#i am really hungry i am so hungry i had no energy to draw someones ask

[shittyv1daily]

day 143: im hungry as fuck right now

[willowser]

aww, you agree to stay home with your son until he becomes old enough to go to school, but as the summer ends and time draws near for registration, katsuki starts backtracking.

your son has a quirk. it's not so fancy as his father's, but it's more exciting than what you have, and even though he's big into katsuki's heroism, he hasn't shown any more interest in becoming a hero himself than any other boy his age.

at first you think it's katsuki getting nervous about putting him in public school, but he still doesn't seem sold on any of the private teachers you find. you want to go back to work, and it's not that he's telling you no—but there's just this edginess to him, whenever you push the conversation.

"still small," katsuki defends, murming into your hair as you're laying in bed. "another year 'n he'll be a lil' bigger."

it's true—your son is a little on the small side, but he has all the energy and determination of a kid twice his size. it's never stopped him before, nor has it ever had katsuki pulling him off the playground in the past; you're not sure why it matters, now.

"you said that last year."

"yeah, but he didn't grow that much."

"i don't think there's a height restriction for learning, honey."

katsuki sighs, and you can feel the frown pulling his mouth down. it's rare that he ever tip-toes around what he wants to say these days, more common when you first began dating, but he's always been vocal when it comes to your son. always wanted what was best for him, and didn't hesitate to ask for it.

you shift, scooting your head up his arm so you can look at him. "what're you really thinking?"

he doesn't look back at you, but instead keeps his eyes on the wall across from your bed. you can't exactly see the depth in them this way, but something about the tension lining his body tells you he's thinking, hard, about something other than your son.

"kids are assholes."

you laugh, because it's not what you were expecting and because you don't like whatever this is that's bothering him. you want it to go away. "yeah, i know. our kid is an asshole sometimes."

"well, i don't want someone being an asshole to our kid."

your stomach drops at the very idea of someone being mean to your son, not appreciating him the way he should be. what if he gets hungry and they don't let him eat? what if he has to go to the bathroom but he doesn't know where it is?

if you think about this for any longer, you'll burst into tears, and that will only further katsuki's case.

"kids just..." he shakes his head and glances towards the door of your bedroom, down the hall to where your son is sleeping. "say all kinda' shit. hateful shit."

you hug him a little tighter, because you know how much he hates feeling powerless—and that’s exactly how you feel, when it comes to this topic, but if you focused only on the negatives, you wouldn't ever let your son out of sight.

"he'll make friends, though, like you did." your words only make his frown deeper. "and he wants to learn, he is so curious about everything. i think he's ready, honey."

—but katsuki only grits his jaw, the muscle in his cheek jumping as he looks away from you and towards the window.

"well, i dunno if i am."

[guiltyasdave]

jana hi me again 🫣 could i have the prompt 28 "No one ever cared about me like you."

with either javi p or joel 🫠❤️🤎

take my hand, wreck my plans

pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

word count: 557

summary: Javi seeks out your company after a rough day.

tags/warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, alcohol consumption, mention of food, able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, idiots in love because of who i am as a person (let me know if i missed something!)

a/n: i have once again been possessed by angsty thoughts and somehow, this came out of it. i hope you like this eden @reddedmiller and i’m sorry that it took three months lol. thank you @catchallfangirl for beta reading 🫶🏻

dividers by @saradika-graphics as always because they’re the best <3

find my full masterlist here & follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates :)

He knocks on your door at 2 in the morning, all but collapses into your arms as soon as you swing it open, tired eyes and heavy limbs that melt into your embrace.

Your colleagues had warned you when he started coming over to your desk, inviting you out for lunch, about how he would chew you up and spit you out, like he did with half of the female staff at the embassy. You hadn’t listened, waving them off and going out with him anyway. First for a quick lunch break, then for after work drinks, then for dinner.

It was fun, a distraction, something to do and someone to know in this city where everything was foreign to you and where you felt more alone than ever before in your life.

It’s more, now. It doesn’t have a definition exactly, but you both know it. You’re the person he turns to when he needs somebody, and you’ll gladly be that for him.

“Do you have something to drink?” His face is sullen as he slumps down on your couch, like the weight of the world crushed him today. You furrow your brow.

“When was the last time you ate something, Javi?”

“‘M not hungry,” he grumbles, confirming your suspicion that he most likely survived the day solely on cigarettes and coffee.

You lean over the couch, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders from behind. His head falls back against you like he can’t help himself.

“I’m gonna make you a sandwich and get you some whiskey, okay?” Inching closer, you press a gentle kiss against his neck, just below his ear.

He sits up a little straighter and turns to you, reluctance in his eyes.

“Querida, it’s the middle of the night, you don’t have to-”

You shake your head and kiss him again, on his cheek this time. “It’s okay. I want to.”

He leans back hesitantly but doesn’t seem to have the energy to fight you on it, so your lips find his face once more before you head for the kitchen.

Watching him all but devour the food has you hiding your smile behind your own glass of whiskey. He already looks a little better.

“Not hungry, huh?” you tease, your voice light.

“Shut up,” comes his short reply, but his lips are twitching.

He has half a mind to stumble out of your flat again afterwards, but you convince him to stay, that it’s really no problem.

He takes a quick shower, mumbling about washing the day away, and you wait in bed, the warm light from your bedside lamp illuminating the room, until he slips under the covers beside you.

You wrap your arms around him again and hold him close, your fingers drawing shapes on his chest. He clears his throat, shifting awkwardly.

“Thank you,” he eventually mumbles, his voice low in the darkness.

“Of course, Javi.” He tends to get like that, struggling to receive any kind of affection or care when he feels like he has nothing to give back.

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “No, seriously. No one ever cared about me like you. I- thank you.”

You sigh and pull him tighter into you, your face buried in his hair. You’ll care for him as long as he lets you.

thank you so much for reading! if you liked this, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment because they make me really happy 🤍

[doodling-doodle]

An Ice Touch (CH.1)

Kyle Price. The son of famous sailors, making a name for himself in the art world. He was happy. Mostly.

For his whole life, he watched his fathers in love. So deeply in love. And he wanted it for himself. Where was his lover?

He only now, at eighteen, wanted it more than anything.

He didn’t know what to do.

So, of course, that meant he kept quiet.

And he would keep being quiet.

—

When he was ten years old, he knew he wanted what his fathers had together. A beautiful, near life-long relationship. And he didn’t have it. He didn’t know how or why, but he just… never tried to make a move. On anyone. He figured that his dad had enough to worry about while he was off on his sailing trips. Why add another person to worry about coming home to?

He remembered sitting in his bedroom, at his desk, feeling alone. His father was on a trip, his pops was asleep. The only other people he had been around were Aunt Kate and Aunt Ava, in their own house, half a mile away. The only other house outside of the village.

He didn’t remember how he ended up with his pops holding him tight, his desk frozen, things in his room floating, him crying in his pops chest.

“It’s alright, little one.” His pops whispered to him, “everything is okay. Dad’s safe. Your okay.”

He didn’t remember what he said, just, “don’t tell dad.”

And he never did.

He remembered being sixteen. When he finally had a new friend. His father came back from a sailing trip with someone from another island. 

“This is Johnny.” His father said when he brought him to their house, “He’s going to stay with us for a while until he’s eighteen and finds a home in the village.”

He and Johnny, who later asked to be called Soap, became really close in that time. And he finally started feeling a lot better. It took about two years for Soap to move out, though they kept in touch with letters.

He was eighteen now. An adult. He was still talking with Soap, he started to get fame, he was… happy. Happier, at least.

“Morning, little one.” his father said as he got to the kitchen, seeing him at the counter, turning a small glass of water to ice.

“Hey, dad.”

“You hungry?”

He nodded softly, and his father smiled, “What would you like?”.

“Pancakes?” He said, looking up from the glass, at his father standing above him.

His father nodded, “of course.” He looked down, “I don’t understand why you did this. It just drains your energy.”

He shrugged, pushing his braided hair behind his shoulder, “its calming and entertaining.”

“Its draining.”

“Not on such a small thing. If I were to freeze the sea, it would be.”

He heard a soft chuckle, “Oh, Kyle, what am I gonna do with you, mate?”

“Probably be a little confused because I’m not big on sailing and fishing.”

“Nope, we all love your paintings and how creative you are. Such a smart boy, you are.”

He smiled slightly, pulling his hand away from the glass.

“Your a precious little thing.” His father said, giving him a plate of pancakes, gently cradling his face.

“I agree.” His pops said as he walked in, kissing his forehead, “perfect little boy.”

He smiled a little, “You remind me every day.” He said as he started eating.

“Becuase its true.” his father said.

He smiled, “Thank you.” He whispered.

 He eventually finished eating, and he went back to his room to get his drawing stuff and head out to sketch the ocean.

“Be back for lunch!” His father called out before he left.

“I will be!” He ran out the door, out to his favorite spot to draw. An old tree, branches over the ocean.

It was so relaxing. Just to be off the ground, having a beautiful view of the ocean and mountains and sky. He had always came out here for the whole time he’d been drawing. He had painting supplies in his room at the Lighthouse, but this was the perfect place to just… draw and relax.

He sighed as he walked over on the cliff, looking down at the water below before climbing up the tree, like he had many times before, to take out his sketch book.

He smiled as he sat on the same branch he had many times… 

… And it cracked. 

He started to get off, but, it snapped before he could, sending him down to the ocean screaming.

He fell flat on his back in the water, and he was far below the surface.

He felt something wrap around his waist, then his arms and legs, as he was pulled back to the surface and shore.

He took deep breaths as he was brought above the water, and he realized what it was... 

A Kraken. 

He screamed, curling in on himself. He was scared, his fathers told him about krakens being deadly…

But this one saved him?

"Don't worry... I won't harm you." The Kraken said.

"You... you won't?"

"No. We're not dangerous. Only if we need to be."

Kyle looked at him, seeing that... he was nothing like his father's described. He looked... soft. Gentle.

He nodded.

"What's your name?" The Kraken asked, kneeling down and pulling him up.

"Kyle... you?"

“Alex.”

He sighed, holding onto the deep blue tentacles, "thank you... for saving me..."

He smiled, "no need to thank me."

He smiled back, and heard his pops calling for him

"Kyle! Where are you?"

He stood, "coming!"

Alex let go of him, smiling, and turning. 

"Alex!"

He turned back.

"Will I... see you again?"

He smiled, "I'm sure."

He smiled, nodding, "I'll see you around, then." He ran up the hill, seeing his father run his hand through his hair, mildly panicking.

"Kyle! There you are!" He said, running up to him, "the tree- did you fall? Your soaked- are you hurt?"

He shook his head, "I fell... I'm okay..."

"Come, let's get you home, changed and warm." He said, gently pulling him along, "did you hit your head? Your powers?"

"I'm okay, pops, really."

He sighed, kissing his forehead, "Okay. Dad's still going to check you out, though, okay?"

"I'm not a child... I'm 18."

"You'll always be our little baby boy."

They walked back to the light house, and Kyle looked out to the ocean, hoping to see the Kraken again.

“John!”

He looked over, and panicked, running up to him.

“What happened, son?”

“The tree snapped… I fell.”

“Go get changed, I’ll get a fire going.”

He nodded, going off to his room. He felt fine, just a little sore. More then anything, wanting to see that kraken again. He quickly changed, seeing a small bruise on his arm. He sighed, getting a long sleeved shirt on with a different pair of trousers and went back out to the living room, sitting on the couch with a plate of food.

“Are you okay, little one?” His father asked, sitting next to him.

“I’m fine. Shaken, is all.”

He wasn’t bleeding, at least.

“And your powers?”

He looked at the side table, making a small glass of water float, bringing it towards himself to freeze it, which he did.

“Okay… that’s good.” He gently kissed his temple, feeling his braid be taken out and undone,, “eat and rest, okay?”

He nodded, looking down at his half empty plate, sighing, eating what he had left before putting it off to the side and laying down on the couch. He wasn’t sleepy. At all. But he’d fake it for them. They were worried.

His pops sighed, laying a blanket over him, thinking he was asleep. “There’s a storm on the way.” He whispered to his father.

Fuck. That wasn’t good. They had to prepare for that storm. The old Lighthouse might not be able to handle it. They worried that a strong gust of wind would knock it over. They needed to fix it before the storm.

“Let’s get to the village. We need to get supplies.” His father said, standing.

“But… Kyle…”

“He’s… Leave a note for when he wakes up. He’s eighteen, we have to… stop hovering so much.”

Well. That was a first. He had turned eighteen ten months ago. They, understandably, were still getting used to him being an adult and older. But, they’d been getting better.

He heard the door close, and he got up, sighing.

He wanted to warn Alex. That would give him an excuse to see him again, at least.

---

@lvndr-swtr

[epicmiscellaneousponderings]

Miscellaneous Media Moment

Alright so I'm watching the anime The Way of the Househusband on Netflix and writing my thoughts as I watch. This might be a tad unhinged, but here we go. As always if you liked this content feel free to be me a coffee. Also, yes, I do know that there a multiple episodes in each episode but I'm going to number them by how they're contained and labeled through Netflix as that's how I'm watching it :)

Episode 5

A job outside of the house in a cafe interesting, beans =bullets, the latte art of a cat, aww doing it for extra cash to get his wife a present

He's so loud, Again the food in this series really does deserve its own analysis post, overtime is exhausting,

Boss lady of the torii group in a grocery,

this is going to be a disaster of a birthday lol, wow happy birthday song as a dirge, shades and bling

the old boss has a dog, he sewed a sweater for the dog! nice tie in to previous episode, the impromptu cooking is wild,

The cat adventure with the grocery lady

Episode 6

he was totally going to roast that lady's "72 hour" cured sausage, he's taking this show so seriously, man loves his wife so much

the excitement over the steam oven, white powder=flour again nice call back, well that's one way to beat the dough, oven down!, keep warm on the rice cooker is innovative

fire next door, talk about needing proper air ventilation. the cops probably wanted some food, oh its rare eh

I admit nothing, oh nice flowers, oh its not that much and then proceeds to unwrap a dessert feast, rain as a mood killer, they're such a good couple

why would you try hitting a watermelon blindfolded?, the volleyball smacking into them, I love how Miku can be high energy as well, a real man is willing to get wracked protecting his loving wife, her carrying him

teacher au?? what am i watching?, apron art, the intensity in this scene

Episode 7

tapioca milk tea, getting the intel from the streets, the scary smiles keeping the customers away XD

Adding to the arsenal of the blond guy

The waking up to the husband in the middle of the night is seriously ominous, well that was an interesting take on the classic peach boy story, and then they had a group hug,

The hit list of summer assignments, a pen holder, colorful soap, school is tomorrow, the report to the teacher is so good

Tatsu you're so dramatic ( this is true, he a very dramatic king), oh the housespouse meet up, family gopher, the differing interpretations of what he's describing, is that really what Miku is rally like?, listening in one the one side of the conversation, the support from the housewives is so good

Oh, cat adventure of fair fighting with the other cat

Episode 8

urg the rap battle, so unnecessary, the explanation of what a rap battle is, the punch of silence, well ok

take it easy (yeah no, this guy has no chill), febreze the sheets, instant noodles as a vice lol, Masa helping him take it easy but as a horror show, Tatsu kicking him as a flight or fight moment

Wanting second place instead of first for the rice, and Miku wants the vacation, what a bribe, the kid wins of course

buffet battlefield, welp I'm hungry now, fruit with cream cheese is a delicious combo, aww the splitting of a desert

Oh, the dad wants to do the hotpot, Dad and Miku cooking like each other, Miku being a wild child (this explains so much), aww the dad saying she has someone else to protect her now and then Tatsu saying he has the dad's back, the mom being the true master is perfect

Masa wanting make his boss proud through the way of the househusband, tomorrow though

Episode 9

Virus depicted as a group of punks, trying to head off a cold through early preventive measures is such a mood, Miku being the light aww, the light with grenades lol

new threads, Masa is so not subtle, the brown powder as opposed to the white powder, and Masa has officially broken, Pine Dew huh, Tatsu sleeping with eyes open, the utter chaos and Masa being the sober one, the next day drawing of them is adorable

Will I need to use my dagger? no a normal knife will do, the intense music x_x,

The power couple helping the newlyweds

winged pup from the sky, you can't run from boss fights!, the magic girl transformation, the deconstruction of the outfit, Its all a dream and the meeting next week is perfect

Oh no cat adventure this episode

Episode 10

The fact that Miku has such high energy, the toys r us tribute

Sending dog pics to his boss, the bonding over the dogs, the random kidnapping, but its to a dog park

The cafe hurts the guys eyes, too much sweet things, lemon and honey chicken sounds good, the flashbacks paired with the wistful music is a nice choice, I don't remember there being a wasp

ok extreme dental care, um yeah that's not a good way to get a kid to the dentist, gotta face the music

counting to try and get to sleep, calming sounds turning to dark past is hilarious, also him without glasses is rather adorable, accidentally made a whole meal (he's got adhd a bit doesn't he), the cat being awake

the cat adventure with crow/raven

End of Season One!

