain.

everyone piles in with you, no one wants to sit too far.

steph claims the seat beside you immediately, clinging to your arm like a koala. “my best friend’s back and no one’s taking her from me, got it?” she says dramatically, flipping her hair as if it’s a life-or-death declaration.

you laugh softly. it feels strange and familiar all at once.

on your other side, damian settles in, eyes sharp but softer than usual.

“titus is shedding again.” he starts, out of nowhere. “alfred said we need better brushes, but i think it’s seasonal.”

you smile at the way he talks to you. like nothing changed. like you never left.

you tell him about the volunteer hours you’ve been doing at an animal shelter in the city. how you helped rehome a three-legged puppy and cried the whole way back to your dorm.

“you’re sentimental,” damian teases. but he’s smirking.

“well my boyfriend has a dog.” you mention offhandedly, pouring yourself water.

and then the silence falls.

like a sudden record scratch in a room that was all laughter and clinking plates.

you glance up. dick’s fork freezes halfway to his mouth. tim blinks. steph stiffens beside you with a grin that’s way too sharp. jason leans forward like he’s already planning an interrogation.

“…what?” you ask, pausing mid-sip.

“boyfriend?” bruce says slowly, his voice deep with calm concern, or the calm before concern.

“uh yeah,” you say slowly, and your family looks like they’re moving in slow-mo.

jason is the first to speak: “who?”

“uhm.. mark. mark grayson.”

your family looks like someone just hit pause on the entire dinner table.

you can actually see the moment your family process it, like a glitch in the matrix. tim blinks. jason’s chewing freezes. duke’s eyebrows shoot up. cass just tilts her head, intrigued. damian’s grip tightens ever so slightly on his knife. steph lets out a dramatic gasp, then immediately slaps a hand over her own mouth. and dick? dick drops his water glass on his lap.

then tim.. bless him, or maybe curse him –despite bruce’s strict no phones at the table rule, is already typing.

he doesn’t even try to hide it.

“timothy,” bruce says, voice clipped.

“tim,” bruce warns, without looking up.

“it’s for research,” tim says seriously. “i’m just making sure she’s not dating a war criminal.”

“he’s not a war criminal,” you say quickly.

“then why does his name sound like one?” jason asks, stabbing a carrot aggressively.

“what does that even mean—”

“‘grayson’ is already taken,” damian mutters.

“i don’t think that’s how names work, little man,” duke snorts.

“where’d you meet him?” steph asks, eyes gleaming. “does he play guitar? is he tall? does he have a weird hobby?”

“he goes to a different school,” you reply. “and yeah, he’s tall. and nice. and kind of awkward, but in a sweet way.”

“he’s seventeen, right?” cass asks gently. “not, like… twenty-seven?”

“yes,” you laugh. “he’s my age, i promise.”

“did he ask you out over text?” dick grins.

“no, actually,” you say, a little proud despite yourself. “he asked me in person.”

they all freeze.

“…what.” jason says, narrowing his eyes.

“like with words?” tim asks, looking vaguely offended.

“yeah? we were at a school fair where our schools collided and he just… asked. stammered a bit. almost dropped his drink. but it was cute.”

damian actually lets out a sharp hmph, arms crossed. “bold. suspiciously bold.”

“okay but,” duke cuts in, “the real question is.. does he know you’re you? like… you know. us. all of this.”

you pause.

you smile sweetly.

and you do not answer.

“oh my god,” steph whispers. “he doesn’t know.”

“he’s gonna find out eventually,” jason says, grinning now. “probably when a rogue villain chases you during a date.”

“he’ll be fine,” you say, laughing. “he’s, uh… pretty resilient.”

tim narrows his eyes again. “…resilient how?”

you dodge. “hey, want more mashed potatoes?”

“you’re hiding something,” damian says flatly.

you smile at them, sunshine and sparkle. “aren’t i always?”

damian huffs under his breath, already plotting. “if he ever disrespects you—”

“you’ll decapitate him,” jason finishes. “yeah yeah, we know.”

“was that a confession of intent, todd?”

“don’t make this weird.”

steph gasps again, but this time it’s theatrical. “wait, is he cute? are we talking ‘teen heartthrob’ cute or like… nerdy boyfriend cute?”

“he’s just—he’s mark,” you say with a helpless little laugh, picking at your mashed potatoes. “he’s nice. he makes me laugh.”

“what are his intentions?” dick asks in a tone way too formal for a man wearing fuzzy socks under the table.

“jesus christ, you’re acting like i married the guy,” you groan as you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling now - really smiling. it’s the first time in weeks you feel your chest light enough to laugh without guilt, and the sound of it fills the room like music.

“you guys are so dramatic,” you say between laughs. “he’s just a boy. and we’ve only been dating for three months. kind of. maybe. shut up.”

bruce is quiet, watching you carefully.

measuring. not judging. just… observing. like he’s searching for any sign that this is hurting you, not healing you.

but you’re okay.

and maybe for the first time in a while, he can see that.

“if he hurts you,” bruce says finally, “he’ll regret it.”

you grin. “noted. i’ll pass that along.”

the table erupts in noise again, and you’re laughing so hard your stomach hurts. you can’t even remember the last time you smiled this much. the anxiety, the ache, the burnout, the guilt, melts away for just a while. you forget the grades, the pressure, the late nights crying in your dorm.

because right now, you’re just their beloved sister and daughter again.

cheerful. loved. surrounded by bickering idiots who would burn the world for you.

later that night, the manor sinks into quiet.

the manor settles into quiet. slow, gentle, familiar. the kind that only comes after full bellies and long hugs and love that stretches across rooms even when unspoken.

you walk slowly down the halls in your soft pajamas, your panda plushie under your arm. the faint sound of the wind brushes past the windows. your room glows with golden light.

you shut the door behind you, let your back press against it.

the dinner feels like a dream. your cheeks still hurt from laughing. your heart still feels full.

the door clicks softly behind you as you lean against it, in your soft pajamas, hair let down from the updo alfred helped you style for dinner. your makeup’s gone, wiped clean, and you finally look like what you are underneath it all—just a tired, heart-bruised seventeen-year-old girl trying her best.

your reflection catches in the mirror across the room.

the eye bags are deeper than they used to be. the smile lines don’t reach your eyes. your skin’s a little dull, maybe from all the stress, all the nights you worked past midnight only to wake up early again. all the pushing. all the pretending. you touch your cheek lightly, as if trying to recognize yourself.

you glance around the room.

your room, still untouched, still yours even when you thought you’d left it all behind. the soft fairy lights, the pastel pillows. the little stuffed rabbit on your bed from the time jason won it at a carnival. the faint smell of vanilla and fresh sheets. your signature scent.

it always smelled like you. a safe space. that’s what they always called it.

tim used to curl up on your fur carpet after all-nighters. how cass would paint her nails by your window. how damian used to sketch on your bean bag while pretending to “supervise” your studying. how steph would go through your closet, duke would lie across the floor with his legs up on the wall, and dick would fall asleep on your bed like he belonged there too.

jason once said, “your room’s the only place i can breathe.”

you slowly get up, dragging your fingers across your dresser, your bookshelf, the frame with the picture of you and cass at your first recital. and then you see it.

your panda.

your old plushie, still perched on your pillow like he never once stopped waiting. a gift to you from your mother, who passed, years back. she had sewn it together & told you that this panda will watch over you & protect you from all the troubles in life.

he’s worn down now, his button eye a little looser, the fur around his nose gently matted but he’s still him. still soft, still loyal. still yours.

your throat tightens. you pick him up slowly, gently. hug him to your chest.

you don’t even realize how long you’ve missed this until you’re there, knees tucked under you, panda in your arms, cheek pressed to the familiar, velvety softness of your favorite pillow.

and for the first time in months, you let yourself just breathe.

you don’t cry. not tonight.

but the ache is still there, quiet and heavy, the kind that never fully leaves.

the pressure. the expectations. the little voice whispering that you’re not enough, not anymore.

but for now, just tonight, you get to forget it.

you’re hugging your plushie panda close, knees pulled up to your chest, back pressed against your old headboard. the room is dim, lit only by the soft golden glow of fairy lights above you and the moon outside your window. the familiar weight of your pajamas wraps around you like armor, but even here, in your own room, in your favorite bed, the ache hasn’t gone away.

you pretend the panda makes it better.

you pretend the blanket over your legs keeps it all out. the fear, the exhaustion, the part of you still hurting from everything no one else saw.

then there’s a soft knock.

no pressure in it. just presence.

then.. a noise.

a soft shuff.

then a muffled whisper. then the distinct sound of titus sneezing.

you blink, turn to the door. you don’t even have time to answer before the door cracks open and someone pokes their head in.

and there they are.

the whole family. lined up like kids caught doing something they shouldn’t.

it’s funny, in the weirdest way. you can feel the tension. like they’re waiting for you to snap, to yell, to cry. like they’re bracing for the version of you who used to slam doors and storm off and break a little more each day.

but you just…

you blink.

“hey, y/n,” dick says gently. “we, uh… we brought something.”

all of them, piled in the hallway. arms full. faces unsure but hopeful.

cass steps inside first and sets down your old stuffed animals, arranging them in a perfect little line by your bed. steph follows, dragging in a basket of snacks and whispering a quiet “we got your favorites.” tim’s cradling a tangled mess of fairy lights like it’s a newborn. duke holds a big fluffy blanket like a flag of peace. jason’s carrying pillows under each arm and already stepping over your rug with boots still on. damian walks in last, holding two of your old sketchbooks and a spare bow for your panda, pretending he’s not emotionally invested.

bruce is there too, just behind them. arms crossed, eyes soft in a way they rarely are. he says nothing, but you don’t miss the way he surveys your room like he’s trying to memorize it. like he’s glad to see it hasn’t changed. like he’s glad you came back to it.

“what… are you guys doing?” you ask, blinking in confusion, panda clutched to your chest.

tim grins a little, awkwardly. “we’re building a fort.”

“a what?”

“a fort!” steph confirms, pulling your comforter off the bed and flinging it over the back of a chair.

“you’re not allowed to decline.” duke says, already fluffing up the bean bag. “it’s law of the bat.” he grinned

“i didn’t vote on this law,” damian mutters, dropping the sketchbooks by your bed.

“you never vote on anything,” tim shoots back, already plugging in the fairy lights. “because every time we try, you challenge someone to a duel.”

damian scowls. “i only do that when the voting process is flawed.”

“you tried to stab me because i voted for pizza.” tim deadpans.

