#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.

[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--

[ch3rry-wink]

Become Human (AU)

Pairing: android!Miguel x f!reader

Summary: Your android assistant is mad because you have a date

CW: +18, smut, kinda yandere Miguel.

Author's note: inspired by Detroit Become Human

The first time you saw Miguel was in your first year of university, a gift from your father so you wouldn't feel alone.

"I am Miguel, and I will be your assistant" sounded robotic but human enough.

"Thanks, Dad." Your parents always found a way to replace themselves and others with technology, so it wasn't surprising that your nanny was a Lyla.

Having Miguel was the best thing that could happen to you; during university, he took care of household tasks, allowing you to focus on classes. Over time, he became your manager, friend, chef, bodyguard, even your muse. However, your life revolving around him made you a complete hermit, something your mother constantly complained about.

"You're just like your father, always locked in your world"

"I know, no need to remind me always."

"You should stop fucking your robot and start dating real guys" you blushed, even though it was very normal you had never wanted to cross the line with Miguel, even though he had made the suggestion.

"Mom, I don't want to talk about that."

"I wouldn't blame you; he's a muscular six feet man," she always found a way to make you uncomfortable.

It wasn't in your plans for your mother to scold you for not having dates, and your android to complain about having them. Yet, there you were, dressed up, meeting someone from an app, and listening to the android's complaints.

"What's so special about him?" Maybe his jealousy didn't exist; you had read about viruses and updates simulating feelings in androids.

"Miguel, you're just my robot assistant." His eyes welled up as if about to cry.

"You know I care about you."

"Enough! Stop talking nonsense." You were in denial, you knew he was right, especially when his touches became softer and lingered, as if adoring you.

"I've thought about us." You covered your ears like a tantrum-throwing child.

"I want you to shut down," you yelled; he left the room, and you stayed fixing your makeup.

You headed to the door, tried to open it, and it was stuck; pulling the handle a couple more times, you remembered Miguel wasn't just a physical body but an AI controlling everything from the oven to the security system. Things you needed to know but ignored because Miguel controlled them.

You knew you wouldn't make it to your date; Miguel had sabotaged it, not that you were excited to go.

Walking to the kitchen, you saw Miguel sitting at the bar with a glass of wine he offered. First, the security system, and now this—something was wrong, and fear started creeping in.

"I ordered you to shut down; why aren't you off?"

"I didn't want to do it."

"I want you to shut down." You took out your phone. "If you don't, I'll call the technician and have you destroyed," sounding like your mother, arguing with some manager.

"It doesn't matter. You said I'm your robot assistant, so I'm replaceable." You knew it wasn't true; you and he had been through a lot, and the affection you had for him was sometimes your inspiration to paint.

"Shut down." You saw him advance towards you, cornering you between the bar and him. "Back off." He ignored your command, held you by the waist, and started kissing you.

"I just want you to love me." His hands went to the zipper of your dress, lowering it, sending shivers down your spine as his lips kissed your neck.

"We shouldn't." Your words and actions didn't align; your body was getting closer to him.

"Relax, just this once." You nodded, and he lowered the dress straps; it fell to the floor, and instinctively, you covered your nudity. He laughed, took one of your hands, and guided you to your room.

You sat on the edge of your bed as nervous as your first time, he knelt on the floor, caressed your legs and began to give short kisses on the inside of your thighs, he brought his hand closer and with his thumb began to rub your intimacy over your underwear, little moans of pleasure escaped from your mouth.

"Tell me you need me" Miguel wanted to hear you beg for him; even though he knew it was he who was begging for you.

"I need you" you said that through the moans you couldn't control.

Miguel stopped rubbing with his finger to replace it with his face, you lost track of space and time, you could only think of the sensation he was causing; how his hands caressed your skin while he slid your underwear down to your ankles and his mouth did not leave your sweet spot.

The room was a concert of your ragged breathing, your pathetic whimpering and the splashing of your fluids, Miguel felt accomplished after so long waiting for you now he had you bent over, completely exposed and vulnerable for him alone.

"Miguel stop" Miguel watched your cramped body barely coming down from the high he had put you on.

You lay on the bed looking up at the ceiling, Miguel lay down next to you, he caressed your cheek and you turned to look at him.

"I love you, Miguel" wiped a tear that escaped from your eye. You said you loved him but there you were trying to hold back the tears — What was stopping you from loving him the way he loved you?

You stood up and straddled him, Miguel didn't expect you to take the initiative, but there you were on him caressing his chest and abdomen until you reached the waistband of his usual grey pants which you pulled down to the middle of his thighs exposing his cock which you stroked a couple of times and directed to your entrance.

Miguel didn't expect you to be so eager to feel him, but there you were making the effort to feel all his length inside you, you started to bounce on him and a grimace of pure pleasure started to appear on your face.

Your cheeks were flushed, you were starting to feel tired from the effort; but you didn't care, the only thing you wanted to do was to continue on top of him.