Alright well thanks for coming to this Miscellaneous Media Moment where I do unhinged and most likely nonsensical rambling of what I watched is a thing. I will most likely continue at some point, so stay tuned and please let me know if this is a format that you liked. Along with any comments on the show that you have.

[idiasdiscordkitten]

Hello again >:) Ok so prompt for Vampire! Trey, Leona, Floyd, Jamil, Malleus. Can be spicy if you feel like it ;) So, Reader doesn't know that the other person is a vampire and cut themselves pretty deep, thus bleeding. The twst character, being the only other person there, have to bandage their wound and help them. Are they comfortable? Stressed? Hungry? Horny? Up to you~

now this right here is the kind of content i live for. i love stuff like this! i'm going to do my best :) thank you for the request!

i think i am going to keep this mostly non-spicy, just because it wouldn't apply to most of them

you guys i love writing the boys as supernatural creatures

trey, leona, floyd, jamil, and malleus as vampires tending to an oblivious, bleeding prefect

Trey Clover

❤️ trey is a little uncomfortable with the fact that you’re bleeding, since it’s not like he has fresh blood all that often, but his priority is making sure you’re alright.  his teeth ache, but he’s able to put those desires aside to tend to your wound

❤️ he cares a lot about what you think of him.  he doesn’t want anyone to view him as someone (or something) to be afraid of, so he does his best to appear as “normal” as possible

❤️ you notice that he’s a little shaky, but when he tells you he’s just a little squeamish, he’s very convincing, and you don’t suspect a thing

❤️ after he makes sure you’re going to heal up just fine and you’re back at the dorm, he goes back to his own room to cool off.  he wasn’t about to lose it, or anything, but he certainly feels dehydrated.  moreso than usual

Leona Kingscholar

💛 his instincts immediately kick in, telling him to completely devour you, but he fights back so that he doesn’t draw suspicion.  if anyone finds out he’s a vampire, it’ll just bring more attention to him, and he’d really prefer to be left alone

💛 leona figures that you’re too stupid to patch yourself up, so he grits his teeth and carefully bandages you up

💛 once he’s closer to you, the scent really hits him and he starts to zone out a little, just holding on to you for a second and staring.  when he hears his own name, he snaps out of it.  his excuse is that annoying herbivores like you are preventing him from taking a nap, so he’s extra tired (not that that’s a lie or anything)

💛 after you’re all fixed up, he orders you to go home.  if you’re *that* injured, he’ll ask ruggie or jack to escort you.  he needs some time alone to drink something, anything, to get your scent off his mind.  it was just too good

Floyd Leech

💜 you may not know that floyd’s a vampire, but you do know he’s dangerous.  if there’s anyone you don’t really want to be injured in front of, it’s him.  and with good reason, too

💜 he glances at your cut and laughs a little, smiling.  he wants a taste really, really bad, and he’s honestly a little turned on by your scent, too.  he absolutely wants to take you

💜 when he grabs you, he takes a closer look and contemplates whether or not he should actually bite you.  would it really be all that interesting?  or is the punishment for such an action too lame, too much of a turnoff

💜 “aw, i didn’t know little shrimpies could bleed like that,” he says.  he decides that eating you now would be too easy, and right now, you’re not really worth the trouble.  he fixes you up and lets you go, but even though he does a good job bandaging you up, he makes sure to make it “messy” at first so he can get a sample of your blood for later

Jamil Viper

🧡 jamil has phenomenal control, since he’s had to take care of kalim his whole life, but it takes a lot of energy to maintain that composure.  your blood smells so good to him, so unique, that he almost breaks character for a second

🧡 he fixes you up really quickly.  you don’t think anything of it, since he’s basically a professional malewife, and he’s grateful that he’s got plenty of experience with situations like these

🧡 but god, is he hungry

🧡 all he wants to do is use his teeth.  that’s all.  it’s frustrating to him that he has these fangs and he can’t even use them...  maybe someday

Malleus Draconia

💚 he knows you’re bleeding before you do.  he could tell that your blood smelled good even when it was trapped beneath your skin, but now that it’s free?  my, what a special child of man you are

💚 malleus knows that everyone is terrified of him, though.  the thought of you being scared of him, too, is just too painful.  he’s old enough to be able to restrain himself without issue, so he makes sure to be as gentle and warm as possible while he tends to your injury

💚 he knows his skin is cold, so he tries not to let his touch linger for too long.  you two have never made skin-to-skin contact before, and he laments that it’s under these circumstances.  he hopes you don’t suspect anything

💚 your kindness proves you would never hold judgment towards something like that, and he’s relieved that you didn’t seem to realize anything.  after you leave, he realizes his own tongue is bleeding.  has he really been pushing his fangs into it this whole time without noticing?  it’s time to feed, then

[sunfish-studies]

Celebration

✄・・・ Feathery Ink [Karasuno Manager Series]

➜ Pairing: Karasuno x Manager! Reader

➜ Warning: none

➜ Notes: This is a separate series from Crisp Leaves. Similar to Crisp Leaves, manager in this story will be portrayed as a girl. She will be tall. This is just my appreciation towards tall girls, you guys are amazing.

Previous:  ‹ Cogs › | Next:  ‹ Let The Games Begin! ›

↷ SUMMARY ↶

Last day of training calls for celebration for everyone’s hard work, so it’s barbeque time!

“All right, meat!”

“I’m starving!”

While the boys freshened up after practice matches, the managers were already on the move to prepare for the barbeque. Since there were quite a lot of people, the coaches decided to held it on the backyard of the gym, where the sharp hill stood just beside it. The coaches helped setting up the grills while the managers divided to cater different things.

Yachi decided she would get the utensils they needed; paper plates, chopsticks, paper cups, trays for rice balls, and other things. Shimizu would cover for the rice ball making, Yukie and Eri were in charge on cutting the vegetables in bite-size, Kaori and Mako would clean the vegetables before it was cut.

Meanwhile, you’re in charge of preparing the condiments and sauces, unwrapping the meat cuts, and arranged them on a bigger plate. Aside from that you had to make sure the meats searing on the grills weren’t charred.

“[Name]-chan, please replace me for cutting the onions,” Eri sobbed, reaching out to you with grabby hands.

“Alright, senpai,” you giggled in reply because Eri was clearly needing a break and watching the meats seared was a great break for her. Quickly, you stood on her place and started slicing the tear-induced-menaces after washing your hands.

It didn’t take long for you to suffer the same fate as the Ubugawa’s manager–the first seven slices went through without a hitch, but when you reached the tenth your eyes started to sting and blurry from the pain. Then tears began trailing down your cheeks, and you wiped it you’re your shirt sleeve.

“D-Don’t cry, [Name]-san!!” you looked up, seeing Hinata with his place face quivering on his feet. “W-what should I do!?”

“It’s fine, Shoyo-kun, it’s just the onions,” you sniffled pointed towards the bowl full of it. “It hurts my eyes.”

“I can take your place, Otohaku-chan!” Lev popped up beside Hinata.

“Instead of cutting the onions, you’ll chop your fingers off,” Yaku deadpanned before offering. “Here, let me do it.”

“No, it’s alright, Yaku-san,” you shook your head. “It’s time for you to have a break, not working.”

Being persistent sometimes has it’s perks, it took numbers of rejection to finally have Yaku gave up. You knew he was just trying to help, but you didn’t want to rob his time relaxing. When all the preparations were done, the boys were already surrounding the grills with hungry faces. Coach Nekomata gave them a light speech along with praises for their hard work over the week, and they dived to grab on the meat straight from the grill.

“THANKS FOR THE FOOD!”

Just like Kaori, you brought a plate of rice balls to offer and managed to witnessed Yukie’s enormous appetite. She practically inhaled four rice balls in one go and you’re not the only who was dumbfounded from it.

.

.

Konoha and Komi almost had their souls went to heaven from the frightening circle Nishinoya, Tanaka, and Taketora made. Well, they did elbow each other to encourage one another getting close or at least having a talk with Shimizu. The girl walked pass them holding a paper plate with food–looking extremely gorgeous and she didn’t even try.

“That was scary,” Konoha muttered underneath his breath. The three finally stopped because of Karasuno and Nekoma’s captain scolded them–the three immediately shrunk.

“They really had their guard up, huh,” Komi added, feeling his energy drained from such a scary encounter.

“Uhm, excuse me,” the two turned to look over their shoulder and that’s when they noticed–Karasuno’s other first year manager who’s Bokuto constantly talking about. The owl captain wouldn’t shut up about her much to their annoyance and now they knew why.

“Would you like some rice ball?”

“Sure,” Konoha replied dumbly.

“I’ll take two,” Komi followed with a daze. You placed one on Konoha’s empty paper plate and two for Komi upon his request. Smiling at them, you proceeded to excuse yourself so you could offer to someone else.

Following your figure dazedly, they noticed how the light shone even brighter and basked you in a beautiful glow. That’s when they thought of a conclusion.

A goddess just graces us mere mortals! They screamed in their head.

.

.

You tried to calm Yachi down from her traumatizing experience being surrounded by absurdly tall boys (“Titans, [Name]-chan! Titans!”). Thankfully, all of them were nice enough to made room so your friend could reach for some meat. Yachi almost cried in happiness from the real taste of meat.

From the sidelines, Shimizu and the other managers were watching the two of you while talking about the boys sometimes.

“How much are you going to eat?” Kaori questioned because Yukie was having a ridiculous amount of food towering on her plate and she just kept munching away without care.

“The third-years in Karasuno all seems pretty mature,” Mako commented.

“Our ace is weak-willed, though,” Shimizu smiled sheepishly.

“What? Really?” Eri replied in surprise. “Even though he looks that scary?”

“Though, I think that’s still better than our simpleton ace,” Kaori commented. “Still,”

Their eyes were directed towards where the said simpleton ace was standing and placing meat until it towered on your empty plate.

“Eat more, [Name]-chan! Or you won’t get even taller!” he stated.

“And eat more vegetables!” Kuroo added, placing cabbages and carrots to your plate, adding even more food.

“Have some rice balls, too.” Somehow, even Akaashi participated in this whole fiasco and put a rice ball onto your plate. Now, there’s a ridiculous amount of food on your plate.

“…I can’t eat this much,” you commented, staring at the food filling your plate.

“Nonsense, I don’t see you eat anything even when the others are,” Akaashi stated. “You’re too busy handling other things nonstop.”

“Have a break will you,” Kuroo patted your back. “Everyone’s having fun and you should too.”

“Have more meat, [Name]-san!” Hinata said.

“You can have my share, Otohaku-chan!” Lev followed and you immediately shook your head.

“At least he and Akaashi took care of our baby manager well,” Kaori sighed in relief.

“[Name]-chan is close with Fukurodani’s captain and setter, huh? Even Nekoma’s captain,” Mako giggled. “She’s drawing everyone in.”

“Well, it’s rare for a first-year to be as tall as her,” Eri grinned. “The boys are especially poles so it’s probably great not to strain their neck once in a while from looking down.”

“Karasuno’s pretty lucky to have her, huh?” Yukie said after swallowing her food.

“Yeah, we are,” Shimizu smiled.

.

.

“Did you have fun?” Sawamura asked you when you’re helping other managers to clean up the remaining plates left behind on the table along with other scraps littering around. He picked up a few paper cups and placed it into the trash bin.

“Definitely,” you answered without hesitation. “Everyone’s so nice, it’s probably the most fun I’ve had.”

“Thank goodness, then,” he gave you a smile.

“I’m really glad I joined the volleyball club,” you commented, grinning.

“And we glad to have you here,” the captain chuckled and replied.

Everything was over by the time the sun started to sink into the horizon–time truly flew by when you enjoyed it. Since Miyagi was quite a distance from Saitama, they needed to depart first or they would be back extremely late at night. Yukie and Eri were fake-crying and joking about refusing to let you go–in the end, you’re all exchanging numbers so you could keep in touch.

“Did you have fun, Otohaku-san?”

“Coincidentally, you asked the same question as my captain, Akaashi-san.” The Fukurodani setter, like before, helping you on carrying the extra luggage in hand although you did tell him it’s only until you reached the stairs. “And to answer, I am. These one week of training camp is fun. Somehow, I don’t want this to be over.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll meet again,” Akaashi replied. “At the Spring Interhigh.”

“I’m sure we will, Akaashi-san.” you smiled. “And thank you for helping me with luggage.”

“[Name]-chan!!” Bokuto bounded over with a grin plastered on his face. “We’ll be waiting at the nationals!”

“Karasuno, Bokuto-san. Otohaku-san doesn’t play volleyball.” Akaashi deadpanned.

“Just agree with me once, Akaashi!”

“Well, whatever he said,” Kuroo piped up, approaching the three of you. “Made sure your team go to the nationals so we could meet again and make the battle came true.”

“I’ll do my best, Kuroo-san.” Then Kuroo reached out to ruffle your hair, it’s been a while since he did that and you weren’t even going to lie about enjoying it. The cat captain was similar to an older brother now.

“Off you go then, [Name],” he removed his hand from your head. “And don’t miss me.”

“How could I when I have your phone number, Kuroo-san?” you snickered. “You’re probably going to bombard me with chemistry puns at 10pm.”

“Then, I’m gonna call you every day so you won’t have to deal with Kuroo!” Bokuto declared before laughing victoriously.

“Please block his number immediately, Otohaku-san,” Akaashi stated. “Or you won’t be getting any sleep. His talking is endless.”

“Why, Akaashi!?” the said boy whined.

“Aside from that, be careful on your way home,” Akaashi decided to ignore the captain and gave you a small smile.

You returned his smile. “Will do, Akaashi-san.”

With that, the whole week of summer training camps has come to an end. The whole team watched you guys drove away into the other way back to Miyagi.

.

.

“You have a match tomorrow, don’t you?” former Coach Ukai questioned, brows creased from the insistence of your combi. “That’s probably enough, then!”

“One more! Just one more!” Hinata pleaded.

“We’ll finish after this one!” Kageyama added.

Two days of practicing to prepare for the preliminaries, just a day before the match Sawamura dismissed them early to get some rest. Since it would be impossible to use the gym unless getting an earful from him, Kageyama and Hinata needed to look for another place. Former Coach Ukai lent them the court only for a bit, just until the others who wants to practice comes.

And you were there to hold a leash if they’re being stubborn or something.

“This is the last, alright?” you scolded the two. “We shouldn’t bother the others who wants to practice here. And you should rest before the match.”

Thankfully the older man letting them had the court just one more time and you couldn’t help but feeling grateful of it. You sighed before turning to face former Coach Ukai and bowed down. “On their behalf, I apologize.”

“It’s fine.” Former Coach Ukai dismissed it. “Their eagerness is a great thing, but even eagerness isn’t going to magically give them energy. It would be bad if they burnt out even before the game started.”

“[Name]-san! Can you throw us the ball?” Hinata called out.

In the end, the two managed to successfully killed the quick–and sure enough, it also impressed former Coach Ukai which added more reassurance that your team would be more than okay to face the entire preliminaries and became champions.

[ren-therose]

Mornings Like These

Dad!Peter Parker X Mom!Reader

Summary: Peter and you are parents, raising your kids out of your home and the rebuilt Avengers Headquarters. Needless to say, your kids came with some...unique quirks.

WC: 1.3k words

Warning: Minor FATWS spoiler, Mentions sex, but mostly just cute kids and fluffy parent content

A/N: So, I am a nanny, if you can't tell by my depth of detail. The family I currently am working for has a baby and a elementary kid, and they are both SUPER CRAZY. So much energy, so much love, and a little mischief. The baby is crazy strong and a busy bee, while the brother is non-stop moving. I love my kids so much, and they were my inspiration for this.

Big, chocolate eyes were looking up as you, while you wiggle your fingers. Two small hands reached out to your index fingers, gripping on tightly as you smiled down at the baby laying below you. He was wearing a red Spider-man onesie, no doubt one of many your team had gifted you. You probably had at least 12 Spider-man related onesies, but you didn't mind. Benji held quite a resemblance to his father. His hair was a little lighter, but his curls were quite prominent on the back of his head. His eyes, so big and warm, reminded you so much of your husbands, the way his lashes would flutter when he sleeps.

