#i just stay in my room like the hermit i am

[generic-internet-name]

Hey remember when i bound the first half of from the archives? well i've finally done the rest! and honestly i am so proud of it. i tried some new things with the binding, and i am almost completely happy with how it turned out! the only improvement for next time would probably be actually measuring things.

thank you @sixteenth-days for writing something so good i needed to physically bite it.

[icewindandboringhorror]

"We can get through this by working together, reach out to your friends, community is all we have, a social network will be your security in the world, now is the time to lean on others!"

I do agree, and it's scientifically sound (pretty sure there is data about how people with better social networks live longer and etc) but also....augh..... what about the severe social issues, difficulty to leave the house, physical issues which lead to like zero socialization energy a majority of the time, etc. etc. Social support can be a replacement for structural support, but.. I guess I just wish it didn't have to be. Community is extremely difficult to build, even moreso if you're someone who has issues with social cues or group conversations or even just being around others in the first place. And blah, nuance, of course I'm just complaining or maybe being too negative or maybe misunderstanding, but, I hardly have the energy to brush my hair once every 2 months.. how am I supposed to maintain a wide social network and be active in a Community and Join Groups lol... sometimes it kind of feels like "er.. well if thats my only option then...... ruh roh". It's overwhelming

[theminecraftbee]

why hbomb94 should be the next new hermit: no listen this isn't just me being ridiculous listen listen--

okay but like. after today i am ON THIS TRAIN. i am FULLY CONVINCED that hbomb94 would be one of the BEST POSSIBLE CANDIDATES for "new hermit for hermitcraft". and please, just listen to my case for this:

so, after today, i'm fully convinced hbomb is a perfect vibes match for many hermits. he gets along well! he's actually pretty good at staying at hermitcraft levels of pg in videos (like, not swearing--he makes like, the catmaid jokes, but that's nothing worse than whatever ren gets up to on a given day). he's also relatively chill, already friends with a lot of the hermits, and connects well with them on a content creation level. like, he's excited for them, he slots into the bits well, the bits he brings to the table are picked up easily by the other hermits.

and the thing is... okay i KNOW hbomb isn't a huge base builder. i watched vault hunters smp too. but the thing is... he doesn't have to be! you see, there's a certain hermit niche they haven't invited a new hermit into in a while, and that's the niche that someone like joe hills or zedaph (or i'd argue etho or cubfan) occupies. it's the 'weird' niche. i don't think hbomb would be a builder hermit. i don't think he'd be a redstoner either. what he'd be good at is things like... hermits helping hermits! building minigames! have you seen hbomb actually, half of what he did on dsmp or on his main youtube is building minigames and escape rooms. he'd have good vibes! he'd show up to all the events! he'd probably RUN some events!

what he'd be is a new chill, friendly niche hermit, and i think we need more of those? more of the hermits who WON'T be building megabases, but WILL be building games, helping collect resources, and inventing new strange things to do. yes, sure, once again: i know hbomb isn't a builder, and next to someone like joel, that probably puts him out of contention, but... the last two hermits they invited were builders. they need a hype guy. an event guy. another team player. the escape rooms would be ENRICHMENT. it would be wonderful.

plus, i don't think he'd ever stop being a delightful audience insert about the other hermit projects. plus plus, i think he and scar and cub would definitely do a catmaid bit we'd all regret. plus plus plus i think he could do his rant about how weird beetroot is and the hermits would appreciate him for it.

as such i actually think hbomb slots in BEST of the visitors from today as a new hermit. (this is also in part because the empires crew tends to prefer much shorter seasons on their servers than hermitcraft has if they don't want to get bored and the hermits have pretty definitively decided they don't like short seasons. it's also a vibe check. skizz for hermitcraft fans, i am shaking your hand and saluting you, my guy who can't build and your guy who can't build should be hermits who join for similar reasons, we are friends.)

anyway will this actually happen? probably not. but like. listen. for the first time since hbomb hermit adoption arc started this feels VIABLE and i feel the need to make my case for why i want him on because the moment the season rolls over and we start speculating about new hermits this is the guy who has my vote please do you understand now please he'd be so fun--

[passionateseadruid]

That time Lucifer turned his best friend into a duck

Cw:slight Yandere elements

Lucifer sat on his thrown with a big yellow duck on his lap.

Yep, that's me. You're probably wondering how I ended up in this situation.

—+—

"Lucifer you need to get out of your workshop!" You tried to open the door to his workshop. He'd been in there for 4 days straight and everyone was starting to get worried! (It was more like just you and Charlie (and Vaggie because Vaggie cares about whatever Charlie cares about) but still, he had people who were worried sick about him)

"No! I'm fine! I just need to put the finishing touches on my tropical vacation duck  and I'll be right out!"

"You have said that every hour I came by! First it was cowboy duck, then it was bunny duck, then it was maid dress duck, and last time it was steampunk duck! What will it be next time? Maybe a Vaporeon duck or a witch duck?" You huff.

"OOOOH! Wait let me write that down!" He said excitedly

"LUCIFER!!" You groaned and struggled with the golden doorhandle.

"Come on, apple-tart! Just one more duck!" Lucifer begged.

You finally decided to try lock-picking the lock. "Sorry Duckie, but this is for your own good!"

"Wait! No! Please! I'll do anything! Just let me make one more duck!"

You finally heard the lock click and the door handle finally turned. You opened the door as Lucifer screamed and a gold light came at you faster than you could react. When your vision came back you were standing only a foot off the ground, the world towered before you.

Lucifer... WHY AM I SHORTER THAN YOU!

You said in your mind but all that came out was "Quack! Quack Quack!"

"Well um... is that really important? The important thing is that I'm not the shortest person in the room for once!"

Ugh... of course you understand duck.

"Wait! How'd you know you're a duck now?"

It's kinda obvious. I mean, what other animal quacks?

"oh… well shit.”

Lucifer! I don't want to be a duck!

"But you're so cute as a duck." He stuck his bottom lip out and pouted.

Don't you dare do that! You know I can't say no to you when you look so sad.

"I'm just saying… a real best friend would do whatever it takes to make me happy…"

That's incredible manipulative and hypocritical! As my best friend you should respect my wish to not be a duck!

"But…" He tried to think of some way to persuade you. "If… if you were a duck, I’d pamper you… and then we’d both have our needs taken care of!"

You promise that if I let you pamper me in duck form you’ll take care of yourself? You asked skeptically.

"I promise." He nodded, pride dripped in his voice.

…fine! I will stay a duck… BUT JUST FOR TODAY!! You’re turning me back tomorrow!

Lucifer squealed in delight and scooped you up to hold you in his arms. It sucks being shorter than Lucifer.

—+—

At first he was just cuddling you and brushing out your feathers.

Lucifer... how is this helping either of us?

"It's making you look pretty, and in turn that bolsters my reputation." He said proudly.

WHAT REPUTATION? YOU'RE A HERMIT! YOU NEVER LEAVE THE PALACE UNLESS CHARLIE INVITES YOU OVER!

"Shh... apple pie, just let me have this. It feels good doesn't it?"

...

"Apple pie?"

I plead the fifth.

—+—

Next it was feeding you.

"Here!" He feed you grape by individual grape.

Lucifer, you don't need to feed me by hand. I may not have opposable thumbs anymore but that doesn't mean that I'm a helpless baby.

"I know, but I'm pampering you! You promised that I could pamper you." He booped your beak.

I suppose I did...

"Good, now shut up." He pushed one more grape into your mouth

You are eating yourself right?

"Of course! Two for you... and one for me." He popped a grape in his mouth and scritched under your chin.

ahhhh... You quacked purred in delight.

You looked up to see Lucifer had the most smug look on his face. "See? I knew you enjoyed being my pet~"

The double entendre was not lost on you. You were so glad that you were a duck right now so Lucifer couldn't see how absolutely flustered you were.

You stepped on a grape, spraying it's juices all over you. What a shame. Guess we have to put this little conversation on hold while you bathe me.

He smirked like he just won the argument. "You're not exactly helping your case." He teased.

Just get the bubbles going...

—+—

Then it was bathing you.

He starts to take off his vest and unbutton his shirt.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!

"What does it look like I'm doing? I don't want to get my clothes wet." He rolled his eyes.

B-but... why do you need to be shirtless?! Don't you have a tank top or a robe or something to put on?!

His smirk became devious. "Do I make you... nervous?"

Please don't be weird while I'm in a duck body

"Good point." He picked you up and dropped you over the tub. "Now let's get that purple out of your beautiful feathers, shall we?"

Mhm! You smiled and leaned into his hands. His charcoal hands were softer than expected. His fingers were tender as they worked the shampoo through your soft, delicate, yellow feathers. Maybe being a duck wasn't so bad. Maybe being his pet wasn't so bad.

—+—

So that's basically how you got here. Wrapped in a towel, in Lucifers lap (while he sat above the residents of hell on his throne), as he pet you again.

Duckie... 'm tired...

"You're tired apple pie?" He smiled softly at you.

mhm...

"wanna go to bed?" He offered and walked toward his room

Want you to hold me too... you need your sleep...

He laughed. "I know, apple pie. I know."

You promise you'll stay with me?

"I promise." He laid down with you on his chest.

—+—

The next morning he woke up before you did...

And he saw you back in your normal form... but instead of the clothes you were in when you were turned...

you were in nothing more than a feather silk robe...

"Oh golly..." His face turned into a beautiful gold hue.

[tarot-swords-gemini]

Pick a Card Reading: What type of practise can serve you in order to manifest your desires?

The images are not mine! I found them one Pinterest! If you know the artists mention them!!

Whenever you feel ready pick the pile that feels close to you but don't overthink it for intuition doesn't take long!

If this post is not for you scroll, don't press your spirit to read one, it might not match your situation! Some parts might be 18+, so if you are not, scroll.

💌My type of readings are brutally honest for l used to struggle with it myself; so now I only command from the spirit to tell me the truth through protection, but always the truth, I like it or not, so I warn you that I am like that.

The symbols are: Earth, Moon, Neptune, Jupiter, Venus & Mars — the planets.

Like & Reblog my pinned post (you can click my profile and do that, for it will help me to make a living from it) for it will bring the right people to my page!! thank you and may you be safe, happy and blessed!

1. Earth Group

Grounding and Practicality

Cards: The Hermit / 2 of Swords / 6 of Pentacles / Death / Queen of Swords / 10 of Pentacles / Bottom Card: 9 of Swords

Reading: For you, the best practice to manifest your desires involves a grounded and practical approach. Something that will allow you to feel confident and secured. This means taking time for introspection and seeking clarity through solitude, while also addressing any internal conflicts or indecision you might have. Engaging in practices like giving and receiving support generously will help you find balance or even activities that allows you to let go. Embrace transformation and let go of outdated beliefs or habits. Building a stable foundation, such as setting long-term goals or working on personal growth, is crucial. Additionally, overcoming fears and anxieties with practical techniques like mindfulness or grounding exercises will strengthen your manifestation efforts. Slow down what you do and let go!

---

2. Moon Group

Emotional and Intuitive Practices

Cards: 5 of Wands / The Empress / Page of Swords / The Hierophant / Queen of Cups / 5 of Cups / Bottom Card: Ace of Wands

Reading: For you, focusing on emotional and intuitive practices will be most effective. Embrace your emotions and creativity by engaging in activities that nurture your inner self, such as journaling or creative expression; since five of wands is also here and aggression can be a thing here, activities that release inner conflict can also be beneficial when you’re working in your manifestations. Crying and expressing too. Use your intuition and stay curious about new methods for personal growth. Traditional practices or spiritual guidance from mentors may also be beneficial; feminine energy might be leading you or needs additional healing. Healing from past emotional wounds and allowing yourself to move forward will help you find clarity and inspiration. Practices like meditation, emotional healing, manifesting through arts or exploring new beginnings with enthusiasm will support your manifestation process.

---

3. Neptune Group

Spiritual and Dream Work

Cards: 9 of Pentacles / 10 of Cups / The Lovers / Temperance / The Magician / Strength / Bottom Card: 8 of Cups

Reading: For you, spiritual and dream work are key to manifesting your desires. Focus on cultivating a sense of abundance and emotional fulfillment through spiritual practices. Align your actions with your values and desires, and integrate various spiritual practices in a balanced way. Alignment and letting go is crucial here. It’s like you should dream about it, “own it” and then ignore it because you’re confident that it’s happening. It’s like when you boil water for pasta, you know if you go to the living room and do something else the water will boil and you will simply put the pasta and voila. Harness your inner power and creativity through visualization or manifestation techniques. Find balance between mind and heart; unite them and be abundant in it. Just Developing inner strength and resilience will support your journey. Neville’s practices that happen during sleep can be used here too. Your mind is very anxious and on the path of changing so for that manifesting on your sleep can be more beneficial for you so you don’t overthink it; if at first you see negative dreams etc don’t worry it’s your comfort zone fighting itself, but don’t force it — open to exploring new spiritual paths or letting go of outdated practices that no longer serve you, as this will help you move forward effectively. Don’t complicate your manifestation path, simplicity and mysticism is the key here.

---

4. Jupiter Group

Growth and Learning

Cards: 8 of Pentacles / Queen of Wands / 4 of Pentacles / 3 of Swords / The Hermit / 8 of Swords / Bottom Card: 5 of Pentacles

Reading: For you, focusing on growth and learning will be most effective. Learning about your desires or presenting them in some way with diplomatic ways can boost it. For example, showing your friends what you learned about your desired degree even though you don’t have to let them know what you are trying to manifest, just to make the information alive. Dedicate yourself to mastering new skills and put in the effort required for personal development. Embrace your creativity and confidence in your practices. Build a stable foundation by being mindful of how you manage your resources and energy. Accept the abundant energy you crave to experience. Address past emotional wounds and use solitary reflection to gain deeper insights. Overcome mental blocks or limiting beliefs, and work through feelings of insecurity or lack to enhance your manifestation efforts. Reprogram your brain (this goes for everybody but here is strong).

---

5. Venus Group

Love and Harmony

Cards: The Moon / 9 of Cups / Judgment / Justice / Page of Cups / Bottom Card: 9 of Wands

Reading: For you, practices centered around love and harmony will be most effective. Your heart must open or be balanced. Dive deep into your subconscious and emotions through practices like meditation or emotional exploration. You should feel what you’re trying to manifest and avoid to feel like “you’re trying”, because the heart wants what it wants and your heart wants what you want. Focus on achieving emotional fulfillment and balance, and reflect on past experiences to gain insight. Embrace practices that align with fairness and self-expression like arts, activities for wellness and even intimacy healing methods where your heart is the lead. Working through challenges and maintaining a sense of perseverance will help you manifest your desires more effectively. Be the love you seek, and your desires will run to you for what they want is to be loved and your heart loves what you want.

