#i made a knights of white au back when they first came out

[jodefrostwallart]

I will never get over these outfits

[milkbobatyun]

let you break my heart again

pairing: kang taehyun x fem!reader

genre: angst, fluff (if u squint really closely), bsf to more than friends to strangers, school au, right person, wrong time (sort of?), miscommunication (-ish?)

summary: in which you and taehyun are childhood friends, but as you grow older, some things make you think that you're more than friends. yet, the universe and fate love to play cruel games on you.

word count: 2.8k

a/n: this is my first time writing on tumblr and i did this instead of studying for my legal test (°ー°〃) this whole piece imo is a hot mess, but it was inspired by real life so this is in a way, a sort of speical thing to write. to the person that made me feel this way, thank u for giving me inspo for this. and also thank u to my faithful quality checker @yeonjunsfox, dude you had to read through this thing like sm times (｡ŏ_ŏ)

i. prologue

she could remember it clearly. it was a sticky summer day. it would have been perfect, blue sky for miles and fluffy clouds nowhere to be seen, if not for the fact that the sun was baking down onto the earth and causing sweat to come pouring down her back, yet this was not enough to deter her from hosting a teddy bear picnic in her front yard, plastic cups clinking against the pink and white plastic plates that came with it. but, as a five-year-old child, her attention span was short, playing with the teddies for an hour was already a feat in itself, yn wanted more. she wanted adventure.

just as she thought that, she caught sight of a white moving van rolling up to the newly-purchased house beside her house. in her childish excitement, she quickly stood up, almost tripping over herself in excitement, before she politely dusted her hands on her little yellow sundress, peeking on her tiptoes to see over the fence. to her surprise, she came eye to eye with a smiling little boy, round boba eyes bright with wonder and anticipation.

“hi! i’m taehyun! i’m…” the little boy paused, before he pulled out his hands and started counting. “i’m five!” taehyun held up five fingers in delight. ecstatic that she had someone else to play with, yn and taehyun became fast friends.

ii. when we were kids

throughout their younger school years, they had always been in the same class and their friendship grew stronger, until they were each other’s best friends. now, they had just begun their first year of middle school. with the process of growing up, their dynamic also changed. maybe it came with the arrival of adolescence, but their relationship, something, was different and yn couldn’t put her finger on it. 

sure, as children they would hold hands, especially when yn was nervous. often, taehyun would tease her about how she was a ‘scaredy-cat’, but would secretly love the way that she would shy away, into his back. he often boasted about how he was her knight in shining armour and she was his princess. as children, when they were leaving a play date, one or the other would often give a cute little kiss on the other’s squishy cheek to bid them fair well. yn could remember so clearly, the cooing noises their mothers would make, seeing that interaction. in fact, they loved it so much that both mothers had matching framed photos on their living room mantelpiece of a secret photo they snuck.

but now, it was different. there were more fleeting touches, possessive holds, namely from a devilishly handsome teenage taehyun. sometimes, he would sneak up from behind her, while she was grabbing things from her locker, and his arms would circle her waist, before he lifted her into the air, with her legs kicking. other times, he would be more sensible, wrapping his arms around her from behind before leaving his quote-on-quote “stupid, heavy head” on her shoulder. what taehyun didn’t know was how hard yn would try to suppress her smile when his hair tickled her neck.

most of the time though, yn could curse his stupid height. now that he was taller than her, he would often rub it in by petting her head, before using those stupidly long legs to run away from her. goddamn it, why did god give him such spidery long legs! doesn’t he know how tiring it is to run after him every day just to get her revenge?

being the school heartthrob’s best friend was hard, many times a day would yn be stopped in the hallways by girls and guys alike, asking her if she could pass this on to taehyun, pass that message on to him, or answer such questions about taehyun’s hobbies. more often than not, she would diligently pass the message on to taehyun, not without a tone of teasing mockery, on their walks home together. those were the best times, when the setting sun was the only witness to their banter, as they zig-zagged across the path leading to their homes, playful shoving accompanied by sarcastic jokes and digs, a secret language created by the two of them.

iii. still you take up all my mind

the second year of middle school was no different. taehyun and yn were still attached to the hip, they were barely anywhere without each other, supporting each other both in public and private. they were each other’s comfort.

yn could remember as clearly as yesterday, when they were both in some stupid lecture, where the lecturer had jokingly said that if they got bored, they could sleep through it. excited at this rare opportunity to sleep through a WHOLE lecture, taehyun immediately turned to yn. he knew that in the past week, she hadn’t been sleeping well. who would, if they had 5 assignments to hand in, back to back in the past 3 days?

he wordlessly offered her his shoulder to lean on and without missing a beat, yn immediately took the offer, resting her head on his shoulder. what surprised her though, was the added weight she felt when taehyun leaned his head and rested it on top of hers. this feeling was foreign, but it made her feel warm and fuzzy on the inside and so, they slept peacefully through the whole lecture, heads resting together, hands almost touching on the shared armrest.

iv. im just trying to understand

she doesn’t remember when it started happening, but slowly, their fleeting touches and linked pinkies during their walks together began to make her feel something more. it ignited a flame and sparks of electricity when their skin made contact. those warm, comforting back hugs made her heart do somersaults and butterflies spawn in her stomach, tickling her insides with their fluttering wings.

she didn’t take notice of it, until a friend of hers mentioned in passing, “hey, have you ever wondered if taehyun liked you? he’s always attached to you, almost acting like a boyfriend.” initially, yn dismissed her friend’s claims with a nonchalant shake of her head and a laugh, thinking that the notion was hilarious and she was so funny for mentioning something like this.

that afternoon, while taehyun and yn were walking home, taehyun subconsciously reached out his hand, linking his pinkie with hers. this sudden contact sent a sparkle of shock up yn’s arm and her heart jumped in her chest. hell, she was so surprised she almost jumped off the sidewalk into oncoming traffic. that was when her friend’s words crept back into her mind again.

‘does taehyun like me? or are we just friends?’

she thought long and hard. did other people’s best friends bring them their favourite snack when they felt down? did their best friend try their hardest at rigged arcade games to win them the plushie they had wanted? did their best friend always leave the sweetest notes in their locker before exam season? did other people also call their best friends until late at night, talking about everything and nothing at the same time? or was that what a boyfriend did?

those ideas wormed their way into her brain, warmth blooming across her cheeks. it spread like a virus, before that was all she could think about the whole walk home.

when she got home, she flopped onto her bed, burying her face into the nearest plushie and, with a silent apology for the abuse her plush was about to suffer, she let out a muffled scream. 

this was too hard. romance was too hard, how did the people in the books she read and in her school manage? did they also face the same predicament she was in? did they also have a more than 10-year friendship on the line like her? 

sighing, yn stood back up, smoothing out her hair, her mind set on getting her homework for the day done, just so she could keep her brain occupied with useless information that she most likely wouldn’t need later in life, rather than the handsome, lovable, sarcastic boy who was her best friend and lived next door to her.

she should���ve known her efforts would’ve been futile. during class, her eyes would wander to stare at the sculpture of art that was taehyun’s face, sitting next to her. her hands drew restless doodles and her thoughts were plagued with the possibility that maybe, just maybe this boy, her best friend, would like her.

these thoughts haunted her day and night, resurfacing at the times she least expected. they sprung up in her mind every time she felt his arms wrap around her waist. the contact that used to bring her so much comfort and warmth now only brought about unwanted thoughts of doubt and confusion, causing her to dread the familiar weight of those arms and attempts were made to worm her way out of the long limbs that entrapped her.

taehyun first noticed how strange his best friend was acting when she almost threw herself onto the road from the mere contact of their pinkies touching. initially, he brushed it off as his overreaction, after all, they had done this often enough that she should’ve been used to it. but as time went on, he began to doubt what he called, his ‘ynnie instincts’. things just weren’t right, somehow everything he did warranted a very strange and out-of-sorts reaction from his most beloved best friend. 

did he do something wrong? was he making her uncomfortable?

these thoughts plagued his mind, day and night, while he was doing homework, eating dinner, anything. his thoughts always drifted to her. her face, her favourite food, her comfort characters, everything they’d done together, he had everything memorised. so what had he done to make her react in such a way towards him? he thought, he pondered, he wondered, but nothing clear came to mind.

v. what i am to you

the warm summer days came and went, so too did the autumn days, and then the winter days before spring finally arrived. along with the changing of the seasons, taehyun and yn’s relationship also changed.

it was like a huge chasm had opened up between them. the pair, who once spoke about everything together, now barely talked to each other. after the break, yn had had the time to think things through and she finally found some answers for herself. yes, she did like her best friend. but did he feel the same way? that question, she left unanswered. as for taehyun, he was still in the dark about what rendered such actions from his closest friend.

in an attempt to restore their friendship, yn would seek out taehyun after classes ended, in hopes that they could rekindle their friendship, yet every time she looked for him in the corridors, he was with his new friends that he had made. frankly, they were intimidating, especially the one kid with dimples, who was super tall.

so, as any intimidated person would do, she avoided their group at all costs, but after school, she would often text taehyun or share some funny videos she saw online. however, as time went on, the replies she got were more distant, and disinterested. sometimes, she dared let herself hope, sending over a cheesy little pickup line, hoping he would take the hint and make the first move, or at least drop a hint. 

one time, she took a plunge into the deep end, sending a maths pickup line. after thinking about it for a while, she followed the video with ‘hahaha jk (unless?)’. in the end, she was once again left disappointed, with his stupid, stupid, logical reply of how ‘u’ and ‘i’ were used in maths, just for something else. for once, the conversation bounced back and forth between the two of them, until taehyun left her on read and never replied.

he was conflicted. did she like him the same way he liked her? those videos that she would send and the follow-up message of how they reminded her of him suggested one possibility, yet her responses when she noticed he was within a 50-meter radius of him suggested otherwise.

god, girls were confusing.

so of course, taehyun did something that, thinking back, was so stupid. he messaged one of the girls who had yn pass on her phone number to him.

they began talking more often, but every time taehyun saw her name flash across his screen, he didn’t feel that familiar spark of anticipation, of excitement. he felt nothing. yet every time his phone vibrated with a new notification from her, his ynnie, he felt fireworks explode in his heart. at the same time, he tried to stamp out these feelings.

“she doesn’t feel the same way” echoed like a mantra in his head. maybe if he told himself that enough times, he would believe it.

maybe talking to another girl wasn’t the best idea, or at least, telling your loud-mouth friends wasn’t the best idea. not even 2 periods had passed since taehyun had told his friend, beomgyu that he was talking to another girl, that at least half the year level knew about this new girl.

yn was only walking past a group of friends huddled together when she caught wind of what they were talking about.

“have you heard? taehyun’s talking to another girl!” one girl stage-whispered. there was a collective gasp. “no way! i thought him and yn were a thing?” another girl gossiped. “haven’t you seen the way taehyun and yn would act? i would’ve thought they were practically in love with each other.” a guy countered. “no way taehyun is talking with a different girl right?”

vi. if only you knew

in a final attempt to save their failing friendship, yn sent taehyun a long message after she got back from school that day. she poured her heart and soul into her message, deleting things and editing it over and over again in her notes app, until she was finally happy with her message. she included how she hoped their friendship could continue, she enjoyed all the moments they shared. maybe they could talk more? the message also eluded to something more, courtesy of her friend, who cheered her on over text to say that.

taking a deep breath, she sent it.

like a woman possessed, yn checked her phone every couple of minutes. while she was doing homework. right after she finished dinner. she flipped her phone after every episode of the kdrama she was watching finished. yet to her dismay, he hadn’t even read her message.

late that night, while she was preparing to head to bed, her phone vibrated, from on her bedside table. her ears pricked up at the sound of the familiar vibration, her heart soaring in her chest when she saw the contact name.

‘tyunnie sent one new message!’

clicking open the message, she felt her heart plummet.

two sentences. it only took two sentences to completely shatter her heart.

‘hey, i saw your message, i hope we can continue being friends too, but as you’ve probably heard, im currently talking to another girl. i hope you understand.”

vii. pretend that we're more than friends

no matter how much effort she put into maintaining their friendship, taehyun’s delayed replies for days and weeks exhausted her. she told herself, it was because of this new girl. she wasn’t envious of her. all she wanted was the best for him and maybe, she wasn’t enough.

after staring mindlessly at her black phone screen, waiting, hoping for a reply, she finally gave up. with a sigh, she turned over her phone, before resting her head on her desk. maybe she should stop getting her hopes up again.

maybe that’s all they’ll be, once best friends, now they were…whatever they were now.

despite all that, she hoped and dreamed that one day, someday, she’ll stop falling in love with her best friend. maybe one day, he would find the one for himself, but until then, she would allow herself to have a bit of hope maybe, pretending in her mind that they were still friends or maybe more than friends, the blurred line between friends and something more.

maybe still, he would be the person she sought out when she entered a classroom or was lost in the crowded hallway, even if all she would ever see was the back of his head. that was enough for her. when the time comes that he finds the one for him, she would happily let him break her heart once again.

in the end, taehyun and the girl had split up. the girl realised her true feelings, while taehyun finally came to terms with his love for his best friend. little did she know that every time she turned away, his longing eyes would search for her familiar silhouette in the crowd, hoping she would turn around and catch his eye.

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳) © curated with love by milkbobayun 2024 / づ ♡

[inkluvs]

fields of white clover

knight! steve harrington x fem!princess!reader

content warnings: time period discrepancies. cinderella reference kinda. royal au. steve is literally obsessed with you. hopper as a father figure. this is pretty much just world building.

summary: steve catches sight of you at a ceremony and finds you fascinating <3

a/n: posted 2 months or so ago originally (copy and pasting the original a/n bcos most of it still applies), i wanna thank @maddipoof for being my cheerleader n figuring out all of my incoherant thought with their super special decoder abilities <3 also @livingintheupsidedown ; @crappymixtape ; @ghostlyfleur ; @forevermoreharrington ; @theemporium ; and @beezywriting since they all read bits of it i was unsure about <3 also this is just the set up for future stuff and nothing really happens <3 it's just steeb being sorta head over heels for u <3

part one // series masterlist // taglist

You didn’t quite understand what you were doing with hundreds of nobles and servants around you. You knew what it was, of course, a ceremony; the kind you were required to be at to prepare you for your future, but you'd been spared any more details. It was funny, the way you’d been told that your presence was of the utmost importance this time in particular and still you had been given no details on why you had to be there, nor were you given details on why you couldn't sit in your regular seat. 

You normally wouldn’t mind it, the extent to which you’d been kept in the dark, but it would be helpful to know why there were so many pairs of leering eyes, staring at you like they were waiting for you to mess up. 

The majority of the time you had a choice. Whether or not you wanted to attend had always been an opportunity you'd chosen to take every time it had been offered. So much so that despite never having been taught about the process of swearing fealty in detail until you were fifteen, you’d been able to recite the oath at any given moment since the age of ten. 