But the thing that he really resembled was how strong this baby was. A lot of people don't realize how strong babies are, ultimately underestimating them. You were right not underestimate his strength, except he is no ordinary baby. As he laid on his changing table, gripping your finger, the two of you faced off before the daily struggle you would both face.

It started with poking him all over, getting him to relax. He loved it when you played with his feet, nibbling all over his toes and up to his chucky thighs. You would blow on his tummy, making him laugh and grab your hair. When you were loose from his grip, you would then carefully unsnap his onesie, trying to be discreet with your actual intention. He continued to wiggle his way out, which ultimately helped in your favor. Now was the difficult, free of his restraints, he started rolling around, not unlike an alligator, as he attempted to make his escape. When you turned to grab a new diaper, he made his move, practically launching himself off the table. Quick reflexes wasn't your superpower, in fact, you didn't even have one. Your dad thought it was funny calling himself a mechanic, but you soon inherited his title. But when you became a parent, some type of spider-sense developed in you too, and you became even more inept with catching babies and hurtling objects.

Speaking of spidey-senses, Peter suddenly appeared in the doorway, his own brown curls slightly matted to his face, as though he had just been running.

"Did you catch him?" he panted, looking frantically for the baby. You turned around, revealing that the baby was holding onto your arm like a sloth. He was smiling like he had just succeeded in a heist, which in a way, he did- he stole our hearts (cheesy but true). Peter laughed as he walked over to the dangling baby, grabbing him and the diaper from your hands. "I am so sorry, I was trying to get the spider monkey off the walls and ready for daycare." He glanced back at you to see your response. You quirked your brow up, leaning your head to the side. "Dressed?"

Peter turned back to Benji, pulling his onesie back on the happy baby and holding him out to you. "No, but I got this one changed!"

You groaned, wishing that Peter wouldn't always be so sweet on the kids, but you knew that even you weren't immune from their love and charm.

"Toni! Get your butt in here NOW!" You yelled, marching down the hall to the other room. As you were walking, you felt someone drop behind you. Turning around, you saw your oldest smiling at you with a toothless grin. "Hi mommy."

"Girl, if you don't get into your clothes now, we are going to have a problem," you say cooly, ruffling your daughters hair as she ran past into her room.

"Daddy said that I could go with him to the tech lab today!" Toni beamed, but the look you had on your face was not one of excitement. Turning around, you caught Peter trying to sneak by you with the baby, but you had already caught up to him.

"What did you tell Toni about going to the tech lab?" you hissed. Peter jokingly covered the babies ears, whispering back "I couldn't think of anything else! She wouldn't get down."

You scooped Benji from his arms, strumming your finger back and forth across his tummy, eliciting a laugh from the baby. Kissing his chubby cheeks, you sighed as you used your other hand to pull Peter in by the collar of his shirt.

"You are gonna fix this problem, because I checked our schedule and we will have about an hour of free time at work, but if you take her to the tech lab, she won't leave us alone," you defended, leaning into his lips. His hand met your back as he kissed you with a little more force than usual. Times of passion and heated kisses grew slim, but were a special task when given the chance.

"Fine. But only because office sex sounds great," he grumbles against your ear, before smacking your ass and walking away. You yelp as you turn watch him enter Toni's room, hearing her squeal as he picks her up and starts tickling her.

"That wasn't the offer!" you call out, hearing him playfully roar at Toni.

You roll your eyes, happy that he was so good with handling both of the kids. You kissed benji once more on his squishy cheeks, going into the kitchen, thinking about the rest of your day.

Baby on your hip, you started brewing coffee and making everyone's breakfast. Everyone had a pretty set breakfast when it came to their weekday routine. You would make coffee and bagels for you and Peter while the baby stayed on your hip. As the bagels toasted, you would get out the cereal and milk for Toni to pour herself. Then you would strap the baby in their high chair with a bottle of milk, while you did up the bagels. Setting the bagels down on the counter, you would go back to the coffee maker, pouring sugar and creamer in mugs with the coffee (Peter never grew out of his love for sweet coffee). By the time the coffee hit the counter where three chairs were placed, set for two adults and one kid, they were filled by you, your husband and your daughter. You on the edge with the baby, feeding him squeeze pouches, soft bars and yogurt (he was a hungry baby), while you leaned over to read Peters latest file. As your head rested on his arm, he kisses the top of your head before taking a sip of the coffee you made. When you looked over at Toni, she was coloring a Captain America picture, while eating her cereal.

"Baby, who is that for?"

"It's for Uncle Sam! Look, I made him brown!"

You almost spit out your coffee, and Peter choked on his bagel. You both turned to look at the coloring page and stifled a laugh. It was indeed Captain America, but it was of Steve, not Sam. Well, it would have been of Steve if she hadn't colored him with a brown crayon.

You went over and ruffled her again, the curls frizzing out a little more. Plopping a kiss on her forehead while you squished her face, you smiled at her art.

"You know, that might actually be Uncle Steve."

"You know, the one I defeated when I met your mom for the first time," Peter interjected. You shot him a warning look as he stuck his tongue out at you. You looked through the book, trying to find Sam as Captain America, he was towards the back of the book, probably because of his rebranding. It had only been a decade or so that he was Cap, while Steve was Cap for 80 years or something.

Pointing to the page, you said "Do you want to color this one for him too?"

Toni nodded eagerly as she began drawing again. As you walked back over to your seat, you stopped behind Peter and wrapped your arms around his chest. He rested his head against your chest as your hair fell around his face.

"We are so showing Sam when we get to work," Peter snickered.

"Bucky might pee himself," you laugh.

[dp-marvel94]

Asking for Death

Note: So forever ago, @ectoblood and I had a conversation about a clone asking Danny to kill him and discussed, if a Danny clone would feel imperfect because he doesn’t share the same interests and dreams as his original? I actually expanded a little on those ideas from these two posts so have a ficlet.

Also on AO3 and Fanfiction.net

Daniel knows he was imperfect. It’s obvious; Father made that abundantly clear. The boy knows he was cloned from someone named Danny. And the older half ghost made it clear; he looked just like Danny and had all his powers. But that wasn’t enough. Father wants a better version of this Danny, someone who is a loving and obedient son but also with the personality and interests of the original. Perfect son, Father says, holding up this idealized version of the clone. He is to be the perfect son. 

Father notices the difference and the man does not like it. He’s deeply dissatisfied because how dare his ‘perfect son’ not meet all of his expectations. His ideals t hat no one, not a clone or even the original Danny, could ever meet. 

Father tries to force him in that direction. Daniel is a clone so of course, he likes space and video games and horror movies like his original. Daniel wants to be a good son, a perfect son. He really does. And he tries. He tries everything that Father offers him. And Daniel finds he likes some things that Danny does and doesn’t like other things. The clone also finds he has some of his own interests and dreams. He would rather watch birds in the garden than the stars. He’s rather draw than play video games. And horror movies...they scar him. He’d rather watch musicals.

Soon he’s always yelling at Daniel for some reason. 

“Say yes sir, when you address me!”

“I… yes, Father. Sir.”

“I told you to clean the kitchen an hour ago. Why is it not done?!”

“I...I apologize, sir. I’ll...I’ll do that right now.”

“You call that an ecto energy attack? Pathetic!”

“Allow...allow me to try again. I will do better, please.”

He’s not obedient enough or powerful enough. He’s ungrateful, too quiet, too timid.

“Why do you never use the telescope I bought you?!”

“I...I have been busy with my studies. But...Tonight. Father, sir.”

Daniel never geeks out about space. The clone actually likes reading and birdwatching and hiking. He’s quieter and more thoughtful than his original.

All this burns in Vlad’s mind, his anger rising. How dare his perfect son behave like this? He was to be a perfect copy, in body and mind, yet perfectly loyal to his maker.

And for Daniel, all he wants is to make his Father happy. Maybe Father will be happy with him if he acts more like the person that Father wants him to be. So he tries to make himself like the things that Danny does and pretends to enjoy Danny’s interests. But he’s miserable, because space and horror movies don’t make him happy like reading in the garden and watching the birds does. He tries to be more outgoing and outspoken but that’s just not him. And Vlad can see that the clone is just putting on an act, trying to be more like Danny but failing (because he’s not Danny!).

So Vlad gets increasingly angry and dissatisfied because his ‘perfect’ son isn’t perfect. Vlad yells at him because he’s wrong, broken, a mistake, imperfect. 

“Why should I even bother to keep a mistake like you around?”

“I… Father. Please. I’ll do better.”

“Be silent.”

“Father?”

“Never call me that again! Nothing as broken and imperfect as you deserves the privilege of calling me that. I am your Master, boy.”

“But-”

“I AM YOUR MASTER.”

“Yes… yes sir, Master.”

And Daniel believes him because Vlad is his Father, no, his Master and his Master has to be correct. If he was just more like Danny, then the man would love him. But he can’t be more like Danny. He’s not Danny and he’ll never be, no matter how hard he tries. 

Vlad gave up on him, in his insanity thinking he just needs to try again. But he keeps the clone because he could be useful. Daniel isn’t Vlad’s son. He is tool. The man stops even trying to show him affection, increasingly having him run dangerous errands and be a lab rat for the older halfa. Vlad throws himself into making the next clone 

“This one will work. It has too.”

“F- Master. Please, I’m hungry. Maybe I have some...some food.”

And the clone increasingly spirals into hopelessness and depression. 

“Stop crying. You’re negatively affecting the data.”

“F...father. Please. St...stop.”

“I told you not to call me that.”

A cry of pain as Vlad digs the knife in deeper.

“Oh please. It barely even hurts.”

Weakened from hunger, thirst, and injury, Daniel escapes one day when Master is away. He...he is a failure. He...he is weak, he is horrid for begging Master to stop, for leaving now. But...he can’t...he can’t do this anymore. There is...there is only one way for the pain to end. 

He arrives at a familiar building, one he’s seen through Master’s cameras. He rings the door bell and the front door opens to a familiar boy.

“Please. Please kill me.”

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

Danny refuses, of course. So Daniel tries to force his hand, attacking him. But Danny still refuses to hurt him, only defending himself so he can capture the other boy. Danny manages to get him in a thermos and soon after releases him in the ghost containment unit in the basement. He hates doing it but needs to talk to the other boy where the clone can’t hurt himself or anyone else. Danny manages to get some information from the near inconsolable boy. 

“He keeps… he keeps hurting me.”

‘Who?”

“M...master.”

Eyes wide. “Vlad! Of course. Of course he cloned me again.”

Despite being stable and trying to be a good son, the clone’s still not what Vlad wants. He’s tried so hard to be what the older half-ghost wants but the man is still obsessed with having the ‘perfect’ son. And feeling like a failure and that his life is worthless, the clone wants to die and hopes that his original would have mercy enough to take him out of his misery.

After the speech, Danny is heartbroken watching the other boy weep. He feels helpless, not knowing what to do. He joins the other boy inside the unit, trying to comfort him. The clone still begs Danny to end him but the other halfa refuses.

“Why won’t you just do it?!”

“I will not hurt you. I don’t care how much you beg me or if you attack me again, I. will. not. hurt. you.”

“Please. I’m no one. I’m worthless. I can’t do this.”

“You’re not worthless. I promise. You’re not.”

“But I am. I AM.”

Danny grabs the other boy’s face. “Look at me. You are not worthless. You aren’t no one.”

“But-”

Danny cuts him off. “You’re family.” The clone’s mouth snaps. “I don’t care that we just met, or that you tried to hurt me. I made up my mind. You’re my family, no matter what. And I am going to find a way to help you. Vlad will never hurt you again.”

The other boy looks dumbstruck but Danny can tell he was listening. Just after Danny let go of his face, the clone fell forward, collapsing in Danny’s arms. He still wept but Danny thinks this clone did hear him. And he meant what he said. The boy he was hugging was family and Danny would always do everything in his power to help his family. Even if he wasn’t sure how to right now.

[twiceasfrustrating]

Out in the Countryside

Rating: Teen and Up

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: F/M

Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!

Relationship: Lucifer/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Main Character/Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Leviathan/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Leviathan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Main Character/Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Asmodeus/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Beelzebub/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Beelzebub (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Belphegor/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Belphegor (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader

Characters: Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Leviathan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Beelzebub (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Belphegor (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)

Additional Tags: Poly!MC, Picnic, fluff, hand-holding, implied drinking, Beel carries you, kissing these idiots being dumb but lovable

Summary: Sometimes you just wanted to have a nice day out with all of your boyfriends. You had the brilliant idea to go out for a picnic and enjoy some time away from the usual busy life you all lived. The brothers decided to indulge your wish, so into the equivalent of the Devildom countryside you go.

There was a lot of walking involved with picnics. You had never realized before how much walking really went into getting away from civilization. Not even a city, just some form of civilization. Then again, you had never seen the countryside in the Devildom before, so it wasn't fair to expect yourself to know that information beforehand. Well, maybe you should have, considering the human realm wasn't that different.

You had been left in charge of carrying the blanket, even after insisting you could carry something else. The brothers refused to let you, sitting that the baskets (yes, multiple) were heavy because they had to bring enough for eight people (one of which was Beel and his bottomless stomach) and one was full of dishes. They were objectively stronger than you, so there was no reason to have you exercise your limited human strength. The only brother not in charge of carrying a basket was Belphegor, who they worried would fall asleep on the spot if he had to use too much energy. Even Beel was allowed a basket of food in addition to the one for dishes (granted, it was one that had specifically been made so that he could eat it while walking because you all knew that was going to happen, but still).

The choice not to burden Belphie quickly proved to be a smart one, because he was soon yawning as he walked and you worried he would start literally sleeping walking.

You held the blanket against you in much the same way he did his pillow and went up to him, "Are you going to be okay?"

"Jus' tired..." His words slurred together, showing just how true that statement was.

"Yeah, this walk is pretty exhausting." At least one person agreed with you. Everyone else seemed to be doing just fine. It almost made you angry because that meant they had been right about you carrying extra weight and how it would have been taxing on you. Stupid correct logic, "Hey? After we all eat, would you like to take a nap?"

The look he gave you told you that was a definite yes, but he clearly missed your intentions.

"I meant, would you like to take a nap with me? Maybe I can let you use my lap as a pillow?" You knew how much he enjoyed doing that, and you did too.

His eyes turned to you and a little "Mhm" left him. He could never turn down a chance to take a nap with you.

Still, he looked tired enough that you worried about him, so you reached out your hand to hold his and make sure that he wouldn't wander away if he did start sleepwalking. He gladly entwined his fingers with your own as you both walked along.

You both stayed like that until Lucifer spoke up, "This is our destination."

Your attention shifted, looking out ahead of you rather than on making sure Belphie was still awake. All you could do was stare in awe. It is so powerful that you find yourself letting go of the youngest brother's hand and stepping forward to get a better look at what lies before you.

The Devildom countryside was nothing like what you expected. You weren't sure what it was you expected, but it wasn't flowers. Actual flowers! Not that you recognized whatever type of flora they were, but here they were. The scene of the meadow against the pale red sky was hauntingly beautiful and all you could think of was enacting the scene straight out of a movie where you frolicked in the field. You looked at the brothers with wide eyes, begging to be allowed to go enact your plan.

Lucifer nodded, "They're safe for humans." He held out his hand to take the blanket from you, which you gladly let him.

With a twinkle in your eyes, you ran away from them and toward the field of flowers, immediately feeling how the petals softly brushed against your exposed legs. Upon closer inspection, something about them reminded you of multicolored spider flowers dripping with morning dew and dandelions with exaggeratedly large puffs. As you danced through the meadow, the dandelion puffs broke free from their stems and floated off into the sky. You stared in wonder as they flew in the wind and were carried off somewhere far away. It was moments like these where it was the clearest that the human realm and the Devildom had many similarities you never had time to think about.

The brothers watched you from the place you had split off from them, seeing how you enjoyed your first exposure to wild Devildom flowers. Your blue sundress fluttered in the same wind that carried away the puffs, making you stand out against the brilliant sky behind you. Each of them found it hard to look away and help set up the picnic like they had planned. The contrast in color made you look like a painting.

Satan paused from helping lay down the blanket to watch the wonder unfold on your face. He looked over to his next youngest brother, "Asmo, you helped her pick the outfit for today, didn't you?"

"Only the parts you can see." But those parts were still divine, "She insisted the rest of it be a surprise."

"You did well." He added before going back to helping spread the blanket.

Everyone else nodded in agreement. It was a simple outfit, but it gave them all terrible ideas about what to do with you. How else was a demon supposed to react to seeing such an innocent-looking human other than wanting to corrupt them?