---

6. Mars Group

Action and Willpower

Cards: 7 of Swords / King of Swords / The Sun / 9 of Wands / 5 of Swords / 2 of Cups / Bottom Card: 9 of Cups

Reading: For you, focusing on action and willpower is essential for manifesting your desires. Be strategic and clear-headed in your approach, using your intellect and decisiveness to navigate obstacles. Take actions and be bold with what you want. Command for everything to work in your favor with harm to none. Embrace your inner strength and enthusiasm, and engage in practices that energize and inspire you. Go to the gym, embrace your wild side; heal or lead with your masculine side. Address any conflicts or challenges with resilience, and work towards achieving harmony in your relationships and personal goals. Cultivating a sense of contentment and satisfaction will also support your manifestation process. Be your own King. Be your own Leader.

Thank you 🙏 don’t forget to check my private readings for I’m trying to save money for my desired university ❤️

[idyllcy]

and baby, if you knew

word count: 2.1k || pt2 of saying we're just friends

warnings: mentions of the night before (?), morning after, hickies (?)

summary: oh the horrors of getting caught the morning after

You stare at yourself in the mirror, blinking incredulously. (Partially out of pure shock, partially because sleeping with your contacts on was NOT a smart decision on your end)

Holy fuck, Tim got mouthy with you.

You tilt your neck to brush your fingers over the hickeys, gawking at the way it trails down your neck and collar to your chest, the purple popping on your skin. Sure, you weren't half as pale as Tim was, but hello? You didn't even bring concealer. You weren't expecting him to take you to the Wayne Manor. 

"Tim." You swallow, grimacing.

Tim raises a brow, shirt pulled halfway over his head.

"How many hickeys did you give me? Do you have a whisk? Do you have ice? Are you secretly a vampire???"

"One question at a time, lovely." he mumbles. "Seven. There's a whisk and ice downstairs. I am not secretly a vampire, although I can see why you'd guess that."

You blink at him. "Do you have a collared shirt?"

"Just settle for one of my shirts for now." He pulls the shirt over his head, tossing you the other one in the bed. 

"Please tell me it's not sheer."

"It's not."

"Thank GOD you're rich." You mumble. "It's a blessing to have non-sheer white shirts."

"Yeah, I get that." He mumbles. "Come on. Alfred called us for breakfast a little ago."

"Which one of your siblings are here?"

"We'll see." Tim hums, shutting the door to his room. (All of them are downstairs, likely. They were probably having a post-valentine debriefing like they usually do. Bruce was not spared from it.)

You duck behind Tim when you notice everyone having breakfast.

"You said we'll see! Are none of them staying with the people they were out with last night?!"

"It happens every year." Tim hums, holding his hand out for you. "Come on. Don't do the walk of shame."

"Seriously. I run a stan account for you and live in my dorm. I'm practically a hermit." You deadpan. "I am NOT cut out to be meeting your family this early in the morning."

"Master Tim, young miss. Are you ready for breakfast? We are having pancakes."

"Just kidding I would kill for pancakes right now." You mumble, following behind Tim as he sits you next to him.

All eyes are on you as you adjust the collar of your shirt, the tag scratching against your skin, the hickeys on your neck visible. You thank Alfred as he places a plate before you, and you start at the chocolate chip pancakes. Holy shit, fuck the eyes on you, this was heaven.

"Alfred, do you have a recipe book?" You blink at him, eyes wide in admiration. 

"Which recipe would you like, young miss?"

"Oh, all of them if possible. I'd love to be able to cook half as well as you can." You hum, taking another bite of your food. "Do you have a digital copy?"

"Unfortunately, all of it is on paper or in here." He smiles, tapping his brain. "But I am more than willing to provide you with any recipes you may like."

"Mm!" You shove the last piece of the pancake into your mouth, swallowing as you get up. "Tim, do you have a laptop? I want to type a couple recipes down and transcribe what's on paper—"

"Pull open the drawer to your left." He hums.

You pull it open, blinking at him.

"There's a false bottom in it. One of my spare laptops is in it. The password is a combination of letters." He hums.

"With significance?"

"Yes."

"Oh, then I know an approximation, then." You hum, working your finger into the side as you prop it open, pulling his laptop out. "Is it our birthdays?"

"Wait, how did she–" Dick's cut off when you manage to open it on your first try.

"Alright. I'm gonna go! I'll be with Alfred if you need anything." You smile.

"She just?" Duke blinks incredulously. "Did she just hack open your laptop on her first try? Is she in compsci like you?"

"English." Tim grabs a couple pancakes, cutting off a piece of butter. "Creative writing, technically."

"Oh, is she making her own major?"

"Yes." Tim hums. "I don't actually know how she guessed that it would be our birthdays since I only changed it a little while ago. It'd be easier to open if it was just our birthdays combined. Maybe she was stalking me."

"Or, maybe all the years of running a Robin Twitter account finally paid off." Jason shrugs. "She's quite a big writer on the internet too, you know?"

"Yeah." Tim hums. "She's quite the character. Have you read her works?"

"I have." Damian speaks up. "Her writing resembles poetry, pulling on the strings of your heart and snapping them at moments you least expect."

"You've read her works?!" Tim raises a brow at Damian. "That's surprising."

"She resembles the poets."

"She'd love to hear that come out of your mouth for sure." Tim mumbles. "Anything else I should know?"

"She covered me for change once while I went to buy cup noodles." Cass mumbles.

"I'm mutuals with her on Twitter?" Steph points.

"Okay, that's not the point. Timmy." Dick deadpans. "Did you sleep with her last night?"

"Sex or just plain sleeping? Because we did both—"

"I DIDN'T GET TO GIVE YOU THE SHOVEL TALK!" Dick cries. "Okay, when a man and a—"

"Dick, I'm well over into the ages of a legal adult." Tim sighs. "Besides, I'm like seventy percent sure that you gave me the shovel talk when you first found out I was dating Ari in high school. Also, I got one from my dad and Bruce, so I think I'm good."

"Oh, right." Dick mumbles. "But still."

Steph pauses. "Does she want a whisk?"

"She was asking for one earlier." Tim hums.

"We'll go help." Cass mumbles, getting out of the seat, dragging Steph.

"Okay, Tim. Is she the one who was making you all red and blushy during Christmas?" Dick slides closer to him, throwing an arm around his shoulder.

"Yes." Tim sighs, batting Dick's hand away. "She was."

"How'd you ask her out?"

"Told her if she had nothing to do on Valentine's, then she could stick with me and I could plan a date." Tim reaches for another pancake.

"And she agreed?" Jason snorts. "Wow. She's way out of your league."

"Yeah, but at least I got B's absolutely insane ability to pull." He mumbles. "Pulled way out of my league, for sure."

"If you fumble her I fear the things that will happen to you, Drake." Damian clicks his tongue.

"Do I... know her?"

"Duke," Damian sighs. "You're smarter than this."

"He's messing with you right now." Jason pours himself another cup of coffee. 

"What's your relationship with her." Tim deadpans.

"She used to peer review my poems." He hums. "It didn't click until Damian showed me her information this morning, though."

"You just let them go through my girlfriend's personal information?!" Tim finally looks at Bruce, who only gives him a shrug.

"No harm in knowing a little more about your girlfriend."

"I swear, if you bring her in on the vigilantism—"

"That's not happening. I can promise that." Bruce glances at his almost empty mug. "Does she know?"

"She called me out for being Red Robin last night in the car." Tim sighs. "Besides, it'd be strange if she didn't notice immediately how similar Red Robin and I's voices are."

"She's been running your account for how long... now?" Bruce motions for Jason to pass him the coffee.

"Since middle school, so like..." Tim pauses. "Give or take seven years."

"That's a long time." Dick mumbles. "My longest-running fanpage is only six-ish years." 

"If you count the Gotham Gazette, then I've been running for the longest." Bruce snorts. "Is she the one?"

"I think she is." Tim smiles. "And if she's not..."

"Then I will personally see the end of your life, Drake." Damian grumbles. "I shall have mother adopt her and have her write poetry for me in exchange for a living space and food. She shall be the equivalent of a court poet except to mother and I."

"I honestly think she wouldn't turn that down." Tim grimaces. 

"Is she that desperate?"

"She's joked about sleeping with a millionaire to make some money." Tim grimaces. "Something something desperate situations call for desperate measures."

"She would love it in mother's mansion, then." Damian hums, sipping on his tea. "I shall have her write a poem for your death. It shall be my last mercy."

Tim grimaces. "What if she breaks up with me?"

"Then you're in the fault, obviously." Jason mumbles, looking at his phone. 

"So it's my fault regardless of what happens?"

"Listen, her tweets are unhinged. You can't say you like crazy girls and then get annoyed when you date one and she acts insane." Jason grumbles.

"He's got a point, Timmers." Dick hums. "I hope it works out for the best, regardless of the ending."

"Twenty bucks they are endgame." Damian mumbles.

"Alfred bet ten that Tim would pop the ring."

"Ugh, come on. You know no one out-bets Alfred." Dick groans. "Did he set up the jar?"

"He did. This morning." Duke hums. "I put my bet in too."

"Come on–"

"You can't say shit when you bet on all of our relationships and pretty much came out unscathed in all of them." Jason glares. "Shut it."

Tim rolls his eyes, surrendering himself to the idea that his relationship would get bet on. 

"Tim, can I marry your sisters?" You come out of the kitchen, eyes sparkling.

"We're dating." He sighs. "Pretty bird—"

"EWWWWWWW" A mixture of faked hurls and gags are heard in unison as Tim rolls his eyes. 

"Ignore them. Why do you want my sisters?"

"The hickeys are all," You pull your shirt down too to show your cleavage, the hickeys no longer visible, "gone! Your sisters are really good at this."

"Yeah..." Tim sighs, reaching to pull your shirt back up. "Steph isn't my sister, by the way."

"Oh, yes, I know." You smile. "After all, if she was, it'd be strange that you've dated her before." 

Tim chokes on the air at your statement.

"Besides, she's my mutual." You hum. "I also got Alfred's recipes, by the way." You hum, smile on your face. "I also got his chocolate chip cookie recipe, though I need to figure out what the secret ingredient is."

"A dash of vanilla extract." Tim lowers his voice. "Don't tell the rest of the family."

"Got it." You give him a thumbs up. 

"Do you cook?" Damian speaks up.

"I do! Mainly ethnic foods, since there isn't much of that here in Gotham." You mumble. "Got any good Chinese places?"

"Oh, there's this place on Seventh Ave and Jester." Bruce speaks up. "I used to get dim sum there. It's only open from eight to twelve, and you need to get in via reservation. Feel free to borrow my name whenever. Just make sure to invite me."

"Uncle Dan's, right?" You beam. "I went there a while back with another friend, but I miss like... the dim sum that's messy and chaotic in the morning."

"Oh, then try the one on Lightbeam." Dick pauses. "Ah, what was the other street?"

"Oh, that one's good." Duke agrees. "Sam Woo's Dim Sum and BBQ."

"I've had that too!" You smile. "They're good, just quite a while from the university."

"If you really want something good," Cass speaks up from behind you, "try Jin."

"Jin?"

"It's smaller, but it's family-run, and it's been doing business in Gotham for three generations already." Cass hums. "They're called Jin, but the Chinese character for gold. They're right by Gotham U too. On the corner by Circle K."

"The sketchy looking alley??" You blink.

"Yes, but their dumplings are to die for." She pauses. "And they sell in bulk if you want to boil any in your dorm."

"Tim, I want your sister."

"Pretty bird, we just started going out." He clicks his tongue. 

"Tim, if you break her heart, I will date her." Cass blinks.

"You can visit her when she stays in mother's mansion."

"Hm?" You turn to blink at Damian.

"Ignore him—"

"Should you and Drake break up, I have already arranged your living arrangements, should you agree to it."

"And what might they be?" You hand the laptop to Tim, pointing at the document you shared with yourself.

"With my mother. Your only job shall be to write poems and short stories to entertain her."

"Living and writing for the Talia Al Ghul? Count me in." You sigh dreamily. 

"Alright." Tim shuts the laptop after changing the password. "We're going to get going before her roommate calls the cops on her."

"Oh, right!" You mumble. "It was a pleasure meeting you all! I hope to see you again sometime?"

"Tim, send her number in the chat later!" Dick calls as Tim pulls you out.

"Sorry, they're quite embarrassing." Tim mumbles.

"They're warm." You smile. "I like it."

"Yeah?"

"Yes." 

Tim sighs in relief at the look of fondness on your face. Right.

You'll be fine.

[f4irys4n]

brothers best friend

jeong yunho x afab! reader

your brother wasn't too much older than you, probably around a yea

so that meant you closely grew up with him and his friendship group

and over the years.. you slowly developed a crush on yunho

honestly, you just thought it was due to the proximity: he was an attractive guy and he was nice to you, you're bound at least get a little crush on him

but over time you began to realise that it was so much more than that

you tried your best to try and hide it, to not make things awkward but as you both got older, this progressively got harder

he'd watched you grow up, there was no way he could ever like you. you were convinced he only saw you as a sister

there was one defining time where he was staying over at your house and he'd had a shower, and of course you stepped out of your room the very same moment he stepped out of the bathroom

to add to this situation.. he was shirtless, hair and chest still wet..

you swear you audibly gasped at the sight before turning back around and locking yourself into your room once again

since that day, you felt stupidly awkward around him

and of course, he noticed, and it confused him beyond belief

you'd been close since you were young, doing stupid things together and laughing around, why had you suddenly gone into hermit mode around him?

and the only thing he could think to do was to confront you about it?

you were in the kitchen one day making coffee when he came downstairs, telling your brother he was going to get a glass of water

but in reality, he just needed a moment alone with you

the second you saw him coming down the stairs, you tried to quickly rush what you were doing so you could slip away

'lets not be doing this again,' he speaks bluntly, blocking the way and stopping you from getting past him

'do what?' you fake confusion, trying to scooch past his big frame

'ignore me.. act like i'm not there,' he hums, a small pout forming on his lips 'every time i enter a room, you automatically leave.'

you didn't know how to respond to his sudden comments

you felt guilty, of course you did, but you seriously didn't know what else to do

'what have i done? have i upset you?'