Using your hand to shield your eyes from the sunlight, you noticed a man a couple of meters from you doing the same. He was tall, his hair a honey blonde in the sunlight. Something about him made him look ethereal despite not being able to see the details of his face. The way the light was reflecting off the metal of his armor and towards you, the direction shifting ever so slightly when he turned his torso gave him a sort of glow. There was a dull ache in the back of Steve's eyes. The throbbing only increased as he squinted, his eyelashes fluttering as he looked around. 

The way his curiosity seemed to heighten when he caught sight of you was similar to that of a child when they're told not to do something. It was the way he knew he shouldn't stare, that somebody would reprimand him later, but he couldn't help but think that there was something off about you. He didn’t know how he came to that conclusion, perhaps it was how out of place yet well-adjusted to your surroundings you seemed. It seemed like you’d done this before, so much so that you were bored. 

Steve couldn't if your uninterest intrigued him or offended him, maybe it was both, the irritation leading him to find curiosity in your nonchalance. He also couldn't tell why his train of thought was leading him there, maybe he was just as uninterested and you'd been the first person to openly display it, or maybe he simply found you that captivating. Something about the way you presented yourself was inherently enchanting to him. Suddenly, Steve from his thoughts, the whistle of the wind was no longer the only thing he could hear as heat rose to his cheeks.   

“Something catch your eye?” a familiar voice quipped. Steve shook his head quickly before shifting his attention to his surroundings, almost disoriented before he remembered where he was and what he’d been doing. He looked back to see who’d asked only to realize it was the face of a man he’d half recognized, not quite sure of his name. He turned back to you intending to only look for a second, but once again he ended up staring. The fact that you could so easily immerse him in you, the thoughts circling his mind of things unfamiliar and foreign to him, without even speaking to him was terrifying.  

Somehow, Steve composed himself enough to notice the king’s attempt to gather everybody's attention. In a matter of minutes, everybody had quieted down, waiting for the king to speak as the wind bit at their skin.   

The king took his stance next to you, standing tall above the crowd on the dais with the queen on his arm. He nodded once to the herald and looked across the crowd. The same routine as every ceremony.   

“My beloved subjects,” but you were new, “I am honored by your service and fealty. There is no prouder king than I, standing before you.” A lady in waiting possibly, “Time and again you have shown your strength, honor, and allegiance to your king, your royal family, and your country. You have my endless gratitude.” No, you’re too beautiful for a lady in waiting.

“But I would be doing us all a great disservice if I did not extend my thanks to my daughter,” a duchess, maybe, “The princess.” The king’s words echoed in the pavilion as the crowd muttered with uncertainty. He held his hand out to you, and you stepped forward hesitantly.

She’s the princess.

“The relentless devotion she has shown to our country and our people is beyond words. There is no greater love than that of your princess to her kingdom. I am certain she will be a most beloved queen, and as that time draws nearer, as does her coronation. Your next pledge shall be not only to me as your king but to her as your crown princess as well. I know you will all do well to honor your allegiance to her as she shall to you.”  

Everything seemed to come together in his mind at once, why you had looked so bored and why you struck him as different than anybody he’d ever met before. Now that he thought about it, you must’ve been to at least twenty of these ceremonies, each with a similar if not exactly the same speech and the same people. As much as he hated to admit it, Steve felt a stab of pity for you. He was only able to continuously attend such events since he had a choice, at least the majority of the time. And though he would never say it, out loud he still didn’t always enjoy every one he’d been to.    

And suddenly he was moving forward. He’d found himself lost in thought yet again, unaware of the fact that he'd been moving till somebody behind him bumped into him. His boots suddenly felt tight against the sole of his feet, his legs stiff as he fought the urge to turn around and leave. He wouldn’t do it of course, but somehow the thought of getting closer to you made him jittery. He flexed his palm before squeezing it into a fist, repeating the motion until his muscles became less tense.   

Steve couldn’t remember when he’d started this habit of sorts, just that it was now second nature to him, subconsciously flexing his hand and then squeezing it into a fist when he was trying to control himself or occasionally when he needed to focus. He was doing the latter now, still repeating the action as the leather heel of his boots sunk into the grass, the dirt muddy from rain the previous night. He stopped walking just as abruptly as he’d started, now a few inches from the dais.     

Steve looked at you again, except this time he was close enough to notice the slight pucker in your brow. The sunlight was no longer obstructing his vision as he saw you instinctively straighten your back with the weight of thousands of leering eyes. The pucker in your brow seemed to ease as the crowd dispersed, your eyes raking over the crowd until they caught sight of him staring back at you. Your lips twitched as you considered how you should respond before you decided on simply smiling at him. Steve mirrored your expression, and he felt a sudden sense of relief surging through him at your lack of reaction. It took him a moment to realize you were motioning him to come closer, and another minute for him to work up the courage to do so.  

You slowly lowered yourself off of the dais, praying that nobody was paying enough attention to you to notice before you landed on the ground. The grass crunched under your feet and you. Steve couldn’t tell how but you were more captivating up close. His eyes strayed to the curve of your lips, tracing the soft dip of your waist apparent in your kirtle.  

And suddenly, in a whirlwind of motion, you were gone. Steve looked around for the deep maroon of your dress, turning around until he noticed a scrap of the fabric left behind on the dais. He looked to his left and then his right before carefully pulling the cloth from the nail it had gotten caught on. Looping it around his wrist once, he tied a knot, just tight enough that it wouldn’t slip off. 

It wasn’t wrong, right? He intended to give it back to you, though he didn’t have the slightest clue when that was.  

- 

Steve’s back ached when he woke up. He didn’t know why, and he also didn’t know when he’d gotten back to his bed, but that was something to think about later. Instead, he was worrying about what he’d do with the shred of your dress, which was still on his wrist despite his tendency to move around in his sleep. 

“Are you up yet?” a familiar voice pierced through the momentary veil of silence in the manor. He sat up, fiddling with the fabric in an unsuccessful attempt to undo the knot he’d tied the previous day. Hopper saw the deep maroon of the fabric before he could hide it and Steve sucked in a breath through his teeth, waiting for his response. 

“How did you get that?” he paused. Steve opened his mouth to reply but Hopper's eyes went wide as he cut the boy off, “Tell me you didn’t steal it.” 

Steve shook his head almost instantly, appalled that the thought had even crossed the man's mind. Hopper seemed to deflate with relief. 

“I found it,” he explained vaguely. Hopper held back a laugh at the boy's unclear clarification.

“Yeah?” Steve nodded, “who’s is it?” 

And suddenly, over two decades' worth of barriers Steve had built around his vulnerability fell all at once. He looked at Hopper like a guilty little boy, like he’d accidentally dropped and shattered his mother's vase and he’d been caught near the scene. He looked at Hopper like he was scared of his potential response. The intensity of his gaze softened at the boy’s silence. He somehow seemed to understand Steve’s sensitivity regarding the subject.

“I found it on the edge of the dais,” he wasn’t technically lying. 

“You still aren’t answering my question,” Hopper said quietly. 

“You won’t be mad?” the man shook his head earnestly

“I found it at the ceremony yesterday,” Steve paused, thinking over his next words, “It’s from the princess’s dress, got torn on a screw” 

Somehow, when the words finally started falling from his tongue, they wouldn’t stop or slow down, the sentences he strung together becoming more rushed and incoherent with each passing one, the words toppling on top of one another and slurring in his throat as he recalled what had happened the previous day. 

“You should’ve seen her,” he trailed off, his eyes staring off into space as he smiled all fond. Hopper smiled at the boy’s lovesick demeanor, an odd sense of pride filling him with Steve’s vulnerability. It wasn't often that he opened up, so Hopper made sure to recognize it when he did.

“Are you going to give it back?” he prodded gently. Steve nodded.

“Next time I see her, yeah,” he replied, frowning as he did so. Steve hated the uncertainty of it all, the fact that he didn’t know when he’d see you next, or that he didn’t know what you wanted to say to him the previous day. He detested the spontaneity of it and the idea that he didn’t know the next time he’d bump into you, having been used to rigid rules and calculated decisions, yet Steve thought he could get used to it for you.

[jojo-schmo]

A Walk Down my Art Memory Lane!

Now that I’m thinking about my childhood Kirby art, I dug through my storage a bit and thought it’d be fun to share a few! Here are some of Baby Jojo’s drawings!

note: I was not active in any online Kirby art communities at the time and I never posted these anywhere so I made these drawings just for my own enjoyment hehehe.

These are probably among my earliest Kirby drawings. Most likely ~2008!! I must’ve been in fifth grade maybe…? The first picture is a very rare example of pre-2022 Dedede sightings in my art. Around 2010 I became embarrassed and frustrated about not being able to figure his shapes out. So I spent the next 12 years avoiding him at all costs and instead sticking to the safer things to draw, like nice round Bronto Burts or Waddle Dees. Who knew it would take me writing an entire comic about him in 2022 to finally learn to draw him in my style!! :P

The second picture speaks for itself lol. I was the girl who googled “maskless meta knight” back when we had no fancy 3D renderings of his face. Just edits of anime screenshots and fanart of him holding his mask/getting his mask stolen and looking at you with the biggest, pearliest, white eyes. JPEG artifacts littered these images like sprinkles on a cupcake. And I would giggle and squee with every one like the baby fangirl of Meta Knight I was. :3

This one was probably ~2009. Very ambitious piece for me at that age. I struggled with the perfect roundness of Kirby haha. I had just gotten these cool alphabet stencils and couldn’t wait to write “Kirby” everywhere with them. This was probably the complete catalogue of Kirby characters I had the ability to draw at that time. It’s funny to think about how Magolor wouldn’t exist for another two years when I drew this.

Hmm. Maybe I should redraw this one day as a fun honor for my younger self.

Triple Waddle Dees!! A rare but precious Sailor Dee sighting, and of course my sweet Bandana Dee. This was probably around 2011 after Return to Dreamland came out and I came to adore Bandee. :3

This is probably around 2012- some time after Mass Attack came out. I had this AU at the time where each of the 10 Kirbies from Mass Attack had their own personality trait from the original Kirby, and a permanent copy ability assigned to them. Hence the Spark Kirby having wings and a halo like in the game- where you get damaged and have to rescue the poor Angel Kirbies before you lose that life!

Also my Poppy Bro Jr OC that I don’t think I named at the time- but I redrew him recently and named him Allegro the Poppy Bro. I loved drawing his hair and his funny teeth :D

Finally, I redrew just a few of the characters from my old drawings tonight. Just doodling for fun, nothing serious. But it’s something my child self would be happy to know I could do.

Guess I’d better draw all the Dededes that Baby Jojo missed out on drawing!! Thank you to anyone who read to this point. I encourage anyone to draw things that would make their younger, baby self proud of you. ….even though I bet they already are proud of you. <3

Remember, as long as you keep drawing, you’ll improve at your pace! Just keep at it! You’ll notice that difference over the years!

[watcheraurora]

Princesses and Family

Finally had an idea for a continuation of "The Ranchers unintentionally adopted a kid" AU 3.1k words

(Part 1)(Part 2)

—

Tango paused on his way up the path to the front door of the ranch house, scrunching his brows. "Uh... hi Gem," he greeted loudly.

Gem waved from the balcony of his and Jimmy's bedroom above the covered front porch. "Hi Tango!" she greeted.

"What are you doing here? Not that it's not good to see you. I just wasn't expecting it."

"Oh I came to show Jimmy a new way to braid Skye's hair for flying," Gem said, showing off the single braid wrapping around her head like a crown or halo.

"I see. So why are you on the balcony alone, then?" Tango's pointy ear flicked almost in sync with Gem's pointy ear as a breeze made the wheat field roll with waves like the sea.

Gem glanced through the small window into the master bedroom. "Oh I'm the princess," she said with a perky, bright smile. "Skye is rescuing me from the dragon."

"The dragon?"

At that moment, Jimmy cried out from inside the house. Tango bolted inside, dropping the bag of supplies he'd brought back from town on the front path and throwing the door open with magic before he even reached it.

Jimmy was sprawled on the kitchen floor, his enormous yellow wings taking up most of the floorspace and his hair flopped back, one arm draped over part of his wing. His knees were bent with his feet on the floor. There was a wooden sword caught between his arm and his side.

Skye was standing beside his knees in an old leather armor chestplate that was waaay too big on her, and dyed purple. One hand raised triumphantly and wings spread wide. There was a small yellow feather tucked into the plait of the white braid ringing her head just over her ear.

Both of their eyes turned, wide, to Tango at the sound of the door flying open.

"Oh hi Tango," Jimmy greeted first, lifting his head a bit.

"Gem said something about a dragon," Tango said.

"It's Jimmy's turn to be the dragon! And then he gets to be the knight, and I get to be the princess, and Gem gets to be the dragon!" Skye explained, a little out of breath but beaming. She leaned forward, holding a hand up to her mouth so Jimmy "couldn't hear" what she was going to say. "I think Gem likes being the dragon the best."

"She's certainly got the fierceness for it," Tango agreed. He set a hand on his heart. It was racing. "I thought you were being attacked. I heard Jimmy shout."

Jimmy smiled. "I'm nothing if not committed to my role. Including the death scenes. If I was actually hurt, you'd feel it."

Right. The SoulBond. Tango forgot about it sometimes.

"I like being the princess because Gem and Jimmy actually swordfight," Skye said matter-of-factly. "But I think Gem goes easy on him because he's not actually very good."

Jimmy's jaw dropped open, playfully offended. Tango tried not to snicker. Truthfully, they both were abysmal in combat.

"I think your princess is waiting on her knight to rescue her," Jimmy said softly to Skye.

Who gasped. She whirled and ran toward the stairs, rushing up them.

Jimmy chuckled and got to his feet, folding his wings in and dusting them off.

"Having fun while I was gone?" Tango asked, smirking.

"We, er... kinda got carried away," Jimmy said, ruffling and fluffing his feathers to reorder them after lying on the floor. "Gem and Skye were talking while I braided Skye's hair and it turned into playing Knight-Princess-Dragon."

Tango chuckled. "Glad you had fun." He went outside and retrieved the supplies he'd left on the path, bringing them inside. Skye was "escorting" a very-hunched-over Gem down the stairs. "Hey ladies," Tango said.

"Hi," Gem replied.

"Sir Tango, you need to refer to the princess as Your Highness," Skye corrected, smiling.

Tango flung his arms out and bowed deeply. "Sincerest apologies, Knight Skye."

"No, no, no," Skye said, her wings puffing up as she pulled off the leather chestplate. "I rescued Gem, so now I'm Princess Skye." She beamed when Jimmy chuckled. She pulled his yellow feather out of her braid behind her ear and tucked it into the plait at the top of her head like the point of a tiara.

"Ohhh. My sincerest apologies, Princess Skye," Tango said. He took the supplies into the kitchen and dropped the bag on the counter, beginning to unpack them.

Gem snatched Skye around the waist with a playful, "Gotcha!" and ran up the stairs.