"Can someone set out the food?" Beel wanted to do it himself, but he knew he was likely to eat it before anyone else could enjoy it.

Belphegor looked at him in sympathy, feeling how hungry his twin was in his own stomach, "We need to finish setting up first." He wanted to sleep though. The walk over had been exhausting and it was hitting him the hardest, "You should go check on her." He suggested, since keeping Beel away from the food was the smartest option.

"Huh? Why does he get to be the one to check on her?" Mammon burst into the conversation, "I mean- Ya should leave that kinda stuff to yer big brother. No reason ya gotta go out of yer way."

"Lmao. You're dating her and you still act like a tsun." The third-born couldn't help but laugh at how much of a trope his brother was.

He placed his hands on his hips, "Shad'up. No one understands that otaku talk of yers anyway."

"Then why are you so offended?" Levi mocked, not missing the fact that his brother clearly understood the jab well enough to know it was insulting.

"Enough." Lucifer ended the conversation before their bickering could draw your attention, "Unless one of you wants to play guard between Beel and the food, I think letting him go is the best option."

They looked at each other, knowing neither of them wanted that particular responsibility. Levi turned back to his job dejectedly while Mammon grumbled a "whatever" under his breath.

Belphie gave Beel a sly smile, knowing exactly what he had done. The redhead gave him a grateful nod before looking out to where you were now sitting among the flowers and walking toward you. He found you stroking the petals of the flowers, trying to understand how they felt soft to the touch even though they grew in a harsh environment. He sat beside you, drawing your attention to him instead.

"Oh, Beel." You pulled away from the petals and leaned against his towering frame, "Am I taking too long?"

"No." His gaze drifted down to you, seeing how peaceful your face was looking out across the field, "They're almost done getting everything ready."

You balk at his words, "Done? I didn't even help."

"Well, you looked like you were having fun. None of us wanted to bother you."

"But I should still help." You felt bad that you had left them to do all the work when you were the one that suggested a picnic in the first place.

"No one minds." They loved watching you enjoy yourself so freely. It had quickly become something akin to a hobby to them.

"I mind." It made you feel lazy to not help them set everything up. This was a relationship, so you should contribute to it as much as they did.

He didn't really know how to comment on that without undermining your feelings. It was clear you were upset about being allowed to walk away without contributing anything. You probably shouldn't have assumed they would wait for you to come back to set up, this was their date too, after all.

He couldn't think of anything to say to you, especially with your face as sour as it was. Instead of trying to use words, he reached out for a flower and plucked it from the ground. With a smile in his eyes, he placed it behind your ear.

"Watching you is nice." He gently stroked your cheek with the back of his fingers as he lowered his hand again, "Seeing you happy is the best part of a date."

The heat that rose in your body and up your face felt like it would cook you alive. You buried yourself into his shirt to hide the giddy, embarrassed smile that you were now wearing, "You can't just say stuff like that."

"Why not? Did I say something wrong?" The worry in his voice was saddening.

"Never." You shake your head and sit up ever so slightly so you can place a peck against his cheek, "Do you think they're done?"

His hand moved to his stomach, realizing for the first time since he joined you just how hungry he really was, "I hope so."

"Well then," you raise to standing and brush the dirt and pollen from your dress, "Shall we go back now?"

Nodding once again, he shifts in his spot so he can stand up. However, as he gets to his knees, he stops and looks up at you. His arms open wide And you know exactly what he's thinking about. With a shy smirk, you fall into his arms, sitting awkwardly on his bicep and trying to balance yourself.

Beel places his other hand against your knees to keep you steady as he stands up and lifts you straight into the sky. You giggle widely as you raise higher and higher, seeing how more of the area unfolds before you with height. Now you can see how the sea of colors you were just sitting in weaves together and how far it seems to stretch out.

Your eyes widen in awe, "It's amazing..." You can't really explain how beautiful the meadow is. It's not like the ones in the human realm that look delicate and fair. No. This one looks dangerous, those dew stricken petals reaching out to link each flower to its neighbor.

"You like it?"

"I love it." You couldn't imagine seeing this in the human realm. The flowers were just too unique.

"Whaddya think yer doing over there?"

You both turn to look toward Mammon, who is yelling at you from where the picnic has been fully set up. Clearly, he isn't a fan of being left out from a single intimate moment.

"I think that's our cue." You tell him, looking down but holding on tightly.

"Uhn." He turns on his heels, carefully keeping you perched on his arm and listening to you laugh at the unusual way to travel.

As you near everyone else, you both get a few looks of confusion, some of jealousy, and one from Belphie that lets you know that whatever just happened was all according to his plans. Of course, it was. The youngest brother couldn't go a day without planning something. At least it wasn't nefarious this time.

"I'm glad you both decided to join us." Lucifer said, glance drifting from Beel you, "Do you need help getting down?"

You debate for a moment of you can get down by yourself. You figure Beel would set you down if you asked, but that's not as fun as having to make Lucifer reach up to you for once, "Please?"

Stepping forward, the eldest brother places his hands against your waist and slowly lifts you back to the ground. As your feet touch the dirt below, he notices the flower in your hair, placing a gloved hand under your chin and lifting your head so he can get a better look at it.

"Yes?" You ask, wondering what he could be thinking about.

"Nothing." He bends down at the waist and presses his lips against yours, his tongue quickly assaulting your own and making your head swim before pulling away, "You look beautiful."

The haze is short-lived as he pulls away and you can only admonish him, "Lucifer! This is a group date. None of that." Quick kisses and pecks were one thing, but trying to rile you up was off-limits.

The grin that crosses his face is fully aware of what he did, but uncaring because he got what he wanted, "Of course." Even if you complained, the goal was that he wouldn't be outdone by his younger brother in your eyes. Of course, some of the others saw through him, but the only opinion that mattered on the issue was yours.

Asmo took the opportunity to skip up to you from behind and wrap his arm around your own, "Sit next to me, Darling~" He tugged at you gently to try and lead you to a spot on the blanket.

Of course, he was the first one to actually ask you to sit with them. He had no compunctions over trying to get you to pick him first and foremost. He would respect your boundaries, but he still wanted you as much as everyone else.

"Gladly." You let him guide you to the blanket and sat down where he indicated. That still left your other side open though. You pay the spot next to you and looked up, "Levi? Will you join me?"

His orange eyes sparkled so much that it almost looked like he was going to cry. Why would you ever choose a disgusting otaku like him? That was probably what he was thinking. That was also exactly why you had to explicitly choose him. You loved him as much as the rest of his brothers, but he didn't seem to believe you. Every now and again, he needed a reminder that you had chosen him just as much as anyone else.

He gladly sat on your other side and the rest of the brothers fell into different places around the small banquet. Beel looked uncomfortable as he was forced to only look at the food in front of him. Belphie, ever the good brother, passed him an entire basket of food and told him to start with that while everyone else took the chance to grab from the pile in the middle. That basket lasted about as long as it took everyone to make their first plate.

"We brought wine if you would like." Satan held up the deep red, unopened bottle for you to see.

You looked at him skeptically, "Didn't we learn that I can't handle that stuff already?" That was kind of how this entire mess started in the first place. Not that you regretted it in the long run, even if it was a nightmare to deal with at the time.

He shook his head, "This is from the human realm. At least, I assume you have some tolerance for it." Although, none of the brothers would mind another incident like the one from that night. In retrospect, some of them found the memory endearing and were mildly curious how much further it could go now that you weren't confused about your feelings anymore.

But... this wine wouldn't do that to you, "Please pour a glass." It really was the ideal of a picnic date. Not that anything about this date was traditional, but it was definitely your ideal. There was nothing better than just getting to spend a day with your boyfriends and enjoying each of them. They really did find ways to spoil you and make you so very happy that this was your life now.

[semischarmed]

Mine

Many coaches have come and taught the many iterations of our university team. Over the years, these coaches, like players, come and go. Good ones are hard to come by. Great ones are once in a lifetime. That was our Coach James.

He had a fatherly quality to him. There was a warmth in his training, a brightness when he would teach us. When we succeeded, he helped bring us up further and when we failed he softened the blow with his wisdom. Coach was great like that. Strictly professional, of course, but with a layer of genuine friendliness and a desire to watch us all succeed. He really was the perfect coach and we were blessed to have him. Still, in my lust, in my pure selfishness, I knew I had to have him- all of him to me and me alone. One long summer day, I ask for some one-on-one training. Never one to turn down a teaching opportunity, he complies. Like I said, he was a great coach.

I decide this would be the day. I run, but not too well. I throw, but haphazardly. That’s all it took for him to lean in. That’s all it took to get him close. Of course, he came with pure intentions- I did not. 

When he is right above me, when I feel the vibration in the air from his chest, when I feel his raw power and vitality. That is when I strike. I fuck up my throwing position a little more, and he guides it proper. Fuck yeah. Jesus, I could stay like this forever. I feel the resonance of his deep voice within my very soul. Beckoning to me. “Become me. You want this. You deserve this,” it taunts. He was still coaching me, sure, but my mind is preoccupied with dark intent. 

These gentle breaths as he speaks- these steady hands guiding mine to a better position. These would be my truths now. A most intimate of trainings. Coach James would be training me-sure- he would be training me to use that bod. I stare at him with longing. He would never look at me that way. God, I wanted him so bad. We glisten with the sweat of the midday sun. I could melt just like this. And in fact, I do.

In that grasp, in that teaching moment, I decide to teach coach a couple tricks myself. I look up at his face. Earnest. Strong. Patient. I watch his lips- they’re still moving- he’s still guiding me. Good. He hasn’t noticed my body begin liquifying. He continues on, unfazed. Unconcerned. He always did have that humble strength about him. 

I am drawn to those plump lips, to his perfect smile and the void behind them, to the force of his breath over me, and to the very vibration that created them. I am drawn to that body which I would make mine. I wrap his thick arms around me. Those goddamn arms. They pulse and tense in surprise. He finally catches on. “- Hey. What are you doing? What.. What is this?” I pay no mind. A breeze picks up and his scent fills me. I wrap myself in it. Old spice deodorant layered over the pungent, musk of a man. My man. My scent, soon enough. The air was ripe in pheromones. Testosterone. James. I inhale deeply, trying to catch as much of him as I could. His skin is nice, too. It’s a bit damp, a bit hot from the heat, but nice. I feel them stretch taught, struggling to contain the mass of muscle beneath. I draw his shocked embrace even closer, uncomfortably close. I feel him between concern over my melting form and a need to push me away. Works for me. I continue to liquify further. Faster. You will be mine, Coach.

The world stops for a moment- at least for me. Maybe adrenaline, maybe my imagination. I commit this scene to memory, the scene where I become something greater. The scene where the real Coach James is born.

I shoot up his nose and flood his mouth. His body is forced to gorge itself with my mass. With every breath he attempts to draw, he pulls the liquid me instead. He retches, attempting to vomit me out, but I just draw myself further in. Flooding and flooding, I saturate coach with myself. When all but the last of me is a dribbling of slime upon his cheek, I disperse inside him. I drill into his every crevice, swim through his bloodstream, bond with his ever piece. I settle deeper and deeper inside my coach. Until his body no longer recognizes my presence as foreign. Until I am coach. I incubate into him, my pieces dormant. 

Coach James awakes in the grass to the odd sight of a star-filled sky and a cold night breeze. “What the fuck...” he ponders, rubbing his head in confusion. He aches all over, yet he isn’t hungry. He digs into his memory, attempting to piece together the past few hours. I just spent them digesting this afternoon so he would have no success. 

Unclear on the past events, yet unfazed, he walks back to his car and heads home.

———

That first night was magical-for me. As for coach, I’m not quite sure. I am ever present in his dreams. Pleasure, I think, is how I’d describe what being inside James was like. In his dreams, in his deepest thoughts, I lay there to witness them. These were thoughts, these were ideas, these were emotions that only I would be sole witness to, along coach. Ecstasy. This was a piece of him we would share alone. I was like a part of him, and only I would know him fully to this extent. 

In the next few days after the events of that afternoon, Coach appeared a little more vain, a little more irritable. To my teammates he just seemed off. They catch glimpses of him checking himself out. They hear the barely audible moans from his office as he delicately feels his every part. 

“What the fuck was up with coach” They say. Little did they know the real question to ask was ‘what was up’ IN their coach. Little did they know it was the influence of their missing teammate, ingraining himself deeper and deeper into his beloved James.

Despite the changes, my coach resists me. The further I try to bond, the more his body rejects me. It is a 3 day affair. A push and pull. With every push, I gain momentary connection to that bod, only to have that fulfillment ripped from my now non-existent hands. He was a coach, after all. I should have known it would be a battle of wills. Still, there was someone I had that coach didn’t have-yet. My mind. I had a cleverness match-made for that hot bod. A cleverness he deserved. A cleverness that I would utilize to the fullest to make that match a reality. Coach was a happy, content man. I was not. He needed my ambition, my cleverness, my lust. That body deserved better.

I let up the assault on his mind. He feels himself winning, backing my parts into a corner. It’s here where I apologize profusely inside him. He accepts because, James was the kind of guy to pick someone up when they’re down. He accepts my apology foolishly as we decide upon the best way I may leave him. A chance. We decide to do so in the privacy of his home- for my sake, of course. Little did he know, I felt his resistance weakest there. He readies himself for my exit, relaxing so I may flow out of him. I ready myself for one final push. It was in that moment that I surround coach with my psyche, encapsulate his very soul.

 Coach James wakes up making an odd face his body has never made. It was a lustful, sinful grin. It was my grin. I start chuckling. My voice is deep, booming. We moan together as my dormant parts stir. We moan as it starts convulsing. The shaking was harsh. I puppet this body still and eager to accept more of me. It takes some resistance but it finally yields. Nothing good comes easy, after all. I stick my parts take their rightful places. Those bulging, slick arms? Mine. Powerful, vascular legs? Also mine. That thick, veiny cock? Fucking. Mine. I feel them inside me- I alight as his energy becomes mine. We tickle. We feel great. At long last, this body was mine. 

No. Further. I want everything he ever is, ever was. James was gonna give me that. I wanted permanence. No one would ever tear us apart. I decide on his soul. I decide on becoming that as well. I string his soul up, prisoner in its own body, unable to do much of anything until transformed by the poison of my very being. In the meantime, I pleasure my new self to grant him a taste of what we could have, what we could be, once he yielded. I use those thick python arms as my own. I gingerly trace my a newly muscular inner thigh. I shiver in delight. Fuck. We were sensitive. Who knew?

I stare at myself in the mirror. Oh god, oh god this was real, he was truly mine. “Here’s how to use this bod correctly” I mock in that gentle, instructive tone he had. I rush up to the mirror and start making out with myself. It’s cold. It warms up as I continue to lap at it with my tongue, as I continue to smear with these new plump lips of mine. “Fuck yeah, that’s the stuff, coach” I moan as him. The room is humid, dripping with pheromone, hot from the heat I am emanating in wearing my beloved coach. I touch my new dick for the first time, feeling his soul rile up. I feel his teaching sensibilities corrupt with my desire. As any good coach knows, never let them have a chance to fight back. Before he has a chance to react to my newfound control or my actions, I pump quickly, determinedly. Yeah. Yeah. Fuck. Yeah. Coach’s body was fucking hot. This was a fucking dream- Oh My god. “Oh. Oh. oh” Our moans ring like music to my new ears. And in that final resonance, I release with only one thought: “I’m Coach James”. His hand shakes in resistance. This was it. I force the hand still. Command it. It was my hand after-all. I scoop our cum in my hand. I give my hot new reflection a playful wink. “Bottoms up” I say to us both. Sweet Nectar. My Nectar. With every taste and of his own milk, he perverts own senses, dilutes his very self. He has obviously never tasted himself to this capacity- because I finally feel his soul reflexively bond to mine. He tries to pull back. Like I’d let him. I greedily keep us tethered together. Then, he relents. There’s my James. 

When he finally yields I feel his memories, his feelings, hopes open up. I take them all. Distort them. I take all of him into me, meld them with myself until we were but one soul. They were me, now. My memories, sure. My senses. My feelings- fuck yeah, but inundated, saturated with my lust. Hopes- not a fucking chance. My hopes and dreams for this body are far greater. Coach James was greater that that. I was greater than that. I am the James the world deserves. 

I am left panting by the end of it. Ecstasy reverberates. It’s all me in here, baby. My coach- I was reborn. Tears stream down my cheeks. “Call me James” I say with newfound truth and intent. That name came naturally to me. I was fully him, after all.