“it was pineapple!” damian snaps.

you can’t help it, you laugh. just a little. a small sound, muffled into your panda.

it’s so stupid. so them.

they’re in your room like they never left.draping sheets between your shelves and your desk, hanging lights on makeshift curtain rods, arranging snacks and pillows like it’s the most important mission they’ve ever done.

even bruce helps. he kneels without a word, adjusting the angle of the blanket so it hangs better over your dresser. he doesn’t say anything, but his presence is steady. grounding.

it’s steph who notices your silence first.

she comes over quietly, kneels in front of your bed, and pulls you into a hug without saying a word. she doesn’t ask what’s wrong. she doesn’t need to.

you sink into it. panda squished between you both.

and when she pulls back, she cups your cheek and says, “we love you, okay? even when you don’t talk about it. even when you think you’re being ‘too much’ or ‘too distant.’ we’re not leaving.”

your eyes sting.

and then tim places a small usb on your nightstand. “this has your schedule, sleep tracker, hydration reminders, and gentle motivational quotes i personally curated for you.”

“oh my god, she’s not a tamagotchi,” jason snorts.

“she’s stressed,” tim says, exasperated. “i’m trying to help.”

“it is kind of sweet,” duke adds. “creepy. but sweet.”

damian rolls his eyes. “i could’ve written better motivational quotes.”

tim raises an eyebrow. “really? enlighten us.”

“‘disgrace is temporary. weakness can be sharpened into a blade.’”

steph makes a face. “that’s literally what batman said to us once before making us run drills in the rain.”

“i stand by it.” damian mutters, crossing his arms.

you wipe your eyes with your sleeve and laugh more freely this time.

once the fort is finished, they all pile in. there’s barely space, but no one cares. jason’s shoulder presses against yours. dick’s lying across three pillows like a starfish. steph’s curled up by your legs. cass is next to bruce, holding a cup of hot cocoa. tim is adjusting your laptop at the foot of the bed to stream a movie. damian sits closest to the edge, arms crossed, already stealing snacks.

the lights are dim. the fairy lights glow like stars. and there you are, tucked between them, your panda still in your lap, heart still heavy but not unbearable.

no one says “we’re proud of you” outright.

but you feel it.

in the way duke keeps checking to make sure you’re warm, the way bruce brushes your hair back gently before sitting back. in the way tim handed you gummy vitamins knowing how much you loved them, in the way steph hugs you like she means it, in the way damian brought your sketchbooks and didn’t make a scene about it, in the way jason keeps nudging your arm like he’s making sure you’re really there, the way dick keeps glancing at you and smiling like he’s seeing his little sister again-really seeing her.

it’s quiet for a while. the movie starts. you don’t know which one it is. you don’t care.

you glance around the room, the blanket draped like a roof over your heads, the way they all sit together like puzzle pieces, like they belong exactly in this space, in this moment.

and you feel it. that small, breaking thing in your chest.

your eyes sting again, but it’s different this time.

you whisper, “thank you.”

no one responds out loud.

but steph grabs your hand. tim nudges your foot with his. damian gently places your panda’s bowtie around its neck.

and then—

tim, completely deadpan, says:

“by the way, i ran a full background check on your boyfriend. we need to talk.”

the room erupts.

“tim!”

“bro. seriously?”

“oh my god she’s blushing—”

“i knew he was an alien.”

“i want to fight him.”

“you can’t just investigate her boyfriend, man!”

“wait—is he even your boyfriend? are we calling him that?”

“so like.. is it in the wayne bloodline to have a relationship with an alien?”

“can i threaten him? just a little bit?”

you cover your face, laughing so hard your stomach aches.

and in the middle of the noise, the warmth, the love..

you think to yourself:

i’ll make it to graduation.

not because the pressure’s gone. not because the future suddenly makes sense. but because they’re here.

and for the first time in a long time,

you believe that’s enough.

…….

xari’s diary: aaaa this one’s really self-indulgent. it’s been a month since the first day of senior high and… i don’t know, i just feel so tired. so disappointed in myself lately. like no matter how hard i try, it’s never enough. and even though i smile and laugh with people, there’s still that heaviness that never quite goes away. the feeling of setting standards for ourselves yet never even reaching that standard.

so this fic is dedicated to not only myself, but to all the teenagers that used to burn bright but are now burning out.

a comfort fic.

for the ones who feel like they’re falling behind. for the ones who used to shine so bright but now feel dim. for the ones who miss who they used to be, and are scared they’ll never feel that way again.

you’re not alone. you’re not failing. you’re trying.

and that means more than you know.

thank you for reading. i hope this story gives you a moment of peace. just a moment where you can breathe and remember: you are loved. exactly as you are. ♡

[h7llow]

JUDGE OF THE CLOUDS

୨ㅤ࣪ㅤ︶︶︶︶ㅤㅤ꒰୨ ୧꒱ㅤㅤ︶︶︶︶ㅤ࣪ㅤ୧

Synopsis: You rate the clouds on a scale of 1-10 in your notebook and they noticed, which led to questioning. (only 1 cloud has ever gotten a 10)

Pairing: In ho x fem!reader/ Dae ho x fem!reader/Recruiter x fem!reader/ Jun-ho x fem!reader

In ho | ္ံံင်္

You and In ho were getting ready to go to the grocery store, “Y/N. come on we have to be back in time to make dinner for your parents, Gosh you take so long for everything love.” You start pacing around the room looking for your notebook and finally find it hidden in the container you have all your notebooks placed at. “Coming right now!!” You place the note book In your bag and run to the front door. 

You step into the car and put your seatbelt on in a hurry so you make It back on time. 

You then take your notebook out along with your black pen and look outside while In ho is driving.

“I hope they will like what I am making, I usually add more spice to it then normal but I don’t want them to cho-“

He gets interrupted by you saying your thoughts out loud. “Eh, 4.5/10”

His eyebrow lifts up In confusion while looking around,“What is here to rate?” 

You turn to him with an innocent face, “What else would there be?”

He tilts his head, signaling for you to tell him. “Thats what I’m asking myself because I have no clue.” 

A few minutes yall park and step out of the car, you then walk off to enter the store but in ho stops following. “You coming?” you say stopping while looking back.

He then remembers you rating stuff and you not answering the question, he then takes a step back and does a thumbs up pointing back to the car. “I forgot the card, wait for me in there my love.”

You nod in response and keep walking.

He then jogs to the car and opens the passenger seat door searching for the journal in your bag and spot it next to your lipgloss and mascara.

“There It goes.” He flips through the pages and stops when he sees the date on the corner which was today.

“1st cloud 3/10, 2nd cloud 6/10, 3rd cloud 10/10!! , 4th cloud 4.5/10” He then stops reading and turns back instantly when he hears your voice

“The card is right-“ you look down and see your notebook in his hand

He covers his face with his hands, “I.. Uh- wanted to know what you were rating” coughing trying to clear his throat

“Uh huh. Well there it is honey.” You say looking embarrassed and your face as red as a tomato.

“Uh, here I’ll get the cart for you.” He walks off with you following him right beside. 

He scoffs, as if he was in disbelief of you doing something childish. ( he was indeed in disbelief.) 

“I mean clouds tho seriously Y/N” he says covering his face leaning down against the cart

You thump his hand in return and start laughing.

Dae ho | ္ံံင်္

“Dae ho hurry!! I don’t want to be late for the movie” you say while wiggling the keys around to signal for him to hurry up.

“Im coming!!” He paces around the room trying to find his shoes, when he finally finds them he slips them on and speed walks to the door.

“Here, give me the keys lovely” kissing your forehead then putting his hand out for you to give him the keys. You hand him the keys and walk to the car.

5 minutes later y’all are on the freeway stuck in traffic. “There has to be a quicker way out” he whines putting his head back with his eyes squeezed closed.

He turns to you and sees you leaning your head down looking upward through the window

“W-what are you doing?” He says gazing fondly at you.

“Im rating” you say with no context with a focused look on your face gazing at the clouds, leaving him even more confused, which pushes him to ask more questions.

“Rating what?” He says looking up where you are looking to see if he can figure out.

“The clouds” you say with a innocent look on your face, which lets him know you’re not joking.

“Oh um, yeah thats nice.” He says trying to seem interested like you are.

“That was is ugly, no no no, 2/10.” you say while nodding your head

“Pff, yeah most definitely not a good one, L-like that one- That is a good one.” He says while pointing, trying to look interested In what you are doing to make you happy.

“Oh my gosh thats the best one I’ve ever seen Dae ho- woahh.. 10/10!” You say while looking more closer at the cloud in adoration.

He then stares with his eyes full of love, smiling because you doing something so odd makes him fall more deeply in love.

“Ah! Finally the traffic is dying down” getting distracted of you staring fondly at the clouds by the traffic.

Recruiter | ္ံံင်္

You and Gong yoo were coming back from a late lunch from a little cafe that y’all met at, he wanted to take you out since its been a while because you have been writing a new book that you are trying to publish in 2 months which has been stressful.

“I had a good time, thank you.” You pause briefly, “Definitely helped me get a break from the non stop writing.” Smiling at him holding the bag of left over dessert.

“Anything for you darling.” Y’all make it to the car and he opens the door for you and you get in.

He hops into the drivers side and starts the car.

A few minutes later y’all are waiting at a red light and you are ducking down looking out the window to get a better view at the sky.

“You know, we should go to the cafe by our house I saw a lot of good reviews..“

He slows down his words when you cut him off.

“Ooh, thats a good one.” You say while putting your head back where it was originally to write your rating of the clouds down on the notebook.

He scoffs, “Quite rude to cut me off..- Anyways, how do you suddenly get all these ideas? You’re very intelligent my love, but please take a break for now.”

You turn to him confused. “What do you mean ideas?”

He starts driving again, but talking at the same time. “Well you said ooh thats a good one so I supposed you were thinking of some ideas for your new book, I guess I was wrong.” He takes a short pause. “What are you doing then love?”

You accidentally ignore him due to you still focusing on the clouds.

He scoffs again while stopping at the red light. “Uh, hello? Your being quite rude today aren’t you?” He says while waving a hand to your face to make you listen to him.

You turn to his direction, “Ah, sorry dear.”

“So what are you doing?” He says looking impatient of your reply.

You look the other way and look down, “ Uh, its nothing..” You say with a deceiving look on your face.

He tries to pretend that he brushed it off, “Ahh, okay..” He says, then taking the journal out your hand

“Gong yoo, give it back come on.” You say trying to get it back.

He reads it and he cant control his chuckles that leave his mouth.

“Oh look at your little attempt to retrieve your such silly hidden possessions.” He laughs,” 3rd cloud 10/10!” He says trying to mimmic what you wrote, you then finally snatch it out of his hand and place it back in your bag

He laughs again, “You are so intelligent yet so childish.” He stops but then speaks again while driving when the light turned green, “I still love you through these very specified yet odd hobbies.” 