Skye squealed and laughed. "Jimmy help! I'm being kidnapped by a dragon!" she screamed.

"I'll save you, Your Highness!" Jimmy called, picking up the wooden sword Skye had "stabbed" him with and running for the stairs. But Gem came thundering down them with a dramatic roar, her Elytra now equipped and fluttering with her movements. She picked up another wooden sword and together they ran for the front door while Tango watched. Once they were out on the path through the wheat field, they started swordfighting, the wooden blades clacking together. They left the front door open, and Tango could hear Skye cheering on, well, Gem. Even though she was probably supposed to be cheering on Knight Jimmy.

Tango laughed and went back to unpacking. Once everything was put away, he went outside and leaned against one of the support pillars for the porch to watch, folding his arms and grinning.

To Jimmy's credit, he was better with a sword than Tango was.

Tango quirked a finger, tugging on one of Gem's curly plaits with a little magic.

"What the—?!"

Tango did the same to the little bit of hair on the back of Jimmy's head that always stuck straight up from the whorl of his hair.

"Eh?!"

Amusement flooded down their SoulBond from Tango, who was trying not to snicker.

"Tango! Stop messin'!" Jimmy protested.

"What?!" Gem demanded. "Tango! No cheating!"

"There's no cheating here!" Tango retorted. "I mess equally."

Gem shot him a glare over her shoulder and briefly the phrase If looks could kill passed through Tango's mind. Tango briefly gestured for her to turn around. She did in time to block Jimmy's swing, not even really looking.

Yeah. She was good with a sword. Something Tango had noticed was that she never really went for critical hit points. She just relentlessly pursued her trajectory, never giving an opponent the opportunity to fight back, until she won.

Which was better than what Tango could do.

He couldn't see Skye. The balcony was built into the porch roof. But he could hear her wings flapping as she cheered on Gem and called for Sir Jimmy to save her in equal measure. Tango smiled.

He hadn't wanted kids, when he and Jimmy committed to one another after discovering their SoulBond. He had never seen himself as much of a caretaker. He'd lose his own head if it wasn't attached to his shoulders—how could he expect to take good care of a child if he could barely take care of himself?

But that changed when Jimmy rescued Skye. She had slotted into their life like she was always meant to be there. Neither Jimmy nor Tango could imagine not taking care of her. They weren't perfect, but their best was usually enough. She was happier now, healthy, and learning to fly. She was moving past the grief of losing her parents and the trauma of being kept in a cage at a pillager outpost. She filled their lives with sunshine and they loved her as their own.

Jimmy eventually drove Gem into the path in front of the house, pretending to slay the dragon. Then ran inside to go rescue Skye, who squealed in excitement while Tango and Gem chuckled outside.

Tango liked his life. But he liked it even more with this little family in it.

—

"So I ran into Cleo in the market today," Tango said, winding some of Jimmy's hair around his fingers while they laid in bed.

"Yeah? How are they?"

"Good. We chatted for a bit. I mentioned that we've taken in an orphaned Avian girl. And that she's about six. And..." Tango bit his lower lip and hesitated.

Jimmy's eyes opened, meeting Tango's gaze. "And?" he prompted.

"Cleo offered to teach her. You know Cleo used to be a schoolteacher, right? Before the whole... zombie thing?"

"I think I knew that?"

"And there's really no other education around here. There aren't really any other children. I told Cleo that I'd talk to you about it, but that was probably a good idea."

"So... what? We take Skye to Cleo's every day?"

"It's better than her just sitting inside every day once harvest is over," Tango said. "When winter hits, she'll be really bored. But we can fly with her to and from, drop her off at Cleo's for at least a couple hours. Even if it's just one or two to start with. She does need to learn. I don't... can she even read?"

"A little," Jimmy said. "She reads labels at the market when I take her. But she could stand to learn more. And she'll be better at maths than me in about two weeks."

Tango tried not to laugh too loud. "That's not true."

"No. No it is. I'm so bad at maths. I ran into Cub at the market one time talking to Scar and they were doing some sort of calculation about groceries and I felt nauseated just listenin' to them." Jimmy was definitely exaggerating for the sake of effect, and Tango snickered.

"If you say so."

"So are we going to tell Cleo 'yes'?"

Tango yawned, covering his mouth to hide his sharp teeth, and nodded. "I think so. I think, ultimately, it would be good for Skye."

"I agree," Jimmy said. Tango went back to playing gently with Jimmy's hair. Jimmy's eyes fluttered closed again. He nuzzled a little into Tango's hand. Tango smiled and kissed his nose. Jimmy giggled softly. "Goodnight, Tango."

"G'night, Jimmy."

Jimmy was asleep within minutes.

Tango tried to follow Jimmy's sleep pattern. He really did. But, as an Avian, Jimmy really embodied the Early Bird concept. Tango just... didn't. He liked the darkness. His mind seemed to work better in the late hours of the night. He'd rather go to bed deep into the night and wake up late in the morning. Usually, Jimmy let him.

And recently, in the last six months, Jimmy always took care of Skye in the mornings while Tango kept sleeping. In the month-and-a-half since Skye's first flight, their routine had altered a little. Jimmy would slip out of bed and into Skye's room, gently wake her, and they'd go for a flight. She was nearly ready to fly on her own, and her wings were getting stronger. Then when they returned, they would have breakfast and get started on ranch chores. Skye didn't have to work out in the fields or with the animals all day. She would do an hour or two, then go inside and play.

And sometimes she'd already be at playtime by the time Tango woke up.

A bit after Jimmy finally fell asleep, Tango slipped out of bed. His Blaze Rods flared into being around his head and he used them to glide over to the door, down the hall, and down the stairs. He reached through the narrow gap between two double chests and pressed a button. Moved to its new location so Skye didn't accidentally press it.

Pistons retracted and revealed a staircase to the basement in the kitchen floor. Tango hurried down them and into his redstone workshop.

In Tango's opinion, redstone was not, inherently, dangerous. Handling the dust could be. If it floated up into the air. You didn't want to inhale it. But he didn't want Skye down here in case something fell and crushed her, more than anything. Hence he'd hidden the entrance.

He slipped a book and quill out of a chest and flipped it open to where he'd left the quill. People around town liked to request redstone devices. Tango liked making them, and it brought in a few extra diamonds on the side. He knew Etho and Impulse did the same, but the townsfolk knew Tango's particular type of redstone. He was the one asked for the whacky contraptions. The silly ones. Impulse and Etho could make the efficient, effective ones. Tango got to make toys a lot. And he loved it.

He got to work on a project request. It was nearly done, and he'd been fiddling with it for a week. He was eager to deliver it.

As he tinkered, his mind wandered a little. To Skye. Wearing Jimmy's feather in her hair. He had some of Jimmy's feathers himself. He usually kept the small one on a bracelet chain somewhere safe, only wearing it when it felt important that he display his commitment to Jimmy. He was too scared of burning it to ash otherwise. The other feathers of Jimmy's were scattered around his workshop as quills for writing. Sure they had a lot of chickens on the ranch, but why use those when Jimmy's feathers were so much sturdier and he shed them all about once a year? Most of them were properly disposed of, but Tango always kept a few—with Jimmy's permission—to turn into quills.

The fact that Jimmy had placed one of his shortest feathers—typically from near his spine—in her braid meant something. Tango wasn't overly familiar with Avian culture, but he knew enough to know that exchanging feathers was a big deal. Jimmy gave Tango a feather he'd plucked specifically for Tango the first time. As a sign of commitment and love. The one Tango had on a bracelet chain.

Jimmy gave Skye one of his feathers for her hair as a show of family.

Tango leaned back in his chair, taking a short break to stretch his spine. His Blaze Rods burned into existence, spinning around his head. One of them an inch shorter than the other ones. No one had ever noticed but Jimmy.

Tango had given Jimmy a small portion of that Blaze Rod as his own sign of commitment and love. Jimmy had it on a leather necklace cord. Tango had used magic to seal its fire deep within so it wouldn't burn anything—especially Jimmy.

He reached up and caught the shorter one, bringing it down in front of him. It hovered just over his hand, rotating slightly. The end that had been broken off was only slightly slanted, compared to the near-perfect perpendicular of the unbroken end. He hadn't cut it perfectly, but he'd shaved the jagged edge fairly well.

If he used all his Blaze Rods, he always spawned more. He just hadn't used many since he'd given that piece to Jimmy. And hadn't needed enough at once to use this one.

If he cut another inch off this one... it would start being noticeably shorter than the other whole ones around his head.

Was that really a bad thing?

He reached for his axe and went to the crafting table.

—

"Psst! Skye!" Tango whispered as he slowly opened her door, knocking gently with one knuckle. She shuffled in bed. "Psst!"

One eye peeled open, deep blue and dark in the light from Tango's hair. "Wh... wha's goin' on?" she asked, voice slurred with sleep. The weak light of dawn was peeking past the pink flower banners that had been added to her windows as curtains.

"I have a little present for you."

Her other eye opened. "A present?"

"Uh-huh."

She sat up in bed. "What is it?" She'd left her crown braid in, and the flyaways that had escaped it were a messy mad-scientist halo of white around her head.

Tango crept into her room. "You know how Jimmy gave you a feather for your hair?" He perched on the edge of her bed. She nodded. "Do you know what that means?"

"My mama used to put her feathers in my hair, and mine in hers when they fell out."

"That's right. For people with feathers, exchanging them is telling them you love them." He lifted his arm to show her Jimmy's yellow feather, preserved by magic to not get too brittle, dangling off a gold chain. "Jimmy gave me one because he loves me. And he gave you one because he loves you." He smoothed down some of her flyaways. "Have you noticed the necklace Jimmy wears?"

"The brown one with the little orange... yellow thing on it?"

"Yeah, princess." Tango's Blaze Rods reappeared, orbiting his head. "Like these." He looked up at them.

"You use those to fly." It wasn't a question. Skye had noticed that he only ever really displayed his Rods when he flew. He couldn't fly without them, and he didn't want to burn anything with them accidentally.

"That's right. I gave Jimmy a small piece of one of these to show him I love him." The shorter one stopped in front of his head. He flicked it so it spun, and then caught it to stop the spinning, bringing it down in front of him to show her.

"Why is that one so short?" Skye's eyes flicked to the other Blaze Rods, noting their lengths.

"Because I chopped a little bit off either end."

"Did it hurt?"

"No, sweetheart. They can't feel pain. Nothing about them can hurt me." Tango smiled and let the shorter one take its place back in alignment with the others bobbing as they rotated.

He pulled the leather out of the pocket of his jumpsuit. "This is for you. To show you I love you."

Skye took it carefully. "It's a necklace like Jimmy's!"

"Mmhmm. Because you're part of our family, so you get something from both of us to show it."

"I... I am?"

"Of course."

Skye smiled and gave him a hug. "Thank you, Tango."

"You're welcome kiddo."

—

"So... you stayed up all night," Jimmy said.

"Mmhmm," Tango said quietly, tiredly.

"And Skye has a necklace like mine."

"Mmhmm."

"I'm guessing you stayed up to make it?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

Jimmy kissed the side of Tango's head. "I'm glad. Go take a nap. I'll wake you up later."

"Don't have to tell me twice."

[xoxoladyaz]

AU-gust, Day One: Sculpture Artist

I saw the prompts and this grabbed me by the throat! I wrote it in about an hour, so my apologies if it's not up to my normal quality.

Steve wasn’t good at a lot of things.

He wasn’t very intelligent; while everyone else in town eagerly devoured the latest books delivered monthly by Murray, the traveling librarian, Steve struggled to make it through the first few pages. (He thought it might have been a curse at first, the way that the letters and words moved all over the page. When he had asked Madam Byers, the town witch, she had just smiled sadly at him and, well, he already knew everyone thought he was an idiot. He should really be used to it by now.)

He wasn’t the strongest or most athletic either; that honor belonged to Sir Hargrove and his knights. (Once upon a time Steve had been the one the town was counting on for protection. He was the one getting parades in the streets, catching handkerchiefs thrown by all of the eligible bachelors and bachelorettes. He was the son of Sir Harrington, after all.

But when the darkness came, when he took his stand against the creatures that appeared like smoke out of the great forest, his knights – his friends – abandoned him.

All except for Sir Hargrove, for Billy, his – well, it doesn’t matter anymore now, does it? All that matters is that Billy stuck his own sword into Steve’s back and left him to the creatures, only “rescuing” him once the damage had been done. And it did not matter what Steve said, or that there was a mark that clearly belonged to a sword on his spine; Billy, who was shortly knighted by Steve’s own father soon after, emerged the victor, flawless and golden.)

He was no longer the handsomest man in town (not next to Billy, not with scars all over his body.) He did not know a useful trade, given that he was not trained to have such. If he was the best at anything, it was at being a disappointment. An embarrassment. So much for the Harrington name, people still said on his infrequent ventures into town. Such a shame, such a waste.

So no, Steve formerly-of-House-Harrington was not particularly special in any way. If he had had some wit, or maintained some beauty, or was able to discuss the latest tales from court, perhaps things would be different. Perhaps he would have been accepted by the town. Instead, he lived in a small thatched cottage a morning’s ride away from the rest of Hawkins (the only thing his father gave him before taking his name, his money and his protection) and spent his days working in his garden, caring for his few elderly animals, and entertaining the children of the neighboring shepherds.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true; he did also work on his sculpting.

(The stone was from Robin, a traveling student. She had run into some trouble with her horse while passing through and Steve might not have been a knight anymore, but he still knew how to care for horses. Robin had offered to pay him for his help, but he would not accept it. It was payment enough to have someone his age to talk to. It was nice, to spend time with someone who did not know him as the former knight of Hawkins, as the disgraced noble he truly was; she just knew him as Steve and she saw a potential in him that he didn’t see in himself.

You are good with your hands, she had written in the note that had accompanied the massive piles of stone, delivered straight from the royal quarry. And you have much love in your heart. May this inspire you to see your own strength and beauty once again.)

She had probably expected him to use it to build a well, or perhaps some sort of fence for his small piece of land. But when he looked at the stone – a beautiful, shining white, the likes of which seemed far too grand for his small corner of the world – he could not see it serving such a purpose. No; this was made for something more.

He had never studied the arts; why would he, Steve of House Harrington, future knight of the realm, have had any need to learn what his father believed was woman’s work? Formal training, then, was something he did not have. But he did have fine tools, given to him by Madam Byers; he had a pair of crystal glasses, lent to him by Dustin, his favorite shepherd; and he had ample amounts of time to go slow, to focus on the task at hand. (Not that he really knew what he was creating, just that he was creating something.)

And so the months flew by: summer turned to fall and fall turned to winter, and when Steve was not doing his chores or tending to the young, he was slowly and patiently chipping away at the block of stone that he kept safely sheltered inside his small home, next to the worn-down hearth.

It wasn’t until he had knocked away the final chip of stone, until his bones had rattled with knowing that it was done, it was finally done, that Steve had finally realized just what he’d created.