"I love you" Miguel said between moans, you stopped to give him a slow and sweet kiss, he didn't hold back his joy and in a few movements you were under him, he came back inside you and started with his rhythmic thrusts, your nails dug into his back and your eyes met his eyes as bright as stars.

No matter how many times you screamed, cried or writhed in pleasure he was still over stimulating, enjoying you, the fluffiness of your insides and in how your lips kept worshipping his name after begging you so much to love him.

"You are beautiful" the intimacy of the moment brought out the artist who saw beauty in everything, in how his hair moved and his muscles tensed with every movement. Miguel was the epitome of science, technology and art, something so perfect it couldn't be real.

[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."

[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.)

[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.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

[demie90s]

After You

College!Shuri x Black Female Reader

Part 1

Warnings: Light Cursing

Authors Note: I haven’t written in a year.

  ⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

See here’s the thing.

There are multiple types of roommates.

For Example:

•The Ghost - You saw them on move-in day and his room is furnished, but they are literally never home.

• The Hermit - Unlike the ghost, you always know where to find the hermit in their room. It’s like they never leave home, even for class.

•The Neat Freak - Roommate thinks your room is a pigsty because you have one sock on the ground and an empty water bottle that isn’t placed in the recycling.

• The Slob - Literally never cleans up after their self and completely ignores the chore list that was agreed to by each roommate.

•The One With a Significant Other - Always together and if not they are most likely on the phone. They go to class together, eat together, study together, and sleep together

•The One With a Significant Other from High School - Same just Fucking weird.

•The Passive Aggressive - Any time there’s an issue that could easily be resolved with a simple face-to-face conversation, they choose to leave you a sticky note and reminder instead. They avoid face-to-face confrontation, but always seems to have something to complain about.

•The Partier - They constantly blast music, invite friends over and make silence a sacred thing you never see anymore.

•The Overly Attached - What you didn’t anticipate is that one of them would follow you everywhere and expect to be best friends forever.

•The Perfect Match - This roommate is quite hard to find; but once you find one, you’ll love them. They’re everything you’re looking for in a roommate. Honest, respectful and just a well-rounded person. If you meet the perfect roommate, try and stick with him for as long as possible, as they are a rare breed!

You get the point. But here we are. Hiding from mine in the fucking bathroom. 

You might be asking…

‘Why are we hiding in the bathroom?’

‘Is our roommate a damn Lion or Dinosaur?’

‘Are they threatening us?’

‘Or are the just overall bat shit crazy?’

No.

None of that.

Quite the opposite.

Now we have a right to say when our roommate is not a good roommate. But right now it’s the complete opposite. Because the roommate in question is The gotdamn Princess of Wakanda. 

How do I even?

Where do I even?

What do I even?

You know what fuck it.

Okay good talk ‘me’ I’m glad we both are on the same page.

Finally I look at my phone for the time and luckily I have only been in here for 5 minutes. I slowly reach for the knob and gain back courage. I mean she is still human. Just a very important, hot, smart,incredible human.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Backtrack

Casually laying in bed Y/n had no idea what was in store.

New E-mail From: Howard University

Click

Hello, Y/fn Y/ln

It's important that I reach you as soon as possible with details about your roommate request with the Howard University Housing Facility.

We have looked into numerous roommate applications and have found many matches for you.

However, we have learn that there’s an international student (Imani Harper) who has also gained a full academic scholarship as well. Being the the Hall you are staying in is only for Scholars and you are the only on not paired with a roommate yet we will be pairing you two up. Can’t wait to see you both.

Sincerely,

Harry Marido

Director of Admissions

Howard University

1730 Lanie Monroe Parkway

Washington , WA 52107 (Obviously fake)

Alrighty then so much for decorating her dorm to her liking.

We Back

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

‘Hey’ she says reaching her hand out for me to shake. ‘Wassup’ you say back saying calm and smiling a bit.

‘I am going to guess you know my name is not Imani Harper. Though many people have already figured that out. I still don’t know why I lied.’ She says shaking her head and chucking a bit.

‘Yeah.’ I say smiling back trying to hold my composure.

‘Well this is better at least I don’t have to go through the introductions.’ She says going back to unpack.

Now I know I handled it like a G but bitch my heart is doing all types of disrespectful flips.

‘Have you taken the tour yet? You know..the campus tour. I didn’t have time’ She asked.

Sitting on her bed looking at me with her elbows in her knees (y’all know THE LOOK). I looked for a while in awe just thinking about her her accent sounded making her smirk and laugh a bit shaking her head.

Her eye contact is just godly.

‘Uh yeah…you want me to give you one? I only remember some of it.’ I finally replied questionably because I didn’t know much as well being that I just arrived today.

‘Yes’ she said standing up put her hands behind her back tilting her head a bit. ‘Ight…yeah…let’s go’ I say heading towards to door only for her to reach around slightly touching my lower back and opening it.

‘After You’ She said still smirking.

Oh boy.

[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.

[shyminmin]

༄𝐁𝐓𝐒 𝐗 𝐟.𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | Fantasy, Mermaid AU | ༄𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 3.9k + ༄𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : Negative/depressive thoughts, panic attack

This isn't good.