“I hate you” you say while turning to a corner while he continuously teases you.

“You love me.”

Jun ho| ္ံံင်္

You and jun ho were going back home from a dinner with his mom. It was lovely, His mom definitely knows how to good very well.

“Well, how did you like it?” He says as soon as he settled into the car.

“It was good, I would enjoy visiting again. She cooks way better than you.” You say teasing him.

He makes a dramatic look like you had just betrayed him. “Oh yeah? Is that right? Hmm, Well excuse me” he says.

You then laugh while pulling your notebook out as he drives off.

A couple of minutes later, He then cuts of the silence as he notices you leaning your head outside the window, looking upward.

“What in the world are you doing Y/N” he says both laughing and confused and the same time while your writing.

You put your head back in the car and lean your head down in embarrassment.

He notices how embarrassed you are. “Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t meant it in a rude way, I was just genuinely curious.” he says as his face went too a serious look

You chuckle, “I know, but you will laugh if I tell you what I’m doing.

He then turns to you, smiling again. Then turns back to the road. “Oh yeah? Try me. I won’t laugh I promise.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm, If I had to guess I would think you were rating clouds scale from 1/10- Im just kidding, I know you wouldn’t be the one to do anything that odd. Yes I want to know, tell me.”

You lower your head, “You, uh..” 

He looks at you again confused, “I- what?” you look at him and avoid eye contact while speaking again due to your embarrassment. “Uh, you just said it.”

He then tries to hold in his laugh while nodding his head up and down as if it’s normal. 

The he laughed a bit quietly but he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Oh you’re mean” you say while crossing your arms over one another.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just, I was just joking I didn’t know you would actually be doing that.”

He then glances at your notebook still wide open. “ Yup, I agree cloud 5 definitely has the most potential.”

“JUN HO” you say trying for him to quit teasing you.

English isn't my first language, please excuse any errors!

consider reblogging if you enjoyed ౨ৎ‎ ‎ ⊹　₊ ‎

[askthehedgehogs]

[I WISH I GOT TO ASK THE LOVELY COUPLE EARLIER BEFORE IT CLOSED TEMPORARILY 😭 But I hope this reaches them either before or after the wedding]

I hope this question isn't a mood killer, but I just wanna know... Sonic, was there a time where you were worried about marrying/being married to Shadow since he's the Ultimate Lifeform, meaning he never dies or is immortal, but you aren't?

I'm asking because Shadow lost someone very important to him and doesn't want to go through it again. Since you're mortal, meaning that you're gonna pass one some day, have you ever thought about what would happened afterwards? Leaving Shadow alone all over again, RIGHT after you got married, too?

I'm not trying to be mean or bring the hype down, but I'm asking so that way I made sure you're not hiding any fears or worries from us, because I know you love Shadow a lot and want to be there for him, but I hope the inevitable coming between the two of you isn't affecting your excitement for the wedding or your guy's happiness, and I hope you aren't mentally kicking yourself for not being the Ultimate Lifeform like Shadow and that you won't always be there for him.

If you are, PLEASE, please don't think about that stuff, okay? I want you both to be happy and live a long life, and even if Shadow can't die, you will always be in his heart, no matter what realm of life your part of. And it won't be your fault if you do pass on. Death happens to anyone, and I don't think anyone deserves to go through that. We can't prevent it either, but I don't want that to keep you guys from being together.

But when the time comes soon, please let Shadow know that you love him and that you'll always remain in his heart no matter what. You both are still young, obviously, but in the future, please remember this and let him know.

I'm sorry if this question brought people down, but I just wanted to check up on you before the big day in case you needed something off your chest. But Sonic, and your husband, of course, I am very happy for you both and I hope nothing ever comes between you. You both deserve each other after so much. Please, never forget how important you are to Shadow, Sonic.

I wish you both decades of nothing but fun races, yummy foods, endless snuggles, and wonderful memories, both on Earth, and in the afterlife. Because I know, even if death do you part, your souls will remain together for eternity.

Congratulations to you both!

[this was longer than I thought sorry mod I got carried away I love them sm 😭😭]

… Hoo boy. Okay. Well. I’m gonna take this one while Shadow’s still asleep, since he’s got previous for getting a little dark answering these kinds of questions…

You know, I’ve thought about dying a whole lot in my life, and every time I do, it’s always just that I don’t wanna let anybody down. Every time I think “this is it this, I’m gonna die”, it’s not because I’m scared of dying. It’s because I’m mad at myself for leaving everybody else to deal with it all and clean up my mess. But, now that I’ve started relying on friends more, I’m not so worried. I know even if I’m gone, they’re more than capable of keeping the world safe without me!

Shadow’s no exception. I know he’d be fine. It may have taken a while after Maria, but look at him now… whatever happens, I know he can get through it and smile again.

That said, I wanna clear something up. We actually don’t know if Shadow’s immortal, or if I’m not. We’re both really hard to kill, for sure, and we both heal fast. Shadow faster than me, but both faster than normal folks. We’ve known each other a whole decade, and we’ve definitely both aged, but we’re lookin’ young for our mid-twenties. I dunno how stasis messed with Shadow’s body, but there’s that too. Our best guess is we’re both–what’s the word–invulnerable? Yeah.

I don’t think Shadow’s too worried about me getting old and dying before him. But, I mean, somebody’s gotta go first, right? Unless we die together in some huge disaster, in which case, we’ve got bigger things to worry about! … yeah, I think it’ll be hard for him. Same if any of our friends die. That’s life, I guess. It’d be hard for me, too, if he went first.

We’re not gonna let that hold us back, though. We live dangerous lives, there’s always a risk, but what’s the point in not living just ‘cause you’re scared of dying?

And don’t worry. I’m not leaving this guy any time soon.

Mmh. I thought we were going to sleep in this week…

I did sleep in! It’s 6:30!

I hate morning people.

Shoulda thought of that before you married me. Twice~

Ugh. Make me coffee, then I’ll regain the capacity to love you…

Heh. Love you too~

[pinkmom3]

Part 5

   Six weeks later and the Texas summer heat is in full swing. On Monday Adam asks to host a pool party on the coming weekend, a common request, which is almost always allowed. Hosting means he chooses the food and drinks served, he makes sure we have enough supplies, and he cleans up afterwards. One of the many burdens of being an older teen in my household. Hubby and I approve, although hubby will be out of town that entire weekend with a valued client, leaving me to chaperone 10+ teens around a pool.

I dont mind.

Friday is here and after school I will have 4 teenage boys to myself, oh the possibilities, I resist the temptation to daydream and play with myself. Maybe later I will indulge.

After school all 4 boys get home. Adam and I have already shopped for the party, but what to feed these young men?

I order Chinese food. While we wait the boys change into swimwear and head to the pool.  Food arrives family style and i allow tge boys to go wild, full teenage boys are easier to deal with, in my honest opinion.

I get my Kung pao chicken and a margarita. After kitchen island clean up they head to the media room for video games while I crack open my book and drink my drink.

Some hours later, I'm placing snacks out on the kitchen island when Tim comes out of the media room and starts grazing.

"How ya doing, sweetie?"

"I'm doing good, Ms Linda, good grades and everything."

"How's the family?"

"Umm you know, no worse off than usual."

"How about a girlfriend?"

"I'm looking, but you're already married."

"Haha flattery will get you everything, seriously you know that's an unfair comparison, right? I'm curvier than most school age girls.

"Yes ma'am,  but really, no one seems interested right now."

"Are you staying positive about it?"

"Absolutely."

Soon the others come filing out looking for food. We snack, we talk, and we laugh.

"Ok guys I'm headed to the hot tub, you're all still in swim wear and are welcome to join me or not."

Kevin and Tim are automatically in for hot tubbing, Adam and Bryce will join after some epic video game battle.

I choose a light grey bikini, pin my hair up, and join these two young men, margarita in hand. We talk of school and future plans and we're joined about a half hour later by the other two. After mundane small talk our conversation turns to spicy relationship talk, where I can learn so much about what is going on with these guys. I ask the others about girls, none are spoken for, but all have their eye on someone. I asked what made these women standout, the first round of answers were as polite as these young men and included intellect, sense of humor, personality, etc.

"Ok ok boneheads, this is me you're talking to, while I appreciate your answers, I also know that men, by and large, are visually stimulated. I know there are exceptions, but I'm not buying what you four are selling. None of you said, boobs or butt and I know those are usually the initial motivators for men."

They were quiet a beat too long and I worried that maybe I was too harsh, but then above the sound of hot tub bubbles Adam said, "I like Amy's boobs" and one by one they all shared what drew them to their young ladies. Mostly boobs.

Mmm I learned Adam is looking to date.

The conversation continued with questions on how to get a girlfriend. I promised them I would share the secrets of snaring a woman if each and everyone of them swore not to use these secrets for a quick hookup. Around the tub we went and all promised, so I shared the secrets of catching a woman.

At some point in the night my hands squeezed thighs, brushed a crotch or two before yawning and calling it a night.

Whether it was the heat of the tub or the two margaritas I had, I accepted help up the stairs of the hot tub. As I bid the boys good night is am aware that I left my cover up beside the hot tub so I have a wet bikini clinging to me that was barely covering me as it was. The bottoms are riding up exposing my butt cheeks and the cool ac is making my nipples erect. As the boys go back to the media I hear the normal comments that poor Adam has had to deal with most of his life, comments like, "Man, how do you stand to be her son, if she were my mom I'd fap myself into a raisin." And, "I'd be hard all the time, dude."

Poor Adam.

I head up stairs to shower and sleep wondering if they will touch themselves thinking of me.

Do boys masturbate en mass?

A group activity?

I know some watch porn together, right?

[devil-hunter66]

Vergil's eyes darted towards her the second that question left her lips, his expression remained the same. Unreadable, poker-faced and quiet...Yet his eyes seemed to have gleamed a newfound sense of revelation...brief as it may seem...He pondered her question as Dante continued to punch the wall! counting how many times his strikes made the wall crack more and more while he stood in a boxing stance! using this practice to dull the pain and sharpen his mind. Vergil was silent for a while longer...Until he answered... "...What do I plan to do?...I am not quite sure if I had thought that far ahead. Frankly I do not think it matters in the slightest...My first plan is to take the very first breath of fresh air in YEARS if that helps. The rest?...Well...we shall see." His silence returned, his eyes once again closed while he seemed to meditate for a longer period of time...Surprisingly, his silence was broken earlier than usual as his next words escaped his lips. "...Let me ask you a question...What does "power" mean to you?...How would you define it?...If you were to find an opportunity to attain power, would you take it, knowing it's consequences?...Or would you chose different?..."