'no.. of course you haven't, yunho,'

'so what's going on? we've known each other since you were 8, you've always wanted to be around me, what's changed?' he asks firmly

'it's nothing,' you mumble 'you've done nothing,' you continue, emphasising the last part of your sentence because that was the problem.. he's done nothing

yunho would sigh, slowly stepping aside to let you past, giving up trying to talk to you because it was apparent you weren't giving up

you take your chance and try to shoot off but he suddenly grabs your wrist softly

"y/n.." he whispers softly, you could hear the desperation in his voice "look at me."

you'd comply, feeling uneasy about what he was gonna say

and here comes an obvious looking romance cliché

he cups your face and kisses you

his lips were softer than clouds, and his finger tips caressed your cheek like you could break at any second

the grin on his face as he pulls away would be unforgettable

just a cheesy little grin, his cheeks red and round

"that was nice," he giggles softly

you'd actually be speechless because where did that come from ??

"that's what i hadn't done," yunho hums, pleased with himself "will you now please stop ignoring me? i've missed you,"

you'd actually be beyond baffled..

"i like you.. y/n.." he confess

instant wave of relief, am i right?

"and i hated not speaking to you, it's been the first few weeks of my life seeing you ignore me like you don't even know me when you've known me your entire life,"

you wouldn't even know what to say but sorry

what else are you supposed to say?

"don't apologise.. just admit you like me back," he chuckles

like the cheeky little fuck that he is

because unbeknown to you, yunho knew you fancied him the entire time and was just waiting for the day you finally admitted it to him

"i've waited so long for you to confess to me, but you never did, so now i've had to do it myself you little shit,"

cut to you confessing and having another cheeky little kiss

and your brother extra points if you're imagining it's another ateez boy catches you in the act and threatens to beat yunho up

[se-agapo-skywalker]

Silence at the Cliffs of Dawn

Celebrating one year of the blog 🥳

CW: age gap (dilf!Luke Skywalker), finger (cybernetic) sucking, oral sex (f! and m! receiving; blowjob/face sitting/69ing)

WC: 3.5k

"...All I ever do is make myself unlikable. You know that," Luke says, "Why do you even bother staying?"

The two of you are laying down in his bed, pressed together tightly to avoid accidentally pushing the other off the already small space--how you managed to convince Luke to let you sleep with him, you have no idea... Of course, you did sleep with him. Your current state of undress is evidence of that; in a move showcasing a rare display of his kindness, he allowed you to hog the majority of the blanket while he chose to rely on the warmth of his nightclothes.

Propping your head up on the pillow, you look at Luke and frown.

"I don't think you do it on purpose... for the most part, anyway," you tease. He raises an unamused eyebrow at you, before shaking his head and letting out a quiet almost-laugh.

"I can't even tell anymore. I guess I've really grown into it."

You fall silent for a moment. "What were you like? Before... When you were a Jedi?"

More silence. The rain outside is just starting to clear up, you notice, but it's still dark out. Luke's features are too dim to fully discern, but even then, you can notice the pain in his eyes... the conflict.

Strangely enough, he laughs. An actual laugh.

"...I looked a lot nicer. Dignified, you know? Not like some hobo hermit living in the middle of nowhere." He sighs. "In all seriousness, though... things were different. I can barely even recognize who I am now, nor can I the man I was before."

"Let me guess..." you smile, trying to picture a younger version of the greying man before you. You've seen the old propaganda posters--shockingly handsome ones, portraying him as the gorgeous golden boy of the Rebellion. "Plenty of admirers? Paramours, even?"

Luke shakes his head with something akin to embarrassment. "People certainly tried, but... that life wasn't for me."

Intrigued, you decide to press even further. "Well, what was? The daring pilot with a life full of adventure, or the wise, contemplative Jedi who liberated entire planets with the wave of his hand?"

"I did my fair share of both, but the truth is far more complicated than that. For a while, I did chase the feeling of being a hero..." His gaze grows distant. Regretful. "But it was all in vain. The people you save get killed. The things you build get destroyed. This galaxy, everything in it, it's all... temporary."

You sit up, blanket sliding off your nude form slightly and catching Luke's attention; as much as he tries to hide it, he can't help the way you affect him. For a moment, you smirk, but with the better view of his face you can see just how tormented he is.

"I mean, the galaxy isn't all that bad... it brought us together, right?"

"But it took so much in the process," Luke mutters in response.

"I-"

"Don't tell me it was worth it. It wasn't."

He moves over onto his back and covers his face with his left hand--hiding tears, no doubt. Tears he isn't yet ready to let you see.

"...The rain is over. You can leave if you wish."

"I'm not leaving," you say, maneuvering yourself over him. Luke peeks up at you through his fingers before you gently grab his hand and move it away from his face. "Not when you need me."

He exhales slowly, sadly, but he makes no move to shove you off him. With your other hand, you brush away the tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

"Let me take care of you, alright?"

Just as Luke instinctively opens his mouth to protest, he immediately concedes, settling back into the pillow. He's old, and he's tired, what use is it trying to fight you off? Besides, he wants this--needs it, he discovered at the onset of the rain--so the last thing he's going to do is stop you.

The room is silent, save for the sound of baited breath, as you finally lean over to kiss him. Using your free hand to stroke the fringe out of his eyes, other hand still holding his, you kiss the lines of his forehead, the bridge of his crooked nose, and finally his lips.

Luke doesn't think he's anything special; you think he's extraordinary. Not for being the hero of your dreams, but for being the man he truly is--as broken and as vulnerable as he may be, he's yours. And that's enough.

Despite the few times you've kissed him, you both take to it like a pikobi to water. You take the lead; his are quite shy, but by the time your lips meet, Luke noticeably relaxes beneath your touch.

His mechanical hand moves to your bare back, tracing the shape of your spine as you arch over him, the texture of the leather glove making you shiver. It moves from your back to your waist, slowly climbing toward your chest, where he graces your nipple with a firm pinch--not hard enough to hurt you, but enough to show his desire. Yes, Luke Skywalker desires you.

Although still sleeping, you can feel the stirrings beneath you as his arousal grows. You're fully awake, restless, hungry. Luke, on the other hand, needs a bit more time, time you're more than willing to give--you know the prize will be worth it.

"Master..." you purr, wiggling your hips slightly as he twitches at the sound of the nickname. "You've seen me. I haven't seen you yet."

"I-I'm nothing worth looking at..."

"You are to me."

Luke moves his cybernetic from the valley of your chest to cradle your face. You silently kiss the palm of his hand, mechanical fingers flexing within the leather, before taking the material between your teeth to pull it off.

"Wait-"

The leather doesn't catch on the metal; instead, it slips off like a raindrop sliding down the stone roof. Luke makes no move to halt its movement. The mechanical fingers are revealed to you, one by one, grey metal glinting in the slivers of moonlight streaming through the window.

"Beautiful..." you whisper, barely loud enough to be audible. But Luke hears you; if he were to respond, he's certain he'd just about cry.

Being linked to his nervous system, he has enough "feeling" in his cybernetic to control its movements and sense external stimuli, but without the synthskin, he can't truly feel. Hence why he barely uses it to touch you, let alone in a sexual context. All you have to do is show him he can.

In a swift motion you barely even stop to ponder, your tongue comes out to explore the metalwork; a metallic flavor--no surprise to you--accompanies the cold, and Luke refrains from flexing his fingers in your mouth.

Stars, he can't even register what you're doing, let alone why you're doing it. He watches you, blue eyes full blown to near-blackness as you suck on his fingers like they were a cock. Speaking of which, his throbs uncomfortably in the confines of his pants. Your movements in his lap feel incredible. Peeking down to look at your bare pussy grinding on him is enough to make him come... well, almost.

You, however, are not a fan of the cloth boundary between you; sure, it adds extra friction, but it's nowhere near as electric of a sensation as skin against skin. You've seen Luke's face, and his flesh hand, and his cock, but that's as far as you've gotten. Is he insecure about being old? It's not a problem to you, and he knows this, but you doubt he's fully internalized it. Being a (former) Jedi Master, you're sure he's covered in scars from the countless battles he's fought in... scars on his arms, his chest, his thighs-

"Y-yes," Luke pants out, seemingly reading your thoughts. "You can..." He can't even finish his sentence, flesh hand moving to grab your free hand and bring it to his clothes.

"Are you sure, Master?"

"Just do it already."

Delicately pulling his fingers out of your mouth, a thin line of spit connecting them to your lips, you pin Luke's right arm over his head, just like he did to yours earlier that night. He looks up at you with a mixture of surprise and arousal, a small smile of disbelief forming on his lips. You have plans--and you can't wait to show him.

The material of his sleep shirt is a rough wool of some kind, the cut of it a simple wrap-tunic similar to his Jedi robes. It gives you easy access to his chest; considering just how much Luke likes yours, you believe it's your turn to enjoy his. Ghosting your fingertips beneath the fabric, he shivers at your touch, and you raise an eyebrow at the texture you discover. Coarse, fuzzy, thick--you hadn't expected him to be just as hairy on his chest as he is on his face, but stars, you aren't complaining.

Luke is just about as red as a gundark by the time you pull his sleep shirt open. Of course, his embarrassment is no match for his stubbornness, which quickly bubbles up again to hide his discomfort. Typical Luke.

"Sure took you long enough."

"It did."

"Now what?"

"You'll see..."

Placing both of your palms flat on his chest, you lean over to kiss him once more; your mouth meets his, and then his neck, where you brand it with a startlingly red hickey. At the same time, you're scratching down his torso and tugging at the greying hairs.

Beneath the layer of fur is a web of tendril-like scars, stretching across his body like lightning. You can't help but wonder what dramatic battle between Jedi and Sith must have caused them... but stars, they're beautiful. You're determined to show him this.

Luke groans against your lips--if he had it his way, stars, he'd flip you over and pound you senseless. But no, he has already done that... and he's tired. Tired physically, tired mentally, tired of being in charge. For once, he'd like to experience what it means for someone to take care of him. Just once.

Taking care of yourself isn't even on your mind. Yes, you're horny beyond belief, skin on fire as you grind your dripping cunt against his still-clothed cock. Force, it isn't enough, it'll never be enough until you get the real thing. But... you want to try something different. You have a feeling he might want to as well.

"Where are you-" Luke begins to ask as you reluctantly pull yourself off him, only to be cut off by you running your fingers down his happy trail before shoving your hand down his pants. "Shavit, sweetheart!"

"Who are you calling sweetheart?" you smile, enjoying the thrill of feeling him before seeing him. His cock is hot and heavy in your palm, and much to your delight he neglected to wear any undergarments. As much as you enjoy the groans that escape his lips at the way you run your thumb over the already leaking tip, the devious part of you desires to tease him even more; removing your hand from his member, you move to squeeze his tightening balls.

"Fuck... fuck..." Luke moans. He's gripping the sheets with his cybernetic, flesh hand resting over the upper half of his face.

"Such language, Master... and such a light touch, too," you say, "I'm starting to worry you won't last for me."

When Luke finally manages to look out from under his hand, there's something strange in his eyes--lust, desire, conviction. To do what, you don't know.

"Sit on me."

"Are you sure? I don't think you're ready-"

"Not my cock. My face."

Now it's your turn to be surprised. All this teasing, all this bossing him around, yet he can't help but turn the tables and remind you who's in charge. That damn Skywalker is impossible to figure out, but you wouldn't have it any other way--in all honesty, that's why you're here. Why you stayed, even when he tried to push you away.

"Very well, Master... but I want a taste of you as well."

Before maneuvering to climb over him, you pull his trousers off his legs in one swift motion, his cock standing at full attention as it springs from its confines. Fuck, just the sight of it is enough to make you want to bounce on it until you're both sweaty and screaming. But not yet.

Your eyes are just keen enough to notice the way Luke blushes at you eyeing him up in the dim light. Stars, he is hairy--not that you're complaining, of course. You just didn't expect the wise old Jedi master to practically be a Wookiee beneath his clothes. He squirms a little under the intensity of your gaze, cock twitching in anticipation. A bead of precum glistens in the faint moonlight and dribbles down the veiny shaft... Licking your lips, you decide to do something about it.

Luke steadies you with his arms as you maneuver to climb over him. Soft apologies and awkward giggles are traded between the two of you as you try to figure out your bearings, metal hand accidentally pinching soft flesh and weight being distributed uncomfortably, but not painfully.

"I-I've never done this before," you breathe out, breaking your previously seductive demeanor.

"I wouldn't know where to begin," Luke's low voice chuckles, "but I think as long as you don't break my neck, we're doing it right."

Your current predicament involves you straddling his neck and facing his chest; you're bent over him, just barely hovering over his face, and his hands are gripping the soft flesh of your ass. The cybernetic in particular digs into your skin in a deliciously painful way, and you know it'll leave marks after--marks you'll wear with pride. Not that anyone other than him will be seeing them.

Luke quite enjoys the view he's getting--it takes practically all his willpower not to pull you down onto his face and go to town, damn the consequences (although a sprained neck at his age in the middle of nowhere is most certainly a bad idea). After having gotten a taste of your pussy before, he's insatiable; he'll do anything to get his fix.

Balancing your weight on your knees and your forearms, you lean forward to assess your target. The slight upward curve of his cock gives you easy access to it; licking down his happy trail, you nuzzle through wiry hairs before greeting his aching, impatient member. The Jedi Master may be able to hide his impatience beneath his actions and his demeanor, but, given his anatomy, his body can't.

Leaning forward, you greedily stick out your tongue to lap up the bead of precum already leaking out. It's... salty, and slightly bitter. You're still not sure about the taste, but it's him, so you want it.

Luke groans beneath you at the feeling of your tongue on him. The vibrations from his voice dance cruelly on your clit, the phantom of pleasure yet to come--before he finally grants you mercy and pulls you down onto his waiting lips.

The gasp that escapes your lips is muffled by you taking him in your mouth to gag yourself on his cock. He felt so massive when he was inside you, but like this... you almost can't handle it. Figuratively, and literally--you stop right before he hits the back of your throat, taking in just enough to really drive him wild without hurting yourself.

Luke drowns his moans in your soaking cunt, his noises and the movement of his hands beckoning you to start moving on his face.

Come on, sweetheart, his voice says in the back of your mind--another Jedi ability, you're sure. You won't hurt me.

Hips and mouth begin a slow, rhythmic pace on him. You can't help the way you tremble ever so slightly, unsure about the pressure of your movements or the depth of your strokes, but that anxiety becomes an afterthought as your senses dissolve into pure pleasure.

Luke fights the temptation to start bucking into your mouth--no, you've been far too good to him, you don't deserve to be treated in such a way. You're his angel, his saving grace, the being he isn't even worthy of touching (yet somehow is). Whatever he did to earn your affection, he wants to repay tenfold--you're his to use as you please.

He uses his tongue on you with as much fervor and hunger as he did earlier that night, if not even more. The taste of you on his lips lights a fire in the pit of his stomach and fully has him drunk on your essence. Reverently Luke alternates between fucking you with his tongue and swirling it around your clit, just as you alternate between sucking and stroking his shaft.