Everything has gone wrong.

What am I supposed to do now?

It can't end like this, not after all my searching.

There has to be more!

Right?

After Dongha and Sungwon had dropped me off back in front of the 'Seascape Inn,' not without ensuring that I was alright and failing to hide their solemn expressions, I had spent the rest of the day holed up in my room like the little hermit I was. They figured I could use some space and time to myself which I was more than grateful for.

I didn't want them to see me fall apart.

Crumpled in a pathetic curled-up heap on my bed, I had eventually fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep. The whole interaction with Mr Yang had taken its toll on my body and here I was now, early hours of the afternoon the next day, still utterly spent and no further settled about my situation.

A great, big storm cloud had slowly been forming since yesterday, looming over me and blocking out any possible remnants of optimism that may have been hovering around in regards to my search, imploring me to continue, that there was still something for me here in this old, deserted seaside town.

I swallowed down a painful sigh, filled with all my suppressed emotions, cursing my naivety.

I regretted ever obtaining any form of blind hope in the first place. I was setting myself up to fail from the very beginning but I refused to see it, wanting that childish happy ending.

I let myself believe that I would definitely find the missing pieces of my life here, that all of this was worth the hassle and time and I would come back with results, with a completed image of myself. Dongha and his friends had initially added fuel to my positive outlook on this, when they eagerly told me stories about my past. It made me think that my adoptive father would share similar musings, filling in the blanks of the person that was Cheong Y/n.

But who was I kidding, this was the real world.

It's harsh, unfair and ridiculously cruel to the people within it. Nothing ever comes easy unless you have a sizable amount in the bank and a fair share of shady connections. Yang Chinhae made sure to extinguish that steady growing flame of possibility, spouting out make-believe testimonies as a way to cope for the loss of his wife, putting the blame on me when it was no one's fault to begin with. He left nothing but a cold, damp lifeless pit in the fire's place, ensuring that it would be impossible to ever make it light up again.

Now I was once again stuck in a grey limbo, still mostly clueless about my existence. Yeah I gained a few tidbits here and there but nothing big enough to formulate a smooth, cohesive understanding of things.

My mouth trembled and my breathing became shaky as I continued to ponder.

I should have never come here...

It was all just a huge gamble that I had stupidly roped myself into and as a result had lost completely.

I couldn't even see myself enjoying the rest of my stay here, my hopeless thoughts would take up too much of my attention.

By the end of the week, I would go back to my dull, uncoordinated life where I'd continue to juggle my three odd jobs, all while trying to make ends meet. I'd still be that lost, clueless girl who wasn't living, just purely existing, nothing but a mindless zombie. Unlike here where the kind fishermen lived, I would have to return to the gruelling city where I would be alone with no family or friends to confide in or seek solace with, no one to rely on if times get tough.

I hadn't eaten anything since the drive to Chinhae's place, food being the least of my worries, even when hunger pains kept poking and prodding at my stomach, begging and pleading for me to get some god damn sustenance.

What was the point?

What was the point of making the effort to eat to survive if in the end I was still lost and unhappy?

The surroundings of my room got fuzzy, making everything morph together into one chaotic, blurry mess of colours, the beginnings of tears. The dam of my emotions had finally reached its limits, crumbling as the pent up emotions wanted release, too painful for me to keep them down any longer.

"Why?" I whispered to myself.

"Why me?"

My body hunched over and shook uncontrollably, steady salty streams fell and coated my cheeks as short, stuttering sobs left my lips. I reached up to rub my eyes trying to make them stop but it was useless, more just took their place.

Was this all my life was ever going to be?

My limbs went limp and heavy from all the built up tension and I couldn't help it when my body fell forward and collapsed down onto the bed once again, tears dampening the rumpled sheets from where my face was buried within, my louder and more frequent cries getting muffled by the fabrics.

Was it really worth it feeling sorry for myself, it's not like it was going to change my situation or make anything better. Crying won't fix things. No one was going to swoop in and whisk me away to a place where problems didn't exist, no this was reality. Everyone was out there for themselves.

I couldn't help it when more liquid proceeded to leak out from my now most likely puffy eyes. Numerous choked out gasps and whimpers initially consumed me as I was helpless in trying to stop everything from just flowing out. It was like my body had unconsciously switched to autopilot.

Tightly fisting the sheets, tremors erupted throughout my slumped out form from how hard I was crying now. Would I ever find the strength to stop? Maybe life would be lenient for once and make me die from it. It's not like the world would stop turning if I did succumb to death. It would sure as hell put me out of my misery.

Grasping my chest, I struggled to breathe, as an onslaught of violent screams came tumbling out making it almost impossible to get in any ounce of oxygen. My throat and lungs seized up and burned hot embers from the continuous fits I was being subjected to, needing some form of relief but getting denied. The muscles in my diaphragm getting overexerted.

Breathe!