...That was a rather curious question...why ask such a thing?...He seemed to be lost in thought, something he rarely allowed himself to display on his sleeve. "...I only ask...simply because I had once sought power myself...POWER...greater than anything beyond compare...For me, I once believed that the very source of my weakness was due to my..."humanity"...something that I held little regard for...To me, as long as one held great power amongst ALL else...one would be great enough that no harm nor pain would EVER fall upon ones self again...It was a goal...that became the very source of my obsession...That was where Dante and I differed in belief...Where I saw my humanity as an unneeded weakness...HE saw it as a strength..." Vergil's eyes gazed towards Dante, watching him now shake his shoulders before he started shadow boxing and kicking! his fists and legs making the air burn up each time he sent forth a jab or SWUNG his leg with a high kick!

"...And fool that I was...I had SLICED my human soul away...leaving behind only the DEMON that craved strength...It was only when I became whole did I realise the error of my prior actions..." Cut away...his humanity?...that should have sounded like a metaphor but...it almost sounded as if he meant that literally??...

@devil-hunter66

River's wings felt heavy as the half-blood soar over Tartarus. She followed the river Acheron until she reached it. The crack in the ground where the water had been draining.

The half-blood just wanted a normal summer vacation at camp half-blood. Of course, that wasn't going to happen. The underworld at some point had been thrown into chaos, creatures from Tartarus finding a way to flee and raise hell upon the rest of hades. Now it was up to her to figure out the issue.

"Alright. Father said this should be the way to hell." The half-blood check to make sure she had everything one last time. Rations? Check. Nectar? Check. Tools to maintain her prosthetic if it gets damage? Check. Weapon? Check. River took a deep breath and dived bomb down into the crack to hell. The quest prophecy ringing in her head.

She wasn't sure how far she was falling, or for how long. But eventually the air change. She opened her eyes to find herself in the demon world. Hell. "Okay..." She landed on the ground. "Now, how the hell do I find who I need to?" River said to herself.

With no better answer, she began walking deeper into hell. Keeping her scythe in it's cube form. But a hand around it just in case. She wasn't sure how long she had been walking, but it was at least felt like a few hours, until she finally found something else down here.

[glissadia]

Introductory Lessons

The end of the semester is celebrated, and Selin gets some answers to her questions. 6.7k words. (This is a continuation of Upon Further Examination, which you should read before this!)

Carlton Abernanth is a man of middling stature, skillful oration, and absolutely horrendous taste in furniture, but since he is Penrose Academy’s current headmaster and therefore my direct superior, I am required to regularly subject myself to what may very well be the most garishly upholstered sitting room in the entire continent. Dandelion-yellow leather is a crime to both the eyes and whatever poor creature it came from, and there have been many times over the seven years he’s held this position that I have come within a hair’s breadth of bringing one of my own chairs to these meetings, decorum be damned. It’s almost enough to override the respect I have for the man and his runework, built up during the time that he was a fellow professor and now being the only thing saving six armchairs and two sofas from a sustained bout of concentrated dragonflame.

Goddess above. Yellow leather.

"So!" he says brightly, pouring and offering me a cup of tea from the ornate tea set that seems to live on the table here. "I take it you had an interesting round of final examinations?"

I take a sip, not bothering to test the temperature first. It’s one of the blends that Ember enjoys serving me, not prepared up to her standard but still leagues better than the stuff he used to stock. I’m sure the fact that he switched over shortly after I offhandedly complained about it to Ember is purely a coincidence. I’ve never asked her, and she would never say anything unless I did.

"'Interesting' hardly seems like the right term," I respond. "Some imaginative work, of course, like we get every semester, but the median grade was only in the low nineties. Inscription precision was the most common deduction, so I’ll look to adjusting the curriculum to spend more time on it in the future."

"It’s still nothing to scoff at," Carlton replies, and I almost want to scoff at that. "Neither is the fact that students are coming out of your class better-prepared than any other secondary program on the continent. Do you know how many attempts to poach you I’ve had to fend off?"

"Dozens of letters a day, I’m sure," I wave him off. "And you know it’s not a competition to me. I don’t care about the other schools; I care that I’m bringing my students to their fullest potential. Something that reflects poorly on me if they don’t reach that point."

"Fair enough," he concedes, before burning his tongue on his own tea and playing it off in hopes I won’t notice. "Clearly you had at least one student who did, though."

I hide a soft smile with a sigh. A full week has passed since Selin’s demonstration, and thinking about it still fills me with a swirl of varied emotions. Of course, I’m not at all surprised that he’d bring it up.

"Selin Lettea’s ritual work was the best I’ve seen in two decades of teaching, and that includes the other faculty as well as almost all of my own work," I state, without exaggeration. "Not only that, but she demonstrated levels of professionalism, tenacity, and adaptation I’ve been forced to learn are too much to ask from seasoned court magicians, let alone students. I fully believe the grade is justified."

"And I’m not saying I don’t believe you!" he reassures me. "But a full twenty percent on top of a perfect score, for an end-of-semester project? I think I can count on two hands the number of perfect evaluations I’ve seen you give out, let alone greater than perfect. I know better than to suggest it’s solely because she’s one of your mentees, but please, I’d love to be enlightened."

I slump in that horrendous yellow chair, just barely, but I’m sure Carlton picks up on it.

"There were… extenuating circumstances at play."

He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t speak. I sigh again, genuinely this time.

"In my eyes, Selin earned perfect marks from the very beginning, flawlessly executing her ritual as designed and correcting the induced errors almost as soon as I made them. I wouldn’t call the ritual itself groundbreaking by any means, but it shows a comprehensive understanding of the principles I taught as well as a knack for efficient and reproducible design, even without taking into account the constraints of the situation."

"Constraints?"

"Apparently," I start, then pause to take another sip of tea, "she has mana instability as well."

The second eyebrow joins the first, turning from questioning encouragement to surprise. As was the case with his predecessor, I’ve had to paint a slightly different picture of my identity with Headmaster Abernanth than I do with the rest of the faculty. Nothing explicit, of course, but over the centuries you pick up a thing or two about misdirection. In this case, the occasional offhand comment or reaction that implies I had a much more direct involvement with the Abrestan-Junal War some two decades ago now than the average noblewoman would have at the time. Pair that with the fact that Leora of Afton, frontline combatant for Abresta and one of the most notorious sorceresses in the continent, disappeared close to the end of the conflict after very publicly taking a curse to the chest, and you have a simple little deception that makes people think they’re so clever for figuring me out and neatly cuts off any further curiosity right there.

The fact that Leora was really just a way for me to express my criticisms of the Junal ruling class in a somewhat constructive manner makes the whole thing a bit easier to sell.

"And no, I don’t know the cause, though I sincerely doubt it’s the same reason as mine," I lie, preempting the natural follow-up question. "It could be entirely natural for her, for all I know. But because I didn’t know about it, I failed to account for it, and due to no fault of her own, the ritual failed. She remade it perfectly, then tried again. And again. It was only on the twenty-third attempt that I identified what was happening and fixed the issue. In my eyes, the level of dedication and perseverance she expressed in spite of what was happening is nothing short of astounding. If that grade isn’t deserved, then clearly I should be failing all my other students for their relative performance."

"No, no, I’m not pushing back," Carlton assures me, then drinks, finally satisfied with the temperature. "Based on what you’ve told me, she sounds like one of the most promising students of the year. Do you know if she’s planning to specialize? Those results would certainly suggest a promising future in ritual work."

"Not yet, but…" I hesitate. I know this is the right call, but that still doesn’t prevent voicing it from making me feel oddly… vulnerable, in a way? "I was thinking of offering her an actual apprenticeship. Holistic."

"Really?" he asks, sounding genuinely surprised. Which I can’t blame him for; I haven’t ever shown an inclination to take someone on in that capacity. "Full-time?"

"Goddess no. At least, not during the school year. If she didn’t keep her studies well-rounded I’d fail her myself. But I see potential in her, and I plan on making sure it becomes fully actualized."

I’m almost mildly surprised to realize I’m telling the truth. Maybe not the whole truth, but even discounting Selin’s nature, there’s a chance I might have decided to make this offer anyway. Isn’t that a thought.

The conversation winds down with a much briefer discussion of the results some of my other students managed to achieve, and finally I am freed from that awful room with its awful furniture. With classes over and final examinations winding down, the academy halls carry a much more relaxed atmosphere than the weeks prior. Students making preparations to head home, celebrating (or lamenting) grades, and generally enjoying the figurative weight off their shoulders. My own schedule for the immediate future is much more self-directed, but it's not yet time for me to fully relax. I’ve got centuries to do that, and a hatchling to teach right now.

Selin is, as requested, waiting for me when I get back to my rooms. I haven’t actually seen the girl since her final project a week ago, distance I imposed myself in an attempt to at least try to get her to focus on the rest of her finals rather than the newfound revelations of that day. A somewhat futile attempt, of course, even with threatening to wipe her memories of the entire examination if she were to not perform up to the standards I know she’s capable of. Still, from what I’ve heard from the rest of the staff, she’s performed admirably. All for the best, I suppose, since my experience in mental magic is barely more than theoretical and I would never actually think to take this away from her, no matter what her results were.

"I hope you two are ready to get out of here, because I am in desperate need of fresh air," I declare as soon as I walk in, breaking Selin and Ember from their conversation. "Ember, is everything packed?"

"Yes, my lady!" she chirps, holding up a picnic basket.

"Okay, that answers one question," Selin comments, "but also hi, hello, I’m still not entirely sure what it is we’re doing today?"

"Picnic lunch," I say. "To celebrate the end of a very eventful semester, or, well, the very eventful end of a semester. Because I think we all need some time to unwind, and I’d rather have the discussions we’re going to have away from others."

The promise of a discussion seems to placate her for now, her eyes sparkling like they did a week ago when I gave her that massive gemstone from my hoard. The felt bag that went with it now rests on her hip, tied to her belt, bulging with the rough-cut corundum inside. It’s probably a bit awkward to carry around like that, but I could never fault her for doing so. I have a feeling it’s going to be a while before she’s fully comfortable with letting her small hoard out of her sight. I know it took me a good amount of time, at least.

"Right, then," I continue. "Did you have breakfast?"

"Um, a bit, yeah?"

"Clear your lungs, take a deep breath, and hold it," I instruct, striding forward to place a hand on Ember’s shoulder and Selin’s sternum. "Ready? Three, two, one."

Despite her visible confusion, Selin does as I ask and inhales, just in time for me to pulse a bit of magic through her torso, paralyzing her diaphragm, intestinal, and abdominal muscles. Her eyes barely have time to widen before I force us all through space, bringing them both with me through a teleport not quite so long-distance as the trip to my cave. It’s over in an instant, and I move both my hands to catch Selin under the arms, taking the weight off her buckling legs while her body tries to process what the hell just happened. She entirely fails to vomit, because I know what I’m doing, thank you very much, and I restore control to her after only a few seconds. She immediately exhales and takes a big, shuddering gulp of air, then another, while I wait patiently for her to recover.