It's so wrong, a master and student behaving like this... Your cheeks flush at the utter indulgence of the act. Whatever afterlife the Jedi of old reside in, you can only hope they aren't witnessing your liaison.

Luke, however, doesn't give a fuck. He hasn't given one in quite some time--why should he live by the rules of the dead? That dogma nearly destroyed him. It ruined everything he ever cared about, everything he never allowed himself to truly love. No, "attachment" was forbidden. Anything that could become a pathway to the dark side was to be shunned.

Luke never understood how for so much of his Jedi training, so much of his life, his emotions were regarded as an inseparable part of him, passion and love he had harnessed to help countless others during the war. That all changed when he saved his father. He had defied Obi-Wan and Yoda's instruction to kill Anakin; therefore, his feelings were misguided, wrong. And it became his duty to suppress them.

But not anymore. He is no longer a Jedi, not in the way he was "meant" to be. He's just Luke, just a hermit, just an old man learning to love again--or, perhaps, learning to love for the very first time.

Luke's cock twitches and kicks in your mouth, threatening to spill at any moment. Teasingly, you pull him out of your mouth--earning a harsh groan into your cunt--to kiss the swollen, purple head.

"Oh, master..." you whisper, tracing his veins with your fingertips, "let go for me. I'm here, I'm ready."

A final squeeze of his balls urges him to finish on your tongue--and, capturing him in your mouth once more, he does. Spurts of hot liquid spill inside you, albeit in a different spot than before, and you choke slightly on the sheer load of it all. You're milking Luke for all he's worth, and he rewards you by practically breeding your mouth. Hips stutter and still as he calms down and starts to soften, so you slip him out of your mouth, gracing the overstimulated head with a final lick.

Your clit throbs at the taste of him cumming in your mouth, the knot forming within your belly signaling your own impending release. Beneath you, Luke is patiently at work drawing it out, exploring the depths of your sacred spot with his tongue. Now you're fully free to ride his face with reckless abandon--a task he encourages you to do with the guidance of his hands squeezing your thighs and groping your ass.

"Luke... Luke..." you moan, letting the sound freely escape your now unoccupied lips. No 'Master,' no titles or nicknames, just his name; his true name, the one he hasn't heard anyone call him in the past six years. If your senses are correct, coupled with the scratchy sensation of his beard, you can feel him smiling into you as he eats you out. He's positively making out with your cunt, kissing you just as he had kissed your other set of lips when you first came to him.

The orgasm that approaches is entirely unlike the one you experienced before; it approaches slowly, like a wave off the coast of the Temple Island, growing and growing in intensity before finally crashing against the shore. You buck your hips on his face, feeling the friction of his beard against your clit as you chase the delicious sensation bubbling beneath the surface.

Soon enough, Luke grants it; your Force bond burns white-hot as you tremble and come undone on his face, slicking his beard with juices he laps up as happily as a massiff. You're sure the cries that escape your lips are audible all the way in the Caretaker village. Luke chuckles beneath you, large hands--the ones that surely left bruises on your skin--coming up to help you slide off his face and into his lap.

Silence. No more rain. Just beyond the cliffs, the twin suns of Ahch-To begin to rise; much like the dawns of his youth, you imagine. You turn your gaze to your new lover's face as the first slivers of light stream through the opening of the window.

"That was..." you start, laughing breathlessly as you run your fingers through your hair.

Luke props himself up on his elbows, wiping his face with his flesh hand. A rare smile appears on his face.

"...Good. Very good."

[bokettochild]

Today was weird O.o

So, @apparitianhanako and I went out shopping for some sister time, since we only get to hang out maybe once a month due to various reasons (adulting sucks). Anyways, we hit the mall in our town, which is mostly dead but gaining some life back because there's now actually a couple shops in the food court again (which was empty for years)

Well, what do you know, we're in line at the new smoothie place when the gal working the till pauses after we order, looks me dead and the eye and asks "are you (Legal Name)?"

I would like to note I have never, ever, in my life, met this woman. I am a homebody at best and a hermit at worst. My name and face are not associated with any of my social media except my Facebook, which is set to Private. I have no clue how this person knows my name and face! But, for lack of better to do in a public space with a small crowd standing around waiting for smoothies I say "yes?"

I think it's totally normal that I was confused, but she must have noticed and quickly said "I dated (ex-boyfriend) for a while".

And, okay, so we know the same guy and both dated him, makes sense. Thing is, I dated him four years ago, and barely have contact beyond the occasional "how are you?" or"happy birthday" or a passing "hello" at church, if that! Why would his most recent ex know anything about me? The dude has had a lot of girlfriends since we broke up!

Anyways, I still don't have any answers to that, or why she knew me by face, but Hanako ended up spilling (she's best friends with his little sister) that he's currently engaged, which made us both pause.

"He dated you how long ago?"

"A couple of months?"

Cue me losing my mind, because I have it on perfectly good authority that only a couple of months ago, he messaged my room-mate, trying to hook up with her (she's also one of my sisters) and they both almost went through with it except she got a bad feeling and called it off. (She did ask if I would hate her if she slept with my ex. I just said it would be weird but not the worst thing she could do and it didn't really matter to me)

Anyways, we put our three heads together, here in this smoothie shop order line, and work out that, apparently, he's been cheating on a good number of his girlfriends towards the ends of his relationships with them, and has also been cheating on his fiance!

Now, for the sake of that girl, I'm wishing I could say something to her, but I don't even know her name, much less how to get in touch to say "hey! I'm the ex he might have mentioned(?), and he tried sleeping with a gal I know a month or two ago, so, he might be cheating, just as a warning"

Like, that's a lot to tell a gal, but from a total stranger? About her fiance? Yeah.

Well, I can't do anything because I know nothing about the poor woman, but five hours later, the gal from the smoothie shop has apparently hunted me down on Facebook, and messages me saying 'thanks for opening my eyes to the guy I was dating. I realized none of his girlfriends deserved this, so, I'm going to reach out to the fiance and tell her he cheated on both her and me'

She then went on to say that he was apparently really oddly secretive about his family, church, and also told the girls he dated not to talk to me? (I broke up with him because life got hectic and I wasn't in a good space to be in a relationship with anyone, but we stayed on good terms) So...... that was weird.

Anyways, this feels a bit like a Carrie Underwood song, so I'm not sure what to do with that, so consider this a vent post of sorts LOL

[hals-hell]

hermit a day day 17 Etho!!!!

made very quickly technically after midnight in the timezone i’m in but i’ll forgive myself because things keep Happening To Me. storytime below the cut i guess

tonight my shower head broke and managed to flood half my room and it took me like an hour to fix. there is a broken spork holding it in place now. ethoslab drawing save me from the shower head? idk man.

and bonus!!! from yesterday!!!!

if you noticed my wels drawing yesterday was a little empty of comments, that’s because i was tired because i managed to go into anaphylaxis on day 2 in a foreign country (food allergies my beloathed). as an extra bonus, i don’t think the urgent care workers fully understood what was happening because they made me and the two people i was with go around four different rooms as i held an empty epi pen. and then they were like yeah you’re good you can go home 15 minutes later. which is not a uh. typical response in my experience but ok i guess. it meant i could draw wels before 3 am though. (i’m making light of this but please be cautious with allergic reactions. i knew from experience i’d probably be fine and had the people stay with me for another two hours to make sure i would be ok. it probably wasn’t a very good thing for them to just send me home.)

[blacktofade]

Okay I have the biggest brainrot right now and I need to get this out, this stuff came to me in a dream lmao

So Gem and Etho are like a thing for a while now and while they haven't been too open about it, it's still known between the hermits. What they don't know is that they're in an open relationship.

Gem goes to twitch con and other events and hangs out with the hermits, and Etho stays home and is just like have fun ^_^

But Gem is Gem and she really can't resist the old man rizz ™️ when she spends time alone with Tango and one thing leads to another and they fuck in a hotel room and she mentions the open relationship because Tango felt guilty afterwards

Some time passes and Gem visits Arizona to stay with one of them for a little vacation, but while she's there they also record/stream some games together (I think in my dream they played Mario party and Gem was goated and won by so much, bless her) and after the stream she goads them, and specifically Skizz jumps onto that and things are (playfully) heated but also kinda flirty.

Impulse is just slightly nervous and and Tango watches with curiosity. Things escalate when Skizz mentions he should punish Gem for always running her mouth so much and she loves it, totally leaning into it. Impulse is trying to be like the voice of reason of line "you guys really shouldn't, I wouldn't want to hurt Etho this way" and before Gem can say anything, Tango replies for her, because he's the only one who knows that Gem and Etho are in an open relationship.

Stuff goes very quickly from there and they have a foursome and I am not quite sutd how that came to happen but they called Etho over discord (with his stupid discord icon profile picture because he never bothered to change it, this man 😭) and Etho is like super into it and degrades Gem, who can't talk back because she has Impulses cock in her mouth, for how slutty and needy she is, for fucking all of her coworkers

So yeah, I wanted to polish this up a bit more but now this is just kind of all over the place but I needed to get this out. The brainrot sits deep if I'm already dreaming of this stuff lol thank you for being like the rpf place (in my mind)

I meant to answer this sooner but then life happened but YES DUDE!!!! All of this!!! The thought of them calling Etho while they're having sex with Gem... I'm on my knees!! I definitely need to write some kind of cucking fic for them cause I love it so much!

Gem getting to show off for all her favorite people in different ways. And getting to live out all her slutty dreams 🥺 GOOD FOR HER!

[voxofthevoid]

Hello! We haven't really interacted before but I reviewed a Bleach fanfiction of yours a while ago, and I've loved your stories for the fandom! I'm sad that you no longer write for Bleach, but you've shared some amazing work, so thank you for that.

Just wanted to ask if you have any tips on how to connect more with other readers and writers, as it seems your conversations with other people in your fandoms bring a lot of joy and inspiration! While I wrote fanfiction in my teenage years, I felt very much like a fandom hermit back then but I'm coming back to it now many years later and want to actively engage with more people. I've joined some discord servers and am posting much more to twitter and tumblr, but I'm still pretty shy about messaging people privately as I feel like I don't really know what to say. I know it will take time, but any advice on how to get the ball rolling would be much appreciated.

Good luck with the writing!

Hi! I'm very glad you like my Bleach fics, and hey, being missed isn't a bad thing either ❤

(I do have one 80%–finished grimmichi fic that I'll put up on Ao3 soon-ish. The last chapter won't ever be written, but there's still some 28k of fluff and porn that ends on a fairly conclusive note on the emotional end.)

You're right that interacting with my fellow fans is a large part of what makes fandom fun for me. The community aspect of fandom is something that comes up a lot in conversations about why people flock to fandom, why they stay, and why they leave, and although I'm an introvert bordering on a hermit, the social aspects of fandom are its greatest draw. I write because I need to or I'll burst, but I share for the people here with me. That's not an uncommon attitude or experience. YMMV, but many of us want to connect with people who share our interests, and the level of creativity and commitment fandom inspires often thrives in collaboration and community.

How to get that sense of community is a trickier matter though. You're already in Discord servers, which seems to be the main fandom social space(s) these days. You're also on social media platforms where people can reach out to you or vice versa. So that's the basics covered. After that, it's largely a matter of organically developing relationships. But I do understand the hesitance to just roll up into someone's DMs; even though I have no issues with people popping up in my DMs, I also find it harder to initiate.

Plus, I've found that some sort of existing rapport gives you a better foundation when you do take the step into private exchanges. This can be Ao3 comment sections, Tumblr notes, or Discord group chat spaces. I tend to avoid Discord servers these days, but back when I had more tolerance for group chats, the people I met there often became closer friends. Mostly though, my pocket friends are people I met via Ao3 and, less frequently, Tumblr—fellow authors and readers in a specific fandom.

I know my regulars, here and on Ao3, and I've been a regular many times. Discussions in comments usually start out limited to the specific fic, but they can also include general fandom/canon stuff or even personal talk. Many times, you build a degree of familiarity with a person that way, and if the conversation moves to more private channels, you already have a shared base to build further conversation on.

So my best advice to find friends and like-minded fandom folks is to be active in Ao3 comments and Tumblr notes (...and whatever the corresponding thing is over on Xitter):

Reply to the comments on your stories and try to really engage with what your readers are saying. This is very much a personal preference, but the reason I try to reply with more than a generic "thanks" for longer, more in-depth comments is that, like I said above, nerding out with fellow fans is a huge part of why I love fandom. If people are already expressing interest in your story and you have a shared interest in canon, there's a lot of room there for fun conversations, even if they never go beyond one-off exchanges.

Comment on stories you like, and if you find specific authors you really love, let them know without reservations what you like about their takes and why you like them. One of my favorite commenting methods when I'm well and truly in love with something is to read everything once, then reread and leave longass comments on every chapter/fic. It's time-intensive, but I've never seen the effort go unappreciated. I've also been on the receiving end of this many times, and that's how several of my fandom friendships were born; one of my closest friends is someone I virtually kidnapped because I loved their tags on my JJK fic posts so much.

The above habits can be applied to Tumblr/Twitter too. Plus, there are plenty of people on such sites who engage deeply with fandom outside of fic writing. Be loud and proud about what you love. Sending a DM is an intimidating step, and not everyone will be receptive anyway, but most people welcome encouragement and appreciation. There are a lot of people I'm friendly with and fond of whom I've never interacted with directly, only via Tumble notes or asks.

I think all of this narrows down to being pretty generous when it comes to expressing your love for fandom and fellow fans. Won't always work out for various reasons, but as long as you're having fun, it's not wasted effort or time.

[brisquad-unit-4402]

Hello, if you write angst, may I request a any character you want x reader, where in the process of time travel, they lost reader.

If you don't write angst, may I request a any character you want x short reader, with anything you want.

lost in time with luxiem

part 2 here ↣

mmmyess YESSSS i do write angst! it’s been a while since i wrote some but i’m glad i got to practice my hurt skills :D long post incoming but i really enjoyed writing these. especially the gory scenes. man. i really am a briskadet aren’t i

tags: established relationship, hurt no comfort, gender neutral reader

⚠️ drinking + gore in luca’s entry

⚠️ drinking in mysta’s entry 

⚠️ suffocation + fainting in shu’s entry

⚠️ gore + panic attack in vox’s entry

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When you’re ripped out of your universe and sent to a completely new world, it’s only natural to react like that...

🖋 Ike Eveland

His usual solution is to throw himself into his work. The must tumultuous of times create the best stories, pressure turns carbon into diamonds, and writing down the pain make it so much easier to let go of when he scraps the draft.