I shook and thrashed around, messing up the sheets more, eyes scrunching shut as my panic increased, needing air.

I...I-I can't breathe!

Scratching at my throat, I tried to get a grasp on my bearings, to assume and gain back some control, but my now fitful screams just weren't having it. I had realised that I had descended into a full blown anxiety attack, something I haven't experienced since my early adolescence.

Letting out small tears in front of the fishermen that day in the cafe was a bitter forewarning for what was happening to me in this current moment. Just like with my severe panic attacks it had been forever since I had poured out my feelings and emotions in the form of crying.

Screaming and hyperventilating out all my pain and struggles, pulling at messy strands of hair till it hurt, and clawing at my neck leaving red marks, I grew fed up with this life I found myself living. My body eventually going completely lax after the last of my energy was used up, laying my head on the heavily tear stained blankets.

What was the point anymore? I thought as I just lay there pathetically.

I'm sick of this, I'm tired..

I'm too tired to care about anything anymore.

My vision began to fade in and out, eventually settling into a pitch black abyss which sucked me into unconsciousness as my whole being had finally had enough of everything.

Hopefully I won't wake up this time round.

My hand unknowingly fell to the side where it rested against a certain black hat.

How am I still alive?

Similar thoughts were displayed on Ms Jee's face the moment I descended the stairs of the inn after my mental breakdown. My eyes were extremely swollen and red from the excess amount of tears that were shed as she took in the sight with a weirded out expression.

I had slowly made my way to the exit, totally devoid of life before she spoke up.

Urgh, I don't have the energy to handle you..

"Who went away and died to get you looking like crap? Oh hun, was it your boyfriend?"

Where she would've thought I would finally lose it and fire back something in offense, I surprised her and even myself with my words.

"You w-were right...Nobody gets what they want in life...T-thank you for telling me the facts...I should've taken your word for it sooner...

"Well I..." She uttered, astonished. Clearing her throat, she continued nonchalantly, "Good to see someone taking my advice for a change. The sooner you realise where we all stand in life, the amount of disappointment you will save from experiencing when stuff fails to go your way. Things can't get any worse if you're already at rock bottom."

Standing there in the centre of the lobby, nodding at her words in agreement, I couldn't help but give her a small smile, further shocking her. Maybe everyone has the ability to be somewhat supportive, even if it is through harsh advice. She continued to remain speechless when I finally made my exit.

"Thanks again Ms Jee..."

Finding myself idly sitting along the sandy shores of the town's beach, I forced down bites of a basic lettuce and tomato sandwich which I snagged from a random store that was just about to close. Not tasting it at all, I focused on the fact that at least it was making my stomach finally shut up.

The moon halfway to first-quarter, oversaw me trying to be enthusiastic about my pathetic lunch as it hovered in the still daytime sky. I stared at it for a moment, admiring its simple beauty.

Even a ball of rock orbiting the earth has a purpose... I thought in dismay. It ensures that the tides always have a reason to move and is the lone lantern of the night that guides one through the dark.

But what am I? What's my reason for existing? As far as I know, all I've been doing is wasting precious air. No scratch that, I'm a supposed half-fish person who curses people. Scanning my legs for fun, I tried to look for the scales I apparently shed. Nope just boring skin, I wish I was that cool.

Maybe Chinhae was drunk that night and mistook the skin condition on my feet for scales. Or perhaps he really is looney, it's hard to tell. Although, out of all the delusional words that Yang Chinhae spouted, one thing stood out.

He stated that he witnessed others that night, others who had supposedly left me on those sandy shores. Could they have been my parents, relatives even? If he saw them just dump me and run, why didn't he go after them?

If I did go back and demand answers he'd probably stick to his fairytale story and say that they jumped back into the sea to their underwater palace or something ridiculous like that. However, that's provided he doesn't murder me before I even get a chance to speak. He seemed pretty intent last time on spearing me like some fish.

Crumpling up the plastic from the finished sandwich, I stuffed it in my pocket letting out a sigh.

No, I truly have hit the end of the road for answers..

Should I pack up and leave early? Three more days here is going to be pointless.

Lost in my world of depressive thoughts, I wasn't expecting to be greeted by something that caused an unexpected sense of déjà vu.

A long shadow was cast upon my seated form, blocking the late light of the sun and my view of the waves. I was overcome by a strange feeling that rocked my very core as butterflies proceeded to flutter around in my stomach, the person standing in front of me in those all too familiar clothes making my nerves go haywire.

Clearing his throat from where it was above me further clarified as to who this person was, that deep audible sound sending tingles that went straight through my whole being.

Trying to appear like I wasn't affected by his presence, I directed my gaze towards the man's face, heart beating erratically against my rib cage when I was once again struck by his otherworldly appearance, like that day back in the cafe. Déjà vu indeed.

Midnight hair subtly swaying with the breeze, his pearlescent skin accentuated his rosy lips as he stared directly at me, no hint of expression.

"I-I....um..uh.." My brain failed to compute, as I awkwardly stumbled over my words, sounding more like I was trying to talk while being strangled. How embarrassing!