———

‘New James’ is fucking kinky. Dirty. Narcissistic. As much as I love bossing around the kids, I love playing with myself even more. I got some great parts. Look at this fucking bicep. Teaching? Fuck that. Fuck the team. New James is ripe with ambition and power. “James Harrison got better fucking things to do that teach some stupid fucking kids,” I spit in the mirror as caress myself. Yeah. This bod’s a fucking power trip. So much more New James can do with his time. 

“New” might be a bit of a misnomer. I am James, in body mind and soul. I am James, in past-present and future. All he ever was? All he ever will be? Me. I am James, forever. And I aint no fucking coach.

-End-

Just a quick one.

[boopdoopsmemes]

Tomodochi Life Sentence Starters

Used this to find them. 

“I’m having a really great day today.” 

“I’m having the best day ever.” 

"Am I dreaming...? Is it really you?! I thought you'd forgotten about me..."

"I haven't seen you in forever!"

"I haven't seen you for a week! Glad you're OK."

"I haven't seen you in a while!"

"I was wondering when you were gonna stop by..."

“I’m feeling a little low today.”

“Today isn’t going so great.” 

“I’m so mad I could scream!”

“Today is so annoying.”

"I've had a lot on my mind lately..."

“Today just isn't my day..."

"A competitive society is necessary, I think. It helps us all push ourselves!"

"A friend of my friend...is just a stranger to me. I mean, literally! Think about it!"

"Are you hungry? I bet you’re hungry. Maybe go make us a sammy?"

"As long as I have love in my life, haters don't bother me one bit."

"Being with friends warms me right up, even in the middle of winter."

"Caring about what others think sure is exhausting! You agree, right?!"

"Everyone has to draw the line somewhere. I draw it...HERE."

"Hate to ask, but can you maybe give my head a good pat now and then?"

"Having close friends makes me feel stronger, like I can overcome anything!"

"I can be a klutz from time to time. When that happens, just go easy on me, OK?"

"I can forgive a lot, but not someone who wastes my time."

I don't really need too much sleep. I usually feel fine no matter what."

"I don't really plan for trips. I just let them happen and go with the flow."

"I don't run very fast, but I've got a lot of heart! That must count for something."

"I like to stay warm. Being cold is the worst!"

"I like to try my hardest. It makes me feel alive!"

"I require a midday power nap to keep my energy up."

"It’s not healthy to keep things bottled up. Except for potions and fairies."

"It's best not to get hung up on the little things. Ants are little. So are sprinkles."

"Not gonna lie, I was zoned out most of the day. Hope I didn’t miss anything..."

"Sometimes I zone out without meaning to. It makes people REALLY mad."

"Sometimes I'm too blunt. I've broken a lot of hearts that way.”

"Sometimes screaming is a good stress reliever. It scares cats and kids, though."

"Why hurry? There's no need to worry. I'd tell you why, but that's another story."

"Worrying is such a waste of time. I'd rather fail than worry about it." 

"You can only be truly close to so many people. It's best to choose them wisely."

"You can't please everyone. Just be yourself, that's the best you can do!”

"Don't spin around too much. You might get dizzy and break something!"

[skelswritingcorner]

Heartslabyul + Autistic!MC

This was originally posted on my Wattpad in October 2020 (link here!), but I vowed to repost my Autistic!MC UA when I got around to making this blog. This series was written to imagine what the story would generally be like with an autistic & AFAB MC and their interactions with the cast in the main story would be like.

Please note that the fic uses femminine pronouns as I was writing it with the MC being female in mind, as I am a woman myself and find it easier to write female MCs/reader inserts (I’m posting it here as it’s written on Wattpad). However, feel free to interpret this MC as any gender you may please since this doesn’t involve things like menstruation (the next two parts do involve stuff AFAB and/or trans women have). Other than that, please enjoy this fic! Under the cut due to length.

Riddle Rosehearts At first Riddle just thought she was a shy person. He had a feeling that it wasn't the case, but couldn't be bothered to ask her. Prior to his overblot, he hardly spoke to her since she was in Ramshackle dorm. However, he noticed that she regularly avoided eye contact with everybody around her. He just found MC awfully passive.

The first time he saw her at one of the Unbirthday Parties, he noticed she often spun around or paced back and forth, occasionally fidgeting with her sleeves. After the party, he entertained the idea of asking her himself about her behavior, but decided to ask Trey if he had any idea after dealing with some rule breakers. Trey couldn't exactly pinpoint anything in particular, he knew she mentioned in passing that she finds certain textures weird or wanders into a quiet location because she says 'I'm a little overwhelmed.'

After his overblot, Cater mentioned in passing how MC had no sense of danger around him, and literally approached him like normal. Everyone, even Crowley, was baffled to her behavior. "She even squished your cheeks and giggled because your skin is soft?" Riddle vaguely remembered her doing that, and the absolute confusion running through his head at her lack of fear.

When he finally asked her about it, MC replied with, "Oh, I'm on the autism spectrum. Some of my behavior might be weird, and I don't know if there's any documentation of autism in this world." After she said that, all of her behavior made sense to Riddle. He even began documenting her behaviors when he could, actions she does to calm down (aka stims), and things like her special interests. He wants to make sure he can understand her, and maybe help her advocate for herself.

Trey Clover This man's pretty chill. He notices her behavior pretty quickly. He has a little sister, and he knows certain behaviors aren't normal. However, because his sister likely isn't as old as MC, he has to talk with Cater to see if any of her behavior could be considered "normal". When Cater confirms that he never seen similar behavior in his own sisters ("Then again," Cater chuckles, "not all women are the same.").

When he asked Ace, Deuce, Grim and MC to collect chestnuts to make mont blanc he noticed how she didn't really care, but she said she kind of wanted to stretch her legs anyways.

When the five made the mont blanc, Trey noticed that MC didn't eat much of it since she said she wasn't a big fan of the texture and wasn't really hungry, and gave the rest to Grim. He kept note of it, but didn't think of asking her.

Later, when the five of them and Crowley were in the library after the events of the Unbirthday Party the day before, Trey noticed she went missing and started to panic. A little while later MC came back with a book that caught her eye. He and Crowley had a word with her to tell them next time when she's going somewhere so they don't panic again.

Out of the five dudes of Heartslabyul, he was the last to find out that MC was on the spectrum when the six of them ate Riddle's tart. She said something along the lines of, "Oyster sauce can't change the texture, but it'll make it too salty for me. Sensory inputs, y'know?" Poor dude was so confused when Cater broke the news to him, but Trey is understanding since Cater himself doesn't like certain kinds of flavors.

He might even ask MC what her favorite desserts are and try to make them for her when he has the chance.

Cater Diamond This dude's pretty easygoing, so he might be the most understanding out of everyone in Heartslabyul. When he first met MC he noticed how she paced around behind Ace and Deuce. When he asked them, Ace replied with, "Oh, she does that a lot. Says she has too much energy and has to use it somehow." He suggested that the three help him paint the roses red. They agreed to do so before class began (since Ace was wearing the collar and MC doesn't have magic, they had to use a paintbrush).

After Cater demonstrated how to paint the roses, he noticed that MC mimicked his actions exactly, down to the smallest movement. He found this interesting, even told a few of his classmates and Trey. Cater wanted to get to know her more, so he decided to talk with MC during lunch.

When he approached her, he noticed that she was somewhat shy and hardly talked much. Then again, she was eating so she likely didn't want to talk while eating food. After asking Deuce, he found out she's not exactly a talkative person.

Sometimes he noticed that she'd go into the light music room when nobody was there to study or read in peace. Part of him wanted to say hello, but he decided to respect the fact that she likely wanted some time alone and left.

When Cater came by after Trey, Ace, Deuce, Grim and MC finished making mont blanc he noticed that she didn't eat any (or had a tiny bit before giving it to Grim) because she didn't exactly like the texture. This made something click that something might be a little different with her. He decided to do some research, but couldn't find anything concrete.

During Riddle's overblot, he was shocked at MC's lack of a sense of danger and how she casually approached him and squished his cheeks and giggled uncontrollably. After the fight, she had Riddle's head resting in her lap when he asked MC about herself.

"Oh, I'm on the autism spectrum. I don't know if there's much documentation of it in this world, I hope my answer helps explain some of my behavior." this clicked with Cater, causing everything he noticed that was unique about her to finally make sense. When he finds out her special interest (let's just say it's drawing since it's one of mine), he might ask to take pictures of her with her art and post it on his Magicam account.

Deuce Spade (I basically gave up here) This confused baby...he's trying his best. He was confused when MC would randomly start crying at first, he'll try to comfort her. Sometimes he sees her spinning around or walking in circles during PE, but doesn't think of asking her about it.

When Deuce and MC went to Sam's Shop to get ingredients for Trey, he noticed how she would often glance at random objects for a moment and then focus on another. Confused him, but didn't think of asking about it.

When he had the impromptu sleepover with Ace, Grim and MC he noticed how she could ramble on and on about drawing. When he asked how she could go on about that topic and seemingly not stop Ace broke the news to him.

Now he just has more understanding of her behavior, he didn't really change much when he found out MC was autistic (other than wondering why she wanted to draw his magical wheel).

Ace Trappola This dude was pretty much the first to figure it out. When he and Grim had a quarrel on Main Street she was getting tears in her eyes randomly trying to stop everything from escalating.

Another time was when she randomly started crying in flying class, when he and Deuce asked her what was wrong she said between sniffles that sometimes she gets this urge to cry for no reason whatsoever, sometimes the same happens but she gets laughing fits.

He was the first one to find out MC is autistic when he goes to Ramshackle Dorm after he got his head 'cut off' by Riddle when she said she admired how he found advocating for himself so easily. When he asked her why, she replied with, "As someone on the autism spectrum I struggle with social skills, one of them being self advocacy."

After that, Ace tries his best to help her speak up for herself and comfort her if she randomly starts crying during class.

[wizardimagines]

secret, part 2, draco x reader

pairing: draco malfoy x reader word count: 1,4k summary: you and draco has been secretly dating for quite some time, but it’s getting too overwhelming. a/n: finally, part two is out !! a lot of people has messaged me, asking for part two so here it is . here’s part one if you haven’t read that yet , enjoy!!

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

You slowly opened your eyes. The morning sun was peeking through the window, making you squint your eyes as they adjusted to the bright light. You felt drained of all energy, even though you had been sleeping for hours. You let out a sigh you slowly sat up, looking around the room. You threw your legs over the edge of the bed as you stood up, rubbing your eyes. Your eyes searched the room, still squinting as you tried to find the clock. Suddenly they landed on the small clock decorating one of your walls. 9 AM. You let out a small gasp, realizing you really had been asleep for hours. You slept through dinner and then the entire night, not even waking up once. Then it hit you what had happened the day before, the reason why you felt so drained. Draco. The thought of him usually gave you butterflies, but this time you felt your heart drop. For a moment, you had completely forgotten about what had happened. 

The whole situation replayed in your head. His frown, his arrogance and the way he looked at you. He looked at you like you were someone he didn’t know. Someone he didn’t love. The thought made you feel sick, like you were gonna throw up. ‘’I need to get out,’’ You whispered to yourself, a desperate try to distract yourself from your own thoughts. After quickly throwing on some clothes, you hurried out of the room; stumbling out into the common room. 

To your surprise, the common room was almost empty. A couple of students were sitting in the couches, reading books. You weren’t too surprised though, it was a Saturday and it was still relatively early. A girl must’ve heard you stumbling out of your dorm, causing her to look up at you. ‘’Hi Y/N,’’ She said with her book still in her hands, smiling at you. You let out an awkward cough, giving her a small smile. ‘’Hi,’’ You responded awkwardly. ‘’Are you coming with us to breakfast?’’ She asked, now putting down her book on the table in front of her. You quickly shook your head. ‘’No,’’ You replied which caused her to raise one of her eyebrows in confusion. ‘’I’m not really hungry plus I have some homework I want to get done.’’ You lied, trying your best to give her a reassuring smile. You weren’t too sure if you pulled it off though. ‘’Are you sure?’’ She asked, still looking at you. ‘’I’m sure,’’ You responded. ‘’I have to go now anyways,’’ Before she could say another word, you started walking towards the exit. You could feel her watching as you walked towards the door in a hurry, but this point you just wanted to get out of the room as quickly as possible.

The fresh air hit your face. It was slowly getting colder and colder outside, as you were approaching November. The morning sun was making it a bit warmer outside though. You took a deep breath as you pulled your sweater closer to your body in a desperate try to warm yourself up a little. The courtyard was just like the common room, almost empty. Everyone was either asleep or eating breakfast. You wondered where Draco was. You sat down underneath one of the big trees, as you couldn’t help but to think about Draco. You wondered if he had been thinking about you, if he knew how he made you feel. Maybe, he just thought you went along with it. Maybe he thought you were acting, just like him. It didn’t matter if he had just been acting, it had hurt your feelings; a lot. 

‘’Y/N!’’ A voice called out. You turned around, still sitting down; raising your eyebrows as you tried to spot the person who had called your name. ‘’Why on earth are you out here, and not in there eating breakfast?’’ It was Draco. The pale boy approached you with quick steps, wearing a dark green sweater. He was alone, no one to be seen with him. Your heart skipped a beat as you spotted him. You looked down at your lap, trying to avoid eye contact. ‘’Like you care,’’ You whispered as the boy stopped right in front of you. ‘’What was that?’’ He asked, looking down at you in confusion. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his ice blue ones. The eyes you loved so dearly. ‘’I thought we didn’t know each other, so why do you care?’’ You scoffed, trying your best to act cold towards him. He looked at you in surprise. ‘’What are you on about?’’ He asked, drawing his eyebrows together; making lines form in between them. ‘’Yesterday,’’ You continued, crossing your arms. ‘’You said you would never associate with someone like me,’’ You spat. 

Draco stared at you for a moment, not breaking the eye contact. ‘’Are you serious?’’ He asked, tilting his head to the side. You looked at him for a moment before letting out a scoff, breaking eye contact by shaking your head; quickly standing up. ‘’Look at you being all brave,’’ You chuckled while brushing off some of the grass that had stuck onto your pants while sitting down. ‘’Talking to me in front of other people. Be careful so no one spots you talking to someone like me Draco,’’ You snorted before walking past him. The blond boy quickly turned around, walking right behind you. ‘’Y/N, wait a minute,’’ He sighed from behind you, trying to get your attention. You didn’t bother to turn around, you just kept on walking. Suddenly he grabbed your waist, spinning you around.

‘’You know I didn’t mean any of the things I said,’’ He whispered. His eyes were scanning the area, looking around to see if anyone had spotted you two. You looked at him, observing him as his eyes scanned the whole yard. ‘’Bullshit.’’ You responded, grabbing his hand that was placed on your waist before shoving it away from you. His eyes quickly met yours, looking at you in shock. ‘’Are you really that afraid of someone spotting you with me?’’ You asked. Draco could hear the hurt in your voice. ‘’Because I’m getting really tired of you acting like you don’t know me and like we don’t even exist.’’ You continued. ‘’You know that’s not true,’’ He muttered, looking you in the eyes. ‘’Then prove it to me.’’

The words even shocked yourself. You didn’t know what had gotten into you, but you just went with it. You could see the shock in Draco's eyes as he furrowed his eyebrows. ‘’What?’’ He let out in confusion. ‘’You heard me, prove it.’’ You repeated yourself. You didn’t exactly know what you were expecting at this point. Draco's head turned to the side, looking at the people standing a few feet away from you two. ‘’Look Y/N, you know I can’t do that right now, but I promise you I will if we just go inside,’’ He grunted. You let out another chuckle as you felt the tears starting to burn behind your eyelids once again. You felt so worthless, like you meant nothing to him. ‘’I see how it is.’’ You whispered, turning around once again. You walked towards the door, looking down at your feet; trying your best to hold the tears in.

You heard a loud sigh behind you as a cold hand grabbed your shoulder. Suddenly, you were facing the blond boy again. As you went to say something in protest, you felt his lips pressed against yours. You froze. You had no idea how to react. Draco’s hands found their way around your waist as he pulled you closer to him, still pressing his soft lips against yours. Eventually, you gave in. You felt the butterflies return, your whole body being filled with warmth as you wrapped your hands around his neck. You could hear people whisper around you, you felt their eyes burn into your skin but you didn’t care. Your lips moved in sync with Draco’s, a small smile forming on your lips. 

‘’Do you believe me now?’’ He whispered as he pulled away. You nodded happily. ‘’You better because it’s clearly no longer a secret,’’ He muttered, his eyes looking around at the people who were staring at the two of you. You knew it would take a while for Draco to get used to people knowing about the relationship, but you weren’t complaining. Because everyone knew you were his, and that’s all you wanted.