It was a man, one near his age. He had the long hair of nobility, curled tresses that cascaded down his bare shoulders; he was clad in a simple robe much like the masters of old; large rings adorned his fingers, rings that proclaimed the man in front of him to be of royal blood. His feet were bare, as were his legs, and they were strong; he felt that if he looked closely enough, Steve would be able to see defined muscles underneath skin.

But the most striking part of the statute – aside from his royal dress and stature – was his face: a royal, aquiline nose above lips that were flushed with life and there, nestled under a noble brow, a pair of large, soulful eyes. The eyes were the same color as the rest of the statue, of course, but Steve found that the longer he stared into them, the more he felt that this statue, this man was staring back.

It didn’t seem possible, the longer Steve looked at it – at him. It didn’t seem possible that someone like Steve – the disgrace of Hawkins – could create something so beautiful, so ethereal, so entirely arresting as the man in front of him, because this man was the most beautiful man – human or statue – that Steve had ever seen.

And suddenly, Steve couldn’t bear to look at it. Couldn’t bear to live in a world where the thing that he was most proud of, that he had poured all of his time and attention and love into, was something that could never possibly return it. And even if the statue came alive, somehow, even if this perfect man was human, what would he possibly see in someone like Steve when there was a world of better, smarter, handsomer men out there?

Steve turned and reached for his hammer, the one blunt instrument that remained unused from Madam Byers' gift. He turned back around and, with a mighty cry, swung the hammer at the statue and sent it shattering into a thousand different pieces.

He expected that he would have to spend the rest of the night cleaning up the ruins of the one wonderful thing he had ever done.

He did not expect the stone to shatter and reveal a flesh and blood man standing before him.

The last of the stone fell to the ground and the man took a deep breath. He blinked once, twice, and then his eyes alighted on Steve. The moment their eyes met, the man’s formerly taciturn expression transformed into the brightest smile Steve had ever seen.

And it was a smile that was aimed at him.

“There you are,” the man said. He stepped forward and took Steve’s hand in his own. “I have been waiting a long time for you.”

Steve cleared his throat and looked down, unable to bear the enduring warmth in the man’s eyes. “I – I am sorry to disappoint you, my lord.”

“No,” the man chastened him, and a warm hand tucked itself under his cheek, pulling Steve’s eyes back to meet his. “You are everything I have been waiting for.”

“I'm afraid you must be mistaken, for I am just Steve. I can offer you nothing.”

“And I am just Eddie, and you are not just Steve,” the man – Eddie – replied firmly. “You are a kind man with a good heart. You care for other people and expect nothing in return. And most importantly of all, you dedicate your time and your love to everything, even things that cannot love you in return. Those are qualities sorely lacking in this world, and that makes them all the more valuable.

“I foresaw you long, long ago Steve of House Harrington,” the man finished quietly, a small smile now on his face. “And I would consign myself to thousands more years behind stone if it meant that one day I would find you.”

Steve did not know when he started to cry, he just knew that he had tears in his eyes. “You do me great honor, my lord.” Reaching for Eddie’s hands, the hands that oh-so-gently held Steve’s face, Steve drew them to his mouth and pressed watery kisses against his rings. “I will spend my life to be worthy of that. To be worthy of you.”

“Dear one,” Eddie said, and he laid his forehead against Steve. “You already are.”

Steve knew that he wasn’t good at a lot of things. He would never be the smartest, or the strongest, or the handsomest, or the most clever man in the world, or maybe even in Hawkins. But as Steve kissed his Eddie – his Eddie, who had travelled across time and magic to reach him – none of that mattered anymore. Because he might not have all of those things, but he did have love. 

And what could possibly be more important than that?

[howlingday]

Jaune Arc Mandalorian Armor AU: Jaune starts his day at beacon like he dose showing off his new full gear of mandolorian armor he was given by his father. Many watching and staring at him along with his team and Team RWBY and with Blake and Yang staring and ogling at the mysterious guy thinking he was a new student until he takes off his helmet and tells everyone about the armor.

armor look by me @vanossfan10

"Yeesh, look at that guy." Ruby followed her sister's gaze to the armored figure staring out the window with a gloved hand on the wall. "Overkill much?"

"I can't remember the last time I saw a huntsman in full armor." Ruby commented.

The figure made no movement to the sister's gossip. If there was any movement, which there was, it was unseen by the two. The movement in question was the flexing of the gloved fingers against the wall. As the airship began its descent into Beacon, the figure swiftly turned away and made his way to the exit. As the doors came open, they were the first to exit, right into the nearest bathroom.

"Huh." Ren blinked at the impatient suit of armor.

"Guess when you gotta go, you gotta go." Nora said with a chuckle.

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

"Need a hand?" Ruby looked up to the gloved hand extending to her. Reaching up, she felt herself rocketing to her feet. This armored guy was way stronger than he looked, and that's WITH the armor he was wearing!

"Thanks." Ruby said, giving a sigh. "Sorry, I was just-"

"You're pretty tough."

"Huh?"

"When I first learned about dust, I didn't have aura to protect me." He looked away. "Spent a couple months coughing up ice."

"Wow, that's..." Ruby gave a chuckle. "That's pretty bad."

"Not as bad as what was coming out the other end." Ruby guffawed at the story, memories of her horrible experience with that girl in white long gone and away. "My name's Jaune. Jaune Arc."

"Ruby Rose." She smiled at her new best friend.

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

"So, who's your new friend?" Yang gave a playful smirk to her sister.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Word on the street is my little sister was saved by a knight in shining armor." Yang snickered. "Or at least, he's only wearing armor."

Ruby and Yang looked to a distant wall where the topic of their conversation was, once again, standing against the wall. This time, however, his back was to it. To Yang, it seemed like he was glaring at everyone in the room. To Ruby, Jaune looked like he was trying to pull off the cool loner look.

"So, what's he like?" Yang prodded. "Is he cute? Is he nice? You guys kiss yet?"

"No, Yang!" She shoved her sister away. "We just met!"

"Well, that's good to hear. Last thing I'd want is somebody taking advantage of my baby sister."

"I'm not a baby, Yang!"

"Aw, but you sure to act like one!" At this the two began to wrestle, rolling off their sleeping bags and into-

"What are you idiots doing?!" The two looked up to see the infamous dust girl from before glaring down at them. "You're rolling all over my night bag!"

"Really~?" Yang raised a brow. "I thought I felt something long and hard poking my-"

"IT'S LOTION, YOU PERVERT!" She said with a flushed face.

"Oh, I'm sure it is~."

"Could you keep it down?" They all turned to see a girl in a black nightgown glaring at them with yellow eyes.

"I'm so sorry." A girl standing next to the white-haired girl said with a bow. She had long, red hair and wore a long-sleeve button shirt. Was that Pyrrha Nikos? Like, THE Pyrrha Nikos?

"Yeah, my bad." Yang let go of Ruby and stood up. "I was teasing my little sister about her new friend." She jabbed a thumb towards the armored figure.

"Is that a Mandalorian?" Pyrrha(?) gasped.

"Why is he attending Beacon?" The black nightgown girl asked.

"He said it's so he can get his license." All eyes fell on Ruby. "At least, that's what he told me."

"Bounty hunters." The girl in white scoffed. "Another gun for hire from a bygone age, or worse..." She huffed. "A look-a-like."

"If he's a look-a-like, then he's got quite the collection." Yang said. "Closest I've seen a Mandalorian is in pictures."

"That's the only time you should see one." The girl in the black nightgown said with a grim tone. "They're trained since childhood to become masters of war, and any poor village they happen to enter, they leave alone."

"Oh, well, that doesn't sound so bad." Ruby said.

"Alone meaning no survivors."

"Oh." Ruby squeaked.

"And you said you're friends with him?"

"W-Well, I mean, Yang said I was, but um... Yes. Yes, he's my friend."

"Have... Have you seen his face?"

"Huh?"

"W-Well, it's just..." The girl stared at the armored figure, her voice giving away a different tone. She clutched her book to her chest, carrying a dreamlike gaze towards him. "I've also read that they're some of the gentlest souls in the world. They're willing to help even the smallest creatures for little more than their gratitude, and the only time you'll ever see their true face is on their death, or when you're..." Her voice trailed off with a blush.

"Ugh..." The girl in white groaned. "It's getting late, so can we all forget about the walking death machine who would sell us to the highest bidder looming across the room and go sleep in our own separate spaces."

Shortly thereafter, the girls parted, though they all cast glances at the armored elephant in the room. Some with baneful scorn, others with fantastical admiration, but all with curiosity. As Ruby nestled into her slumber, she had one thought racing through her mind.

'He's not really dangerous... is he?'

Next

[geddy-leesbian]

start of my FE Serrennedy AU :3

Goddess, he was so stupid. What was he thinking, chasing a bandit down through a hole in a wall and then down a mysterious tunnel all by himself?

In his defense, what he did had made sense in the moment. If he'd stopped to call for the knights, the bandit would have slipped away. And it was just one thief! Leon would have easily struck him down in a one-on-one. No, the problem was that as soon as the tunnel opened up into a large open cavern, there was a demonic beast. Leon was not ready for that. Why would he have been? He's right under the church! Surely there should be some kind of magical protection keeping these nightmarish monsters away from the monastery. 

Or not. Definitely not, because he definitely did get his ass handed to him by a gigantic worm. He did put up a pretty valiant fight, giving the creature at least one gash in exchange for each bruise and bite wound it dealt to him. It didn't even kill him, it just left of its own accord after one well-timed thrash of its tail left Leon lying on his back with the wind knocked out of him. It could have been one hell of a story– the underdog Leon fighting a demonic beast all by himself and escaping with his life! And it would have been, if he wasn't down in some fucking cavern where no one would ever look for him. 

But he is. And a bite wound is bleeding heavily. He feels dizzy when he tries to get up. He'd survive this if he was anywhere else, with a light magic user able to heal him, or even just someone more run of the mill with a cloth to slow the bleeding and keep him stable until an actual doctor could get to him. 

All alone, goddess knows where, he just lies there and tries not to think about how much everything hurts and how cold he is until he finally slips out of consciousness. 

-

Somehow he wakes up. He's alive? There's still some pain, but he feels it fading, the hurt being replaced by the pleasant warmth of healing white magic. Someone else must have seen him enter the tunnel and got help before it was too late.

“Thanks…” Leon manages to open his eyes, and is shocked to see a tan stranger kneeling above him, mending his wounds with white magic. A stranger. Not a knight, not one of his magically gifted classmates. He panics and his right hand gropes at the… ground? Floor? trying to find his sword. “Who the hell are you?”

“I could say the same to you. Barging into someone else's home, swinging your sword around like you own the place… Bit rude, no? Tell me your name first, intruder, then maybe I'll tell you mine,” The stranger's face twists into a mischievous smile. “One of mine, at least.”

“If I'm a rude intruder, why are you healing me?” Leon gives up on trying to get his sword, it's not like this is a fight he could ever win. He doesn't even know where he is. Just that he's underground and can hear running water. “Could've left me to rot or finished the job yourself if you were impatient.”

“Because you don't seem like an intruder who came here with the intention of causing trouble for the inhabitants of Abyss. You seem like a garden variety idiot, not the type I kill if I can help it. And! Your uniform, you're a student at the Officers Academy. I might get myself a pretty penny for bringing back one of their precious students in one piece.”

“Fine. I'm Leon. Who are you and where am I?”

“Oh. Oh! I know you! Of you, at least. I'm Luis. You're Lord Marvin's adopted kid, right?”

“Yeah,” Leon stares at Luis's handsome face for a minute, until something clicks into place. “I think I saw you once. You're Spencer's adopted son, right? What are you doing down some horrible hole, Spencer must be worried sick about you! We should go back to the surface and get you home, with two of us we'll be fine even if we run into monsters.”

“Home? Spencer? I'd rather die than go back to him. This is my home. It's not a hole, and it's not horrible. This is Abyss. A hidden little city beneath the monastery, a refuge for those who can't live on the surface. Surely you've heard rumors? Maybe heard about the savage mockingbird, the handsome leader and protector of Abyss?”

“Uh, that does ring a bell. Isn't he like, a hardened criminal? Gang leader that's murdered a whole lot of people?”

“I suppose that isn't incorrect, I have done that.”

“You?! How did you go from a noble house, a student at the academy with a great future, to this?” Leon looks at Luis, completely appalled. “A criminal hanging out in a den of other criminals, even leading them.”

“It's a long story. Maybe I'll tell you someday. But for now, you feel like you can walk?” Despite Luis being prolific enough as a cruel murderer to have earned a reputation and a nickname, he helps Leon to his feet with all the gentleness and care of the monastery's kindest priests. When he looks down at himself, he sees the lighter wounds that weren't worth healing magically were still expertly bandaged. “We should get you back up to the surface before anyone notices you've been gone, I'm sure you'd be in a lot of trouble for sneaking off to explore–”

“I wasn't exploring!” Leon interjects. “I was chasing a thief. He got away when the monster attacked.”

“Ah, one of my lackeys. Still, even with your noble intentions I get the feeling your activities would earn you one hell of a lecture for doing something so reckless. I suggest you sneak back into your bed, hide your injuries, in the morning say you're tired because you didn't sleep well, so no one has to know what you were up to.”

“Doesn't that defeat the purpose of you saving me? If you want your reward, you'll have to tell someone about it.”

“Forget the reward. This is just… Some charity work.”

[yutafrita]

To Pierce the White Eye- TWO

Preview / One / Two / Three / Four / Fin.

Pairing: Psychic!Jaemin x Reader (She/ her)

Genre: Fantasy, Thriller, soulmates au, angst

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, mentions of catastrophic deadly events

Word Count: 4.9K

Work is inspired by/ based on blue exorcist & vampire knight.

You stretched out, your fists knocking the old headboard. You squint your eyes open, the sunlight seeping in through the thin curtains in Kun and Jungwoo’s spare bedroom. You were grateful that they didn’t have anyone rent the room out this semester, as it allowed you to crash there for the night. Well, you and-

You craned your neck slowly, your eyes widening as you saw Jaemin’s sleeping figure on the bed next to you. His chest rose and fell evenly, in such a deep slumber you almost felt bad for wanting to wake him up.

You were both miserably tired the night before. You got lucky that Jungwoo was up late enough to answer your phone call, and even more lucky that he didn’t ask any additional questions when you mentioned another friend of yours would be there too. The thought of returning to your dorm when Mark, Johnny, and Ten would ask a million questions made you sick- but you also couldn’t stand the thought of being alone.

You needed to leave though, before Kun and Jungwoo woke up and really started digging into you two. You reached a hand across the bed, your hand brushing against Jaemin’s shoulder when your eyesight went white and you collapsed back onto the bed, out cold.

*****

You were in a white room with screens playing all along the circular walls. Confused, you looked down, making eye contact with Jaemin, who laid on the floor on his back, arms tucked under his head.