"I... um...you...y-you are man..."

Oh god what even?! I mentally smacked myself. Just stop talking!

Gulping, I settled on just staring, his eyes breaking our gaze, roaming over my form instead, analysing and calculating like he was hoping to find something. I tried my best not to seem intimidated and shrink in on myself like I was so used to doing in these types of situations. Unfortunately, that's kind of hard to do when he's sporting such a stoic look while standing over me like some frickin giant. Is he going to say something or?

"Well I should hope so... I was the last time I checked," he uttered out, soothing, raspy tones that could just lull anyone into a gentle, wistful sleep.

"Wha-?" I looked at him dumbfounded, soon realising that he had responded to my retarded, choppy statement that I randomly let out under pressure. Rubbing my arm for comfort I put on a forced smile.

"Oh yeah haha, o-of course you are... silly me, forget I said that, uh...you ok?"

Nodding his head in reply, his cerulean eyes come back up to rest on my own, I try to will myself not look away out of habit. Oh boy this is hard.

"My eyes could be deceiving me, but I'm pretty sure that's mine," he said, motioning to the item of clothing placed beside me that I had mindlessly brought along with me after my tearfest. Ever since that hat had found itself in my possession it had provided a weird sense of grounding for me, a steady comfort that I took for granted.

"O-oh right! S-sorry for not realising sooner! My m-mind isn't all with me at the moment....Yes, I've been l-looking to give it back to you...e-ever since that day at the beach."

Picking up the black headpiece, I pushed myself up off the sandy ground, dusting some grains off from where they stuck to my shorts. Now standing in front of the man, he was still a great deal taller than me as I quickly held it out for him to take.

"H-here I kept it safe, just a little sandy in places..." My hands shook out of nervousness from our close proximity, his dominant aura not helping in the slightest.

Giving me a low hum I presume in 'thanks', he reached out and took it, one of his large, pale hands gently brushing over one of mine amidst the exchange.

Everything would've seemed normal with this, that was until the moment his skin decided to touch mine. A great big surge of what I can only relate to as electricity, spiked from the point of impact, running through and filling every little crevice of my body. It wasn't hot or cold, but made me jolt and waver on my spot, my eyesight going stark white for a moment hindering my vision.

I let out a surprised gasp as I clutched my throbbing head, my knees going weak before completely buckling. Feeling myself falling dangerously to one side, my body continued to fluctuate from the strange wave of energy.

I braced myself to hit the ground, hoping the powdery surface of the sand would absorb most of the impact. I waited in anticipation until a pair of strong arms caught me around my middle, firmly holding me up by the waist and preventing my fall.

"Hey!" I heard the man shout out, shock evident in his deep voice.

What's happening to me?

After a few more seconds of being lost in a sea of white, my vision slowly cleared and returned back to normal. The strange electric sensations dissipated, leaving a faint buzzing feeling in their wake.

Did I just have a seizure?

Now coherent, I blinked a couple of times as I scanned my surroundings, realising I had been brought back to the ground to rest against one of the man's knees while he looked down on me clutching my arms. The blue in his eyes turned a shade darker from the sudden situation.

"Hey, you alright?" He asked softly, his whirlpool orbs darting back and forth between my own. I shivered at his masculine tone and where his large hands held my weakened body in place.

"I-I...I think so.."

Helping my body to sit upright, all the while maintaining his firm hold on my arms in case I get dizzy, I thank him shyly. Silence surrounded us as I caught my breath, legs feeling like a bunch of pins and needles were jabbing them from the inside out.

I ran my hands over them trying to ease the weird sensation, all the while I could feel the mystery man observe me quietly from the side. The warmth from his body slowly seeping into my own.

I meekly looked up to see his face was awfully close to mine, making heat rise to my cheeks. "Who are you?" He suddenly asked, glancing over me again.

Raising an eyebrow at his off topic question, I decided that no harm could come out of me telling him my name.

"C-Cheong Y/n... why?"

Shaking his head at my response he began again, changing the wording slightly, "No, I mean what are you?"

Huh?

Looking at my clearly confused face he sighed in annoyance, his gentle demeanor changing drastically into something that was more rough and dangerous.

"Don't play games with me, I felt it too, when we touched," he shot out, making me shrink backwards, the task proving difficult with our current position and him holding me firmly in place.

Tension filled the air as he gave me a look as to speak, however I had no idea what he wanted me to say. When he realised I wasn't going to reply he let out a groan in frustration and settled his sight instead on my feet. I certainly wasn't expecting him to go ahead and start randomly taking off my shoes and socks, much against my protest.

"W-what are you doing!?"

He ignored my shrieks, taking off my footwear, all while I thrashed around in bewilderment. My struggles proved useless as I realised he was a great deal stronger than me.

Once the last sock was off and tossed to the side somewhere, the hideous condition of my feet was revealed to him, in all their scarred glory. I looked away ashamed at suddenly being exposed like this, knowing he'll most likely be grossed out at the sight.