Ike commits pen to paper, as is second nature. He holes himself up in his office. Sleep comes to him randomly. He can never predict when, but he sleeps deeply, and when he wakes up it’s right back to his nightmare. Food becomes a second thought to written word, then third, then fourth, until it’s forgotten completely. 

It’s addicting, is what it is. He needs to write. The situation he finds himself in, peeled away from everything he knows, is so wildly impossible that maybe, maybe, impossible thinking will return him to where he once was. If he wishes so much to return to the one he loves, creates a world within his pages that mirrors his own, then maybe the stars above or the spirit of the universe or some cruel higher power will hear him and return him to where he came from.

The world he finds himself in is angular, blocky. Its features are so foreign to the intricate architecture of his homeland. Where there once was grass is now endless gray and metal and stone, pavement under his footsteps, so he stays inside now. The office, just as geometric as the outdoors, is blank and the paper serves as the color he’s neglected to spread within his room. 

Because, after all, he’s not going to remain here. Of course, he can’t remain here.

There’s so much he wants to do in his original world. He’s no revolutionary author, but his works are getting recognition after years and years of publishing. He just used the money to move into a proper home of his own, and it’s no mansion but it’s more than comfortable, and the window in his bedroom is at the perfect angle to gently wake him with soft sunlight every morning.

And after all, there’s an angelic face sleeping next to him every time he rises.

He writes tales of a princess trapped in her own castle, with no way to communicate with her subjects. After that, a novel about a hermit who returns to society, and how decades of living alone impacts his daily public life. Whenever he runs out of ideas, he works on a collection of short stories from the perspective of various people locked within a strange, enclosed new environment. 

The poetry is new. Novels are paintings, but poetry is sculpture, and he struggles to find the right words in the right order, but whenever he writes the last line it always tells stories of loneliness. 

Each draft takes place along flowering fields and rolling skies, clouds that adorn tall trees. Houses painted in candy colors. Streets in sepia. Snow that falls gently like blankets, and sun rays that greet mountain peaks. The aurora borealis heralds the climax of each protagonist’s journey.

Ike’s pen runs out of ink on what he would estimate is the seventh night. He curses, and his throat is so out of use, the sound is barely decipherable. He reaches to his drawer of office supplies, only to grab nothing. There is no drawer. He’s forgotten exactly where he is again.

Ike clears his throat, and raises his voice. “Reader? Be a dear and get me some more ink, please?”

Ike waits.

“Reader?”

There’s no response.

“Reader, my darling.”

There is no Reader. He’s forgotten exactly where he is again.

It’s strange that he does, he notes. Why, he’s written so many stories as his own escapism, but he can’t even remember that he left his darling Reader. 

His darling Reader, all alone, the only person in their shared home. They make meal servings for one, now, and wakes up later now without another in their bed. They have access to the study and the shelves upon shelves of home-bound books, the first edition before publication, but there is no novelist at the desk, no handwriting, no one to hold a mug and offer his gratitude. No one to sit behind as they read his latest work and offer their thoughts and notice his plot holes and typos and errors, no one to hold his pen back and insist, It’s late, let’s go to sleep, and carry him out of his chair and tuck him into bed themselves, and run their hands through his hair until his eyes close and his breathing softens and he wakes up to warm soft sunlight on an angelic face.

“Reader.” Ike says it again, but this time he knows there’s no one to respond to it. His voice breaks halfway through.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

🦁 Luca Kaneshiro

At the end of the day Luca Kaneshiro is a social creature. Moreover, he’s a social creature that just got cut off from his friends, family, mafia, and lover all in one fell swoop. 

It’s that appreciation for others that drives Luca to walk the streets, acting like he still owns the world despite the completely different reality he finds himself in. He’s a man that’s spent his life around family, both blood and hired. New people to meet and friends to catch up with. A sweet thing he could hold and love openly, one that he would do anything for. Believe it, he means anything; that’s a promise only a mafia boss could keep and truly mean. 

There’s no replacement for them in this time, but he can’t let go of it. He doesn’t actively drink in his original time but in 2022, there’s a party every night, and he wakes up every morning with a hangover. Luca admits it. He’s a nobody, a friendless loser here, but at least every night coupled with the booze and the bodies all dyed under the colorful lights he can forget. Pretend those faces are the ones he’s come to know underneath lion masks. 

The first night was the hardest. He entered the club to color his mindlessly lonely days, because at least he could have a meltdown properly with drinks than the husk he is during the day. A young woman taught him to dance, and he traded dance partners with the rest of her friends until most of them went to get drinks, and the best dancer of them all cozied up to his arm.

By the time they returned with cocktails Luca was already long gone on the way back home, his coat wrapped around his body. He felt dirty. Everything about that night was supposed to make him feel like his legacy was still alive but when it wasn’t you feeling him up, he could feel his stomach turn. 

Sure enough, the next morning he retched out the remains of alcohol and women, and swore he’d never go clubbing again until he returned to his timeline with you by his side… until the loneliness threatened to swallow him whole, and that very evening he was back to pretending that the people in the club were his. 

People flirt with him often, and he’s surprised he hasn’t bolted from one yet. Instead he politely excuses himself and ditches the club with a hollow feeling in his chest.

Luca wakes up every afternoon- noon or later, depending on how wild the night before was- alone in a bed meant for two people. His apartment is nice, but it’s devoid of personality. Glass encompasses one side of the wall, granting him a view of the skyline, and every piece of furniture is clean white. It’s almost hilarious how much it resembles one of his penthouses in Melbourne, but without any of the charm that branded a Kaneshiro home. 

He misses it so much. His active schedule has gone to the wayside, and instead he can spend hours at a time laying in bed. It’s a destructive cycle. Party at night to keep up the pretend life, then wallow during the day about how the life is gone. How unfair, he thinks bitterly. I never asked for this. I don’t even know how I got here. Why me?

The dreary thoughts never ebb while the sun’s out, and once night falls he can’t bear to spend another moment with them. Everything is a distraction now. He can’t bring himself to imagine the mafia surrounding him at the clubs anymore. It sends him into veiled turmoil.

That’s a future worry for future Luca, though.

He walks home one night in better condition than usual. The night is blank and silent, only to be interrupted by a stifled cry. 

He turns to the source of the noise. Two people stand by a closed store. One of them is a older man, and the other is a young woman. Luca recognizes her as a girl from the club he just left, mostly because she barely looked old enough to enter. Her face is flush with alcohol, and the man practically drags her along closer to the door with a hand over her mouth.

Luca’s eyes meet the woman’s. They’re nearly closed, but widen when she realizes there’s a bystander, and then she’s gone. The man led her into an alleyway out of sight.

Sobriety regained, he dashes to the alley, and feels for the hidden pocket on the inside of his coat. It was one of the first things he reached for when he fell into the future, and he thanked his lucky stars he still had a pistol and rounds of ammo on him. 

He takes the safety off but keeps it concealed, and turns into the alley. Two other men lurked deeper into the row, while the first shrugged the woman’s body off to the ground. She was barely conscious.

One of the creeps cocked his head. “The fuck’re you looking at?” 

Another raises an arm but Luca fires before the loser aimed his weapon properly. The bullet shatters the wrist, and the gun spills out of his grasp along with blood. He clutches the mangled appendage and cries out. “Bastard shot my fucking hand!”

The second man raises his gun as well but Luca’s already aiming for his arms and fires, disabling him long enough to move closer into the alley.

The final guy brings out a knife, but Luca’s built for this. He shoves him off, then grabs his arm with one hand and forces the knife away in the other. There’s a cold look in Luca’s eye, he hasn’t said a thing. He pushes the arm the wrong direction, and feels muscle trembling to stay upright. The creep curses again, an empty threat Luca doesn’t care to hear, and the knife clatters to the floor. Luca stomps on the handle with his sole, preventing it from moving any further. 

Luca keeps his grip on the arm, and feels the other guy’s joints give out. An ugly thought wants him to go further. So he indulges even after he hears the snap of broken bone, and when he’s done twisting the limb he yanks it out. The scream of dislocation is like music. 

He feels monstrous, but the most alive he’s been in weeks, an animal let out of its cage with the scent of blood in the air. He notices the one with bullets in either arm struggle for one of the guns, so in one clean movement Luca pins him down, blows an elbow joint out with his own gun, and drags the disfigured arm out along the jagged pavement as his weight rises. Hopefully he’ll get it amputated. 

The first one he shot, the one with one less hand than he started with, helplessly struggles for the gun he dropped with his good arm, so Luca drives the leftover knife through the flesh and into the ground. He lets the bloodthirst win as the blade curves into the muscle like a hook, twists, and snatches it out.

He covers the knife in a handkerchief, then retrieves the guns, and crouches eye-level to their drunken target. Her head is lolled to the side, but unharmed.

“I’m gonna bring you back outside the club,” Luca says. “Get some staff to watch you and call a taxi.”

He helps her up. She’s conscious enough to walk, but her body is limp, and she relies on him to guide her. The blank silent night returns as they return. 

The woman slurs something out, and when Luca looks to her in confusion she repeats herself. “You’re the guy that’s always there…? At the club.”

“Yeah.” Luca keeps his face steady. “Yeah, I am.”

“You always have people around you.” She giggles. At least she seems to be a happy drunk. “Normal people don’t gun. Have guns.” She throws her free arm into the air and makes a finger gun. “Pew, pew…”

He doesn’t answer that. “What’s your name?”

She tells him. “Don’t remember it. You’re too sad for me.”

“I just saved you.”

“And thanks but you’re so… fake!” Luca should be insulted, but he’s so taken aback he doesn’t say a word. The woman is amused by it though. She continues. “Like, okay, you’re cool, I’d hang, but you’re avoiding something, aren’t you? And I’m not talking about the, the pew, guns…”

She used up so much energy talking that she doesn’t notice a crack in the sidewalk and trips. Luca catches her. 

“Hero, much?” She laughs. “You’re such a hero, you’re waiting around for something. What, want me to trip again? Go find it if you care so much about it.”

The woman babbles on as they return to the club. Barely five minutes after, a taxi pulls up to the curb.

“Bye, hero!” She chirps. “Stop being so sad all the time!” Luca gives her a small wave and she’s off. 

He re-embarks on his walk home, and her drunken ramblings follow him the way back. He’d save her again without question, but her words pissed him off. 

She’s right, you know, he thinks. But of course she is, and of course it’s not as easy as a drunk woman makes it out to be. Longing for something is one thing. Longing for a time long gone is another. 

Luca looks back at the club, so small in the distance. Already he can feel the isolation taking hold, and it’s only going to get worse the more time he spends in his apartment, but it’s not like he has the energy for anything else. 

He brushes his hand against his coat. A splatter of blood stains the fur, not so much to be noticeable in the night but daylight is a whole other story. Some hero he is. He’s never been as brutal in a fight as he was today, and the way he didn’t feel a thing, how easy it was for the ugly and dark and depressed to control his weapons… it scares him. 

That’s all he is. Afraid. Is this really who he is without anyone by his side? Maybe it was a good thing he was cast out of his original time. Someone like him shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near you. You’re too good for human trash that drinks until he can’t straighten out his thoughts anymore and revels in inflicting pain. Monsters don’t deserve kindness like yours, after all. 

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

🦊 Mysta Rias

There is logic in everything. Everything happens for a reason; every action has an equal and opposite reaction; energy is neither created nor destroyed, only transformed. This is what the detective Mysta Rias knows. 

But people don’t just disappear like that. The city he finds himself in is tall and sweeping just like his home, but the lights are brighter and the people are stranger. He catches the year 2022 on a billboard advertisement and balks. This is what the detective Mysta Rias doesn’t know, and he’d admit he doesn’t know in a snap. There’s simply no reasonable way he sprung over sixty years in the future just like that. 

It’s been a while since he was transported into the future with no warning. After week two, he resigned himself to living long-term in the twenty-first century. About a month in, he started a private investigation service to scrounge up money and make sure his deductive abilities stayed sharp. He met some lovely people, but at the end of the day, this isn’t his time. 

What goes up must come down, and what gets magically transported out of his intended timeline must return. You can’t toss an apple on Earth and expect it to float into space. Mysta acknowledges how silly it must be to apply physics to a time portal, but it’s the only thing he can cling onto. The Doctrine of Uniformity states the present is the key to the past, and surely the present must be the key to the future as well. 

During his first week in the future he already searched for his information when he was in his original time. His house was destroyed decades ago to make space for a school. The home phone went to a storefront in Glasgow. So he retraces the steps. Surely there needs to be a gap where the original homeowners sign off on a deal with new owners, and that’s where he can identify the whereabouts of him and his partner. 

Hours of research and calling later, either any mention of Mysta Rias and Reader were wiped off the face of the earth, or they were never on this earth in the first place. 

Mysta tries not to let it get to him. After all, even if the original hypothesis is inaccurate, it narrows down the possibilities. Just keep going. 

Staking out his old haunts proved to be fruitless as well. His favorite restaurant is gone, as expected, but so is the library downtown that his city insisted on preserving for decades. 

Later that evening Mysta grabs a cocktail glass of orange juice, pours vodka into the glass, and places the screwdriver on the coaster of his desk as he looks deeper into the people of this world. Clearly there’s no records of Mysta Rias nor the person he spent his life with, but he recognizes the Queen of England even in her old age, and Paddington Bear is still a thing, so surely there must be other similarities between his UK and the one he landed in. 

The first thing he searches for is his mother’s name, and he’s not exactly surprised when no search results come up. His associates are nowhere to be found either. The closest he gets to finding one of his old friends is an online obituary for someone he doesn’t recognize and an archive of a newspaper comic strip. 

Your family is nowhere to be seen either. A few awkward calls later, he’s confirmed the phone numbers of family and friends as well as his old detective agency are being used by completely different people. He wishes he had some kind of photo from the past. While browsing around online he learned about reverse image searching. Maybe he could see if there were any social media posts or timeless landscapes that could trace back to his origin. Being able to see your face would be a good motivation too. 

Mysta pauses. Man, he misses your face. He’s been so focused on getting back to the right time that he hasn’t even acknowledged the pit of loneliness he’s been fighting off. Emotion makes reason messy, after all. The screwdriver isn’t helping either. If only Reader was here, he muses. They always watch over me when I’m drinking. Fuck, his head’s spinning. How much vodka is in this thing? He’s poured another glass, at least one more, his recollections are getting blurry. 

He blinks out of his thoughts before they can begin to spiral. Even if he didn’t measure out proper shots there’s no way he’s getting drunk on a screwdriver, and during a work night no less. 