“Where the fuck am I?” you whimpered, holding yourself and spinning as you looked at all of the screens that made their way to the top of the dome you two somehow found yourselves in. 

“Oh, it’s a defense mechanism psychics have. It used to be for when people would try to kill us in our sleep. They would be knocked out and sent to where we psychics go when we sleep,” he explained casually, turning his attention back to looking at the screens. You looked closer, seeing clips of different people, some more grainy than others.

“You’re seeing futures even as you sleep?” you asked, your arms going slack at your side.

“Yeah, just because I’m sleeping doesn’t mean time stops,” he shrugged.

“That’s exhausting.”

“Existence is exhausting,” Jaemin corrected. 

You gulped, swallowing your anxiety. You stepped forward, your feet echoing in the space as you focused on one of Jaemin’s visions- one of Mark, your father, and Yuta. The vision was grainy, but you were able to at least make out these three figures for sure- not so much the space they were in. You could tell the conversation was engaging and vibrant by the hand gestures your brother used when he got excited. 

The screen next to it was much less grainy, but also much less full of energy. Jaemin sat in the spot Yuta was- in the middle of the couch in your family home with Mark to his side. Your Dad sat off to the side, and you could make out his furrowed brow pointed at the psychic in your home. While there was no sound you could gather from the first video, in this one however, there was a faint broken style of speaking coming through the screen. 

“... makes… me smile,” Jaemin’s scrambled voice came through.

“... I’m glad,” your father’s voice was crystal clear- it was as if he too was in Jaemin’s head. The image suddenly cleared and you were able to perfectly make out every part of the screen, and hear the low conversation all three were having together.

“Hey guys!” this voice made you jump, and then the screen went black. It was your voice, you realized.

“I thought you said you couldn’t see me,” you turned back around, seeing that Jaemin now sat up at the center of the room, his eyes trained on you.

“The screen went black, you weren’t there,” he sighed, standing up. “So it’s time to wake up?”

You blinked quickly, reminding yourself as to why you were there in the first place. “Y-yeah.”

******

It had been a week since your stay at Kun and Jungwoo’s. The Vatican arrived at Knight’s Cross on extremely short notice, reinforcing the demon barriers to make sure nothing else would pop up. You had also managed to beg Kun and Jungwoo to not mention to Mark that Jaemin was there after promising that you would take them to dinner at any place of their choice. 

The night library was in the same fenced off area where the night dorms were- a single large building stuffed with books that were hundreds and thousands of years old. Despite this there was no librarian- so you sat quietly in the corner with a sticky note of questions and several books cracked open on your single table.

What caused the blue night?

The first question was the one you knew would be the hardest one to find an answer, that is if there even was one. Jaemin explained already that the demons gained possession, but the reason behind it was still unanswered to you.

More info on oligarchy?

It wasn’t so much a question as just a want to better understand. You didn’t want to bother Ten or Jaemin, and you felt embarrassed about not knowing it already. You wanted to better understand the world you were sworn to help, and you wanted to better understand Jaemin.

Jaemin.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to get the psychic out of your mind. Thankfully, it seemed that no night students went into their own library often, so you were able to get some peace for a bit as you did your research.

In order to properly rule the mythic world after the treaty of 202 AD, it was agreed that there would be a changing monarchy, hereby dubbed the oligarchy. It would comprise no less than five families and no more than ten that will change off its ruler to someone new within them every 750 years or until the current ruler dies. There can be no more than two of the same species in the oligarchy. 

The order shall proceed as follows with the founding oligarchy families and their respective species: Faerie Lee’s, Vampire Nakamoto’s, Shifter Kim’s, Vampire Lee’s, and Psychic Na’s.

You scribbled down the names of the families, your eyebrows raising in surprise to see that Ten’s family was here.

“Hm, the Oligarchy history book,” this voice immediately called your eyes up and you froze. The crowned prince smiled awkwardly, gesturing to the open seat, “mind if I take a seat?”

“Yeah… is this book, like, common or something?” you asked as he now sat across from you. He set a few books down on the table, thinking for a moment before he nodded.

“We get taught using that book in like the sixth grade. What is it you're looking for? It’s likely that the version you have is out of date,” he offered, making it obvious that he too was trying to prod at your business.

“Well, I think I should have some background on the mythic government and affairs,” you offered.

“Interesting that your father didn’t teach you about the oligarchy.”

“I’m an adult- I can figure things out without my Dad.”

“I’m an adult too, and there’s still somethings I can’t quite piece together on my own, like-,” Yuta studied your blank expression before he continued, “why did Jaemin reek of you the other morning after he snuck out?”

Your face fully paled, and you knew the vampire could hear your heart jump into your throat, “it’s not what you-.”

He started laughing, cutting you off as his laughter echoed throughout the space of the library.

“The only other person who could tell is Ten- your secret is safe with me,” Yuta winked, and you furrowed your brow fully ready to defend yourself until a breeze whipped past you. You saw the small sticky note you wrote your questions on now in Yuta’s hand.

He whistled, “that first one is a heavy question.”

“Is there a heavy answer?”

“Shit, if I knew…” a smile passed his face before he pushed it away, swallowing loudly before shaking his head, “we don’t know why all of those demons possessed and killed so many mythics.”

“There has to be a reason. Demons can’t just… climb to the surface without any help and any purpose… I think,” you muttered, your pencil tapping the table as you thought it all over. Yuta folded the sticky note, setting it on the book in front of you.

“The blue night changed everything for us. It… took my big brother’s life,” he whispered at the end, you sat up in full attention. “Right now, the ruler of the mythics is the Queen- she’s a Faerie Lee,” he pointed at the name on your textbook, his finger then dragging to the name that followed, “after them, it falls onto the oldest child of the Vampire Nakamoto’s. It was meant to be my brother in every way, but that night… that night took his life.”

“And subsequently gave you the burden of being the future ruler,” you finished, your voice hushed. Yuta sighed, nodding as you began to understand this world. “I’m sorry you lost your brother, Yuta.”

“It’s okay, all I can do is try to make him proud.”

“I’m sure you will,” you affirmed, and he smiled in response. Shortly afterwards, you made the trek to the main building of the University, greeting the person you sat next to in your lecture that day.

“Did you do the homework, Sicheng?” you asked, taking the packet out from your backpack.

“Of course I did. It did take me ages, though,” Sicheng groaned, taking it out from his bag too. Sicheng was more Mark and Jungwoo’s friend than anything, but since this was your second class together, you had gotten more friendly over time. “Maybe one of these days Kun will give us the answers,” he joked.

“I tried, he just tells me to go to his tutoring sessions,” you pouted, seeing your friend at his usual spot at the front of the class. Kun was the TA for the course, so between juggling his Master’s Classes, he was also helping in teaching classrooms of confused students.

“Dang, I guess that means we’ll have to actually learn,” Sicheng tucked his hands behind his head, leaning back on his chair.

“You act like you don’t have a perfect grade in this class,” you scoffed. Sicheng graduated top of your class in high school- it was why everyone was so surprised when he simply elected to go to the closest university despite everyone knowing he got into far more prestigious schools.

“Hm, you’re right,” he was smug, laughing to himself. Class started soon thereafter, Kun collecting the homework and occasionally sharing glances with you two throughout the professor's lecture. The professor spoke in long drones, making it hard to focus, but all you could do was try your best, and hope that the mythics wouldn’t cloud your mind for too long.

“Do you have any plans after class?” you asked Sicheng as you began to pack up.

“Hm, probably just studying and trying to knock out this assignment, you?”

“I have my international studies class, sadly.”

“Oh boy, I took that one last semester. Good luck! I’ll see you next week.”

You omitted the truth a bit when speaking to Sicheng. After International Studies, you and Mark calmly checked the classrooms, noticing that the other had gotten more jumpy with the recent demon attack.

“Kun, Jungwoo, and I will meet you outside of the gate,” you reminded Mark after class. It was time for you to pay up, and the duo somehow found a place open 24 hours not too far out of town.

“Sounds good, see you then!” 

While you were going out for a late night bite with friends, Jaemin was holed up in his dorm room with Hendery. The poor shapeshifter had been doing his best to help Jaemin mask any trace of you, but it was still a discussion everyone was having. It was strange for Jaemin to be around anyone that wasn’t his one close companion, let alone to be reeked in the smell of a human.

“Doyoung thinks it might be her,” Hendery admitted. Jaemin was perched on his bed, staring up at the ceiling as his assignments crowded the night stand next to him. Hendery was at his desk chair on the far side of the room, waiting patiently for the psychic to have any sort of response. Jaemin knew Doyoung gave Hendery hell trying to press Hendery to see if his theory was right, and Jaemin hated Doyoung for it.

“Doyoung is a bastard,” Jaemin huffed. 

“Yeah, but he’s-.”

“The only shifter to have mastered all twelve forms. I know.”

Hendery sighed at Jaemin’s response, and Jaemin sat up in his bed. Quietly, Jaemin began thinking over the other person who was being pressed these past few days, and his left eye blew out on a grainy vision.

Ten, was on his phone in his dorm with Johnny, but Jaemin couldn’t make out much else.

Jaemin has been frustrated with not being able to see your future as he was always able to. He had taken to looking at the future of your friends to help him get a better gauge, but even that has proven to be difficult. 

Jaemin’s eyesight returned, and he stood up, leaving his room and ignoring the small, abnormal groupings of people outside of his room. He maneuvered down the hall, and knocked on the room that Johnny and Ten shared with Shotaro. 

Johnny opened the door, raising an eyebrow as Jaemin slinked under his arm and into the room, narrowly avoiding the faeries exposed wings. 

“It’s been a week and you still smell of her,” Ten greeted, not looking up from his phone as Jaemin stood next to the vampire's bed. 

“What is the smell even like?” Jaemin vocalized, the question slipping out.

“Ash and oak,” Johnny answered, now standing next to Jaemin. “What do you want, Na?”

“Are you trying to be tough with your wings out?” Jaemin raised an eyebrow at the faerie who furrowed his brow in response. Johnny’s wings were a soft lilac, white glitter shimmering off of them as they sat on the tall man’s back.

Jaemin frowned, for the first time feeling insecure about what someone would respond with. He was always prepared for the future- but now, he was on his own. Taking a deep breath, he asked, “What kind of coffee does she like?”

******

Chenle and Jisung were two of the resident’s on your floor of the dorm, this Jaemin already knew.

Jaemin made awkward conversation with them while he stood outside of your dorm room, hoping you would answer his knock as fast as possible. While the day students weren’t allowed anywhere near the night dorms, night students were able to enter these spaces with ease. It helped that the aristocratic mythics tended to want to avoid the humans anyways. This was because the mythics would have to hide parts of themselves that were true to their nature- like how Jaemin was making sure to not look into the future, lest his eye turn white and he scares the two freshmen.

“We’ve never seen you! What’s your major?” Chenle asked as Jisung studied Jaemin. Even in the small glimpses Jaemin had seen of the pair, it was painfully obvious the crush Jisung had on you. It was a small, adorable crush, but a crush that only you were oblivious to.

“Do you guys talk to everyone who knocks on the RA’s dorm?” Jaemin asked, irritated by his lack of perception.

“Some of them,” Jisung muttered as you door opened.

“Hi guys- oh, Jaemin, hi!” you forced a polite smile, trying to hide the surprise on your face with your resident’s right there. Jisung and Chenle didn’t flinch, not taking a hint to move away. “You brought the game, right? Come in!” grabbing Jaemin’s arm, you nearly dragged him into your dorm. 

“Did you guys need anything?” you asked the pair, and when they shook their heads, you waved goodbye and shut the door. Jaemin was frozen in the small kitchen area of your studio, afraid to move in your space. “Jaemin? What’s up?”

Jaemin turned back around to face you, and that’s when you finally noticed the two coffee cups in his hands.

“Do you wanna go for a walk?”

You weren’t sure what compelled you to agree, but you threw on a sweater and started along the small path that sliced through the forest of campus, coffee cup warming your hands. It was a Saturday, and the first one in a while that you were awake before three in the afternoon. 

It was painfully quiet, not just on campus, but between you and Jaemin. It was hard to think of conversation when you two a few nights ago had passed out on the pull out couch of your friend. Why did you do that? You took a large sip of the coffee to quell your nerves, looking at the browning trees along the path.

“I’m sorry I… I ruined our first encounter. I’ve been… weird, and cryptic, and I’m sorry. I’d like to start again,” Jaemin pushed the words out, and you glanced over to see him struggling. You studied his face as best as you could, trying to not trip as you walked. You looked ahead again, letting out a small chuckle.

“You’re not used to not having the upperhand in conversations, huh?” 

“Hmm, I wouldn’t call it an upper hand,” Jaemin sighed, a small laugh falling out. 

“We can start over,” you stopped, lifting a pointer finger, “but stop being so fucking ominous all the time.”

“What if my personality is just being ominous?” Jaemin kept a straight face, looking directly into your eyes until the corner of his lip twitched.

“You’re making a joke,” you noted, and he lifted both of his arms in a guilty as charged way. You continued down the path, now comfortable in the space together as you took in the fresh air.

“Before I lost my ability to see your path, I knew you were looking for something,” Jaemin started, “did you find it?”

“What are you talking about?”

“That first edition copy of Breaking Dawn- the one with the added excerpts from a hacker.”

You laughed loudly then. This was true- you had been hunting for this copy of the final Twilight book for a few months now, and the fact that this was a vision the psychic saw and remembered gave you a mixed feeling you couldn’t process. “No, I haven’t had any luck yet.”

“Ah, well, I hope you get your hands on it soon. I’ve been trying to get my hands on a copy of The Adventures of Sly Cooper comic, but I haven’t seen myself getting my hands on one for less than $300,” Jaemin confessed. You two completed the path circuit a few times, talking about video games, collecting, and books for a while. Jaemin was strange, but you liked that about him. 

“Have you uh… spoken with Yuta recently?” Jaemin asked suddenly, his cup now hanging empty in his hand as he squeezed it.

You raised an eyebrow at this random inquiry, “No, not for a bit… Why do you ask?”

Jaemin ignored the small extra beat in his chest and tried to swallow the nerves he had built up, “He’s… he’s a nice guy.”

“Oh, you’re friends with him?”

“Um… sure.”

“Well, if he’s your friend, I bet he’s nice then,” you smiled at Jaemin, and he fully swore his heart stopped at that moment. “Are you ever going to tell me, by the way?”

“Tell you what?” Jaemin’s voice came out in a hushed tone, his cheeks growing red in embarrassment.

“Why were you so closely following my future?” you smirked. To you, it felt like an obvious question. While you weren’t necessarily spooked by Jaemin anymore, you were still curious as to why he was so focused on you- and another part of yourself that you didn’t want to acknowledge had a theory of its own.

Jaemin was quiet, tapping the empty cup as he tried to manufacture a proper response. The Na prophecy was something closely held in his family, and something he had only ever told Hendery about in passing. Jaemin tilted his head up, the small breeze flowing through the trees kissed his skin.