[padfootagain]

Something Good (II)

Chapter 2: The First Meeting

Here we go with a new chapter! I hope you like it! We're setting the storyline :)

No warnings to be applied here, it's just a cute story!

See you all next Thursday for a new update!

Pairing: Ben Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2092

"But I don't want to eat tomatoes!"

"Honey, please, mummy's very tired…"

"We ate tomatoes yesterday!"

"I thought they were your favourite vegetables…"

"Tomatoes are fruits!"

Five years old. Your daughter was five years old and yet you had never seen someone as pig-headed as her… besides yourself, of course.

She crunched her tiny little nose with annoyance, crossing her arms before her chest and giving a very disdainful huff as she looked away from her plate.

You were on the verge of getting angry, but you didn't, mainly because her little nose creasing the way she moved it now was too adorable. So instead, you simply heaved a sigh and pushed her plate closer to her.

"Too bad, because I had bought ice cream for dessert, but as you're not hungry, I guess you won't want that either."

"Ice-cream?!" your daughter changed her expression entirely, from a grumpy one to another of pure excitement. "Strawberry?"

You nodded your head, with a smile tugging at your lips, one that you simply couldn't refrain.

Sally's eyes lit up, and seemed to shine with a thousand tiny stars.

"But if you're not hungry…"

"I am hungry," she protested. "I just don't want tomatoes!"

"You like tomatoes."

"But not today. Today I don't like tomatoes."

"Let's make a deal, because mummy's too tired tonight, and I don't have enough energy to cook something else. So, if you eat your tomatoes today, I'll put some chocolate chips on your ice-cream."

Her tiny eyes grew very round again, and she hurried to take her fork, before abruptly stopping her movements, and looking up at you again. You didn't often use this kind of bribing method with your daughter, but you were too tired tonight to fight your way through an argument about tomatoes with her.

It was late already, and outside the sun had almost reached the horizon in its daily fall. Sunbeams entered your kitchen through the open window to paint your white walls golden and red. From the street, you could hear the soft buzzing sound of distant traffic, and from time to time, incomprehensible shouts from your drunk neighbour across the street. The kitchen was small and yet welcoming, with the fridge covered with your daughter's drawings held by dinosaur magnets and a bouquet of wildflowers next to the sink. It still smelled of the cookies you had made the day before. And across from the tiny wooden table, your daughter extended her little arm to offer you her open palm.

You shook her hand with amusement painted all over your features.

"You shake people's hands now?" you questioned with refrained laughter making your voice deeper than usual.

"Daddy said it was what grown-ups did to make a deal."

"That's true," you answered cautiously.

Your daughter started eating, but you stared at her for a little longer.

"Did daddy take you to his office again this weekend, sweetheart?"

"Yes, I stayed with Janett."

"He didn't stay with you?"

"No, but Janett gave me some paper and a pen and I drew a house and a dog."

"Did you have fun there?"

"Not really," your daughter admitted. "It was a little boring. And I couldn't talk."

"Really?"

"It was bothering Janett, and I didn't want to bother her."

"I see. But I thought you were supposed to go to the park with daddy on Saturday."

You didn't miss the way your daughter's features saddened.

"We didn't go. We went to his office instead."

You nodded, and chose to change the subject. You did your best to hide the way your jaw clenched, and gave your daughter a smile instead, asking her about her day at school.

You understood, of course, that it was difficult to raise a child alone, after all you were the one raising your daughter on a day-to-day basis. You understood that it was hard for your husband as well, and that, like all adults, he had imperatives due to his work.

But he would have to do better than to fail his promises to your daughter, and to not spend time with her during the weekends. You were tired of him being selfish. He would hear about this…

You were late.

Sadly, Ben couldn't say that he was surprised by it, but he was annoyed nevertheless. As he went through an article on his computer, he reckoned that he had been right to insist that the two of you would meet in his office to discuss the theatre club. At least, in his office, he could still be working while waiting for you. He heaved a sigh, thinking that it was just one of the many occurrences of this kind of incidents. You were fifteen minutes late already.

He took a sip of his earl grey, bringing his attention to the article displayed on his computer screen once more, but he found himself unable to focus on the words he tried to read. Instead, he glanced again at the time at the bottom corner of his screen.

You being the one teaming up with him for the theatre club gave him quite the anxiety, he had to admit it. He wondered if you would be able to work together at all. There were so many decisions to be taken in common, and he would hate to simply split all the tasks into two lists. After all, working with a colleague on a play from A to Z was what he liked about this extra responsibility he had chosen as his burden.

But then, you were the colleague he had to be working with now, so he guessed that things would have to change…

While Ben was lost in his thought, a loud knock on the door echoed through his office, making him jump and pour some of his tea on his desk.

"Shit…" he cursed under his breath. "Come in!"

It was you, of course, who else could have startled him and made him pour his warm beverage all over his desk…

"Hi! Oh, got a bit of a situation here, I see," you chuckled, reaching in your handbag for some tissues and handing them to him.

"Yes, I… got clumsy, I guess," he replied with a pinched smile, struggling to stay calm and not snap at you for being the cause behind his flooded desk.

You moved a pile of papers away just in time to salvage them from the tidal wave of tea that was spreading more and more on the wooden surface.

You helped him dry his desk, and he thanked you as you finally took a sit.

"No worries," you reassured him with a bright smile.

Despite your apparent good mood, he didn't fail to notice the dark bags under your eyes, along with the way your eyelids dropped a little more than usual. You seemed tired.

He pushed the thought away though. He was tired too, after all. With the new school year, everyone in the building was tired.

"So… what do we have to plan today?" you asked him as you settled on your side of his desk, with a notebook and a black pen in your hand. "You're the expert, so I'm gonna follow your lead on that."

"We need to decide when to plan the auditions, settle on who is organizing what for that, and we also need to start talking about what play we want to do," Ben explained, taking a notebook of his own too.

"I see. When do you usually have the auditions?"

"Not right away," Ben answered. "At the very beginning of the year, all the students are settling in, most of the first years are moving into town so they're extra busy. We usually give them a few weeks. Let's say… third week? They also have an afternoon at the beginning of the second week to present all the clubs and all the activities offered in the university. We'll need to present the club there."

"So… it leaves us a week…"

"Yes, we need to have decided what play we're going to do by then."

"Let's just decide that today then. Are the auditions opened to everyone?"

"Some students from last year are coming back, but there will be new spots available, and for these anyone can try, yes."

"How long are the auditions, usually?"

Ben took a moment to think before answering.

"I don't know… we usually finish around… 11."

"11? P.M?"

"Yeah."

"Oh… you do it in the evening."

"We have to, they have classes during the day. And… us too, so…"

"I… Can't we finish earlier than that? I'm not sure my babysitter will be available so late."

"Oh… huh… sure, we could do it earlier," Ben answered, failing to hide his surprise.

So, you had children. He didn't know that. He checked your hand but saw no ring there, and he wondered if you were married or not.

The two of you went on for a while to organize the auditions and other tasks that were to be tackled in the coming two weeks. Until, at last, you discussed the choice of the play.

Ben proposed Shakespeare, but you were not impressed.

"You've done a Shakespeare play last year."

"Yes… but… it's Shakespeare."

"They have to study it in class, we could do something more modern."

"But… we've been doing Shakespeare for the last five years."

"You do see my point then. Let's spice it up a bit!"

Ben was far from convinced, and you argued for a while, unable to settle on a writer you both loved. After about twenty minutes of barren discussion, you both fell silent, not knowing what to propose next and both of you growing more and more annoyed. It was a shame, really. You had started the meeting on the same page, and you were beginning to think that working with Ben might not be as terrible as you had imagined. But your illusions were now crumbling, as your anger grew stronger by the second.

Your gaze wandered across Ben's office, which was nothing but a tiny room with a window behind him, a shelf on the right-side wall and his desk. Two extra chairs along with his own completed the furniture of the entire room. He also had a poster of Back to the Future set under an old clock that wasn't working anymore. The shelves were covered with books, notebooks and binders, each of them named and organized perfectly. A few figurines decorated the shelves as well. His desk was well organized too, and you finally noticed the pair of drumsticks set next to his computer screen.

Which gave you a brand-new idea…

"What if we did a musical this year," you proposed.

Ben quirked an eyebrow in surprise.

"A musical?"

"Yes! Why not?"

"I… what musical?"

"I don't know… but it would definitely be more modern than Shakespeare."

Ben contemplated the idea, although he clearly was not convinced.

"Do you play the drums?" you asked, nodding at the drumsticks.

"Yes, I do."

"Then you know enough about music to take care of the singing! And besides, we wouldn't be writing songs, we just have to learn them."

"That's a little more complicated than that," Ben argued. "Besides, the students are coming for a theatre club, not a choir."

"Are you saying that musicals are not part of the theatre world?"

"No, of course not… but…"

"Then let's try something refreshing this year and try a musical!"

"Which one?"

"We can think about it and talk about it in a couple of days. It's late, and I have to get my daughter from the babysitter before seven," you answered, checking the time on your phone and realizing that in fact, the meeting had taken longer than you thought it would.

"Okay," Ben nodded with a sigh as you were already rising from your chair. "We'll talk about it in a couple of days."

"Alright, have a nice evening! Sorry again, but I really have to go…"

"It's okay. Goodnight."

You hurried out of his office, and Ben let himself fully fall back in his comfortable chair, finally letting his feelings shape his features. Annoyance was predominant, making a frown draw creases between his eyebrows.

A musical? What kind of idea was that? But he was too tired to argue any more with you, and as you had to leave and thus ended the meeting, he reckoned that this would be the subject of a new argument that ought to be saved for later.

A musical… ridiculous…

[froog-water]

howdy y'all, again! 

just quickly before the chapter starts, i wanted to say a HUGE THANK YOU to everyone who reads this! i have received a lot of support for this thing (more than i had hoped) and i am beyond grateful for it!

again, if there are any mistakes in this chapter, just hmu and i will fix it. i am just tired rn :)

also, slight warning for the beginning of the chapter, there are vivid descriptions of blood and gore and death. but nothing really troubling past that ;P

be safe out there my friends and thank you again

Upwards Over the Mountain

(Bloodhound x Reader)

previous; Chapter 2

Winter is in full swing and the entire world is covered in a thick blanket of white snow and eternal cold. For the most part, you had forgotten all about Bloodhound and the stranger circumstance of your meeting. Because there was not much for a bunch of fishermen and farmers to do during the stagnant times of chill, your bar had become a most frequented hotspot for these idle workers meaning you had very little time to yourself. Busy hands kept your mind busy too and soon some, if not most, of that night had been pushed back to the recesses of your consciousness.  It also did not help that they never took you up on your offer of returning to the bar. They retreated back into being merely a story to you, a faint memory of a person long moved on. You could hardly even remember if it had even really happened at all. Oh well, you supposed they had better things to do.

Early morning light was barely seeping in through your bedroom window when you managed to open your eyes. Groggily you yawn and stretch and slowly go to open the curtains. Greeting you was the pleasant sight of a land half-asleep, the sky a brilliant warm pink despite the rest being draped in an unimaginable freeze. Your breath collected as fog on the frozen glass and tentatively you reach out to touch it. It was a lovely morning indeed and it would have stayed that way had you not looked up into the sky.

In the distance, large birds circled. Tiredness shifts to dread as you adjust your eyes to try to get a better look. Those were no ordinary birds, you remark taking note of how large their bodies were and of the swooping patterns of their flight. Those were scavenging birds. And there is only one thing to bring scavengers out during Winter.

You dress quickly, putting on your best and thickest jacket and pants, before grabbing your hunter's knife and bow. Andante was a man of many talents, most of which he passed on to you. One of those talents was his hunting skills. The summer before his knees went, was spent mostly out in the heart of the wild woods. It was an interesting experience, to say the least, and though you were nowhere near what could be considered good, you understood the basics of the hunt and of the weapons you wielded and you knew how to read signs. Signs like scavenger birds circling in the sky. Signs like there was something dying.

Into the snow you run without much of a second thought, your head locked upwards as you follow the shapes of the birds eyeing their next meal. What confused you most about this strange encounter was not the presence of the birds themselves, but the proximity that they were to you and the rest of the town. This was wild country, home of beasts and lands untamed and untouched by man’s iron hand. That much you knew, encounters like this were commonplace if you dared to leave the safety of human comforts. But you were not out in the uncomfortable forest which meant that whatever had caught the bird's attention was either very far from home or of a more concerning matter.

You edge into the outskirts of the white forest, the trees around you nothing more than empty sticks bearing only wind and ice. Overhead, the birds caw and swoop and through the boney fingers of branches, you can see that they are getting lower. You had to move quickly before they did. As you go deeper in, approaching what you assumed to be the border of someone's field, you hear something. Faintly, carried on the morning breeze, was the mewling of an animal. Your pace quickens and quietens as you zone in on the source, painfully aware of how loud the snow was underfoot but pushing on regardless. The relief that you had felt at knowing it was not a person in danger eases some of your mounting anxieties and offers you momentary strength to continue on in pursuit. If given the choice, you would have gladly left whatever animal lay in wait to its own devices, you had no business intruding in on their affairs - your presence would only bring them distress no matter your intentions. But something about this situation told you otherwise and guided your feet to where you would most certainly be needed. On the outskirts of a clearing, you spot something and crouch behind a leafless brush.

There before you, not even 20 meters away, was a fallen elk. You swallow down your gasp and try to focus over the noise of your beating heart, which becomes only louder as you start to take in the entire situation. The animal has toppled over a wired fence of some farmer's land, its hind leg still entangled and bleeding from its restraints, held high above the rest of its body at an uncomfortable angle. From its bloody mouth, it screamed weakly, puffs of dying hot breath escaping with the haunting noise. Your first guess was that this misdirected elk had simply gotten itself stuck in the fence, a most unfortunate event but not entirely implausible, but upon closer inspection at the rest of its heaving body, your guess died on your tongue.

Horrible, long gashes run down the length of the animal's side, pooling blood into the snow around it turning white to red. Its powerful neck was sliced deep in odd places and one of its front legs looked twisted or broken. This creature had not done this kind of destruction to itself - it was attacked. By something. You slowly turn your head around to scan the morning shadows of the forest clearing for any glowing eyes of an animal on the hunt. But there was no predator to be found. There would be none of course, because if there was such a predator here, then why would it not have killed its prey by now? Animals do not find enjoyment in torture and no man, you hoped, would ever do such heinous crimes to such innocent life. For now, at least, it was only you and the elk and the circling, hungry birds.

The elk cries again and you notice how its kicks have become lethargic and stifled by freezing joints and waning energy. It was suffering. Without much debate you ready an arrow in your bow, pulling taut the string with trained proficiency. You whisper to yourself a prayer, hoping that it would only take one arrow to kill the poor thing. You line your aim up, try to cease the shaking in your hands and shoulders, breathing deeply. Your arrow flies prematurely and misses its target, rather than piercing its skull you instead strike it in its neck, right behind its ear. The thing wails, although much softer and with more subtle movements - you must have hit its spine. Seizing the opportunity, you rush forward, ignoring the lurching of your stomach and pulling out your knife. Without a moment's hesitation, you drive it deep into the elk’s heart, right to the hilt of the blade. A little excessive, you deride, but a necessity given your previous inability to finish it quickly.

The thing stops moving. The pained cries fade off into the cold wind. You are left alone with your thoughts and the smell of fresh blood. Beneath your hands the elk lay motionless, its beautiful, soft fur a gentle texture against your trembling form. Andante had made sure that you had killed a few animals before he had honored you with a knife of your own. Still, experience did not dull the sharp sting of shock nor quell the rising weight in your chest. It was suffering, you reminded yourself, lightly dragging your fingers down the side of the animal's large and strong back.

These elk were beautiful creatures, graceful and nimble; they pranced through the wilderness in powerful, delicate strides showcasing the ultimate wonder of the natural world. You had encountered a herd of them once, all the while mesmerized as they strode past your hiding spot without a care in the world. It was quite distressing to see one now crumpled and lifeless. Emptiness sits heavy in your chest and though you know you are not going to throw up, the pressure erupts and you fall to your knees. A red hand clasps the arrow lodged deep in the neck of the animal and sharply pulls it out. You blink hard but cannot stop the tears that threaten to burn your eyes.

It was an animal. It was suffering. You did the right thing.

From somewhere behind you, the softest snow crunches, and your pity party abruptly ends as you draw another arrow and spin around. For a few tense seconds, your fingers quiver around the bow’s string, ready to shoot down if you so dared it. You only hesitate when you finally recognize the figure.