The detective hones in on his legal pad and the scrawl of notes on it. He crosses out another failed method. There has to be something out there that can explain it. He chants it under his breath, because after all, he’s a detective. What is a detective without his reasoning?

Whenever he’s struggling on a case, it always helps to have fresh eyes look over his thought process. It’s always you. But he’s alone now without his partner, and he fears he’s working himself into a rut. Ugh, who is he kidding. He begrudgingly drains the rest of the screwdriver. The rut’s already here, and it always has been. The drink’s making it worse but it’s about time he acknowledges it. 

He’s sick of this feeling, so isolated out from everything he knows and the future that’s left him behind, and it’s almost like he can hear your voice melting into the silence of his bleak office. But the words that you’d say evade him. You’re irreplaceable even in his imagination, and it mocks him. His focus has abandoned him, and he’s been spiraling for a while now, it’s just that his mask is starting to crumple now, and he’s already starting to regret letting it slip.

“There has to be something,” he utters, and his voice is already lifting from the alcohol. It’s high and pathetic. Mysta slaps his hands over his face and lets them drag down, as if that would fix everything, and picks up his pencil again. “There has to be a reason.”

The pencil doesn’t move. Mysta repeats himself, reason is a mantra he’s lived by, but doubt drowns him. There’s no reason in time travel, after all, but he says it again, expecting something to change. He’s running out of platitudes. But he clings to it, clings to reason, because without it he’s nothing, and stripped of his home and love, it’s all he has left. Denial of absurdity is the only thing he can do. He can’t afford to wrap his head around it, because that means he accepts this nonsensical problem, so he lives without believing it at all. 

He pours himself vodka without juice and drinks. 

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

👟 Shu Yamino

The Yamino household was no stranger to holding the supernatural within itself. For as long as Shu can remember, there’s always been scrolls hung up on the walls in thumbtacks rather than frames for easy access, rows of herbs left out to dry for spellcraft, even the living room regularly had its furniture pushed to the side to make space for a magic circle.

That was what made morphing his own home into a witch’s hut a smoother transition than he expected from the apartment unit he shared with you. The glamour made it easier to work, and besides, looking at your favorite things and the home you created together hurt too much. Either way, you were going to come back. There wasn’t a single question about it. 

Shu drags a clump of chalk along the stony floor. The outline of the circle is already complete, featuring countless shapes crafted for the exact target, and all that was left to do was to etch runes into it. The chalk digs into the floor with intention. 

“It’s going to work.” He rubs a stray line of chalk away, and checks his handiwork. The angular shapes inside of the circle are in position for a standard summoning. Runes form coordinates along the outline. 

He doesn’t even let himself feel proud for the summoning circle before he dashes off into your room. Moments later he returns with three items: your favorite accessory, your hairbrush, and a framed picture. 

There are three winding spirals drawn equal distances apart from one another in the circle. He gently placed your accessory in the center of one, before pulling out a strand of hair from your brush and into the second spiral. One represents sentimental attachments, and the other is something physical for the forces that be to identify a target.

Shu takes great care as he removes the backing of the frame and turns the photo in his hand. He sees himself first. He’s barely holding a giant teddy bear in his arms, and the plush head poked his face, threatening to make the sunglasses on the top of his head fall. On his other side, his beloved partner held the phone in one hand and his shoulder in the other. You timed the phone to take a picture just in time as you pecked his cheek and the beginnings of his blush started to set in. When you printed out the picture, you insisted on captioning it with a thin marker. “5/11/2022: Went to an amusement park and Shu won me a bear. He got a prize too!”

The memory is warm but Shu’s face is still grim. He sets the picture down on the final spiral. Any sorcerer worth their salt knows that you reap what you sow and miracles don’t come from thin air, and if you want that miracle, you’d better be willing to sacrifice something with emotional value. 

The picture captured his surprise and your affection from that day, and stares up at him as he stands. It’s been weeks since you were cast out of this reality. Even as a practitioner of the occult, Shu had no idea where the spontaneous portal came from, but it stole you away in front of his eyes. He was lucky he had the instinct to cast identification spells just as soon as you disappeared. They classified the portal as a time travel rift, and allowed him to reverse-engineer a summoning circle to locate and retrieve you. That picture, one of the most recent, was one of his favorites. It marked a shift in his relationship to you that was a long time coming, which is why it was so treasured. He would miss it, but, well, miracles aren’t cheap. He’d make new memories soon when you’re back in his arms in the timeline you’re meant to be in.

Shu lights a stick of incense, and rising smoke couples with the scent of jasmine and palo santo. He allows it to trail around the witch’s hut glamour and cleanse the room, a clean slate for his sorcery. Curses are his specialty, but he’s no stranger to ritual casting. He steps into the circle, and begins his incantation.

Shu’s flames alight after the first verse, a series of commands and words crafted carefully in accordance with the mystical. Shikigami circle around him as he gets to the second,  manifestation of his ability. The room feels like it’s floating. Static prickles in the air as it warps, the smoke mixing with the buzz, and for a moment the glamour blurs. It’s the spirit of the circle shifting the world around it as it was programmed to do.

The chalk along the floor brightens, shining luminescent with his words in white to lavender to bright, burning violet. A bead of sweat dribbles down Shu’s neck. It’s getting harder to breathe. If the world intends on taking Reader away from me, he thinks, then I’ll shred the very fabric of space-time itself to bring them back.

His fury is quiet, but concealed under how the air compresses around him. It’s a strange sensation, and if the Yamino name didn’t have generations of magic practitioners before him, the way that the atmosphere around him morphs would take him by surprise and ruin his ritual. 

Shu remains steadfast, though, and holds his breath through gritted teeth as the oxygen itself fights to separate itself from the circle. Even his flames flicker at the absence of fuel, and the heat transfers from the halo around his head and into his lungs as the air pressure increases tenfold, and tenfold of that. 

The third verse of the incantation is a fight to speak clearly, especially as the movements require him to fight hard against the resistance of literally rending space-time apart in his living room. For a moment he thinks of Atlas, the titan sentenced to hold the world itself. Then he tells himself to get off his high horse, fight the urge to let go of his breath, and finishes the verse half-ready to choke.

As he does the circle of chalk bursts into flames that lap at his feet, now floating in midair, and he doesn’t need a mirror to know the fire spouting from his body resembles pillars more than anything. Doesn’t matter. He’s fighting to keep his eyes open, but he swears there’s a crack levitating in nothing right in front of him. The fire around him pulses away from the crack and the air gets even tighter, teasing him with the vacuity of the universe he provoked.

The sorcerer thinks of the final verse less of words and more of sounds, anything to make it seem less like all the world’s weight is suffocating him. The crack in space is real. It stares at him unblinkingly.

Even when his eyes are open he’s seeing double, even in the silence he can’t hear himself utter the incantation. His chest is screaming and burning, a red-hot sensation unfamiliar to his purple heat, like claws raking through his lungs and threatening to shred him into ribbons from the inside. The pressure is too much to bear. 

The body is practically frozen in place as the vast emptiness of the crack slowly widens into a hole- a portal- and absorbs all the life from the room, and constricts him to where he stands. The claws inside start to pry and drag along his organs running dry without oxygen, and it’s a completely different sensation than incineration, it’s dead and deep, and slow. Shu’s eyes widen and strain, before blinking once, twice, and feeling the world turn upside down as everything goes black. He faints.

The sorcerer gasps alive minutes later, before entering a sharp coughing fit. The burning in his lungs has subsided, but the coughs are raspy and gritty. 

Shu clutches a hand over his heart as the memories of the ritual flood back, some areas spottier than others. The last thing he remembers is the way that the portal widened and the watercolor webbing inside of it, freckled starlight between the pure pitch, and clouds of color dyeing the fabric of space-time.

He rolls over weakly. He doesn’t have the energy to stand up. Instead he drags a tired hand over the remains of the magic circle, now a smoldering drawing in the center of his living room. Looks like the witch’s hut glamor faded. Not only that, but the chalk has turned to residual ash, easily brushed away by his fingers.

He inspects the rest of his surroundings as best as he can in his faint bleariness. The incense has gone out long ago, the room is in utter disarray, and barely a speck of dust is left on the spirals where his components were spent. They’re gone.

Shu tries to call your name but before he can get a sound out he’s already choking on his words. He fights to stand upright and clear his throat. He doesn’t know why he tried calling out to you. He should’ve known it was a failure. It’s just that he’s gone so long without you, without answers, without a single successful summoning, but this was the first time he saw the crack in space. 

Something’s going right. His body feels like it got caught in a land mine, but he’s on the warpath now, and he’s got his sights set on a new ritual draft, something that will certainly bring you back next time.

Shu hacks out a plume of ashy smoke and violet sparks. He’ll return to the drawing board soon, but he’s overexerted himself like nothing else. 

Despite how much his body feels like a crumpled ball of paper, he writhes to a pen and paper knocked to the ground from his ritual. He’ll summon you yet. Hopefully his next ritual won’t result in drowning on land, but he’s not too optimistic. He’s not going to stop until you’re back in his arms or his body gives out entirely, but he can’t kid himself forever. He’s going to burn himself out one day if he keeps this up, either metaphorically or literally. 

He writes down new observations from this ritual. It still doesn’t change a thing. He’s going to break himself if it means returning you to where you belong.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

👹 Vox Akuma

The Voice Demon snaps awake with fire in his eyes and a growl from his throat. He’s been in stasis for what feels like eons but the memory of searing flames and cold wet blood and the razing of Akuma Castle is fresh. His heart aches. A look down and he identifies why: his red shirt is even redder along the center of his chest, and darkness blooms through the fabric in an unsightly stain. He stares underneath the fabric and sure enough, his torso is covered in slashes, though they fade in supernatural speed. This is demonic reincarnation, as expected, the same mind in a new body, the old transfiguring into the new. His blood boils as he watches the lesser lacerations fade into pale skin. The clotted blood reforms, places itself into his open wound, and the skin reseals itself. A fresh patch, an untouched body, a man seemingly unharmed.

It’s nothing compared to the first man fallen in his clan. Shot dead in the temple, an arrow protruding from his brain, pink and red staining the other end of the arrowhead. The young scholar that took up a bow to defend in the castle’s time of need, only for a catapult to sling a boulder directly to their perch, and send them falling to their demise. A woman, well-known by her Kindred for being a second mother to all, and how she went up in flames when the opposing army set fire to her refuge shelter.

Vox was no stranger to combat, and no coward that would allow his clan to fall for his sake while he stood by. He took to the battlefield, sword in hand, accompanied by his most trusted advisor and most capable warrior. 

“Be safe,” was all you said before you armed yourself with your treasured naginata, grabbed him for a life-or-death kiss, and launched into the fray beside your lord. 

You worked in tandem with Lord Akuma. His sword slid bodies for you to stab through, confirming they would never rise again. But you were only two of 522, and Tokugawa’s troops made short work of the defenseless, the inexperienced, the unprepared.

Blood pooled along your naginata blade, but when you could catch a glimpse of the metal, it reflected the burning of Akuma Castle behind you. You dodged one blade and blocked another, then skewered the man for his sloppy mistake. 

Vox fought his own battles, now, as the shogun commanded his troops to target the lord of the castle. His sword caught on the bone of a soldier before slicing another. He snapped his wrist, shaking the two off his weapon, before raising it into a defensive position in time with another attacker.

You spun the naginata in your hands and fell back to reposition. The maneuver forced your enemies to approach, just in time for you to attack first. They dwindled in number. You were no longer the priority. You held your own against another warrior, decorated in medals and a wakizashi in their hands, more seasoned than the last unit you fought against. 

The duel was a mind game, littered with fake-outs and feints, neither you or the warrior landing a blow. Their movements were calculated, without an obvious weakness, so you focused on observation. Their slashes were quick and left little room for a counterattack. They stayed in your face so your naginata can’t outrange them. They were mobile, moving low and high, their body contorting unpredictably against the backdrop of your burning home and-

And Lord Vox…!

You screamed his name. One of the bodies, one you recognized, still moving. Bloodied, barely alive, but quiet, behind your lord, raising his blade.

“Behind you! VOX!” You cried out so loud your throat went hoarse, only for blood to pour out of your mouth.

In your attempt to warn your lord, the warrior noticed an opening, and drove their wakizashi through your neck.

Vox spun on his heel at your command and drove his sword clean through the ambusher, only to watch as you fell to the mud. “Reader!”

He howled as a knife drove through his arm, the first good hit against him. You didn’t move. Another katana next. The gash on his leg disabled his movement. The fire against his blade flashed. Your body laid in a pool of your own blood. Tokugawa stood before him and pulled his own weapon back, aiming for the heart. You were dead, and he was no fool, but the sword plunged forward…

Vox stands. The ground below him, concrete. Across from him is a tiled wall and railroad tracks. He turns on his heel, fury in his eyes, ready to tear apart this subway station. “Woah, dude,” the man next to him says jokingly. His beard is turning gray and he’s covered in a worn winter jacket, and stays seated on the ground. 

“Piss off,” Vox snarls.

The man is as unbothered as ever, but seems concerned. “No thank you. Er, you good?”

“Good? Why, yes, I’m the very picture of ‘good’.” Vox lowers himself to the man’s eyes. He slams a fist against the wall, next to his head, as his words alight with poison and ember through gritted teeth. His voice burns demonic. “I said, get out of my sight like the vermin you are and PISS. OFF.”

The man’s face, once so calm and and sympathetic, forms into a visage of fear. He trembles like a deer in headlights before pushing Vox out of the way and bolting further into the subway. 

The subway platform Vox finds himself in is dismal and lonely. It’s dark, with some broken fluorescent lighting, and debris along the ground. The signs suggest the next train isn’t arriving anytime soon.

So Vox wracks his hands over his face, contorted in rage, and screams. When he runs out of breath he inhales and cries out again, ugliness crawling out of his throat, and when he closes his eyes he imagines the ugliness as blood, the splatters that coated your lips as you fell. The wakizashi sword through your neck. 

He can’t form words, but the heartbreak is primal. It echoes through the empty station, and when his voice shatters into a sob the acoustics remind him of his mourning. His broken heart tightens, tries to reform itself around the blood of his chest, and only gives him palpitations that lodge in his chest. 

Panic becomes him. What else could he be? Vox’s legacy is besmirched, his subjects slain, and most brutal of all, his greatest love gave their life to warn him in futility. He heeded their advice but- but the shaking in his heart, it’s so stifling, he can’t think straight, he needs to sit down- but he was useless to do the one thing you requested, to be safe. Now here he is, another casualty right after you fell, without the grace to even stay a dead lord. In another world, with another chance at life, and the first thing he does is spiral. How pathetic of Lord Akuma. Utterly disgusting. Even after his demonic blood gave him another chance, he’s spending it bawling like a baby, crumpled on the ground of a grungy subway station, his breath so shallow he feels like he’s about to die again. 