“Do you sometimes feel like… there’s a weight on you? One you might never understand from somewhere you don’t even know?” Jaemin asked, his eyes wincing at the sunlight.

“... I was abandoned with severe amnesia as a child. That’s sort of my whole schtick,” you forced a breathy laugh despite the nail Jaemin managed to hit right on the head. Nervously, you placed a hand on his shoulder, “You just have to remember that you have support, y’know? People who wanna help you figure out that weight and where it comes from.”

Jaemin nodded- you were right, and he knew the exact person who could help him figure this weight out.

That night, Jaemin met with his mother at the Yosei Inn and Fine Dining. He had called her knowing that she already knew he would be calling, and started the first thirty minutes of their dinner gushing over how happy she was to get that vision.

“Oh dear I was already in town- and you know reservations here can get insane,” she prattled on, the faerie server refilling both of their glasses of faerie wine. The Yosei Inn sat about twenty miles away from the University and was hidden from human eyes with a bit of magic and practical effects. It was a Faerie run Inn that was often used by the parents of the elite night class students from Knight’s Cross whenever the University President’s basement was unavailable. Jaemin recognized a few other peers there, all of whom greeted Jaemin’s mother excitedly and acknowledged him in the most polite way possible. 

“So! What’s on my beautiful boy’s mind?” She cooed, her hands sitting on top of her son’s. Jaemin was lucky- compared to most other oligarchy parents, both of his were loving, sweet, and didn’t try to force him to upgrade their status. The only pressure applied was the same thing past down his family- and it was the primary source of his strife.

“I… I have a problem,” Jaemin muttered. 

“You just have to remember that you have support, y’know? People who wanna help you figure out that weight and where it comes from.” Your words buzzed around his head like an annoying fly, and he wished he could simply swat them away.

“Yes, a romantic one, correct?” his mother asked, and Jaemin met her gaze. 

“H-how?”

“Oh please- I've had this vision of you telling me about someone you like since you were born… it only became clear recently, though.”

“I-I don’t like anyone romantically, if that’s what you’re going on about. My issue is…” Jaemin lowered his voice, and leaned in closer so any prying ears couldn’t hear, “I can’t see… I can’t see someone’s future anymore.”

His mother stopped blinking, and stared at Jaemin’s confused face as she started silently weeping.

“Mom, why are you crying?” he whispered, panicking as he snatched his napkin up and began trying to dab away the tears cascading down her cheeks. She allowed her son to swipe the tears away before she smiled and shooed him off of her, a smile now having graced her features.

“Jaemin… when I first met your father… time stopped. Then… we couldn’t see each other’s futures anymore,” his Mother was so excited that her sentence ended in a higher pitch than Jaemin had ever heard her use. He furrowed his eyebrows, his eyes scanning his mother’s elated expression as he began trying to piece together what she was saying.

“I… no,” Jaemin stopped breathing when it hit him.

“This person… you’ve found your soulmate, Jaemin.”

“No!” Jaemin stood up, causing a few of the utensils on the table to clatter and a few onlookers to glare at the psychics. He frowned, slightly bowing his head in apology before sitting back down. “Mom… it’s the President’s daughter.”

This gave her pause, and the smile she wore faded as she nodded in understanding, “I see your dilemma, but son, you can’t really choose who you love either.”

“My one task in life- my one purpose- has been making sure the Na prophecy gets fulfilled, mother,” he hissed, tears threatening to spill now. He was so frustrated- none of this was going as planned, and the worst part was how good you made him feel when he was around you. 

“Son, the only purpose in your life should be to be happy,” his mother countered, before she leaned back in her seat, arms crossed, “how’s your fifth cousin doing, by the way?”

“Mom, what-?”

“Your fifth cousin, the prince, Nakamoto Yuta,” she spoke each word slowly and carefully, her small smirk hoping that the younger psychic would understand. Words from the prophecy Jaemin had been carrying now sat at the forefront of his mind, and his eyes widened.

“A mythic in relation to the deceased ruler will fall in love with the flames,” he uttered, voice shaky as his mother nodded in controlled joy. “But… then who dies?”

*****

Across town and in the basement of Knight’s Cross College, you had the music of the practice room blaring as you beat the shit out of a dummy. The padded practice room sat in the basement of the main building, only accessible by your father’s, Mark’s, and your ID card. Typically, you wouldn’t be in the practice room unless you and Mark had a mandated training from your father, but tonight you just felt angry and you didn’t know how else to dispel it beyond putting on gloves and whaling on a poor dummy.

Punch.

Stupid demons. Stupid mythics who are extremely weird about you speaking to them.

Punch. Punch. Jab.

Stupid Jaemin- why did he have to pass by your place this morning? How did he even know your favorite coffee order?

Jab. Punch. Punch. Duck. Kick.

He was handsome and attentive and god why did he have to look good all of the time?

Punch. Punch.

His lips looked so soft too and- wait why is it so hot?

You jumped in fear, knocking your now fire covered gloves to the ground in a panic. The flames were a steep blue- the same as the one from your first memory, and you swore the flames were relishing in your panic. Moving quickly, you grabbed the holy water from your bag in the corner, haphazardly soaking the gloves.

“Fuck!” you shouted in anguish, dropping the bottle as you felt your skin burn. It wasn’t your hands though that burned- it was the blotches on your ankles that picked up some of the holy water backsplash. 

You felt your vision blur, your hands trembling as your mouth dried up. Why did the holy water burn you? Why the fuck were there random blue flames that sprouted on your hands? Most importantly- why did the flames not burn you?

You collapsed to the floor, sobbing quietly as the holy water on the ground seared your ankles. You crawled to the corner, knees to your chest as you tried to get yourself together. 

You felt like you had never grown past being that confused five year old in the snow. You still knew nothing. You may have grown physically, but now as the flames began to wrap your body and tears streaked down your face, all you could do was wail and accept that you had no control. 

Through blurry tears, you saw the door of the training room slammed open.

“GET OUT!” you didn’t recognize the voice that came out from your throat, posing yourself now in a defensive crawl rather than fully cowering. Jaemin’s face didn’t flinch looking at you, despite the terror you felt over yourself being shrouded in blue. “LEAVE!”

“NO!” he shouted, moving closer and closer to the flames that you knew would hurt him, unless… he lifted his right arm that you didn’t realize he had behind his back, and your eyes widened. “I’M SORRY!” he cried, the bottle of holy water soaking and searing your flesh, putting out the flames. 

Your body was trembling in agony, the traces of the holy water over your clothes and scorching your skin into deep, painful rivets. Without regard for your surroundings, you threw off your shirt and pants, tears streaming down your face as you kicked the soaked (and burned) articles away from you.

So gently you didn’t even flinch, Jaemin wrapped a blanket over your shoulders helping aid the goosebumps that had formed on the parts of skin that weren’t burned.

“I’m so sorry… I know that’s one of the only other ways for your flames to go out,” Jaemin’s hushed apology made you snap your head up, your wide eyes piercing him now.

“What the fuck happened to me?” you choked, your bottom lip trembling. Jaemin knew the answer- he knew this whole time from before he lost his ability to see your future. He raised his hands, now wrapped in the sleeves of his hoodie, and dashed the tears off of your cheeks.

“I need to tell you about the Na prophecy.”

Taglist! @nini0620 @enhazen @shwizhies feel free to reach out if you’d like to be added :)

<- Go Back? CHP. ONE

Continue? CHP. THREE… ->

[hauntedjpegcollection]

elbows off

wc: 2741 au: exorcist au ch: lark, xavier, benji, tino

Gravel crunches underneath the car tires as it pulls into the rest stop diner parking lot—Xavier can tell just from a glance it’s the shitty kind. Sticky floors, tired waitress that refills acid black coffee without needing to be asked, a radio that weakly plays all the country hits and Christian rock exclusives. Back drop for a crime thriller, as abandoned as the surrounding area is. There’s trees on all sides, one road that just keeps going and going and going into a darkness that feels opaque and physical. A solitary flood light winks in the night, more illuminated than the hidden moon behind fat, gray clouds.

“Wicked fuckin’ place,” Xavier whispers, leaning forward with his hands spread over the dashboard. The inside reminds him of a lonesome painting, yellow washed with a faint blinking neon pink sign above it. There is only one other car in the lot and there is only one person inside as well.

“I love that about you,” Lark replies in a quiet voice. He cuts the engine, pockets the keys.

“Boston accent?”

“You appreciate everything like it’s something special.”

There is a pause not altogether awkward, but not nearly as comfortable as silences had once been between the two men. Xavier’s hands slowly slide away from the dashboard and land on his thighs. He’s in denim and a plaid button up that has holes at the elbows. It’s cold outside, but he doesn’t have a jacket yet. He’s tired from the drive even though he’d just been a passenger the entire time. He’s tired from the crying that came before the drive and the phone call to his parents that had made the crying happen in the first place—and he’s tired mostly because he’s not sure he’s doing the right thing anymore.

Or what the right thing even is.

But Lark leans over and slings an arm around his shoulder. His tattooed hand fists into rust colored hair and shakes. The wobbling of Xavier’s head blooms dizziness that makes the world feel momentarily surreal. They’re both smiling then, the only light source the flickering flood light and diner in front of them. The dark pools of Lark’s eyes are so familiar even though they have been absent from Xavier’s life for so long.

He leans across the center console and yanks them closer into a hug.

Then Xavier’s stomach growls loudly and Lark’s laugh is so loud in his ear, it almost hurts. But they don’t stop hugging, even as the laughter turns nearly to crying.

—

A little bell tolls above his head when Xavier walks through the doors. The plastic edges create a popping suction and then scrape across the tiled floor as the glass doors slowly close behind him. The smell of greasy food and coffee is so potent that his nose wrinkles automatically—he suppresses a sneeze, but just barely. The lone waitress behind the counter glances up. Xavier raises a hand and then points to a figure all the way in the corner. He’s used to the good hospitality of New England, meaning Xavier figures she’ll leave him alone.

Instead, she comes out from behind the counter with a laminated menu. Her smile is tired, but welcoming. She has pretty wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and startling white teeth. The beaten up, aged name tag pinned to her chest says DARLA. Xavier asks for a soda, and doesn’t even need the menu for his food order.

“Well, I like a man that knows what he wants right away,” Darla coos, swatting his shoulder with the menu she takes back from him. “Go on, sweetie, I’ll bring it out in a minute.”

Maybe its the friendliness that puts him on edge as he walks down the lonely, empty diner. He isn’t used to friendliness, is he? Xavier’s shoulders curl upward, as if remembering the harsh hand that fed him prior to—well. Prior to Lark coming and saving him, bleached blond white knight with lock picks. Maybe it’s the waitress. Maybe it’s easy to blame her (and it’s certainly easier on his traumatized mind, that doesn’t want to think about the other things easier to blame), but it’s also Benji.

Xavier stands a few feet away, staring at the dark silhouette in the corner booth. Nervousness rises in him; he imagines himself a glass half full. One part all the mixing’s of Xavier Wolffe and the other part this intense, storm like anxiety that mixes poorly. Mint’s in a coke bottle sort of situation. Benji’s back is to him, which might be a blessing. But it also lets Xavier stand there and linger.

His black curly hair looks windswept, as if the short walk from the van to the diner had been a perilous journey. It’s messy in a tousled way that looks undeniably pretty. Strands stick up here and there, like little snakes trying to escape. Benji’s shoulders curve, almost protectively inward as he sits there, staring down at his phone. Xavier unconsciously swipes a paw through his own hair, worried about how he looks. His tongue feels slightly numb.

“Behind you, sweetie.” Darla’s hand touches his lower back, making him launch into the air with a high pitched sound. She pays that no attention as she flutters by and sets a glass wet with condensation down onto the diner table. Xavier tries to get his heart to work properly with a fist rubbing furiously on his sternum, but then Benji glances back over his shoulder. He must have been expecting Lark, because his dark eyes start somewhere in the middle of Xavier’s chest.

Then they slowly, very slowly rise.

 An electric jolt pins him there as Darla scoots around him, once more touching his side and making Xavier feel a sickly, unwanted peal of nerves. His teeth stay glued together so he doesn’t snap like some fucking injured street dog, but he isn’t sure he can handle that once more, so instead he quickly goes for the opposite side of the table. Xavier slides in, knees knocking and nearly sending his drink and Benji’s off.

He looks up to find Benji’s hand steadying both of them. The sleeves of his jacket have pushed up slightly, almost to forearm and Xavier can see little patchwork tattoos here and there. His mouth returns to feeling dry and numb, but he isn’t sure why. Benji retreats just as slowly as his gaze had taken Xavier in, until he’s slouched back in the seat, one hand still cupped around a mug of smoky smelling coffee.

“Lark is outside,” Xavier explains.

“Didn’t ask,” Benji replies, with a bit of a curl to his lip. He looks tired, or maybe that’s just the weighted effort of scowling all the time. Benji has never smiled at Xavier, not a real one anyway (and nothing like that wide open smile he gives Lark sometimes when they think it’s just the two of them, when Xavier is on the outskirts, looking in). There is always a mean sort of glint to him in every interaction—not that they’ve had many. When Lark had shown up, tall red headed stray behind him, Benji had—better not to linger on what Xavier had caught Benji saying to The Priest. It only gave value to Xavier’s own doubts. His fears that Lark was making the wrong choice, that he was making the wrong choice, that something was wrong about all this.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Xavier mutters under his breath, reaching for his drink. The cool glass feels slimy to the touch. They’d had snacks on the drive. It had felt like a real road trip, with a good mixture of both music they enjoyed, chips and candies. Xavier’s stomach feels unsettled. He isn’t even sure who is paying for their meal here, so he feels even more nervous about the burger he’d ordered. Maybe he shouldn’t have.

“Thrilled, really, mate. Bells and whistles. Cheers.” He leans forward to clink his mug harshly against Xavier’s soda and then drains the rest of the coffee.

“You ever not acting like a stuck up asshole?” Xavier hisses, arms crossing over the table. He immediately takes up too much room and he notices—he can’t not notice—the subtle shift in Benji’s body language. The way he just barely leans back, retracts his arms just slightly. The small attempt to put even more space between them. Xavier’s heart sinks low into his stomach, where it burns the worst.

How much Benji must dislike him, to want even a centimeter extra of space.

“Maybe when you stop lookin’ like a sad abandoned puppy.” Benji’s voice is equally as acidic, but it’s cold toned. Even. Xavier’s lips curl back from his teeth, his eyes narrowed to slits.

“Enunciate,” Xavier draws the word out, making his hand a puppet to speak alongside. “If I have to be around you, talk without marbles so I can understand you.” Benji’s laugh is a surprised, harsh bark.

“’Ave you heard yourself, mate?”

“You—”

“Here we go, boys.”