"W-what the hell?" she finally manages to say.

"Teleportation," I state. "We’re about two days’ trek east. I like to get out of the city for an afternoon sometimes, and this is a rather good spot to do it."

"Is it always this bad?" Selin asks, to which I shake my head.

"First time’s the worst," I tell her. "It only gets better from here, once your body gets more familiar with the sensation. It’ll also be vastly smoother when you’re the one doing it yourself. Are you alright?"

"I will be," she says, taking deliberate, measured breaths. "Maybe a little warning next time, please?"

"Once you’ve learned not to tense up."

Selin recovers remarkably quickly and I let go of her once she seems to be able to balance. Ember, having been fine after only a couple of seconds, gives her a once-over and a flask of water, which she downs rather quickly. Only then does Selin actually take a look around at our surroundings.

"Woah. You… were not kidding."

The meadow the three of us are standing in is rather idyllic, in my opinion. It’s absolutely blanketed in wildflowers, which gives the incredibly fresh air a pleasant floral note. The temperature is perfect too, helped by the fact that we’re far into the middle of a mountain range here and the early spring heat is cut down by a bit. And, as best as I’ve been able to identify during my trips here, there isn’t a trace of civilization around for miles. A wonderful location for a picnic.

Laying out a blanket and getting things unpacked is quick work with six hands helping, and once I’m sitting down I close my eyes and finally, finally let myself relax a bit. A lot, actually. Even with all my experience, both with teaching and beyond it, there’s no easy way to just magically block all the stress that naturally builds up over the course of a semester from getting to you. I’ve looked, but it doesn’t exist. Not unless you’re willing to get pretty far deep into mind-altering substances, and that’s a bit much for my tastes. No, even though I love teaching, there’s a reason I look forward to breaks. This particular summer might be a good bit different from the others, but I have a feeling it’ll be rejuvenating in its own way.

"Professor?"

I tilt my head up and open my eyes, looking at Selin. She’s looking back at me with a slightly hesitant expression, and uses one hand to gesture to her cheek.

"You’ve got a…"

I lift up a hand to touch my own face, and… oh. Ha. Well, there’s a reason I normally don’t let myself feel this loose around others. Glancing over at Ember, I see she’s barely managing to hold in a giggle, impertinent creature that she is.

"Nothing you haven’t seen before," I say, leaning back again and gazing up at the sky. Giving my body a bit more mental slack, consciously this time, the smattering of scales that had slipped onto my face bloom into patches, not fully covering me but enough to ease some of the barely noticeable tension that lives in the back of my head whenever I’m keeping to a human form. "A consequence of letting myself enjoy the environment, so to speak. Not usually a problem, but just something to keep in mind depending on the current company at the time."

"Ah," Selin responds succinctly. She doesn’t say more, but I can feel the unspoken questions anyway. Well, no point in delaying.

"Alright," I say, pushing myself all the way back up to a sitting position and facing her, a slight smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "Be honest. How much time did you spend reading about us while you should have been studying?"

"That’s… a subjective measure," she answers, affronted. I say nothing. "But… maybe six hours?"

I raise a ridged eyebrow. Selin squirms.

"Okay, more like… twelve-ish. But it’s fine, I had to take breaks from studying anyway, and Professor Aldebaran literally had us make sleep-substitution potions as the last assignment before finals."

"Which I tell her is a horrible idea every year, and yet here we are," I say, pinching the bridge of nose to disguise itching it. Letting my scales come in leisurely like this is nice, but they have a tendency to tingle. "But I digress. I wish you hadn’t, but unfortunately I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same, were I in your position. What have you gotten through so far? I’m very familiar with the contents of the academy’s library."

"Um, most of Draconis Magnificens, the relevant portions of Thorne’s Feather, Scale, and Aether, Children of the Sky-Fire was well-written but more about weird dragon-worshipping cult stuff than usable information, and one of the librarians recommended Blackwood’s Spark to Shadow for soul stuff. It felt like more of a think-piece than practical information, but apparently it’s hard to find anything on the topic that isn’t written from a primarily religious perspective."

"Spark to Shadow isn’t bad, but I doubt it’ll have what you’re looking for," I hum. "I’ve got some relevant works in my library at home that you might enjoy. I have… somewhat of a personal interest in the matter."

This earns me a small laugh from both girls, which is nice.

"The Scale of Feather, Scale, and Aether isn’t bad either," I press on. "Aris Thorne doesn’t make many assumptions, which is nice, but he still takes a rather human-centric approach to his presentation. Draconis Magnificens is so inaccurate it’s basically fiction, I’m sorry to say. Sky-Fire is a mostly accurate account of a period of my life I don’t love dwelling on, so let’s just skip that one, shall we?"

Selin’s eyes open a bit wider at that little revelation, but thankfully she doesn’t press.

"I found a bit more, research papers and whatnot, but there wasn’t really anything I could confirm as credible," she says, shrugging. "So I eventually figured it would be best to just… ask you."

I nod slowly, accepting my second cup of tea for the day from Ember almost without thinking. Selin gets one too, and knowing Ember, the temperature will be right on the upper edge of what she can currently handle. We’ll have to take some time to get that up.

"Never a bad conclusion to come to," I say. "Do you have specific questions, or would you like a more general overview of things?"

"I do have specific questions," Selin starts, "but I think I’d like to hear your overview. You probably have a better idea of what’s immediately relevant than I do."

"In that case, then, we’ll start with the soul," I state. "If you’ll recall, at our last meeting, I mentioned a… mismatch, so to speak. Being born with a soul not befitting of the body."

Selin nods, so I continue.

"It’s a technically accurate statement, and conveys the general idea well enough, but it’s not specific. Your soul is, fundamentally, what holds you. Your identity, your personality, your consciousness, everything that makes the girl sitting in front of me right now Selin Lettea and not some zombified husk of habits and automatic responses that merely playacts at being a person. Your soul, working in tandem with your brain, to give you life, shape your thoughts, and make you who you are. The soul serves other purposes as well, of course, the channeling and control of mana being one of the major ones, but that’s not really what we’re focusing on here. The quality of the soul more relevant to us is what happens when you—"

I point one blue-speckled finger at her.

"—start to push up against the bounds of this."

I lean forward and tap her on the forehead. She blinks, then refocuses on me as I sit back.

"I’m not sure I follow."

"I’ll try to illustrate. Imagine your soul as… as… Ember?"

"A plant, my lady."

"A plant, yes, thank you," I nod affirmatively. "A flower, ivy, whatever, it doesn’t matter for the metaphor. You, Selin, that spark of life and identity and consciousness, are a plant contained within a decorative pot. As you start from a metaphorical seed at birth, you grow, putting down roots and sending up sprouts and all those good things plants do. Things are fine for a time as you mature and thrive, but then…"

I hold up the same hand I used to poke her in a closed fist, slowly spreading my fingers before abruptly stopping in place.

"You find that you have run up against the edges of the pot. Your roots have permeated every bit of soil, your leaves are eking out every bit of sunlight they can get from the shelf the pot is placed on, and every drop of water you get is quickly sucked up, leaving you dry and wanting more. And yet, there is still so much more left for you to grow. Are you following me so far?"

"I think so, yeah," she answers.

"Right. For most people, this is a non-issue. They have been planted correctly, with a pot adequately sized and shaped for their needs, to let their roots grow comfortably and soak up all the nutrients they need for a lifetime. But for others, like us, they are quite literally a different kind of plant. Some need a different climate, some need more nutrients, but in this case… to put it simply, you’ve been planted in the wrong pot, and it’s choking you. You’ll live, yes, but you won’t thrive. Your leaves will wither, your roots will dry, and eventually you will find your soil and your pot have nothing left to give you, and your life comes to an end. Tragic, preventable, and most people who this happens to don’t even realize that it is the case."

Selin slowly nods, and I can tell from the look on her face that she seems to be understanding. It’s not a perfect metaphor, but I think it serves its purpose.

"There are ways to mitigate this, of course. We can refer to this as adding more soil to the pot, if you’d like, giving you a bit more room to expand. Frankly, just acknowledging the problem for what it is does wonders; that’s a rather large added scoop right there. But, unfortunately, this only works to an extent. Eventually you’ll run up against the rim of the pot and you can’t add any more soil. I should say, when I’m referring to a pot, I’m not talking solely about your physical body. It’s an extremely significant factor, yes, but things like your family and social environment, hobbies, personal fulfillment, the expectations placed upon you, and more all come together to form the bounds of expression and existence you fit within. There’s a bit of wiggle room there, but I hope it conveys the idea properly."

"It does, yes," Selin says, looking contemplative. "So, adding more soil only does so much. What do you do when you’ve added all you can, and it’s still not enough?"

"The answer to that, my dear, is up to you," I inform her. "Tell me. Do you feel fulfilled?"

"What, in life?"

"In life, socially, academically, whatever. I suppose, if we want to get more specific, do you feel as though the paths you are currently on will lead to personal fulfillment in those aspects? Take your time."

"I… uh… wow, okay, wasn’t really expecting this sort of question in this talk." She actually thinks for a minute, which I appreciate. "I… don’t think I have any good reason to believe that they won’t?"

"That’s not what I asked," I counter. Selin looks at me, eyes roaming over my face, taking another moment before she responds.

"Passion and certainty. Confidence and contentment," she says. "Is that what you’re asking about?"

"It is if you think it is. I acknowledge that that’s frustratingly vague, but personal determinism is sort of the name of the game here."

"Then… I think I don’t know. It feels like the kind of thing that’s impossible to know ahead of time, which might speak more to myself than any sort of objective truth of the sapient experience, if that’s what you’re getting at. I have friends, I love my family, I have a feeling I’m at the top of at least one of my classes, I have a lot of promising options for a career. Discounting what we’ve been talking about, shouldn’t all of that be a recipe for personal fulfillment?’ "Perhaps," I say. "But…?"

Selin glances away, taking in the meadow, the mountains, the cloudless sky. She looks down at her teacup, and the bag resting at her hip. When her eyes meet mine again, there’s a depth to them, a touch of intention that wasn’t present before.

"Should. It’s what should be fulfilling."

A small smile starts sneaking its way onto my face again.

"What would fulfill you, Selin?"

She takes a breath.

"I said it before. I don’t know. But… if I break the pot, I might find out."

There she is.

"So," Selin says. "How do I do this?"

The intention in her eyes is resolve now, a fiery determination that I could lead her towards but never outright give her. If, for whatever reason, I were to walk away at this point, I think she has the fuel to figure out the whole thing on her own, like I did. It only serves to reaffirm my decision to help her, though.