Misery. He’s too afraid to take in the world around him without the comfort of you, so his hands tangle into his hair and against his tears. Rebirth is nothing to an infernal, but today, the very picture of grief, the Voice Demon has been defeated for the first time in his immortal life.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

Pluto Saves the Day

A Twisted Wonderland House of Mouse!AU story

When the staff all fall into a deep sleep as a result of Pete’s plot to shut down the club, it’s up to Pluto (and Grim) to save the day.

(AKA: what happens when I’m bored on a plane and have House of Mouse episodes saved on my computer)

Words: 4.3K

Masterlist

IT’S WHERE TOONS WATCH TOONS: DISNEY’S HOUSE OF MOUSE!

“Now put your hands together for the rockin’ rodent who’s a real swingin’ cat: Mickey Mouse,” Microphone Mike announced to the club, giving rise to the audience’s burst of applause.

Mickey slid onto the stage, flashing everyone a cheerful smile, “Hey folks, welcome to the show!”

Meanwhile, Yuu was checking the mirror in her dressing room to make sure that she was presentable before she made her rounds in the dining hall.

“Now, Grim,” she said to her firecat monster companion, “I’ve already told the cooks about your dish so please just stay at your table and behave.”

“Yeah, yeah, minion,” Grim groaned, “I’ll behave. The Great Grim is not like those two dumb card soldiers that get into trouble every three minutes.”

She gave him a long, disbelieving look as if she was wondering if only she could remember the event of him setting their curtains on fire that happened ten minutes prior to this very conversation, “if you say so.”

As she made her way to her first table, the NRC prefect could hear Daisy at the reception.

“I’m sorry,” Daisy said to the dwarves with a teasing smile, “we don’t allow minors at the club.”

“Ha,” Grumpy scoffed, Happy and Doc chuckling behind him, “how about leaving the jokes to the comedians?”

Like always, she was called over by one of the villains the second she stepped foot into the main hall. They always made a point to be the first people she greeted and spoke to whenever she was on duty for reasons Yuu had no idea. She was more than happy to converse with their larger than life personalities but it did take a lot of time for them to actually let her return back to her job and see her other friends at the club.

“And what would you like to order, Lord Hades?” She asked the god politely.

“Babes, listen,” Hades smiled at her, “how long are you gonna go with this whole ‘Lord’ stuff? Just call me Hades, kid. You’re cool. I’m cool. We’re both cool.”

“I’m just trying to be polite, Sir,” Yuu gave him a gentle smile.

“Aiiyy,” the Lord of the Underworld massaged his temples, but it was clear by the upturn of his lips that he wasn’t actually frustrated, “what am I gonna do with ya, hun? Say, how are things going with that Idia kid? Managed to get him some good ol’ human interaction, lately?”

“Who cares about that shut-in hermit,” Jafar smirked from the next table, “tell me, that Jamil boy was supposed to assist you with your studies this morning, was he not? I’m sure that the time you spent with him was far more valuable

“Oi, Jaffy,” Hades glared at the sorcerer, blue flames rising a tad bit higher, “I asked first so why don’t ya wait your turn like a good little cobra instead a butting in?”

“Ooohhh~” Pain and Panic intonated in unison, watching the interaction with rapt attention as they bit into marshmallows that were earlier being held above their boss’ head.

“The man’s got a point, Hades,” Ursula chimed in, “I’d much rather hear about how my dear Azul is faring. An octopus of his caliber must be doing far more interesting things than shutting himself inside his room all day. In fact, Yuu was telling me last night how he and those darling eels were planning on taking her swimming sometime soon.”

“Listen, Ursula,” Hades griped, “Yuu and I were having a lovely, civil conversation earlier so why don’t you and Mr Sorceror over here mind ya own damn business.”

“Why should we?” Jafar asked, “are you perhaps…jealous?”

“‘Jealous’?” Hades scoffed, “why would I be jealous, Jaffy?”

As Yuu watched the patrons delve into one of their more familiar arguments with amusement, Pluto strolled along the dining hall, head held high as he surveyed the comings and goings of the club and listened to all of the information being given to him through his headset. Figaro watched him from where he was lounging on a table and abandoned his spot at Geppetto’s side to follow him, mimicking his movements to a T. Pluto, sensing the troublesome cat mocking him, swiveled around and gave the feline a glare. Figaro’s response was to blow a very cheeky raspberry, increasing Pluto’s ire and causing him to bark aggressively at the taunt. And thus began a chase, Figaro mewling and yelping in fear with Pluto hot on his heels. Rushing past several penguin waiters and up a spiraling ramp, the dog skidded to a halt at the sight of Thomas O’Malley and the Alley Cats giving him disapproving looks, with the small Figaro right at the centre.

Still angry at the way the black cat had taunted him, Pluto barked at Figaro, scaring not only his target, however, but also the live band that Mickey had hired as that night’s entertainment. Figaro, O’Malley and the Alley Cats raced away out of the break rooms and into the main hall.

Meanwhile, Mickey was still hosting the guests, “And today’s musical guests: O’Malley and the Alley Cats.”

He was interrupted not only by the sound of multiple cats screeching but also by said cats dashing across and off the stage in fear. As his body contorted to dodge the shaken felines, he gave each of them a worried glance before they ran across the dining hall and disappeared from his vision, “whoa-hey-what’s-whoa-waah-“

“Oi, I’m eating here,” Grim yelled at Billy Boss who had jumped right onto his plate of tuna pie, waving a fork at him threateningly, “the Great Grim does not show mercy to those that mess with his food!”

“Grim,” Yuu intoned reproachfully from where she was pouring tea for Jane Darling and Alice.

“Alright, he’ll show some mercy but only because I don’t want to get up.”

After hearing a loud thump from the main stage, Yuu looked up to see her boss squashed under Pluto; the canine looking sheepish and the mouse growing embarrassed at the way the crowd burst into laughter.

“Oh my, Mickey,” Yuu rushed to the stage along with Minnie, who gave Pluto a stern look, “are you alright?”

Yuu helped the pair untangle themselves as Minnie shot the audience a smile, “Sorry about that folks. We’re just having a few little hiccups. Why don’t you all just relax and watch a cartoon whilst we sort this out.”

Winnie-the-Pooh looked down at the pot of Hunny that had fallen and rolled away on the floor during the kerfuffle with sadness, “oh bother.”

*****

“Pluto, you chased our musical guests away,” Minnie scolded the dog after she and Yuu had managed to get the tangled pair behind the stage, uncrossing her arms as she puffed up in anger, “Ooohh, how many times do I have to warn you, double warn you and triple warn you about chasing cats in the club?”

His response was to look to the side in shame.

Yuu watched them, heart clenching at the sad way Pluto hunched in on himself. Whilst she could understand where Minnie was coming from and that the stressed mouse was constantly busy with work, she was aware that Pluto wasn’t the type to do something maliciously if he didn’t have a reason. As playfully troublesome as the dog can be, when it comes to his job at the club, he tries his best to be as professional as possible. Plus, he was one of the first friends she made when she first started working there and was nothing but kind to her (if a bit too protective) even if he did have a vindictive streak in his personality. She gave Pluto a sympathetic pat on his head, smiling at him as her hand carded through the golden-brown fur on his scalp. He seemed to appreciate the show of affection, with the way he melted slightly under her touch.

Minnie turned to her boyfriend, who was quietly watching all of this go down with his paws stuffed in his pockets, in frustration, “Oooh, now I’ve got to find another musical act.”

Yuu, by now had kneeled down onto the floor to wrap her arms around the saddened canine, giving him a consoling hug. She gave her employer a concerned look, to which he returned with a serious one of his own. It was clear that like her, he didn’t want to upset either side. Mickey turned to Minnie as he reasoned, “aww, he’s just a dog, Min.”

“Yeah,” Yuu piped up, “sure Pluto made a mistake but he didn’t mean to. It’s in his nature to be a bit playful and maybe he just came on a bit too strong. I’m sure that it was all just an accident and no one got hurt.”

Minnie’s face softened as she looked back at the way Yuu held Pluto in a comforting embrace, “Oh, I know you guys but sometimes I feel like this job would be a little easier without Pluto underfoot.”

Pluto whimpered as he bound out of Yuu’s hold, whining as he dejectedly kicked off his headpiece with one of his hind legs before running off. Yuu sadly watched him go and was about to go follow him but was then called by Goofy to handle a table.

“Minnie, I understand where you’re coming from,” Yuu turned to her as she got up, “trust me, I know you put a lot of effort into running the club and it isn’t easy to do what you do. I’m sure that without you doing half of what you do, this place wouldn’t even exist. I really respect and look up to you and I can never thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me but I think that right now you’re wrong about Pluto. Can he be a bit too mischievous? Yes, absolutely. But he always has all of our best interests at heart. I’m sure that he’ll fix his mistake if you give him a chance.”

Minnie gave her a comforting smile, “I know that, Yuu. I’ve known Pluto for about as long as I’ve known Mickey and if there’s one thing that dog is, it’s loyal. I guess that sometimes all of the work that I do gets to me and the idea of having to find a new act with such short notice has me all worried. Don’t worry, once I sort this out I’ll go and find Pluto and we can have a nice chat. Now why don’t you go sort out table 7 before we have another food fight on our hands.”

***

Whilst the Club was running, Pluto had found himself in the alleyway behind the House of Mouse. There he found out that he wasn’t alone when he found a very familiar large cat in the middle of concocting his latest scheme.

“Oooh these poisoned apples sure are great,” Pete grinned as he walked around with a basket of bright red apples, not knowing that he was being spied on, “I can’t believe that there was a whole pile of them right in the villain vault. With Mickey and the gang out cold, I could walk right in and take over the House of Mouse.”

Pluto ran back towards the back entrance of the club, yapping at the locked stage doors. Feeling a chill go up his spine, he turned around to see Pete looming over him with a sinister grin.

“So,” Pete snarled at his quivering figure, “someone is spying on old Pete, eh? Don’t you know what happens to misbehaving cat-chasing mutts? They get sent to Katmandu!”

And with that, the burly landlord grabbed him by the collar and flung him into a box that he shut closed and threw into a post van. He let out booms of evil laughter as he watched the vehicle peel away.

****

“How about we check out this Goofy cartoon?” Mickey gave his audience a grin.

“This one stars me and you” Goofy said to Louie the mountain lion as the toon was projected onto the screen.

During the break, Mickey, Minnie and Yuu had returned to their dressing rooms to find an apple waiting for them on their dressing tables.

“‘For Minnie, the apple of my eye’,” Minnie read the note tied to her gift’s stem with a giggle, hugging the apple close to her cheeks, “He’s the best.”

Mickey looked down at the note that was placed onto his plate of apple-shaped cheese, “‘For Mickey, fresh apple cheese. Love, Minnie.’ Aww, she’s so sweet.”

“For Yuu,” Yuu glanced at the card that was kept next to her apple, “‘make sure to have a snack during your break. Love, the House of Mouse.’ Aww, did someone give me a gift? How nice.”

As each of them took a bite of their apples, they felt a strange feeling overcome them before unceremoniously dropping to the floor in a deep sleep.

At the same time, Donald and Daisy were manning the reception booth when a delivery man walked to the counter with a beautifully gift-wrapped box in his hands.

“Hello there,” Donald waved, “Welcome to my club.”

“I’m looking for a Donald and Daisy Duck,” the man looked at his clipboard, “I’ve got a delivery for them.”

“A delivery!” the two ducks beamed.

“That would be us, Sir,” Daisy smiled at him.

“Yeah,” Donald extended his arms out eagerly, “gimme, gimme, gimme.”

His girlfriend was quick to sign the paper on the clipboard and the box was placed on the countertop. Donald immediately began tearing the wrapping paper off and the box fell open, revealing a deliciously steaming apple pie.

“‘To Donald and Daisy’,” Daisy read the note next to the baked treat, “‘love from your biggest fan.’ Isn’t that lovely?”

The pair each took out a slice and bit into them, causing them to fall backwards into their own slumbers.

As Goofy was making his way to the kitchens from the staff room, a penguin waiter tugged on his trousers.

“Well hello there. What can I help you with, hu yuuhu?” Goofy kneeled down. The penguin handed him a silver serving dish with a lid, “for me? Aww shucks, that’s real swell of ya.”

He watched the penguin waddle off before lifting the lid and finding a bright red apple, “well, would ya look at that? An apple a day keeps the doctor away, after all.”

The head waiter took a bite and was promptly knocked out cold.

**

As the main staff found themselves fast asleep, enwrapped in Pete’s evil plan. Pluto had found a way to escape Katmandu and return to the alley way behind the club. Peeking his head out of his delivery box, he shot a concerned look at the House of Mouse and could immediately sense that something was wrong. After his attempts of opening the locked doors failed, he spotted an opening under the club’s foundation that would give him entry to the interior of the building only to find that his suspicions were true.

Huey, Duey and Louie were slumped against a large drum set, gently snoring with peaceful smiles on their faces; Goofy and his son Max were lying still on the floor, chests rising and falling with every deep breath; Donald, Daisy, Mickey and Minnie were completely dead to the world as they sat against the walls. Even Yuu was lying down on the floor of her dressing room, body motionless.

Ears perking up at the deep rumble of nearby villainous laughter, Pluto crept torwards the source of the noise to find himself right outside a room that held a very satisfied Pete, who was rubbing his hands with glee.

“I’ve never had such a magnificently evil plot,” he grinned to himself, “I better start closing this club down.”

Pluto pounced onto Pete with a snarl, before throwing him into a backstage elevator and locking him inside.

“Back from Katmandu, eh?” Pete smirked at the dog wickedly, “So what, pal? You’re too late to save your little friends, mutt. Somebody better play a cartoon otherwise the House of Mouse is finito.”

With a smile, Pluto leaped away into Horace’s booth at the control room to grab a Pluto cartoon and press it into the disk player. He zipped down, jumped onto the stage and pointed at the screen excitedly, happy to show the audience a toon where he’s the star. The club goers clapped as the projector lit up. While Pluto was making his way back to behind the stage, he found that his path had been intercepted by Grim.

“OI, PLUTO!” Grim said, “where’s my henchman? I haven’t seen her since you chased all of those cats away.”

Pluto barked in response and pointed his head in the direction of Yuu’s dressing room. Once the pair had made it there, Pluto used one of his paws to cover Grim’s mouth when it looked like the other was about to scream at the sight of the girl lying still on the floor, shaking his head and shushing him as he did so. He then showed Grim that all of the other staff members were unconscious as well.