Darla’s sudden appearance pops the unbelievably hot tension broiling between the two. Xavier practically flings himself backward to give the waitress space to put down the plated food. His heart goes off rhythm in his chest again, battering ram against all of his ribs. He didn’t even notice how sweaty his hands were until he’s rubbing them self consciously across denim clad thighs. The burger looks undeniably good, the kind of food you find at a hidden gem sort of spot.

A plate of fries gets put in front of Benji. He gives Darla a quick mumbled ‘thank you’. Manners, at least for a stranger.

“Y’all let me know if you need anything.” She gives them both a secretive smile and Xavier’s cheeks prickle with heat at the realization that she could probably hear them arguing. Benji seems equally as sour about it, chin tilted down to stare at crispy looking fries. He has dark, heavy brows that pull together the moodiness of his expression and features. His cheekbones are tinted darker with blush, eyes sleepy and annoyed. He is handsome, admittedly. Benji has a defined nose that makes him unique—soft looking facial hair that Xavier imagines would feel nice on the back of his knuckles.

He’s quick about picking up the burger and biting into it. His cheeks continue to burn.

Lark had abandoned him, just like Benji had said. Like a puppy, tossed into this diner with someone who is mostly a stranger. A hostile one, no less. Whatever long conversation he has with the priest outside, in the parking lot, was it worth this amount of awkward tension? Was Xavier being unfair? He bites into the burger with more viciousness and watches Benji’s face turn slowly in further annoyance.

“Don’t you have a coat?”

“What?” Xavier is shocked by the question, mouth half full of burger.

“Whatever,” Benji snaps. He still hasn’t eaten any of his fries. So Xavier leans over, slowly, deliberately. He picks one up and then tosses it into his mouth. He smiles as he does, to further watch Benji’s expression turn. His brows furrow harder, create lines between them. His nose scrunches, his mouth sets in a furious line. Xavier chews harder, feeling strangely victorious in that moment.

Until a booted foot connects with his inner thigh. Xavier’s eyes pop as Benji slouches harder in the booth. He looks wicked and annoyed and pleased to be bothering him. The pressure on his leg widens his knees, the mean touch sends a shiver up and down his spine in a way that crashes across the inside of his skull. He has to clear his throat and take a sip of his soda before he can come up with something nasty or clever or some action to make Benji feel just as—actually, Benji had probably intended for the action to make him feel angry but instead of anger, some sort of hunger sits inside him. Nothing to do with food.

Fuck you sits hot and ready behind his teeth after the carbonation of his drink, until Tino is suddenly sweeping into the side of the booth next to him. Xavier makes a noise that is not at all intentional, slaps a napkin over his mouth and slides even further to the other end of the booth. Benji’s boot knocks against his knee and then swiftly retreats as Lark sits down beside him, looking exhausted.

“Elbows off the table,” Tino chastises in a good natured voice, putting his hat down in front of him. He checks a watch on his wrist, handsome face pulled into a bit of a concerned expression. Lark had told Xavier that he would be debating on continuing the drive home or stopping to get a motel. Xavier didn’t have money for a room, so he was praying they kept driving.

“Yes, sir,” he mumbles in a quiet, respectful voice as he tucks his elbows off and to his side. His eyes flicker to Benji, whose mouth is now set in a deeply satisfied grin. The anger returns in a hot current, straight from his lower stomach and up his sternum, so Xavier kicks his own leg forward. Lets his dirty military boot sit directly next to Benji. He taps his thigh once, twice until a hand snatches around his ankle and shoves it further.

“Are you guys playing footsie under the table?” Lark asks in an incredulously entertained voice, so loud that it feels like it echoes the entire silent diner. Xavier hears Darla laughing somewhere and he immediately removes his foot. It lands on the linoleum floor with a loud smacking sound. Benji’s face turns an even darker shade of red, something that is so gorgeous looking under the harsh white light of the midnight diner. He gently slides the fries toward Lark, who looks instantly intrigued.

Xavier’s burger remains half finished.

—

Outside, there is a bit of a fuss at the van Benji and Tino are driving. Lark jumps in place, his breath fogging outside his mouth. Xavier stands beside him, not necessarily touched by the cold just yet. His plaid shirt is long sleeved, but not the length he usually likes, to tuck over his scarred knuckles. Even though there is a hole in the knee of his jeans, he doesn’t feel the bite of the wind just yet. But he does want to get back into the car. He wants it to just be him and Lark again, so he feels safe once more.

The van door closes with a loud sound, not necessarily a slam but close enough. Tino is grinning when he approaches them—it’s something knowing and soft. Xavier likes Tino. He liked him before he even met him, just from the stories Lark had told alone, but now he really likes Tino. Priests were a comfort for a Catholic, even if that faith was mostly fractured these days.

“Here,” the older man says, holding something out for Xavier.

“Uh,” he replies thoughtlessly as he takes the jacket. It’s a worn in, black denim. When he takes it, Xavier resists putting it under his nose, because he’s curious. His mother had always chastised him for leading life with his nose. There is the faintest tang of nicotine and something else, though, even just holding it. The scent is so oddly familiar. “Thanks—I’m sorry, Tino. I can—I’ll get my own stuff when we—”

“Pah!” He waves a gloved hand, laughing. “Benji never wears that one anymore, don’t worry.” Xavier’s fingers curl harder into the jacket. His eyes slide over Tino’s shoulder and to the van, but it’s too dark to see inside. The floodlight flickers, nearly going out once more, to shroud them all in the night.

“Aw,” Lark wraps an arm around Xavier’s waist, tugging them together. “What the fuck? I’m glad you guys are getting along. I told you Benji is a good guy.” Tino’s face turns to a bemused expression as he and Xavier look at each other once more (like they share a secret in that moment, that will be figured out soon down the road), then he’s waving and turning back to the van.

Xavier doesn’t put the jacket on, but…when he falls asleep on the last leg of the car ride, it’s squished between his cheek and the car window like a pillow.

[chuncao]

Love potion - Final

Joongdok Fantasy AU - Witch kdj/knight yjh

Based on the novel - “Hello, I Am a Witch, and My Crush Wants Me to Make a Love Potion!”

“…the princess and her knight marry each other and they live happily ever after.” 

His mother closed the book and placed it beside her. Kim Dokja was staying in bed, his small head peeking out of the blanket. 

“Mommy, what about the witch?” 

He looked at her with his big round eyes. 

“Mommy doesn’t know, Dokja-ah.” 

She smiled gently at him. Kim Dokja couldn’t remember the details on her face, but he was certain that his mother had a very beautiful smile. But that smile somehow always carried a hint of eternal sadness. 

“Why couldn’t the witch be happy like the princess and the knight?”

“I think she deserves it too!” 

Kim Dokja’s little mind couldn’t quite understand why the witch had to be the bad person. His mother was a witch too, but she was kinder than anyone he had ever met. And her dumplings were delicious too! 

“Dokja-ah.” 

“A witch can never be happy.” 

— 

Kim Dokja had never cared whether he could be happy in life or not. Just being able to survive was a blessing to him, so happiness was a luxury that he could never dream of. He was content with living a life of seclusion, being away from the privy eyes of other people. When the time came, he would gladly become one with the Earth and finally reunite with his mother in heaven. That’s what he had always been thinking up until a certain man crashed into his life. 

For the first time in years, Kim Dokja had a taste of what happiness was like. The part that he had long forgotten was uncovered, drowning him in the sensation of tenderness. It was sweet, addicting, and unforgettable. It almost made him believe that even a witch like him could deserve to be happy. 

But the gods wouldn’t be themselves if they weren’t acting cruel enough. In just a few seconds, Kim Dokja fell straight to hell from heaven. The same hell that had been bearable up until

now suddenly felt insufferable. Now that the witch had had a taste of happiness, he couldn’t go back to tasting loneliness. Nothing was crueler than waking up from a sweet dream just to face the looming harsh reality. And the man standing in front of Kim Dokja was the epitome of his sweetest dream. 

“Kim Dokja.” 

The knight called him with that deep voice of his. 

The tears on his face immediately vanished from his face as if it had never been there. He unconsciously covered his face with the hood, lowering his head in an attempt to avoid that burning gaze. 

“Dear customer, we are closed for the day.” 

He tried his best to keep his voice from trembling. 

Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t say anything. Instead, he kneeled down to where Kim Dokja was sitting, not minding whether his white uniform could get dirty or not. 

“Kim Dokja, look at me.”

“Please.”

His voice was unbelievably bare. It was the first time Kim Dokja had ever heard such raw emotions coming from a person. Hence, he couldn’t help but look up at the man. The moment he laid his eyes on that masterfully carved face, he felt his breath hitched. It was as if he was transported back to that day 5 years ago, the day when he fell in love at first sight with the man. The man who helped him fend off the angry locals despite knowing that he was a witch. The man who cared for his safety even if they were just strangers at that time. The man who held his hands tightly as they ran across the streets. 

“First of all, I would like to apologize for making you feel comfortable the past few weeks. I was not aware that my actions could cause you such distress. I sincerely apologize and I hope that you could forgive me.” 

The man stared straight into his eyes. No. He was wrong. Those few weeks were the happiest days that he had felt in a while. Every day, he kept looking forward to the next day while in the past, he had never paid any mind to the future. If someone had to apologize, it should be him. He needed to apologize to Yoo Joonghyuk for taking away his precious remaining time with Princess Lee Seolhwa. 

“N-no I…” 

Kim Dokja tried to open his mouth but nothing came out of it. In the meantime, the knight continued with his words. 

“Secondly, I… I have never been good with people. At one point, I even loathed the idea of having to stay by someone’s side for the rest of my life. But the day I started talking to you, I realized that accompanying someone else might not sound that bad after all.” 

Yoo Joonghyuk paused for a while as if looking for words to say. 

“The time we spent together, I enjoyed it a lot. On days when we didn’t meet, I felt like something inside me was missing. Days went by and before I knew it, I started seeing your silhouette everywhere I went.” 

He then gently grabbed one of Kim Dokja’s hands before placing a small kiss on it. Just like how a knight would greet his dear princess. 

“I know I’m lacking in many aspects, but could you give me the chance to be the one staying by your side?”

At first, Kim Dokja couldn’t understand what he meant by that. He just sat there, staring into the eyes of a sincere-looking Yoo Joonghyuk. But then, the realization started to dawn upon him and he laughed out loud. Just like how a true witch would. 

“Oh dear customer, I didn’t know that you could possess such a sense of humor.” 

He laughed, but his inside was bleeding. 

“Kim Dokja-“ 

“How could a prestigious knight like you have an eye for someone like me? A mere witch that couldn’t afford his own clothes? A pitiful man who lived alone by himself? Dear customer, you better be off with a pretty princess by your side.” 

Kim Dokja didn’t even know what he was saying. Maybe he had gone mad from the loneliness that had been invading his heart from the day his mother left him all by himself in this cruel world. 

“After all, a witch can never be happy.” 

That last part, he muttered to himself. If he didn’t repeat it in his head over and over again, he might get swept by the delusion of Yoo Joonghyuk’s words. 

“Kim Dokja, I don’t care whether you are a witch or not. All I know is that my heart desires you and I want to be the one that makes you smile for the rest of your life.” 

Yoo Joonghyuk brought the witch’s hand to where his heart was and Kim Dokja could feel it beating loudly just from the quaint touch. Does this man… really desire him? 

“Even if I’m ugly?“

“Your eyes are even more beautiful than the brightest constellations.” 

“Even if I’m foul?” 

“How could I hate the smell of blooming violets that always linger on you? 

“Even if I’m vicious?” 

“You can’t even kill an insect, don’t you remember?” 

“Even if I’m… a witch?” 

At that question, Yoo Joonghyuk stared straight into his eyes. Darkness of the abyss met radiance of the constellations and they melted together, creating a sight that could be on par with the shining galaxy. 

“I love you because you are a witch.” 

Before he knew it, tears started streaming down his face. Just like the day when they first ate together, Yoo Joonghyuk gently wiped the tears off his face with his handkerchief. Ah, he really is a crybaby in front of the knight, right? 

They sat on the ground as the time seemed to have gone still. No one was there and the only witnesses to the start of their stories were the quiet forest and the tranquil lake. 

— 

“Papa, can you tell me a story please?” 

Yoo Joonghyuk was about to blow the candles off when his daughter called for him. Knowing full well that the girl wouldn’t go to sleep unless someone read her a storybook, he sat down by her bed and asked her: 

“Then do you want me to tell you to the story of the princess and the knight?” 

It was one of the most common fairy tales in the kingdom where the princess and the knight fought together to defeat the evil witch. He learned the story by heart as his mother also used to tell it to him over and over again. 

“Nope, I hate it.” 

Biyoo scrunched her nose. Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t help but be reminded of the face that a certain someone would make when tomatoes were in his dish. Really, they were too cute to be true. 

“Why?” 

He was rather curious to know the reasons. After all, nearly everyone in the kingdom grew up with this story by their side.

“Because only the princess and the knight get to be happy. I want the witch to be happy too!” 

She pouted, her little eyes filled with feelings of dissatisfaction. Those sparkling eyes that shine brighter than the brightest constellation in the sky were just as lovely as how his beloved’s were. 

“Hm, I would tell you about the story of a knight and a witch then.” 

“Once upon a time, in a kingdom far away, there lives a lonely witch that loves to read more than anyone else. One day, a knight suddenly appeared and asked him to make a love potion…” 

Yoo Joonghyuk started to tell Biyoo a story that only two people in this world were familiar with. A story of a lonely witch and his dear knight. 

— 

By the time the story ended, Biyoo had fallen sound asleep. Yoo Joonghyuk gently tucked his daughter in, watching a small smile blooming on her face. He was too absorbed in observing his daughter that he didn’t notice a figure standing by the door. 

“Joonghyuk-ah, what took you so long?” 

Kim Dokja called out to him in a sleepy voice. Only then did Yoo Joonghyuk realize how late it was. The other man must have woken up from his sleep to find out that his husband hadn’t returned to their bed.

“Biyoo asked me to tell her a story. Sorry for leaving you alone.” 

He pulled Kim Dokja into an embrace, placing a small kiss on his lips. 

“Hmm, it’s alright. But what kind of story did you tell her?” 

The witch asked as he rested his head on the knight’s shoulder. 

“Nothing much. Just a fairy tale.”

“The one with the princess and the knight? My mother used to tell it to me all of the time.” 

A hint of nostalgia could be heard in his voice. Up until now, Kim Dokja hadn’t told Yoo Joonghyuk much about his mother. All the knight knew was that the man lost his mother at a young age and she was a witch just like him. 

“No, I told her a different one.” 

“Which one?” 

“The one with the knight and the witch.” 

Kim Dokja stayed still for a while before starting to laugh. He gazed up at his idiot of a husband with a sweet smile. 

“Oh god, did you just tell her OUR stories? What did you even tell her then?”

“Just how much of an idiot you are and how I’m a bigger idiot for falling for you.”

The knight smirked as he saw a blush creeping up his partner’s gorgeous face. It was always easy to turn the man into a blushing mess of boiling squid. 