"Onto the second topic, then," I smile. "You, Selin, are a dragon. I hope the events of last week proved it well enough for the idea to take root, and in any case that’s something we’ll be working on. That fact is going to be your lifeline and your guiding star. I used to be in the same situation you were, though without anyone to help me through it, and it took me the first eighty precious years of my life to get to the point that I expect you’ll be at in three months. At times, the only thing that kept me going was clinging to that fact like it was the foundation of reality itself."

As I talk, I push more and more of my body into inhumanity. Cerulean scales bloom over every inch of my skin, claws replace nails, and a few blinks see my pupils slitted and much sharper. Each change feels like unclasping a weight from my soul and dropping it, letting myself feel freer and indisputably me. It’s not hard to notice Selin watching me a bit more intently than she was before, though the expression on her face is less than scrutable. My wings neatly fill in the space where the ever-present phantom limb sensation tells me they should be, and I give them a quick stretch and let out a small sigh of relief before continuing.

"The real challenge lies not in knowing who you are academically, but knowing who you are internally. How you think of yourself, what you expect from yourself, what you know to be true and not true about what you are. You need to be able to see yourself in the mirror and know that there is more to you than that shape that you see, and rather than lament what you are not, be proud of what you know you are."

"Is that it?" Selin asks dubiously.

"Oh, of course not," I scoff. "If that was all there was to it, this whole thing wouldn’t be nearly as much of a problem. But it is the first step, and I think you’ll be surprised by just how much It helps. Just give it a try. Say it out loud."

She’s quiet for a moment, lips pursed.

"I don’t… it feels silly."

"Of course it does. You haven’t internalized it yet. But that’s not going to happen unless you say it. What are you?"

She sighs and pulls in on herself a bit.

"I’m… a dragon."

"That wasn’t so hard, was it?" I smile.

"Still felt silly."

"Yeah, but soon it won’t. Here," I say, gesturing to the felt bag at her hip. "Pull out your stone. I think it might help."

She doesn’t push back on this, at least, uncinching the drawstring holding the bag closed and reaching a hand in to pull out the glittering purple corundum I gave her a week ago, grasping it with her other hand as she does. The shift is subtle, of course, but to me the way she sits up just a little straighter while she looks at the large gemstone is as telling as anything. When she meets my gaze again, she looks just a bit more sure, which is all we really need.

"What is that?" I ask her.

"Corundum, you said. The same thing that rubies and sapphires are made of."

"What is it to you?"

"I don’t think I… Oh! It’s my hoard," she says, needing a moment to realize what I’m asking. Looking at her face, it takes a full second and a half after saying that for her to remember that some part of her thinks she needs to feel embarrassed about saying it out loud.

"Why do you have a hoard, Selin?"

"Because you gave it to me?" she tries, with a joking smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. I raise a brow, and she wilts a little. "Because… I’m a dragon."

"Selin, I’m afraid that the lady is incredibly old and therefore very hard of hearing," Ember assists me unhelpfully. "You might need to say it again for her to hear it properly."

Selin rolls her eyes, and I only barely manage to keep myself from doing the same. At the end of the roll, though, her eyes land on the gem in her hands, and her knuckles pale slightly as she takes a deep breath and grips it just a bit tighter.

"Because I’m a dragon."

She has so much further to go, but that’s the first step. Actually acknowledging it. It’ll take a long time for her to fully believe it, of course, but her voice has the hint of confidence I was looking for, the seed that will grow into something strong enough to shatter that pot into a million pieces. Some small part of her believes in who and what she is, and that makes all the difference.

The three of us settle a bit, actually lying down on the picnic blanket to enjoy the environment and take in nature for a change. It’s so radically different from city life, with the only sounds being the breeze gently ruffling the foliage around us, the chirping of birds off in the distance, and our own breathing. I don’t know what’s going through Selin’s head at the moment, but I don’t have to wonder for long.

"Can I ask what might be a silly question?" she says after some time, staring up at the sky.

"If you want to know the answer, then of course," I tell her.

She shifts a bit on the blanket, perhaps in contemplation, perhaps just finding a more comfortable position.

"What does life… look like? After you figure things out. How does it change, I mean?"

I don’t respond immediately, because this isn’t the type of question that should be answered immediately. Despite how she prefaced it, it’s not a silly question at all. It’s important, because I can tell she wants to know what to expect from life, to try and understand the situation she’s found herself in that will have such far-reaching effects. So, how do I answer? What did my life look like, during that century of exploration and obsession? I could describe it for her, sure, but… no.

"I hate to say this again, since I doubt it will be the assurance you’re most likely looking for, but once again I think the answer to that is up to you. It’s your life, Selin, and nobody can tell you how to live it, especially not now. I can say you’ll hopefully go through things with a bit more confidence, at the very least, sure in yourself, your capabilities, and your identity. But beyond that… I can’t divine the answer for you. Your life won’t look like mine, and I wouldn’t recommend it either way. You have so many options ahead of you. Stick to your studies, find something new, do some original research into the nature of the soul, if that’s what interests you. Travel a bit, find ruins, piece together what was lost to history. Start a cult, end a war, go into teaching. Hells, if you really wanted you could go the classic route, find yourself a cave, amass a hoard greater than the wealth of some nations, and terrorize some poor innocent townsfolk. It’s up to you, Selin."

I have to take a breath after that, preparing my thoughts before continuing.

"But… would you like to know what I would advise?" I ask, and Selin nods. "Take your time. Finish your degree. Make friends and spend time with them. Allow yourself to have normality. Don’t… throw yourself into things, and don’t think that everything has to change simply because you figured yourself out. Time is something you’ll have a lot of, in the long run, so don’t rush it now and miss the opportunities you have just because you’re chasing something greater. You’re young, and you shouldn’t let anything take that away from you. Least of all yourself."

"I can’t just… ignore all this," she says, but in a way that tells me it’s more of a prompt than a counter.

"And I doubt it’d be healthy to, so don’t," I tell her. "But that shouldn’t stop you from living the life that you might have, before all this. That you might still want to, just with a bit more clarity. You might be figuring out what you are, but that doesn’t change who you are."

"Poignant," she says, her voice carrying a soft smile.

"Well, I’ve had a bit of time to reflect on things," I laugh. "Think about what I wish had happened differently. I doubt I’d be a very good teacher if I didn’t feel some desire to share that insight with someone who might need it."

The rest of the afternoon is pleasant, a nice, idyllic picnic in the mountains, the perfect way to wind down at the end of the semester. Ember did a wonderful job with the preparations (overlooking the fact that the cheeky imp decided to bring dragonfruit for an accompaniment), and it seems as though Selin enjoyed herself too. She looks more… settled, perhaps, than she did. Her journey has only just begun, and she clearly knows it, but she also knows more of what it will entail, and maybe she feels a bit more confident in her own ability to complete it. It’s a good look on her.

"It would most likely be a good idea to head back to the academy sometime soon," I say after another long period of quiet enjoyment. "I wouldn’t want to abduct you for so long that the school starts sending out search parties."

"Not unless it turns out I’m somehow a long-lost princess, too," Selin laughs. "Hey. Earlier, you mentioned the point you expected me to be at in three months. Does that mean you have stuff you want me to do over the summer?"

"Ideally," I respond, "we’d be doing a lot over the summer. Truth be told, I haven’t actually done something like this before, as a pretense or not, but, conditional on your interest, I intend to offer you an apprenticeship. It would be significantly more holistic than just studies of a draconian nature, of course, but I think the pretense would also serve as a good opportunity to further your explorations in a setting where privacy is less of a concern. As far as I know, you don’t have any preexisting plans for the break, correct?"

"I, uh, wow, yeah. I mean no, I don’t," Selin stammers. "I… I was just going to stay at home, so I’ll have to talk to my family, but… holy shit yeah that sounds amazing, thank you!"

Well, that seems pretty definitive.

"You’re very welcome," I smile. "I think it will be a good experience for all of us."

"It’ll be nice to be home again for a while," Ember remarks as she begins to clean up.

"Oh goddess, please don’t remind me," I groan. "Having the three of you in one place again is going to be bad enough even if I wasn’t going to be devoting much of my time and attention to teaching Selin."

"We’ll be good, I promise!" Ember chirps with a smile much too puckish for her human face. "Best behavior."

"I don’t believe you for even a second."

"Past performance is not indicative of future results!" she declares. "And besides, would you really deny me this? The city can be so stifling, you know."

"I definitely get that," Selin mutters, pushing herself upright so she can give Ember a hand. "Wait, is that a dragon thing?"

"In all likelihood, yes," I say. "But to be honest, I think it’s a pretty widespread sentiment. In any case, I think you’ll enjoy the estate, even with three fountainheads of mischief running around."

I push myself up as well, climbing to my feet and giving my wings one last good flare and stretch before I fold them up and start the transition back into a more human-standard form. It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten a proper flight in, and they ache to be used, but now is not the time, unfortunately. Though, who knows? I might end up needing to teach Selin to fly before the summer’s over, if she makes enough progress. That would certainly be something.

Cleaning up is quick with many hands once again making light work of things, though I think we all are at least a little reluctant to leave. Selin expresses this by falling back onto the flattened patch of wildflowers where the blanket was, sighing with contentment after an initial small gasp from landing.

"Wow this was wonderful," she says. "Thanks again, for… everything."

"You are very welcome, my dear," I tell her. "But stay like that and you’ll stain your clothes."

"Oh please, I’m not an infant, I know how to use prestidigitation," Selin giggles, starting to move her arms and legs like she’s making a snow angel in spring. She seems to be enjoying herself, at least. "And it is so nice out here. I think I’d love to come back sometime, if it’s not too much trouble."

"I’m not the one who isn’t accustomed to teleportation," I smirk. "But yes, it’s one of my favorites for a reason."

She eventually stops with her limbs spread wide, getting in a bit more rest before she has to get up. I don’t have to take such a long time changing back into my human guise, but it’s nice to spend as much time as close to my real body as I can get. Plus, transformation is such an interesting sensation. And it’s only because I save my draconic eyes with their better-than-human perception for last that I spot it. Or, given that there looks to be a few, them.

"Selin," I start, "out of curiosity, how practiced are you with illusion spells?"

"Not very much at all," she answers, looking up at me quizzically. "I know theory, of course, but it always felt kinda weird to use, so I haven’t really used it since second year. Why?"

So, it’s not her doing it as a somewhat odd way of trying things out. Fuck. That’s… is she even trying to do anything? Or is it just happening, somehow? That would be… unimaginable. I kneel down to her left, heedless of dirtying my own clothes, and slip one hand under her elbow, lifting it slightly.