Bloodhound quietly raises both their gloved hands, fingers spread apart in an unarmed, peaceful gesture. You remain poised a moment longer until your eyes start to prick with new tears and you are forced to look away. You drop your arrow and turn back around to the elk, furiously trying to wipe your face with the clean sleeve of your jacket. Now, this was a predicament. What god had you spite so hard to deserve this kind of cruelty? True embarrassment blends with your established disgust and you fear now you may really throw up. Here was a true hunter, a beast born in blood and forged to kill. And here also was you, wallowing in pity. If only you could sink into the floor.

You can hear Bloodhound approach and soon feel their impending presence standing right next to you, taking in the sight of the poor thing on the ground. No one spoke, only the wind dared whisper in the dead world around you. The silence was stretching on for far too long and you knew you had to break it before it became too uncomfortable.

“I’m…” You sniffle hard, trying to force strength into your voice knowing full well that you had very little left to offer. You cough and stand up straight. “I’m not going to do you the dishonor and assume this was your kill.” You say, your voice somehow managing to sustain itself despite your state. Bloodhound does not respond right away, instead, they remain motionless, eyes scanning every detail of the elk and committing it to memory. You shake loose the last of your unstable emotions and grab ahold of your knife again. You move to the elk’s tangled leg and set to work cut free the wires.

“You cry for the animal.” Bloodhound finally speaks, sounding more like an observation rather than a question. With your attention focused on your task, you manage to answer in a more steady and calm attitude.

“Yes.” This was your admission of guilt, not just to Bloodhound but to yourself as well. God, how pathetic you were. “Yes, I cried. I know it is natural. That this is how it is meant to be but,” You hesitate, your lapse in concentration misguiding your knife and almost slicing the tip of our index finger. “This is not a hunt nor a kill. This poor creature was driven away from its home and family and pushed to our borders by some deranged and cruel beast. This is not natural. It was not killed to feed mouths. It was tortured. And it died confused and alone.” The leg snaps free from the wired fence and you wipe your blade clean on the snowy floor, ugly red stains being the only reminder of your deed.

“There is no shame in veeping.” Bloodhound murmurs a brash reassurance and kneels down, tracing their fingers from the elk’s wounds. “Vhat did this?”

“My guess is,” You state taking a step back and allowing Bloodhound to proceed with whatever they were wanting to do with the body, “A few years back, an illegal trading ship hit a bit of trouble just beyond our planet's frontier and had to quickly dump its cargo on the East mountains. Some of that cargo was the creatures we call ‘Shrieks’. They are alien to this ecosystem but even though they are terribly small and their numbers were minimal, they dominated the local wildlife - killing not just for food but for fun. The town’s people tried to cull some of their numbers but,” You explanation stutters off and you hastily take in a sharp breath, the icy air burning your nose and lungs. “Well, they could not get them all. It appears now that they are growing in size again. And in courage.”

Bloodhound does not respond, their attention wholly directed at the study of the animal. You wait a moment longer, the adrenaline of the moment finally ebbing off and allowing the freezing cold to seep into your bones. You shiver and wrap your arms around your body. Bloodhound stands, all the while their attention remains downward.

“You can leave it there.” You say, passing one more glance over the body before averting your gaze elsewhere. “If you want nothing from it, leave it for the birds. They could use the meal.” As if aware of their mention, the still-waiting scavengers call loudly from the tree-top. A raven answers with a caw and you look around to find many black birds scattered around the clearing. The birds do seem to follow their raven stranger everywhere they went. The wind howled through the desolate forest and you grimace upon thinking of returning to your empty house with such a shallow heart. The smell of blood lingers cruelly to your clothes, reminding you of what you had just witnessed. You had to think of something to keep your mind off it, thinking of your act for people, play your part until you finally were normal again. But your bar would not be open until at least noon and there was no one else who would be willing to distract you.

“Did you track it all the way here?” Your voice breaks the silence, your mind subconsciously switching to your more charming persona. They do not answer immediately.

“I sensed distress and followed its blood.” They weren’t giving you much to work off of and you shuffle in place.

“Then I suppose you will need a ride back?” This garners their attention and they turn to face you, the nerve of being under their masked gaze still sending jolts up and down your spine.

“I cannot accept your generosity again.” Bloodhound tries to talk you down but you scoff and lift a hand to silence them.

“Please, I won't be needed until lunch and I really don't mind.” Your tone successfully managed to hide that you had a third reason to be so insistent - you just hoped that they could not see the desperation in your face. They could. They take a moment to consider your offer, whatever expression lay under their mask you would never know. The raven to their left caws and they turn to look at it. It takes off after a final noise and Bloodhound lowers their head back to you - some secret understanding passing between bird and hunter.

“Then,” Bloodhound motions for you to lead the way, “By all means.” Though strained and almost painful, your first smile of the day pulls at your lips and you turn around to walk back to your house.

~

Bloodhound, as bizarre and strange as they were, never afforded you the opportunity to truly draw a defined picture of their personality. Wrapped so totally in mystery and gear, your perception of them was created on a flimsy base of shadows - beyond what they portrayed on T.V, you knew nothing of. But in the frozen forest of that Winter’s morning, something changed and you felt your world flip upside down onto its head.

Bloodhound was a lot more talkative on the way to their cabin than they had been the first time. Or any time really that you had interacted with them. It had started with you asking them the simple question of how they managed to track the injured elk and although their initial answer remained vague, a tangent soon manifested and from there the spiral began. To your utter surprise, and mild enjoyment, they proved themselves to be a great storyteller and had many wonderful and whimsical tales about their Gods and hunts that had made the drive over to their place seem almost too short.

“Most people stop me at this point.” Bloodhound commented, drawing a snicker from you as your eyes were glued to the ice-capped road ahead.

“Well, most people are not here. And I am very much enjoying myself. I love stories.” You could not see it, but your response brought a cracked smile to Bloodhound's hidden face.

By the time you had reached their cabin, they had entranced you in a tale about wolves and the true essence of the hunt. Though you thought your morning could not get any more surprising, Bloodhound steps out of your truck and extends an offer to share warm drinks with them inside. In the heart of Winter, you could not resist the temptation.

The interior of their cabin was much as you expected - totally unpredictable. It was like a bear and a machine had a fight, a complete subversion of everything you had come to know as normal. On the floor was a multitude of animal rugs, the couches too were draped with the furs of Bloodhound’s past, presumed, victories. Yet despite the clear aesthetic for ruggedness, a definite sense of modern order was showing through. The fireplace was quaint in its design but unmistakable retro. The furniture too, the chairs and tables, shelves and windows, were all of a very contemporary era. A perfect combination of the comforts of the past and the conveniences of the present. But all and all, the only word that came to your head when you first stepped in through their front door was - cozy.

Bloodhound leads you through their small cabin, past the living room, and into the small kitchen. They motion for you to take a seat at the wooden table in the center of the room and you marvel at the smells and sights around you. Hanging from strings draped across the walls were various herbs and spices and on the counter in bowls were fresh fruit and vegetables. They must have visited the town if this was their food supply and you feel a twinge of apprehension pluck at your light mood. You brush it off as Bloodhound asks if you would prefer tea or coffee.

“I find myself the one in honor of sharing breakfast with you this morning. Fair varning must be made, however,” Bloodhound extends a steaming cup towards you, “I have been told I am not the most accomplished of hosts.” You smile gratefully and take the cup into your shivering hands. The drink was shockingly and terribly bitter and you barely manage to hold back your gag at the first sip. Bloodhound snickers at your reaction and produces a tub of honey for you to add to your drink. “And that my tastes are mostly unagreeable.”

“Oh please,” You wheeze weakly after drowning your taste buds in the soothing honey, “This is nothing. Besides, I assume that, with your choice of isolation, you don’t particularly want to be anyone's host.” Bloodhound hums at your comment, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with it. They pull up to the opposite chair and take a seat and you notice how their drink has a straw in it.

“I am not entirely opposed to indulging certain people. And even fewer dare to give my delights a try. Therefore I rather keep them to myself. I do, however, give special heed to those vho show interest in my stories.” This draws a smirk from your lips as you bring the hot liquid up to your mouth for another sip. Content silence passes through the room and you focus intently on the warmth now spreading through your hands and to the rest of your body. “I did not think that anyone vould be out on such a morning like this.” Bloodhound admits, causing you to slowly look at them and lower your cup.

“Most are too old or too busy to take time out of their day to notice these things, or to even care. And I do not do well in the cold. Today was a special exception.” At the mention of the temperature outside you quickly raise your cup to your mouth and down another gulp. When you open your eyes again, you finally notice the bird in the room who had before blended so seamlessly in with the other oddities of the kitchen. Sat on a perch made of carved wood to the left of Bloodhound was their signature raven. It tilts its head at your attention, letting out a meek calling before eyeing you up and down. Bloodhound must really like their raven friend if they were kind enough to invite them inside. The sight alone was enough to bring a bemused grin to your chapped lips and Bloodhound watched it all happen in mild fascination.

“Do you often listen to birds?” They ask, breaking you out of an almost trance and extending to their raven a piece of freshly sliced apple.

“It is not so strange.” You breathe a laugh, “It was what led me to finding you in the rain that first evening.” Bloodhound turns their disk-like lenses towards your face and wordlessly implores you to continue. Despite the warmth now residing in your bones, you still shiver under their daunting gaze. “Your friend I mean,” You motion to the raven who has also turned to look at you with its beady, brown eyes as if aware that it was the topic of conversation, “Its cries were all I could hear. Which is saying something, considering it was storming pretty hard.”

“I do not think it skrýtinn.” Bloodhound replies without missing a beat, their voice mellow and their words an alluring symphony of strange syllables, a true joy to listen to. “Just an uncommon trait in most people. And his name is Artur.” You pass the bird a look and slightly tip your head in acknowledgment of his name. He squawks and fluffs his chest feathers, clearly enjoying being the center of attention. Bloodhound smiles at the bird. “Ravens are the messengers of the Allfather. They guide and aid me on my hunts. I do not think it skrýtinn to listen to them. Only that someone else does also.”

“You give me too much credit.” You bashfully avert your gaze, dropping your eye level to the rim of your mug no longer steaming. “It has only been a few, very odd occasions. Mere coincidences if nothing else.” Bloodhound shrugs off your deflection, unpersuaded by your argument.

“Even so.” The room falls into a content stillness after their last comment and you are left wondering how you had even ended up here. On T.V, Bloodhound was a truly mysterious character, never talking or partaking in the more rowdy activities as the others did. Sure, you were not an avid watcher, but from what little time you had spent gazing at the screen, you had made Bloodhound out to be a vastly stoic, isolated person. And by all means, they had mostly proven themselves to be exactly that person, what with their initial reluctance to meet your extended friendliness and the way they had so precariously placed themselves on this mountain all alone. However, sitting now with them in their own house, you did not feel intruding or unwelcome. And the way they spoke to you, the ease of words and conversation, came as soft and comfortable as if from someone you had known before. From them, you could feel nothing but gentle amity.

“Do you hunt?” Bloodhound’s voice wafts through the air and to your ears, bringing your head up in a hum. You snicker, a twinge of embarrassment pulling at your chest.

“Not if I can help it. Though Andante did try, I simply cannot,” you inhale deeply through your nose, suddenly aware of the gaze trained attentively on you, “Find the strength to actually kill anything. Much to the dismay of my patrons.” This peaks Bloodhounds attention and they motion for you to explain yourself.

“Every year around the beginning of Summer, before the birth of the first lambs, the town gathers for a sort of Summer festival. With my bar being the sole provider of food and alcohol for such an event, it normally fell upon Andante to supply the people with a freshly killed elk. A make-shift banquet we would all share. Everyone has so much fun.” Your head drops and your shoulders give inwards.

“But with him gone, I doubt I would be able to give the people what they want. Last year I barely managed to scrape by, I had to do a lot of ass-kissing to get the more hardened townsfolk back on my side. But this year,” Your story fades and you sigh miserably, the relief of finally expressing this concern aloud only seeming to momentarily dull the growing sense of shame.

“It is stupid, I know.” You run a hand through your hair, the bubbling self-hatred in your stomach threatening to go overboard. You were oversharing again. A lot. But you could not find a way to stop. “But, what right do I have to take the life of an animal when I already have frozen meat stored in my fridge?” Strength wanes from your knees and you are glad to be sitting down - oh, you were definitely going to kick yourself over this one later. Perhaps staying at home all alone would have been the better option after all.

In the silence that followed your last words, you felt incredible judgment bare down upon your shoulders and you wanted nothing more than to shrink away from it. Under the menace that was your own self-scrutiny, you were unable to recognize that Bloodhound was not, in fact, judging you. From behind their goggles, they watched you closely, noticing the subtle shudder of your shoulders, the downward twinge of your head, and the way your eyes seem to have lost that burning. This was something that troubled you deeply and for a terribly long time as well. So instead of what might be predicted of them to feel or do, mainly berate you for your lack of spine in the face of their profession, Bloodhound only leaned back in their chair and their mind wondering on how best to help you.

“It is not about vhat is right or vhat is not.” Bloodhound finally speaks, their tone mellow and coaxing you to look up at them again. At your acknowledgment, they continue with their explanation. “The hunt is a matter of vill - the vill of the hunter and of their prey. If your vill as a hunter surpasses that of the prey's vill to live, then you have every right to take it.” They ball their hand into a fist in an expression of power, shaking it slightly for emphasis. “You as a hunter must have an unwavering ákveðni, and strong belief in your skills. Trust your veapons and abilities, know that you are verðugt of the hunt.” Their voice lowers and they watch you for any signs of apprehension or disagreement. You only manage to look at them, eyes an unreadable ocean of something at war. They bring their fist to their chest and hammer it hard on the fabric, an attempt to ignite passion from you.

“If the hunter is humble and honors the hunt, then they have every right to taka their prey. Reap their rewards. You must just believe yourself vorthy of it. I have already seen that you have the ability and skill. Your bow, through troubled, aimed sure. And your knife brought a swift death. Now…”

“Just need to practice it.” You finish their statement, your gaze drifting a thousand miles away. Sure their wisdom was easy to take, generous even given the circumstances, but your mind was too frazzled to digest even a single word. Worthy? Not someone who hides in the forest and plays pretend bar-keeper. Bloodhound could see how you hesitated at their words, not necessarily rejecting it but not truly considering them either. They felt the urge to lean in more, to keep talking and chipping away at your pseudo mask until finally, they struck home. What were you thinking right now? Why were you so disgruntled at the thought of being worth something?

“You listen but my vords are not heard. You disagree vith vhat I say?” Bloodhound asks, their arms folding over their torso as they sit themselves upright, alert to your every movement and utterance. At their question you stir, a tired laugh that sounds more like a sigh escaping your nose and your eyes dropping their gaze.

“No, not at all. I am just… surprised.” Your response is framed with quiet complacency, your expression shifting to one of meek placidness. Bloodhound could tell that you were retreating back inside yourself, falling behind curtains of a trained profession such as the first night they met you. No longer were you that desperate person standing in the woods over a kill they mourned, instead you were a fake silhouette of someone who once was. They frown, unsure why they felt so unhappy to watch you shrink away again. Without speaking, Bloodhound asks you to elaborate.

“Forgive my rudeness but,” Your eyes snap up again and Bloodhound sees nothing in them. “I don’t really know you. And what little I do know, well, is that you are a most proficient hunter of both man and beast.” A hand lifts to your chest and you laugh. “You have seen it all and must think I am most annoying. Yet,” You pause, Bloodhound hanging off every one of your words, “You are so kind to my troubles.”

“I do not hunt in the Apex Games to prove anything. I do it for my folk and for the Allfather. I am no better than any other hunter.” Bloodhound speaks plainly, their heart thumping in their chest and their stare never once leaving your face. You smile unknowingly under their attention and they stare at your weak imitation of the real thing. Your true smile was the one they saw whilst sitting on the grass with you or when they told you stories in the car. Right now, you were faking it. Pulling away from them. Returning once more to your charade of sensibility. Whatever genuineness they had somehow managed to draw out of you was waning and they could do nothing but look on as you slipped away from them.

“I didn't mean to offend.” You ease them, your words lacing themselves with accommodation. “Your people must be very proud of all your titles however. No denying that it is impressive regardless of your motive.” You chuckle lightly. Suddenly you frown and you tilt your head at them. “May I ask,” When they did not oppose, you continued, “Why are you here? On this planet I mean. Why are you not with your people?” Bloodhound looks on like a marble statue, hardly even breathing beneath all their armor. You worry you might have overstepped your boundary and you open your mouth to apologize but they quickly cut you off.

“My folk vould not understand my decisions. Nor vould they approve of most that I do.” You can tell that the conversation was over and the warmth your bitter, hot drink had offered you only minutes earlier faded with the atmosphere. You nod in resignation.