"Thought so.." he muttered to himself, as he eyed them carefully.

"Y-you have a f-foot fetish or something, y-you pervert!?"

Scoffing at that, he delicately traced the lines of the uneven skin making them tickle slightly. Self consciousness took root as I grew nervous and flustered at being touched so intimately like this by a complete stranger, a man at that.

"Stop...D-don't t-touch me!"

"Do you always stutter?"

"W-what's that g-got to do with what you're doing!?"

"Nothing, but it's annoying."

"L-let g-go of me!" I shouted, dismissing his insult, tugging my feet against his iron grip which he refused to let go of.

"I knew there was something different about you, you didn't have that typical human aura. Why are you on land so often, don't you know it's not wise. Where did you get the elixir?"

His sudden statements and questions left me dumbfounded, not shedding any light on our current predicament or justifying his actions. What was with me encountering nut cases lately? He must be related to Mr Yang by the way he's acting.

"W-what are you even talking about!? Are you high?"

Elixir? Is that a new drug or something?

"Urgh, would you calm down! You really want to keep up that human act? There's no point in lying when I know! You've given me all the proof I need."

"If you don't let me go then I'll scream!" I huffed out.

"We're too far away for anyone to hear so don't waste your time."

Relenting, I decided to play along with his ludicrous assumptions. "I'm human, a homo-sapien, I come in flipping peace! I have no idea what your drugged up mind is thinking, so let go!"

"You're unbelievable," he spoke out enthralled. "Do I have to drag you into the water myself to spell it out for you."

Feeling my eyes going wide with fear, not liking his intentions at all at this point, I discreetly grabbed a fist full of sand from behind me. Was this psycho going to drown me? "Y-you've got your hat back, s-so just leave me alone."

"You really don't know do you? What you are, why your feet are like this? Just like mine..." His voice calmed down a teather, seeing the clear panic on my face. His steady grip on me loosening ever so slightly to try and make him seem like less of a threat.

Using this opportunity when he was in this more docile state, I quickly flung my handful of sand into his face, causing his eyes to widen in surprise as it effectively blinded him. He let out a pained shout as he let go of me bringing his hands up to his eyes.

Getting up as fast as I could, I made a mad dash towards the buildings of the town, not faltering in the slightest. Why does my luck with people run so short?

Packing up the last of his gear, the elderly man was just about to head in for the night before he was suddenly alerted by someone's presence.

Turning around to face them, the man's eyes lit up when he recognised the familiar face of his long time friend. He was about to capture him in a bone-crushing hug until realisation dawned on him about his sudden visitation, his carefree manner turning slightly more serious.

"What're ye doin' back so soon? Ye know it's hard on ya body. Somthin' up?" Uncertainty etched into his voice.

His friend made a low hum as he contemplated his words of reasoning. Scratching the back of his neck, he stared into the aged man's face with assertiveness.

"What can you tell me about a woman named Y/n?"

| 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 | ༄⋆

[stitchthesewords]

Any specific part of Iskall and Vault Hunters that you are feeing particularly normal about? Because I am very normal about the names of vault gems and vault gem ores. Also Iskall and the Vault Hunters sounds like a really cool band name.

Alas, dear anon, I have taken my Total Normalcy in a completely different direction. Observe.

Etho's hand was soft where it found itself just under the hem of Iskall's shirt. This was home. This was familiar. He nudged Etho's mask down, eyes tracing over the scar that went through his lip before leaning in for a kiss. Etho's lips were soft, pliable, and all Iskall could her was that his beard wasn't too itchy.

The cold seeping out from his gut was like waking up because he started falling. The familiar bite of something sharp buried in his stomach as the eyes of his loved one stared back at him. For a moment he couldn’t process anything but Etho’s face. A whimper made itself known past his lips, unable to ask the question he so wanted the answer to; ‘why?’

Iskall collapsed, the ground never coming to meet his body. Instead he fell past a cascade of familiar faces, familiar hands, feeling as cuts rained down upon his body as the hermits had their fill for blood. That was the only reason he was here. Bloodlust.

Iskall sat up in his bed, the quiet and desolate moon casting long shadows on the room. He clutched his chest, the other hand coming up to rub over his good eye. These nightmares were depriving him of much needed sleep. Ah well, there was always another day as he crawled free from the comforter to begin anew. To find better comfort in the arms of his lovers.

----

“You look exhausted,” Etho said, huffing and pushing some of Iskall’s hair out of his eyes. A tired chuckled pushed out of Iskall and dissipated into Etho’s chest. Iskall pressed his head just up into Etho’s neck, just a bit, feeling the soft fabric of his mask/shirt rub against his forehead.

“I feel exhausted, I suppose,” he replied. Iskall cleared his throat and turned to press a kiss into the underside of Etho’s cheek. “And - while this has been nice, I really need to get back out there...there’s so many missing still, and – Bdubs and Cleo need more materials to make half this base even useable.” He sighed and tried to lean away from Etho, but that masked man’s hand found its way to the back of Iskall’s head and held him in place.