"You might want to brush up," I tell her, gazed locked on her arm. "Goddess above, I thought it was a mole at first. But… here."

I touch the space slightly above her inner elbow with my free hand, then guide her arm upwards for her to see. She brings her arm over her face herself, squinting slightly as she does her best to focus with her eyes currently accustomed to the strong light from the sky. Then, they go wide as she sees what I saw.

Seven tiny scales sit on her arm, arranged in a circle with one in the middle. The little cluster is maybe half the diameter of a ten-cent coin all together, the scales in soft areas like joints always being smaller to allow for greater flexibility, but they’re there, each one a brilliant, rich purple. Perfectly matching the gem I picked out for her, chosen for her favorite color.

"Holy fuck," Selin breathes. "I’m a dragon."

[fir-fireweed]

Hi Fir! :D

Thanks for giving advice, I really do appreciate it. Though, please don't feel pressured to answer anything I ask. Writing should be fun and with you writing Cantata and answering RO reaction asks, I don't want to add unnecessary stress by thinking of answers to my questions too! Apologies if that comes off as me being overly worried, I just legitimately don't want you to get worried over a question for advice when you have other things on your plate!😅

That said, here is question numero uno :)

How do you write when you don’t have people to bounce ideas off of? It’s just me, myself and I over here and, uh, that doesn’t seem like it’s going to change anytime soon lol. And I’m sure that other people also have that experience of writing alone for one reason or another. Not just for IFs but for their own original books and fanfictions too (not me looking at my pile of ongoing and abandoned WIPs, haha). Like many things, writing is something that is much easier when you have someone else there with you that's invested.

As you said, writing in a vacuum is really hard! Not impossible, but hard at times. Do you have any ideas as to what people can do when they don’t have that sort of support? Something to make things just a little easier.

Thanks again and I hope you’re doing well! <3

Hi Blue! Ooh, starting with the big questions. Okay, long post incoming!

My knee jerk reaction is to say “Are you sure there’s no one else?” But that doesn’t help you. I volunteer myself as tribute, but no pressure, and as you say, many people simply write alone. So here’s some tips that help me brainstorm ideas when my cohorts are unavailable.

People Watch

I have a small journal I always carry in my tote and I jot down little scenarios I see or conversations I overhear. Make up stories behind the people you see. Who are they? Why are they there? And be granular—why are they there on that particular day? I once wrote an entire short story around a snippet of conversation I overheard on the L on my way to college in Chicago.

Consume Media

Read, read, READ!! And watch movies, documentaries, broadway, listen to music, get lost in a rabbit hole on Wikipedia. But especially read. If you discover a book you like, read more from that author. Read everything you can.

Write What You Know

And by this I mean you personally. Write about something that happened to you or you witnessed. We tend to think our own lives are boring but even the small moments make good fodder for stories or character studies. One short story I wrote was about a time my parents accidentally locked themselves out of the house at night. They managed to wake my younger sister through her window and were trying to get her to wake me to open the door, but she was afraid to wake me up. Don’t know why, I was an angel. 😇 Ahem.

It’s a small instance but it makes for a great character study. You don’t have to write that exact moment truthfully, feel free to embellish—whatever helps generate ideas.

I am an awesome big sister, btw. Just ask me, I’ll tell you. 😉

Avoid Scope Creep

I’ve seen mixed opinions on tumblr when it comes to the scope of your writing. I’m on the side of keeping things small. I’ll preface this by saying I have a professional background of project management, creative briefs, and business proposals. I’ve been trained to keep my scope manageable, but I honestly do think it’s best. Set real expectations, small goals, and write short dabbles.

And if I may add, this is a skill that will help you professionally.

Don’t Force It

This is another I’ve seen mixed advice on. Many people will say push through the writers block and write what you can, even if it’s a few sentences. I say close that laptop, iPad, phone, whatever and go for a walk. Watch a movie. Play a video game. If you don’t write for 2 weeks or 2 months, that’s fine. If you’re not enjoying it, forcing it will only make it worse. You’ll start second guessing everything you’ve already written. Step away, go do some people watching at the park, then return when the inspiration strikes.

These are all tips that helped me, but of course everyone is different. My sister likes using writing prompts when she’s short on ideas, but I personally have never been a fan. They feel like homework, lol.

However, I do 100% recommend taking creative writing workshops at the local college if you can. It’s a great way to generate and share ideas; not to mention nothing helps you accept criticism better than having a dozen of your peers absolutely demolish your writing. 😭

I hope that helped, and I’m honored that you’re seeking advice from me! ❤️

[literallyranger]

Day 1

CLAIRE’S POV:

“What are you doing…?” I thought to myself as I hiked up towards the lookout tower. “A two day hike…for what? A job you don't even want?” I thought. “I mean…who the fuck even wants to be a firewatcher?” My thoughts grew more pessimistic as I walked.

Soon enough, I approached the tower. It looked…okay? It was definitely old, but sturdy. I slowly walked up the stairs to the tower and walked into the cabin part. It was also okay. Not good, not bad, but okay.

I quickly pressed the flashing power button and the lights came on. Before I could sit down and relax, someone's voice rang out into the cabin. “Hello, Two Forks tower!” I turned around and saw a radio on the desk. I walked over to the desk and picked up the radio, looking at it for a second.

“Hello, Two Forks Tower. This is Thorofare tower. Come in.” The voice sounded slightly more…Agitated? Concerned? I couldn't tell as I pressed the side button and spoke into the radio. “Uh- Hello? Whoever you are.”

The voice quickly responded. “You're Claire, right? Claire Greene?” I tried to keep my responses short, trying to end this conversation as quickly as I could. “Yup…” I almost mumbled “I’m Ranger.” “Ranger? Who on earth is named Ranger?” I thought about the dumb name that Ranger had told me. “Ranger? Your name is Ranger?” I said sarcastically. “Well, no. Not really. I used to be a forest ranger. It became a nickname after I switched to being a firewatch and it stuck. You already know what my name is, but you can call me whatever you want.” Ranger explained. “Okay, Ranger.”

There was a short pause as I looked around the barin cabin. “So what’s wrong with you?” Ranger asked. I felt slightly offended at the question. “Excuse me?” I questioned them. “People always take this job to get away from something. So what's wrong?” Ranger pushed to know the answer to why I took this job.

“What's wrong with you?” I shot back. “That's a great idea. Go ahead.” Ranger replied sarcastically. “Look, I just hiked for two days straight, so I'm not really getting whatever you're trying to do.” I sighed out. “You take a stab at what's wrong with me and I'll do the same.” Ranger spoke. “Fine, then can I sleep…?” I grumbled. “Sure, wolfie. Now go on, guess.” My face scrunched in annoyance at the nickname.

“Okay, you're probably out here because no one back home can stand you. Which after this short introduction would not be surprising.” I said. “Ouch, I'll chalk that comment up to being tired and grumpy.” Ranger responded. “Well, then I'm sure some sleep would do me wonders.” I tried to end the conversation there, but Ranger spoke up again. “Hold your horses. It's my turn now.” “Okay, goodnight. Bye.” I put my radio in the charger before setting my bag on the floor and sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Let's see…” Ranger kept talking. “I really don't know anything about you, but I do know that nine times out of ten, folks that come out here simply got dumped. Was I close?” There was a long pause as Ranger waited for a response but I didn't give them one. “Ah, giving me the silent treatment, huh? That's fine I won't push. For now.” The room fell silent. Nothing but my own breathing and the sounds of the outside. “What am I doing?”

RANGER’S POV:

“Another summer, another person. Let's hope she’s more interesting than the last one.” I thought as I sat at my desk, bottle in hand. I was only a little tipsy, for now. I kept my eyes on Two Forks Tower. Waiting to see the lights come on so I can radio in and check on…Claire?…was that her name? I couldn't remember.

I kept a careful eye on the tower and eventually the lights came on. I reached for the radio on the side of my desk, pressing the button on the side before speaking. “Hello, Two Forks Tower!” I waited for a response before speaking again. “Hello, Two Forks Tower. This is Thorofare Tower, come in.” I spoke more curtly this time.

Finally, a voice other than my own rang out into the room. “Uh- Hello? Whoever you are.” The voice was…nice. She sounded absolutely exhausted, but she had a good voice to listen to. “You're Claire, right? Claire Greene?” I asked. “Yup…” Was all Claire said. “Wow, so poetic.” I thought to myself.

“I'm Ranger.” There was a short pause before Claire spoke up. “Ranger? Your name is Ranger?” She said sarcastically. “Well, no. Not really. I used to be a forest ranger. It became a nickname after I switched to be a firewatch and it stuck. You already know what my name is, but you can call me whatever you want.” I explained to her. “Okay, Ranger.” Claire responded, putting emphasis on my nickname.

There was another pause before I spoke up again. “So what's wrong with you?” I asked her the same question I asked everyone before her. “Excuse me?” She sounded offended as she answered. Most people did. “People always take this job to get away from something. So what's wrong?” I asked again wanting to know the backstory to why this random woman with no experience in this field wanted this job.

“What’s wrong with you?” I should've expected that response. “That's a great idea! Go ahead.” I responded. “Look, I just hiked for two days straight, so I’m not really getting whatever you're trying to do.” She sighed. Clearly exhausted from the long treacherous hike she had to do. “You take a stab at what's wrong with me and I'll do the same.” I said to her, trying to get her to loosen up a little. “Fine,” She agreed. “Then can I sleep…?” She grumbled clearly annoyed at the small talk. “Sure wolfie. Now go on, guess.”

“Okay, you're probably out here because no one back home can stand you. Which after this short introduction would not be surprising.” “Jeez, that hit a little close to home.” I thought. “Ouch, I'll chalk that comment up to you being tired and grumpy.” I replied. She wasn't wrong though. “Well, then I'm sure some sleep would do me wonders.” It was really just one sarcastic comment after another with her. “Hold your horses. It's my turn now.”

“Let's see…” I wondered before stating the obvious. “I really don't know anything about you,” I continued. “But I do know that nine times out of ten, folks that come out here simply got dumped. Was I close?” I asked and waited for a response that didn't come. “Ah, giving me the silent treatment, huh? That's fine I won't push. For now.”

I let my finger off the button and put the radio back on the charger. Looking back out the window in front of me at Claire’s tower. The lights stayed on for a couple minutes before going. I was left in the calm quiet dark as I took another swig from the bottle of God knows what that was still in my hand.

“I'll get her to loosen up.” I thought. “I have too, or else it's gonna be a really boring three months.”

[righteouseyes]

"Got it in one, Takumi. You really do understand me." Eito smiles. "Yes, my hatred really was my only friend for most of my life. The only thing that kept me going in a world designed to make me absolutely miserable. It was the answer to the question I've been asking myself since I was a child."