“Then,” You say, standing and bowing your head in anticipated gratitude, the raven stranger’s attentive gaze not once shifting off your form, “I look forward to the Winter when I do not hear your Artur's call.”

~

“Oh my sweet, gentle Bar-keep, I am in need of your assistance!” Your eyes snap upwards from their work of stacking away cleaned glasses and you cannot help but grin at the one calling you. Seated at a table in the middle of your bar was a very drunk Thomas waving you over in exaggerated and hurried movements. He rocked backward in his seat and nearly looked as if he would fall over. You sigh and think it better to listen to him, lest your bar never know quiet again for the remainder of the evening. You step out from behind your bar table and carefully stroll over to him, a playfully condescending expression plastered to your face. Thomas beams a lop-sided smile and extends his hand, which you ignore and instead pat him lightly on his shoulder. He hums and overlaps your hand with his own seemingly unperturbed by your refusal.

“Ah my dear,” Thomas hiccups, swaying slightly in place despite being perfectly still, “Do not worry. I have not called you here to cause trouble. I just could not bear to see you stand behind your bar so lonely. I simply had to call you here. So troubled and worried over something.” Thomas squeezes your hand lightly and you roll your eyes at his obnoxious and misplaced concern.

“Though his words are slurred, they come from a genuine place.” From across the table, the farmer Mallory spoke. She offers you a sympathetic smile and silently apologies for her friend’s unruly behavior. Her heavy arms fold defensively over her large chest and she scowls at Thomas who sheepishly chuckles under her glare, retracting his hand and shrinking away slightly. Mallory sighs and looks to you again, the same concern that claimed her companion now sprinkled into her brown eyes. “You look a thousand years away tonight. What has upset you so?”

The two patrons turn their attention onto you and you gently shrug off their worries with a mild hand wave and flash of your smile. “You are looking for smoke signals when there is none, Mallory. And Mr. Thomas, you are concerned over the wrong things. You should be more concerned about returning to your own home before it gets too dark and I have to phone Rohan to come fetch you again.” Though the woman remains unmoved by your deflection, Thomas scoffs and shakes his head.

“Rohan’s bed will stay warm regardless of where I am. And he would excuse whatever lateness I cause if he had also seen how,” he stutters, his fingers flexing as he tried feebly to grasp at words that would not come, “ sad you look tonight.” You let out a tired laugh at the drunk fisherman’s antics and punch lightly at his shoulder.

“I assure you, my ‘sad looks’ are merely just that. Looks.” You gesture to the various empty beer glasses scattered around the table and after a nod from Mallory, you begin to place them on a tray to take back to the kitchen to be washed. “How ever could I be sad when I have your fine company to make my evenings so noisy?” This draws a cackle from the bitter woman, who relishes in your pecking at the man. Thomas gasps and feigns hurt under your judgments, a teasing hand placing pitifully over his broken heart.

It was all a lie, of course. There was some deep sincerity to your sadness that evening and it was not over Thomas’ painful crooning. Try as you might, your mind could not rid itself from the events that had occurred only the day before. What had happened with Bloodhound plagued your every waking moment. During the more lively hours of the day, when your bar was packed with singing, intoxicated patrons, you thankfully had a very loud and engrossing distraction. But now, as the evening winded down and the last table still waited to be cleared, your mind was awash with bitter thoughts.

It was all going so well, they had been so welcoming and friendly and you sat in their home confident and assured. They had shared in you their many stories and experiences, pulling you deeper into a conversation than you had ever been with them. And yet the moment you opened your mouth, allowed it to run unchecked and unguarded, the walls came down and the party ended. You were a fool, you kicked yourself. A damn, stupid fool for allowing yourself to speak so freely. To express to them a most sensitive part of yourself that not even your bathroom mirror had known. It was because of your inability to keep yourself in line that caused the rift to tear and now separate you from the person of your interest. Bloodhound told you such wonderful stories and now you were sure they would never want to speak to you again.

But you put on your brave face and pretend as if nothing is wrong. And that is true, of course. Nothing is wrong. Your life was fine before their intrusion and it shall be fine thereafter. The show must and will go on. Eventually, forced routine will become natural again and you will slip back into ease and complicit quietness. You will learn to move on and most certainly, so will they. If ever, you doubted greatly, you even left that much of an impact on them and all their glory.

“It is because you are so lonely, that's why you are so sad.” Thomas chimes, drawing both yours and Mallory’s attention back on him. He hums with content and leans back in his chair, sure that if he had a beard he would be stroking it thoughtfully. “We must find you someone to work with. Someone you can boss around and pull on their ear.” He winks at you and you smirk back, playing into his needful childishness.

“This is not the dark ages, Mr. Thomas.” You tease, taking your loaded tray to the bar counter and speaking over your shoulder. “We do not arrange marriages anymore.” The fisherman jeers and Mallory kicks him under the table. You return to them quickly, bringing with you a wet cloth and a glass of water requested by the woman. She presses it to Thomas’ face and commands him to sober up.

“Then how else are we supposed to get you hitched?” Thomas continues, paying no heed to the violent death stares of the woman sat across from him. Mallory kicks him again and he nearly spills his drink from the movement. You grin at the two of them, stepping back from the freshly wiped table with your arms folded over your chest.

“People don't need to be with others to be happy. I am perfectly content with myself as company.” You announce with your nose pointed in the air. “And you, as occasional annoyances.” The man chokes on his drink and Mallory snorts at your comment. You decide to continue playing along, matching their extended friendliness with your own enthusiasm.

“Y’know, I always thought it a vile rumor that fishermen were mad people.” You joke, taking the cloth and wringing it out before throwing it over your shoulder. “Nothing to do all day but sit in boats and think. But with every word you speak, my dear Thomas, I begin to believe that the rumor has some truth behind it." This arouses a snicker from the woman farmer and she shakes her head in amusement over you and disappointment for her friend. Thomas whines a noise that does not sound like any language you would know and Mallory leans forward.

"Finish your drink, my friend. I will see you home tonight." She urges the glass of water to his attention. "I cannot bear to watch you be torn apart any longer." Thomas darts his eyes between Mallory and you, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly like a fish out of water. You smugly smile at him, charming with all the beauty and grace of a snake. After a moment he relents, slumping down into his seat with a defeated huff, the water glass in hand.

“I swear, that mouth of yours,” Thomas moans into his glass weakly as if greatly wounded on a battlefield, “It is more vicious than any beast I’ve come across. Godspeed to anyone who dares to try to face such a monster.” At his last comment, you exhale loudly through your nose and shake your head dismissively. With one final look from Mallory, you leave the two late-evening patrons to finish their drinks and return to your work behind the bar.

The mood in the bar is somewhat lighter now and your hands worked at an easier pace with your mind quietly wondering over Thomas’ words. This was not the first time you had been scolded over your sharp words and you were sure it would not be your last. Conversation was your master and you were always one quick with your words, whether that be for the better or worse. Over the sound of you wiping down plates and glasses with a cloth, you could hear Thomas and Mallory talking faintly, the wind whispering outside your walls, and the gentle nothing of the world beyond. It was a peaceful evening, much more so now that you had dealt with your rowdy patron and the thoughts that curled like rats in a drowning cage. Though his comments were unnecessary, you thank Thomas for his distraction and for his unwitting lifting of your spirits. At least now you would be able to sleep soundly and with less of a worried mind.

Suddenly, a knock at the front door. Curious, unsure if it had even happened, you cast your attention over to it. It was far too late for anyone wanting to pop in for a drink and even if it was you were sure to turn them away. But still; there was no denying that you had, in fact, heard something. Or someone. Wordlessly, you slip out from your bar and quickly stroll to the door, pulling it swiftly open to reveal a cold night and a strange visitor.

“Oh,” You mumble, blinking numbly like a star-struck owl. You shake your head and revive your best smile to be planted on your lips. “What a lovely surprise.”

Standing before you, Bloodhound tipped their helmet, specks of accumulated snow falling off in the process. “Good evening,” They respond formally.

“And to you.” You nod back, familiar shivers running up and down your spine as you stood under their gaze. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” You swoon, curling your words with over-exaggerated sweetness so as to hopefully hide your utter shock at their being here. They always seem to have a knack for popping back into your life when you least expected it. But now of all time, why?! You could hardly even look at them straight after what had happened not even the day before! Fresh embarrassment boiled in our stomach and you wanted nothing more but to go back into your quiet existence. This had to be some cruel dream from a most hateful deity, cursing you out for some horrible act you had unwittingly done. Why could they not just go back to being a figure on the T.V, an unknown? Why did they have to be here, standing before you, talking to you?!

“I vish to speak with you.” Bloodhound says, voice terribly low and near-emotionless. It caught you off guard slightly at how plain and devoid of anything they sounded, nothing at all like the passionate hunter you sat and drank with yesterday.

“My bar will be closed soon.” You explain after a moment of debating on what to say. A strong part of you begged for an excuse to say no, the refusal even gracing the tip of your tongue in eager desperation. But your hospitality overrode your anxiety and you stepped to the side to allow entry into your bar. “If you do not mind waiting a few minutes then you will have my undivided attention.”

Bloodhound considers your words, eyes darting between your face and the warm interior of the business. They too notice how your own words seem guarded this evening, jaded behind bars of entertainment and false care. You smiled, yes, but it was not genuine. Again, you reeked of fakeness and it irked them for some unknown reason. They hum their agreement and stride quickly inside. Upon their entrance, two faces turn to look at them.

You shuffle between Bloodhound and the skeptical table, closing the door and guiding your new patron over to the bar. They follow closely behind you and seat themselves on a red cushion stool. You resume your position as host and perform your duties accordingly, offering them something to drink while they wait. Bloodhound silently refused, only lifting their hand and shaking their head.

“I don’t think I mentioned it before,” You say, works trickling out like a spring in a dessert, soothing all worries with a trained presentation. “A while ago we had a fellow pass through our humble town who had a similar accent to yours. He was a swindler and tried to persuade me to purchase from him strange pickled meats and other strange things.” While you spoke, you resumed your wiping of the glasses and plates, talking over your shoulder as you worked in a most casual manner.

“Though everyone tried to steady my hand, he just was so compelling and I caved. And now I have, stored in the back for the foreseeable future, a bottle of the most potent alcohol anyone has ever seen.” Your face softens into a smile as you recall the memories of that night when a brave soul tried to drink from that poison. “Someone once tried and no one has since. Perhaps it is a drink you know?” You cock your question at Bloodhound, leaning over the bar table and grinning.

“Your intuition values you, but perhaps another night I can provide you an answer.” You take Bloodhound dismissal with grace and nod your head in swift acknowledgment. They were cold tonight, the very definition of stoic. Whatever they wanted to discuss with you, you could only hope would somehow be more lighthearted than this. From behind the hunter, movement erupts as the two patrons stand up.

“We are off, my dear Bar-Keep.” Thomas sings, waving a hand at you in an irritating manner. Mallory follows close as they make their way to the front door, her eyes practically burning holes into the raven stranger’s dead-straight back. She passes you a flash of a concerned look and you calm her down with a cool smile.

“Have a good night and a safe journey home.” You call after them, mildly glad that now your ears would know rest from the fisherman’s chanting. However, as his hands grace the front door’s handle, Thomas quickly spins on his heels and points towards you and your new arrival.

“Don’t you dare try anything with my Bar-keep!” Thomas threatens, standing with his hackles raised like a chihuahua to a bear, “If I hear that you have touched even a single hair, so help me I’ll-”

“Thomas.” Mallory punches the man's shoulder causing him to drop his ill-backed threat and wince in pain. Without a moment more, the farmer shoves the man out the door and the two disappear into the night with the door closely swiftly behind. You stare after them, the atmosphere suddenly seeming to shrink and grow cold as you become painfully aware of your aloneness with the hunter.

“They seem nice.” Bloodhound remarks and you are so stunned by their nonchalant attitude you nearly snort.

“It is a small town. Everyone here is like family.” You explain, turning to face those unreadable, immovable lenses. “Besides, I serve him beer. I get special privileges.” At this Bloodhound seems to stir and you feel slightly more room to breathe. Relax, it was just conversation. Don’t get carried away again and you will be fine.

The conversation halted, however, neither you nor Bloodhound knowing what next to say to break the forming ice that had started growing between you two. Though you wanted to know what exactly had compelled them to travel all the way to visit you on such an odd evening, you could tell that they were not ready to answer so instead you plucked random topics from the top of your head.

“Winter is moving slowly this year,” You begin, regaling the exact dialogue you had shared that afternoon prior with a patron and reusing it word for word, “No big snow storms as of yet. But that just means that towards the end of the season, Mother Nature will rear her true head and drive us all inside our houses.” You sigh and rest your elbow on the tables’ surface, your busy work of drying cutlery all finished and packed away. “Many people tell me, warn me in fact, that the late-season storms are the worst kinds. Impossible snow and hail and everything else to make the shit pie complete. And I thought the cold now is hard to handle. I have no idea how I’ll-”

“Stop that.” Bloodhound interrupts you harshly, their voice an almost growl as they sit behind their undecipherable armor. You are slightly taken aback by their outright force at the command, flashbacks to the first time you met them in all their rage reappearing in your mind. Bloodhound remains still, fists clenched over the table, shaking beneath the heavy red fabric gloves.

Though you cannot see, they squeeze their eyes shut in an effort to understand why, so suddenly, they were getting so worked up. Why were you just talking to them? So nonchalant and practiced - it felt as if talking to them was a chore. Some kind of business transaction or task that was only being done as a means to an end. But that is not what muddled Bloodhound’s mind, not your lack of genuine interaction, your quiet was not what drove them out of their house and to your bar this evening. What made them toil in confused agony, was why they even cared so much for your genuine company?

“What?” You murmur after a minute of stale silence, the wind picking up the rising atmosphere inside the bar and clawing at the windows to join in. The raven stranger does not respond right away, instead they fight with what words would be best used in this kind of delicate situation.

“Stop that.” They repeat their vague statement sternly, staring at you through their goggles with great intent, noticing any slight change in your features or body language. “Stop trying to sell me your company. I do not vant it.” At this you frown and straighten your back, confused beyond anything at what they could mean. You open your mouth to speak but Bloodhound stops you with a raised hand.

“You talk but there is no life. You smile but there is no light behind it. Do you think I am not worthy of your trueness? I have seen your true self but always you hide it. Do you think you are not worthy of enjoying yourself?” Utterly and so completely shocked at what was being said, you stood wordless with your face a mix between anger and bewilderment. Bloodhound watched you, eyes scanning up and down your form for any signs of egregious discontent. Why weren’t you speaking? Why weren’t you reacting in any way? Had their visit and accusations not even struck a nerve with you? You only stood there, placid and unwavering, like ice waiting for the sun to melt it.

“I have talked vith this free person, sat in silence vith them and felt þægilegt , calm. And I came here this evening because…” Bloodhound falters at this, unsure at what best to say when describing the reason they themselves still had no answer to. Why had they come here to bother you? Why had you not left their thoughts since yesterday, or even, since that afternoon on the grass? Why is it that when the world goes quiet and they stand still to listen, it is you who looms in the corner of their vision, beckoning for them to find you? In such a short time of meeting, somehow you had trapped them in some unforeseen and unbreakable cage - an ever-present urge to lean in more, to seek you out. But why, exactly, it was you of all people who had proclaimed that spot of interest, was a mystery that the Allfather cruelly hid from them.

“Vhat is it you vant from me?” Bloodhound lowly asks, their tone hollow and their demeanor stone-cold. Perhaps that was the reason for their spontaneous visit - to search for an answer themselves. To find out if maybe you felt at all the same way they did.

“Nothing.” The words leak from your lips like a whisper yet hold the strength and bite of a scream. Devoid of all anger, hostility, confusion, and regret, you gaze back at the raven stranger, “What ever could I possibly want from you?” And there it was - their answer.

“Now if that is all you came to ask me, then I must now say good night.” You motion with your attention towards the door, still shell-shocked over what had just transpired. Why are they so angry towards you? So taken aback by, what you were sure to be, great and comforting hospitality? This was the reason you had so ardently avoided opening yourself up to people, allowing yourself to talk unchecked often leads to situations where people get angry. And now Bloodhound was angry and you were sure you could never fix it.

The raven stranger slowly rises from their seat, tipping their helmet in a stiff manner before silently making their way over to the front door. This is how it will be, forever. You made a mistake, let your mouth have free rein over your conversations, and brought ruin to a person that made your chest ache. And as you watched them slip away into the snowy night, the only thing you can say was, “Have a safe journey home.”