“We’re all capable of doing things on our own, Iskall...You don’t have to do everything. Let them work, let yourself rest just a little bit longer.”

“The longer I rest, the longer someone stays trapped.”

He moved, just slightly, in Etho’s arms to look at the man’s face. Even with his mouth hidden, Iskall could see how worried he looked. “You won’t be any good to someone exhausted in one of those vaults...The two of us barely made it out when you saved me, how are you supposed to help someone in the state you’re in. Rest, let them build, let us work, let us help,” Etho shook his head as he spoke, his mouth pressed into Iskall’s forehead and the words escaping around the skin. Iskall took a deep breath, angry that he couldn’t really argue with that logic.

“...Only for a bit. Only for a bit, until I feel like getting back on my feet,” he muttered. Etho shuffled to free one of his hands and pull his mask down, wanting to kiss Iskall without the barrier in the way. He was beautiuful, was all Iskall could think as Etho dragged him up to give him a real kiss, one with all the love and support pulled into it the other man could muster.

He ended with his head rested on Etho’s shoulder and the sound of Cleo and Bdubs working outside broken up by the sounds of wind and wildlife before finally closing his eyes and letting himself be taken by warm, comfortable slumber. The first real sleep Iskall got since this ordeal began

----

"Wh-BDUBS- Oh my god-" Etho untangled one arm from where he pulled Iskall to safety in order to wrap it around Bdubs. His moss cloak was tattered and it looked patched up, but as far as Etho could tell, bdubs was okay. The shorter man scrambled to press as close to him as possible and it registered, as everyone talked over each other, that bdubs was thanking Iskall like his very life depended on it. Iskall, slumped into Etho's side, gave a small smile and a thumbs up. "I had to keep him from going into the vaults," Iskall muttered into Etho's shoulder. Etho couldn't answer, mouth blocked by bdubs's own, two small hands cradling his cheeks in desperation

----

"I'm going with you! The vaults can be run cooperatively and we have a better chance with two people going!" False snapped a stick and threw it over her shoulder as she spoke, watching the two ends disappear into the vault portal she blocked Iskall from accessing. "Then two people might die instead of just one! There's no point-" iskall huffed, trying and failing yet again to move around her. False was quick, stepping in from of him and shouldering him back from the portal. "Not gonna work on me, bud. I know what I'm getting into! I have all the same supplies you have. Let's do this together." False blew some hair from her face as Iskall started to argue. She felt the need to roll her eyes, looking back at the multichromatic swirls emminating from the portal itself. It felt like she was looking at her own stomach. With a deep breath in, iskall still trying to argue with her, she turned on her ankle and dived through before he could stop her.

[reverse-moon]

BIRTHDAY PRESENT FOR @hauntmansion !!!

Prompt: "Draw Your Bow in This White World" Mafuyu Trained x "Weaving Precious Memories With You" Emu Trained

Summary: Mafuyu was sent out by the queen, its mother, to kill what it was told was a terrifying beast. Being separated from their guards and their retainer, Mafuyu manages to shoot the beast... Or so it thought.

Mafuyu uses It/Void pronouns. Mafuyu's mother's name is Madoka. Emu is a Märchenkanichen (Fairy Rabbit), a type of Fey I created that turns into a rabbit to traverse the human realm. Ena is a Dark Fey (looks being "The Wandering Hermit's Path" Ena Trained)

Ena's speech is in blue, as there is no brown. Shizuku's speech is in green, as there is no mint. Tsukasa's speech is in orange. Mafuyu's speech is in purple. Emu's speech is in pink. Mafuyu's Mother's speech is in red, because she's a red flag.

This is way longer than i meant to make it so uh. Ye. Tee hee, this. Might get chapters. Oops. :)

((Prerelease edit: this ended up being 1204 words, it's getting chapters))

“L-Lord Mafuyu! You must slow down!!”

All Mafuyu heard was the cries of void's retainer, Ena, paired with distressed voices belonging to it guards, Tsukasa and Shizuku, as void ran after the beast. It couldn't let it's mother down. Not after the agreement they made.

---

“Mother...?”

“I'm sending you out to kill a beast that has been terrorizing and plaguing the village, Mafuyu. A princess needs to be able to protect her people.”

“. . . I wanted to ask you something. . .”

“Can it wait?”

Mafuyu glanced over to the side room, where Ena was violently shaking her head no. Mafuyu looked back to it's mother. “No. I wish to tell you I. . . I am not a female. I am non-bina—”

“Complete this mission perfectly and I will address you however you like. Your guards and retainer are not to end the beast's life. And I want proof.”

Mafuyu's eyes lit up just a little, and with a bow, it left with Ena out of the side door. “I must complete the mission perfectly.”

---

The beast had lost them all day. It only had a few days left to complete the mission. The dark night sky, paired with thick canopy filtering the dim moonlight, would not stop this royal.

Finally, the beast stopped. Possibly to eat. Drawing its bow, eyes narrowing sharply, Mafuyu aimed at its torso. A place that would cause too much pain to move.