That question, of course being, "Why am I like this?"

Eito murmurs the question aloud under his breath, despite trying to keep it in his head. Seeing Takumi look at him, he figures he may as well elaborate.

"This one might be a bit harder for you to understand, because of how pleasantly normal your life was before coming here, but when every day of your life is suffering and torment for factors outside your control, and your more of a lab rat than a person most days, you can't help but asking why life dealt you such a bad hand, no?"

"There was no love or peace in my world. Every day was agony. More tests on my brain to see if they could fix me. More ugly, disgusting human beings that would never take me seriously when I tried to explain what was wrong with me. They all said the same thing. They all told me it couldn't possibly be that bad. But to me, it was a living hell, and a nightmare that never ended."

Eito doesn't know why he's being so open with Takumi, but the words spill out of his mouth before he can stop them. He's monolouging again. But, Takumi's the only person he's been able to genuinely confide in for his entire life.

Takumi takes him seriously. Takumi listens to him vent without comment while they're alone in the cafeteria, and it means SO much to Eito. More than he could put into words.

"That question. Asking myself why I was the way that I was. The hatred was the solution. All of that suffering, it couldn't have been for nothing, right? There had to be a reason. Some kind of greater purpose for me being the way I am. My hatred gave me the answer. In a world of constant suffering where I'd be better off dead to end my own suffering, that hatred was my reason to keep living."

"No. We need to hold off on that. I don't want to risk you dying for good, Aotsuki." Overall, taking on Sirei now would be a challenge. He was probably already on edge. They would need to wait for a better moment. If they did it now, not only would the group fall into suspicion... It might be obvious that one of them did it considering how much they've changed.

Takumi doesn't touch his food while Eito talks this time. He couldn't relate to him. And he had never seen him be this open before. A hate so strong that you don't know who you are without it... How terrifying. Takumi had only known hate for a short time, and he felt like it was a disease. Something that fought his logic. Something that made him emotional in ugly ways he couldn't accept. The feeling was uncomfortable. But was it better than fear? Than grief? That he didn't know. Anger sometimes felt better. It was more proactive. He could confess that falling into sorrow was harder than anger. Is it the same with hate?

"Oh. Kind of like a comfort blanket or something, right? Something that was safe to hide behind?" It was probably a silly or immature comparison. But it was the first thing that came to mind. "Something that you used to protect yourself that you don't need anymore but still can't get rid of... Because it's kind of like an old friend, right?" He didn't know if it made sense to Eito, but it helped him figure out a little bit more about the other's perspective.

"Ah... I see." Takumi feels a little embarrassed hearing Eito explain his feelings. He can't take the hate out on him anymore. It was true that he had hesitated and decided not to kill him... But hearing him say he enjoyed his company... It made him nervous. He didn't know if he should believe it. He didn't know if he wanted to.

"It doesn't have to be something that hurts me then. We can find something else." As much as he hated to admit it... He actually didn't mind talking to Eito like this. It felt like something he needed. Something he had wanted since he discovered the other had hated him. Still.... He struggled to accept it in his heart.

"I just don't... Want you to hurt yourself. Since you acted like you would before. I don't want you to do stuff to put yourself in danger either. The best way you can redeem yourself is by surviving with the rest of us. By helping me get a happy ending for everyone. Okay?"

Was Takumi worried about Eito...? He didn't want to accept that he might be.

[mo-ok]

running out of room in the special boy jar

[coffee-without-anesthetics]

Dearest friend,

I have a humble request or two for you:

1) What irl decks would you recommend for someone whos just getting into Yu-Gi-Oh, because its all expensive and confusing.

2) Why is there like 381 million different ways of summoning cards, its so complicated I get a migraine when i see the word summon now.

1) no fucking idea because i don 't play the irl card game </3

2) nahhh there 's only like . 7 main ones you gotta know everything else is you can learn later/never but also have this video if you haven 't watched it already , it 's a biiig summary

[record-scratches]

"Three songs is fine. And while you have a right to ask questions, you do not always have the right to the answers. I would rather have all of my plating ripped from my protoform before I ever share something about myself so casually. All you need to know right now is that I'm incredibly successful and I do not need friends, companions, or anyone other than myself. I am the best fit for me and that is it."

Uh oh. Looked like he was getting irritable. Best come back another time when he's in a better mood.

The racer entered the studio cautiously, but this time he made himself known through his steps. He walked more like a close one in the pre-jump.

"Greetings Record Scratch, how are you doing? You installed a nice additional defense system, by the way. It threw me off track a bit, but it gave me a little warm-up." The racer said holding a small piece of paper in his hands.

Record looked up from his desk where he was wrtiting. Optics bore a tired look.

"Ah, there you are. I was expecting you to come earlier. Seems my security system did work a little better than I thought. But you still made it here, so congrats ^^. What brings you here?"

[vulpinesaint]

nobody wants to live in my beautiful world with me where the items you make at the end of this quiz are actively malicious and fucked up. on the one hand i literally never said it was metal. on the other hand if you put a bunch of blood into stone and wood and ended up with a metal ring that started changing shape on its own then it's probably got some other issues that might make it difficult to cut it don't you think? "stone and wood and blood don't make a ring" buddy at what point in your time in this workshop that had a literal magic wand in it did you think it was going to be rooted in reality. do you want me to tell you It's A Cursed Magical Ring? kill all the fun and mystique of it? where's your fucking whimsy

[luck-of-the-drawings]

when i was in highschool one o my biggest coping mechanisms was drawing all the kids i hated getting killed and eaten and killed. and well. time is a slowly ascending spiral. you will find patterns.(i work as a blackjack dealer. gamblers are FASCINATING

[rebound-valentine-vn]

What kind of yandere is Otori?

I'm gonna ramble a bit since this is still a question I can't put down in just a couple of words (that and also I like rambling-)

to make things simple, I'll be basing this off of this Yandex I saw someone mention in a server I'm in!

there's gonna be a lot of text under the cut so bare with me here-

How doting is Otori?

They tend to be overly doting by the influence they got from all the romance media they've consumed

in general, Otori practically sees it as the principal of things to be caring to the people you love

However they don't necessarily feel the need to be a knight and shining armour to everyone else, just casually friendly chatter is enough

but caring about the well-being of others, they are more selective with it. still friendly, but not exactly the same level of care as they are with the person they love or whoever is close to them

on the scale, that makes Otori a level 4!

How does Otori feel with the PC's feelings towards them?

even within the game, Otori doesn't need to be in a romantic relationship with you, so even if you turn them down, they're completely happy just being around you

It just really depends if you're spending time with them at all ^^;

if you barely spend time with them (whether on a romance route or not-) Otori will get paranoid and desperate, wanting validation and confirmation from you that you care about them

While on the opposite side of the coin, spending ALL of your time with Otori will lead to them feeling like you don't need anyone else when they can fulfil to your needs at any point and time

besides! you already spend so much time with them, what's the difference with spending every waking moment with them? it'll be just like getting married (or well- that's how they think it's like)

it really just depends on how much you give them. but overall, they don't find it necessary for the PC to love them romantically. It will hurt them a little, but they'll continue to be the PC's friend. and by nature, will probably fall in love with someone else over time

that was a lot of text but to summarise, Otori is a 3 on that scale!

How delusional is Otori?

this was a bit of a tricky one. but in some way, Otori has a sense of logic

a weird sense of logic but a sense of logic nonetheless

They're fully aware that the things that they do aren't normal... if they do it to the extremes of course

the reason why I say this, it's because they have some level of delusion that they justify their considerably worrying habits (i.e. manipulation, stalking tendencies, obsession, co-dependency, ect.)

because through their perspective, it's only okay if there's a limit

for example, Otori views following someone home or putting a tracker on them as a big no-no. but when you coincidentally go to the same place, for them, it's completely fine if you follow that person around for a just a bit

making Otori's delusion scale a number 2!

How would Otori react to the PC doing something they don't like?

Otori would probably get slightly annoyed by it and act slightly passive aggressive towards the PC

They won't hold it against you, but they CAN get slightly annoyed at particular things. if there was a good reason as to why you did/acted that way, they'd brush it off their annoyance and understand

with situations like these, they probably wouldn't bother pushing you to act a different way or to stop you from doing particular things they didn't like. as long as there's an explanation behind it, they're completely fine with it

overall, they wouldn't mind it that much afterwards. leaving Otori to have a 2 on this scale!

How much does Otori hide their Yandere tendancies?

Being aware about their behaviours to some degree, they feel like even though in their eyes it's considered fine, Otori would still try to keep it under wraps as much as possible, not wanting to scare you away immediately

even if you question it, they would either have an alibi for it or completely deny it. even if you have proof they do it, they would just respond with—"Huh... I didn't know I do that, Sorry, cinnamon..." and they would start hiding it even further so you won't notice

like earlier, this also depends on how much time you spend with them!

if you spend all your time or little to no time with Otori, it's more likely they'd slip and start acting more possessive or obsessive unintentionally

I would say Otori's a 1 on here considering they keep it well covered throughout the first day, but this could change if I ever progress the story or change it so it happens slowly throughout the day

How does Otori deal with jealousy?

I've been mentioning it throughout this ask that they're reactions vary depending how much time you spend with them, so I might as well get into detail with how Otori reacts when you give your attention to someone else :D

I said they'd get desperate for your attention and affection if you ignore them, but this isn't for every time you focus on something else-

Otori is completely fine with you focusing on something or someone else, as long as you don't fully ignore or avoid them

the less time you spend with them, more likely they will slowly spiral, feeling like they're being ignored because they did something wrong or they're not good enough, asking from time to time if you want to hang out with them

they won't care that you're paying more attention to something/someone else, they just don't want to be ignore basically-

I was about to say Otori's jealously level is a 3, but I don't see Otori seething all that much either (well at least at the start of the story-)

so for now I'll say Otori is a 2. though, I don't think they'll just accept being lead on

How impulsive is Otori once it comes to their obsessive urges?

Otori only sticks to what seems logical to them; this can vary over time though

in other words, Otori WILL play it safe, but can change their mind depending what they deem is "playing it safe"

and by that I mean they view following you around for only a short time, manipulating others to do things they want, stealing things from you (if the two of you are close), ect.

but if anything drastic happens, they might think of excuses as to why it's okay to do something that shouldn't be excused (i.e. stalking, kidnapping, drugging, manipulating others, ect.)

That being said, Otori is a 3 on this scale!

this took longer to type out than I anticipated BUT Otori's code turns out to be 4322123 :D

[akkivee]

decided for my hypmic 7th anniversary post to list my fav song in each album, thinking it’d be easy enough, but i’m already stuck on the first mtr album what have i done to myself