“What is going on? Why is no one awake? Tell me,” Grim demanded.

Pluto let out a string of barks.

“Pete did it? Why I ought to curse him until he begs for forgiveness. No one messes with the Great Grim,” Pluto held onto the scruff of Grim’s neck with his mouth to prevent him from leaving and causing a scene that could disrupt the rest of the club, “oi, hey, what are you doing?”

Pluto placed him back down and barked again, letting the cat-like monster know that right now the priority is to put on a good show to make sure Pete can’t close down the club.

“Alright, but I’m staying here with my minion,” Grim huffed, “after all, she needs a mage as powerful as I am to guard her.”

 The dog nodded in reply and sauntered back. By the time Pluto had returned to the dining room, the audience were clapping at the now ended cartoon.

“Oh, those kittens were just so adorable,” Lumiere gushed, clapping his candle hands together in delight.

"Hmm, yes," Beast agreed, three adorable little kittens happily resting in his large paws, “they are adorable.”

“Nice try, muttface,” Pete provoked Pluto, who had gone to where the landlord was being confined to brag about his success, “but the show won’t be going on since you chased away the kitty musical act remember? Now let me out of here!”

“No way!” Grim yelled back, startling the two as he seemed to appear out of nowhere, “You will never be let out and we do have a musical act. Tonight, I shall give you all the honour of watching me perform.”

Pluto barked at him.

“What, ‘no’?” Grim gasped in outrage, “I’ll have you know that the Great Grim is the best entertainment you could ask for. They’ll be begging me to get back on the stage.”

“Woof.”

 “What do you mean I’ll sound like nails on a chalkboard? I am a talented musical genius. You wouldn’t know taste if it came and-”

“This is fun to watch and all but until the audience gets entertainment, the show can’t go on. Unless you get on that stage, mutt?” Pete asked sarcastically.

Pluto lit up and ran onto the stage.

“I gotta stop giving that dog ideas.” Pete glowered.

Grim glared back at him, “you really do.”

Pluto let out a few excited barks at the audience, his tail wagging enthusiastically behind him.

“That’s right folks,” Microphone Mike announced, “our special guests are none other than: the Pet Shop Dogs.”

The audience applauded as the spotlights revealed an assortment of different dogs that were previously seated with the other clientele. Grim pouted from where he was snuggled up against Yuu’s sleeping form when he saw Pluto conducting the dogs into a song, “those mutts have nowhere near half of the magnificence of the Great Grim. Wait a minute, I have an idea.”

“Mama, Papa,” Lucky the dalmatian puppy yipped excitedly at his parents upon seeing his brothers bark on stage, “look at Patch and Rolly!”

“I always knew my pups would be stars,” Pongo remarked with pride as Perdita smiled adoringly at her family.

Penny, who was curled up next to Pongo, scrunched up her nose as she looked at her father with concern, “hey, where’s Yuu? She’d love to watch this.”

 When the song came to the close, the dogs on stage barked happily at the clapping and cheering they were rewarded with.

“Where’s my tailor when I need him,” Cruella groaned and slammed her table with a fist.

“Oooh, that was very almost musical,” Pete teased back when the dog had returned backstage, “maybe I’ll hire you when I take over this dump because after the apples I gave them, your friends ain’t never gonna wake up!”

“So that’s what happened,” a sweet voice called out, it’s angelic lilt interrupting Pete’s gloating laughter like a beam of light cuts through darkness. Both Pluto and Pete turned towards its source to find Princess Snow White standing at the doorway, Grim sitting comfortably in her arms, “Grim told me that Yuu was in trouble. That must be why everyone’s asleep. They were all tricked into eating poisoned apples.”

Pluto nodded as Grim turned to look at the fair princess, “do you know how to wake them up?”

Snow White smiled down at him and gave a soft laugh, “Of course I do.” She turned to Pluto, “to wake up your friends, all you need is to give them a kiss.”

Pluto barked happily as he made his way to his friends, giving each of them sloppy kisses all over their faces. Before he could make his way to Yuu, though, Grim had jumped out of Snow White’s arms and stood infront of his fellow Ramshackle dorm member, extending out his paws as if shielding her from him

“Wait a minute!” Grim yelled at Pluto, “You ain’t getting your lips anywhere near my henchman. If anyone’s gonna be waking her up it’s me!”

Pluto rolled his eyes and scoffed when Grim had turned around and placed a kiss on Yuu’s forehead. This caused Yuu to shift slightly, rolling over as she groggily flickered her eyes open in confusion, “wha-what happened?”

“Minion!” Grim yelled happily and jumped onto her chest, nuzzling her face with his. Yuu blinked in perplexity and hugged him.

“Gee, I had this crazy dream that Pluto kept the show going,” Mickey scratched his head in bewilderment as Yuu began to sit up.

“I did too,” Minnie said.

“It wasn’t a dream,” Snow White smiled, petting Pluto’s head, “Pluto saved the day.”

“Pluto that’s amazing,” Yuu beamed, she extended an arm as an invitation for Pluto to join in on the hug. The dog yipped happily and bounced onto her, making her laugh as he joyfully licked all over her face, “Aww, I love you too, boy.”

“I had a dream a doggy was kissing me,” Goofy laughed as Donald gagged.

“Henchman, what about me?” Grim whined, “I’m the one that woke you up. Shouldn’t I get praised as well?”

“Oh, Pluto,” Minnie smiled, walking to where Yuu was hugging the smug dog and giving him a few pets to his head, “I’m so proud of you.”

 Pluto held his head high.

Later, after Mickey had introduced another cartoon to the guests, Yuu, Grim and the Sensational Six had gathered together behind the stage as a congratulations ceremony for their hero.

“Pluto, for single handedly stopping Pete, keeping the show going and saving the House of Mouse, I hereby promote you to the rank of official certified, authorized, deputized, accredited and with all access to the club granted ‘Pluto Assistant’,” Minnie announced, placing his headgear on the dog’s head with the gravitas of a Queen knighting him.

“Attaboy, Pluto,” Mickey ruffled his head as Yuu cheered and clapped behind him.

“And I thought that it would be easier around here without you,” Minnie laughed at her former self’s words.

“Three cheers for Pluto,” Yuu toasted and Donald, Daisy and Goofy cheered and danced with her.

“Where’s the Great Grim’s reward?” Grim griped to Yuu, “I did help too, you know.”

Yuu sighed, “I’ll make you an extra plate of tuna pie.”

“That’s a start,” he hmphed at her, crossing his arms and sticking his nose in the air. She gave him a smile and picked him up, ignoring his demands to be put down as she hugged him and pecked his forehead. “Wha-hey! What was that?”

“A kiss,” she retorted.

“Disgusting. Do it again.”

“Remember, Pluto,” Mickey smirked, pointing at Pete with his thumb, “there’s only one cat you’re allowed to chase.”

Pete gripped onto the bars of his cage, “and who might that be, pray tell?”

“It better not be me,” Grim huffed at his dorm mate.

Pluto strolled to the wall next to Pete and used his tail to release the large cat from his confinement. Pete’s face slackened in shock and fear as the doors slid open, causing Pluto’s fellow canine friends to run towards him, barking in delight as they jumped on him. Pluto sat back and watched them with smug satisfaction before Pete ran out with his clothes ripped from the roughhousing and he too wanted to join in on the fun of chasing him.

“Alright gang,” Mickey said to Minnie and Yuu, taking no notice of the sound of Pete’s screams, “we’d best get back out there and continue the show.”

“You got it, Mickey,” Yuu saluted him and the night continued as normally a night at the House of Mouse could be.

Now all she had to do was dissuade a bunch of unhappy customers from getting revenge on her behalf.

HA! THAT’S ALL FOR TODAY! SEE YOU COOL CATS REAL SOON!

[notmorbid]

... enter the forest, pt. 2.

dialogue prompts from brother & sister enter the forest by richard mirabella.

i could use your help with something.

i've never been any good at growing things.

some things, you never get any better at.

i can't be a burden to you, too.

just breathe in slowly. try not to move too much.

you're going to get caught.

i never learned how to survive.

i'll get home somehow. leave me alone.

i don't want to be with you anymore.

tell me you don't want to see me anymore.

i'm used to you now. i don't want you to go away.

take me somewhere real.

what an imagination you must have.

what's your name again? did you tell me?

you don't deserve to be stared at.

what must all these people think?

you can't make me feel bad.

just get in your car and leave.

i'm waiting for you to make one good decision.

what are you nervous about?

you're not doing anything wrong.

you're not cruel. you're blowing off steam.

i don't like pda.

i don't want to be afraid, but i am.

i think you're beautiful.

i'm worried they'll see through me.

i forgot to think about what i really wanted.

you have your own story about everything.

i wish you could see yourself when you think you're helping.

you didn't try to stick up for me. you never have.

it means nothing, coming from me.

the two of you belong together.

you never asked me what it was like for me.

why do you assume you know how i'll react?

sometimes it's like your soul leaves the room.

you basically saved my life. you're a hero.

i think we saved each other.

i wouldn't know how to tell that story.

i'd like to live here and be odd. i'll become a hermit.

it's torture waiting to trust someone.

let's be hermits together.

it's easy to pretend i don't have a body.

i kept waking up and noticing you were gone.

can you tell me your name?

you're lucky to be alive.

if you want me to go, just say it.

why are you acting like this? what happened?

there are conversations we need to have that we aren't having.

are you sure you want me to?

i read somewhere that being near trees reduces stress.

you haven't seen my new place yet.

why don't you talk to me?

i don't like you this way.

i'm going to leave. call me when you're not whatever you are right now.

i don't have anything to give you back.

i've always been insensitive, i know.

do you need to lean on me?

i don't know if i believed what i said.

i'm nothing to be afraid of. i'm afraid, too.

if i needed to, could i come stay with you?

do you feel safe?

i feel happy, but i don't feel safe.

there's nothing to be afraid of here.

i wanted to ask, but i was afraid of what the answer might be.

you called me a cunt?

why do you stay?

i can't think straight in this house anymore.

why would i want to hurt you?

you're going to be okay. i'm here.

[creaturefeaster]

What is it like to raise birds? I really like birds and I would like to have as many as you but I have no idea if it is how I imagine it, even so, if I had some I would love them! I'm sorry if there are spelling mistakes.

Owning and raising birds is a real treat. They are easy to understand if you're committed to learning, and are a really fun and healthy source of entertainment. Most of my childhood was me being a bedridden hermit, and getting chickens was the first and most vital step in getting me outdoors and moving more. It's amazing how much flock animals can change your life for the better.

Chickens are funny, easy to keep happy, and if you handle them right, extremely loving in their own way that makes it exciting to go out each day and see how they're doing.

Raising them from chicks yourself is the best way to ensure they'll be friendly and loving when they're older. It can be sort of scary when you have your first chicks, it's easy to think they're more fragile than they are, or that you're upsetting them, but baby birds just like to whine. Some more than others, but either way you learn pretty quickly that being consistent and easy-going with your attention is what birds tend to like.

Working with a calm hand and persistence, you will be rewarded with a fun hobby that comes with many benefits. Chickens are best for eggs and compost, getting rid of food scraps and old (but never moldy!) food turns into fresh eggs to eat and poop for fertilizing the land. Geese are great for maintaining wild plant growth, keeping grass low cut and invasive weeds at bay, and also produce a lot of feather fluff if you have use for goose feathers. Their eggs are also massive, though not as good for frying as chicken eggs. Ducks are great at keeping garden pests at bay, and can be super amusing as they're surprisingly fast paced and emotive animals.

They are very messy, though. Maybe not as much with chickens-- as long as they have a dry space they keep themselves pretty clean as long as you change their bedding when they need it. Ducks and geese however, which are waterfowl, can be much much messier. Ducks especially. They need a lot of water to be happy, and get it everywhere. This in combination with their poop leads to quickly dirtied water and muddy enclosures if you don't keep up with the cleaning. Every day I get messy and wet for their sake. I don't mind it, but it can be harder to manage in colder and wetter months.

It can be a bit of a hump to get past the grosser parts of poultry care, but once you get past that, and you have a routine, I think it's still a relatively easy thing to maintain, and is worth it for all the pleasantries the birds bring in turn.

Chickens do well with less space than a lot of other poultry, their comfortable square foot per individual radius is rather small, given they have room to run and can all get along. It is simple and easy to raise chickens in a suburban backyard. I am not sure if it works similarly for other countries, but look up your town ordiances for poultry livestock allowances, if in the USA. More towns allow backyard hens than you'd expect, depending on the square footage of your property.

Geese and ducks need much more space, they are roamers and need large spaces to walk, stretch their wings, and explore to stay happy lest they grow bored and agitated. Unless you live in rural neighborhoods, it is unlikely you can own waterfowl. And roosters; Many suburban towns that allow hens do not allow roosters, because they are noisy.

Quails are also another choice, if chickens are too intimidating or difficult to procure in your area. Many quails can live quiety and happily in an enclosure even inside, so long as they have proper enrichment. They can be a good and cute stepping stone to bigger birds like chickens or ducks.

Turkeys and guinea fowl are interesting in their own way as well. I don't have as much experience with turkeys, they're larger and sassier but they generally work well with chickens. Plus they make funny noises and are amusing to look at. Guinea fowls, kind of like geese, are really good watch dogs if you live in a place with hawks, eagles, or small predators. They are very loud and vocal, and can be somewhat assertive and protective of their flock. They're also really stupid looking.

But anyways, back to what it's like to have birds in general... If you're birdbrained you will feel at home when you are amongst your flock. If you aren't birdbrained, enough time around them will make you so. It will be a peaceful experience and the work put into them is always rewarding. Being able to sit with chickens, letting them jump up to you and eat from your hand, or petting and hugging a duck, or having a gaggle of geese follow you through a field in a slow line... it's like having a fun and obtainable experience to look forward to every day. :3

Oh, I was going to end it there but I actually have one more thing to add. This part of poultry care is the part people don't always like to hear/realise, but the biggest thing with poultry is: Do not raise what you are not willing to kill. Regardless of whether you raise birds like chickens for meat, eggs, or just as pets, you must accept that fact that at some point, you may need to humanely cull one. Unwanted males do not sell/rehome easily, and can become an issue to take care of if you aren't ready to cull. Sick hens do not always make it, and sometimes you have to decide to spare them the pain and put them down. Vets can sometimes help with this, but most of the time that requires an exotics expert, and can cost you much more than it's worth. Being able to cull your birds is also useful life experience and teaches proper animal respect.

Just, keep that in mind if you ever look into owning birds. You need to be strong for their sake, you are the one they depend on the most.