The clouds covered the remaining moonlight as it released the arrow, and only a pained shriek told it that void it had hit it target. The moonlight returned, and Mafuyu approached the clearing the beast had been in.

... but there was no beast. The closest thing was a slightly larger than normal rose rabbit, with an arrow in its torso. Ena, Tsukasa and Shizuku caught up, only Tsukasa not being at a loss of breath. “MY GODS, Mafuyu, you can't just run off like that! This beast is—”

“... A rabbit?” Shizuku finished, confused. “Your mother wanted us to kill a rabbit?” The archer approached Mafuyu and tilted her head. Ena moved to the beast and frowned.

“Not a normal rabbit. It's a Märchenkaninchen, a fae that hides as a rabbit in our realm. It must be young, though... My dad said they normally aren't huge unless they're young and learning their powers still.” Ena got up, turning to Mafuyu. “Your mom must be mistaken. They're harmless fey.”

As if on cue, the rose rabbit turned into a girl with a pink bob. The light blue sweater was stained a dark pink with the blood of the fey. Shaking, scared pink eyes looked up at the four humans, as if surprised she wasn't dead.

“... We'll take her back to the castle. Explain to mother what she thought the beast was. Tsukasa, please carry her back to camp. We'll tend to the arrow wound there.” The male nodded, carefully scooping the fey up (and recoiling from the loud terrified squeak released right in his ear), before they all went back to camp.

At the camp, Mafuyu stayed awake with Ena to tend to the fey. “The arrow is deep enough that pushing it through is way safer.” Ena said. “I'll get the pocket knife I have so we can cut the feathering off the arrow.” She went to her tent.

Looking down at the fey, who was trembling in void's arms as if she would be eaten, Mafuyu tilted it's head a little. “Why are you so scared? We're trying to help you.”

The fey squeaked. “Y-You shot me! I-I have a right to be terrified!” The tone startled Mafuyu. Void didn't expect the fey to speak its language. “I was just trying to make a few flower garlands... Saki and Honami said the flowers they like are way deep in fey territory, so I was gonna help them...”

“Saki...? As in the Saki from the village outside my castle? My guard's little sister?” More importantly, wasn't it dangerous to give a fey your name...?

“Saki did say her big brother was a guard... so maybe? She— Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow—” The fey whined in pain, shaking more. “... I thought humans used iron arrows...?”

Mafuyu shook its head. “We use iron arrow heads. But I stick with non-metal. It doesn't rust.” It looked up at the tent Ena went into. “Besides. My retainer is a fey. I wouldn't want Ena getting hurt.”

“I was wondering about her horns...! It's impressive to see a dark fey work under humans, since a lot of them hate humanity...” Mafuyu tilted it's head again. "Ngh... Ow ow ow ow..."

Ena returned and quickly cut off the feathered part of the arrow. "I'm only half fey! Whatever, just— Take a deep breath in and breathe out when I push the arrow through. Lord Mafuyu, if she needs to, ca—"

"She can squeeze my arm or hand if needed, yes." Mafuyu remembered back to the one time Shizuku had been stuck in the situation the fey was in. And the pain the archer vividly described in excruciating detail (poor Tsukasa).

The fey timidly took Mafuyu's arm and inhaled deeply. Then let out a very pained yelp with an exhale as the arrow was pushed through and pulled out the other side. The fey squeezed void's arm tightly, as evident by her whitening knuckles, but void felt harrly anything... Which caused a little worry. As soon as the arrow was through, Ena used what little magic she possessed to keep the wound from bleeding more so they could fix the other fey up. “I'm going to remove your sweater and lift your shirt enough so I can stitch you up, okay?” The pink fey nodded and closed her eyes. Brown eyes looked up at duochromatic ones. “She's really weak... Mafuyu, are you sure bringing her to the castle will be a good idea...? I know you don't want to kill an innocent, but there has to be a way to tri—”

“I can't fail mother...” Mafuyu took a deep breath. “I'll stitch up their left wound, you stitch up the right.” The retainer nodded, and they hurried to keep the fey from worse pain.

Once they were done, Ena sighed a little. “I've set up a small protective barrier around us, if you want to sleep. I'm wiped out from everything.” Getting up again, she turned to the royal. “If you haven't slept by morning, I'm not letting you hit the road. So don't forget to.” And with that, she went to her tent.

Mafuyu looked at the fey, who seemed to be asleep. Brushing some hair from her eyes, Mafuyu tensed when void saw an eye open weakly. “I didn't mean to wake you.”

“It's okay...” She groaned. “I wasn't asleep yet...” Mafuyu held the fey closer. “. . . I'm Emu.”

Mafuyu blinked. “Ma— My name is Y—”

“You don't have to tell me your name... I know that humans get taught all fey can steal names, and I wouldn't wanna accidentally take yours... Good night, your highness...” The fey, Emu, closed her eyes again and fell asleep. Confused, but not sure it wanted to complain, Mafuyu curled up around Emu and fell asleep as well.