“Geez… you and your cheesiness…  why did I even marry you in the first place…” 

The other man grumbled but the words carried no weight. Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t help but admire the cute pout currently on the witch’s face. 

“Anyway let’s go to bed. We have to get up early for Biyoo’s entrance ceremony tomorrow- WOAH?” 

With a swift scoop, Yoo Joonghyuk picked his witch up, and princess carried him to their bedroom. Kim Dokja, now used to his husband’s tactics, just slightly protested before quietly resting his head by the man’s chest.

“So a witch can also be happy.” He thought to himself. 

The witch and his knight lived happily ever after. 

[arogai88]

3/23/23: Post #1

Brittany Robinson: An Underrated Gem

Brittany Robinson is an indie animator on YouTube.

I discovered her channel when I was 15 years old, I am 19 now and still watch her to this day.

I had even made my own playlist with her content.

Check it out! >> Favorites from Brittany Robinson

I really like how she takes a game that she really, really likes and turns it into a series.

Here's are some of the things she created:

The Pink Corruption — A Just Shapes and Beats Fanseries

A blue quadrilateral named Cube is chosen to be the fourth caretaker of the Tree of Life to raise a new hero. But things go wrong when a pink monster breaks free from being sealed and is spreading its virus throughout Paradise. Now, it's up to Cube, his hero Cyan, and the other caretakers and heroes to stop Dub and save Paradise.

This is where it all started and I loved every minute of it!

I watched this when the first two episodes came out. At the time, my brother had introduced me to the game from Merg, a gaming youtuber, and I liked it. I kept seeing the videos pop up in my recommended list, eventually, I finally watched them and that leads up to now.

There is a season 2 on the way and I am so excited to see what happens next! (EDIT 11/16/24: Season 2 is released with 3 episodes as of now.) If you are a JSaB fan, I highly recommend you watch this. You won't regret it.

Forbidden Song — A Wandersong Fanseries

Four years after the events from the game, Kiwi, Miriam and Aubrey go through many scenarios while trying to stop a mysterious being from summoning monsters around the world with a forbidden song.

This was series was pretty cool as well. But after I played the game for myself, I had a much better view on what this series was about. It's a pretty underrated game as well, so why not give it a play. It's really good!

Cookie World — A Cookie Run: Kingdom Fanseries

This series takes place as an AU(Alternate Universe). Gingerbrave, his friends and the ancients defeated Dark Enchantress Cookie and revived White Lilly Cookie. However, a mysterious threat is now lurking around Earthbread and its up to them to stop it.

This was absolutely incredible! I had seen videos of CRK and thought of Brittany Robinson, because it seemed like something she would play. I had actually posted a comment a while back, she already got word of it from a friend.

The shorts were awesome as well. My favorite was The Curse of Silhouette Cookie.

I can't play Cookie Run: Kingdom, unfortunately. My tablet was not built to run it. :(

She has more projects in the works currently:

Bunnie: Crystals of Light — Original Series

The Hue Six (title in progress) — Original Series (EDIT 11/16/24: This series has been finalized as The Heroic Six and has now been released.)

Zirtix — Original Series

Patapon: The Rise of Tengaiata — A Patapon Fanseries

The Blind Knight — A Shovel Knight Fanseries

The Great Ascendence — A Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask Fanseries

I recommend you go check her out! She deserves more support, because she's unlike any other animator I've seen.

[black-but-mildly-sunny]

You can’t run from a loaded gun

Jason Todd short fic -- tragic dive into Lazarus Pit

AU to the end of Gotham Knights (VERY MINOR SPOILERS(??) if you haven’t finished the game..so..)

Warning: Temporary death(s), minor cursing, violence, weapons, and torture

----

Legs burned like never before. Honestly, he wasn’t a huge runner, but this was becoming over the top, he would bet everything that Dick and Tim would be struggling as well (and the sprained ankle and deep gash in the legs didn’t help)

Run. Don't stop. Don't look back. Forward. 

He grunted as he heard the scratching as the bastard things, undead supporters? citizens? Creatures form the green lagoon? came closer and closer. The underground tunnels became less with turns and straightened out to and opening.

Jason grunted as the green luminescent light caught his eyes. He stopped himself fast, for the first time in what felt like hours, and stared in awestruck horror as he came nearly face to face with one the top things that ruined his life.

Why’d you stop? This was your fault. You should have stayed dead. Buried in the Earth.

He pivoted when he heard the familiar, sadly, sound of the talons behind him but still he didn’t turn. Taking in everything he knew he was out of bullets - guns empty. No knives and no swords. He felt cold and registered that his helmet was beyond useful, exposing his face to the elements. 

No. He didn’t turn until he heard that voice. Her. It was all a lie to lure him here. Was Bruce even dead, was he just buried out in that grave? 

Disgusting. Scars and stupidity. Of course, it was a trick. She just wants her soldier back. 

“He said you wouldn’t in this alone, and he was right. They in your ear telling you to fight. But you can’t.” He heard a click. It was distant but only a few feet behind him. “It calls to you. Like an old friend. Don’t worry, you won’t be separate for long.”

He turned and felt a warm sting pulse through him. He looked at her. She was in front of him. He was just feet above one of the pools. He was under a part of Gotham. How did they build this with no one noticing? Is Bruce alive? Why is he yelling in my ear, telling me not to die? 

I don’t want to die again. You will, and you’ll live again

Falling isn’t that long. He doesn’t understand why people say it feels like hours when really, it’s rarely over a few seconds to minutes. 

Hitting the green liquid was warm. He was warm finally. It was burning and so hot. He kept hearing words screaming in his ear, his head. A voice was talking. Soothing yet cryptic, it made his skin crawl. 

He was dead, but not anymore. This was the quickest. In and drowning in in the mystical pool. He couldn’t climb out. Wait he died right? He did die. The voices were just there. The hum was always there.  

......

Quiet. Too quiet. He roared out of the depths. Coughing up goo and clawing at his face. Eyes and lungs burned, but his ears were on fire. It was too quiet. He had to make noise. He heard a click again and gazed up. 

There she was dressed regal in white, and all the power was in her hands. He was going to help her rebuild and no one was going to end this kingdom just yet. 

“My dear Todd. The line of ‘al Ghul is not over yet. I haven’t even unveiled the final card yet. Just wait. And gain power. The family won’t even recognize you.”

Talia. Then bang. 

Did you miss me? I know you did. I whispered to you all this time. I gave you abilities, better than anyone in your family. Yet you reject me. 

Now we’re together again. We’ll burn the world to the ground and raise hell. Those Owls, Talons? They are nothing.

Batman, Bruce? Weak. Nightwing, Dick? Pathetic. Robin, Tim? Useless. Batgirl, Barbara? Redundant. 

Only one voice. The only one he needed. The one that as here and not dead.

Death and anger is all you need, Jason Todd. Red Hood.

[halonicheart]

I adore Royal aus as much as the next person… I just can’t picture one for any of my OCs thus far. That could change though. Royalty aus are so fun.

I guess it mainly applies to Lovette cause I couldn’t picture her as a princess at all. Just can’t make it work in my head. So any wolchefant knight-royalty aus I live vicariously through others.

I did think of one AU though, where Royal Knight Haurchefant falls in love with a mournful spirit, a banshee. Banshee’s in modern day are misconstrued to be evil harbingers of death when originally they were far from. Where the kingdom feared this wailing women, Haurchefant found her cries hauntingly beautiful. He was warned never to find her. For countless nights he would listen for her cries with a heavy heart, aching so viscerally to cry out back to her, to comfort her…

How does one comfort a spirit? He wasn’t sure but he would damn well try even if it made him a fool. When he finally had enough of this spirit crying alone, Haurchefant ventured out into the woods in the dead of night. There, he finds a ghostly pale woman with dark flowing hair, her white dress soaked and tears streaming down her face. ‘How cruel…’ He thinks. ‘To be cursed to mourn alone..’

The woman does not speak, she can only stare in shock as this man willingly approaches her with not an ounce of fear. The spirit is even more shocked to find this strange man reaching to swipe her seemingly never ending tears. Often did her wails scare away others, it mattered not to her before, but he was different. He sought her out despite her shrieks of pain. He looked at her with nothing but kindness. For the first in a longest time, or even the first ever at all, she smiles as she grabs the hand still caressing her wet cheek.

Haurchefant is left breathless. He grew up on tales of her kind, not a single one came close. They told him they were vengeful specters, the kind that would snatch you into the grave upon eye contact, a being whose very scream could still your heart. She was none of that nonsense, quite the opposite. Just beneath her deceivingly cold surface was something warm. “Oh my… what a beautiful smile you have, my lady!”

Never before did he think a banshee could blush, her cheeks painted the palest of pinks. Haurchefant was enamored by the sight. The Knight needed, yearned to know her name. To whom should he call out for when she cries alone… and so he asks. “What do I call you…? What is your name, dear lady…” He worried she was incapable of speech due to what she was. Haurchefant was pleasantly surprised to find that she could.

In a hushed voice she answers simply “Lovette.” -and shares nothing more.

“Lovette! A most splendid name… tell me Lovette… what ails you? Why do you wail and mourn? Whom do you mourn?”

That she cannot answer. Forces beyond even her comprehension prevents her from spilling the truth. That is why she can only scream in hopes of someone understand. Even if she wanted, she would not tell this kind knight who made her feel more than just some wretched thing, that reason she mourns was for his very own coming death.

It was cruel of fate to bring him to her, even crueler she can not stop what is to come, most cruel of all… the heart Lovette thought she lost began to beat again for a man time will snatch away.

[sweetearthandnorthernsky]

wraith au go BRRR so while i struggle with the middle bits, have an ending!

warning: sae is not nice here! mentions of blood & stuff but i don't think it's toooo graphic, mostly just glossed over and implied. also obligatory: [I Am Sorry About Imrahil]

a message comes to you in your halls in dol moralph, brought by the ravens gothmog so fancies. you take the parchment tied to its leg, and read it.

your swans hiss and snap their beaks at the little thing, though the raven caws loudly back at them, batting its wings.  

you snap a word - harsh and dark - and your swans go silent.  

the raven, with nothing to provoke it, falls silent as well. 

it carries a summons from gothmog, to come to minas tharn, where he rules now given leave from your lord, though the message says not why. 

you scowl at the paper that feels too light in your hands, and attach a response of your own to the raven's leg and send it back. you are not fond of being bidden hither and thither by gothmog, not when you have matters to attend here. 

you glide to the windows in the great hall to survey the progress your knights have made in routing out your foes in the city, carefully stepping around the broken mirrors. 

imrahil and his family are long gone by now, of course, that was one of the first things you took care of when you came to the city. 

(it was an… undesirably messy affair, and even now, bits of your armor are still stained red, though most had been scrubbed from your robes.)

the prince fought well, you had to admit, but in the end, he’d fallen like all the others will. 

now you’ve turned your gaze to the others who would oppose the might of the lord of the rings, who would oppose you. 

that will be their last mistake.

~~~

you realize the purpose that gothmog had summoned you to the city when the upstart king – alongside his kin – are dragged into the citadel, stumbling as they try to remain upright.

most do not succeed and you can only assume that gothmog is finally done having his fun with them. 

(you recognize his handiwork very, very well by now after all.)

they are bruised and bloodied and much worse for the wear, and you can almost taste the fear streaming off them or touch the horror that shines in their eyes, try as they might to hide it.

then finally, gothmog finishes his speech – something about treachery, but then you aren’t really listening (you know gothmog only ordered you here to display his power and warn you not to cross him) – and the executioners step forward. 

you do not look away as the swords fall, nor as red stains the white stones beneath them, slowly seeping out towards where you and gothmog stand to stain the hem of your robes as one by one, they fall.

(you can muster up nothing but a blank distaste – after all, your servants only just gotten blood out of your robes, and that they would need to be cleaned so soon... displeases you.)

and then the king and his kin are no more.

you might have cared, once.

[enarmor]

//post-ruina/pre-limbus au; will contain sensitive material; starter for @beholdenning

"Denning! Cliff-faced as usual, I see!"

The backstreets are hardly a kind of place for friendly reunions, yet here Sain is, forever playing the fool. He greets the Index member with a gentle wave of his hand, eyes flicking to his fingers when he realizes the irony in such a gesture. There's a pun to be made there, for sure. But they're working on borrowed time; he needs to be selective with what he horses around about. Stepping forward, he doesn't stop until they are a breath away.

His grin is unbecoming of the City. Rarer and almost more horrifying than a freshly mutilated corpse.

"What, no smile? Not even for me--your long-time friend?" Years ago they would smile at one another. It helped them get through the cold nights beneath a backstreet's stars; positivity was a lifeline, and Sain could be depended on to keep his spirit. He always dreamed of delivering satisfaction with sunshine, of being the daring hero to rush in and save a damsel in distress. He read about that sort of thing, in tattered books dumped into gutters, in the centuries-old tales he consumed at a formative point in his youth. Believing that he'd some day be like the dashing young men in his stories gave him hope, breathing warm life into an otherwise dismal state of affairs.

They've both come a long way since then.

Sain stands not in bruised rags or dirty, ripped pants. He has on his back a green trench-coat, with gold embroideries near the bottom and clinging to his sleeve--expensive, but a statement of renown. He always thought the way its collar came up just below his ear was like the kind of armor knights in his fairy-tales would wear. He makes sure to wash it first. Underneath lies a stock-and-standard black tuxedo jacket--fish-lapel--with a white dress shirt and verdant tie peeking through. This is the uniform of a Fixer, no doubt the dream he would have chased as a child. When he drives his lance into the back of some scoundrel--when blood stains that precious black suit--his conviction screams at him: he's fighting not for himself, but love and justice. His dress pants and classy shoes are of similar grade to his matching top, with the caveat of a small insignia stitched onto his left pocket. It's the symbol of Licaen's Office: a thorned rose, its petals blood-red and stem pus-brown.

"My association is working with the Index, you know," he continues, refusing to miss a beat as he begins to pace around the other. A finger waggles in the air below his chin. Silly and trivial; quick to keep the horrors at bay. "We fixers are just like the knights of yore. We swoop in to save the day, delivering fair maidens from the clutches of harm!"

His heel digs a pit into the ground as he stops. Turning to Denning, Sain draws an imaginary arc with his hands. They enter the world of theatre, with the Lover cast as its star, "Picture it now: Sain, the Green Lance. Once this job goes off without a hitch, you can expect to see a lot more of me again..." And at that notion, he grows somewhat quiet. The distance between them... Is it off-putting? Or something that was meant to be? The fixer can't decide if he should press further or back away, or if the excitement in his words prior is really misplaced or not. He lightens the mood with a quip:

"Plus, my director says she'll finally take me out to lunch when I get back. Can't go botching this, now can I?"

Lance in hand, he turns to the sorry state of the building before them. Now is Denning's cue to speak of their personal life, if they wish. Sain knows them not to be a talker, but things change with time, or perhaps there would be so much to say that they'd open up.

Whatever the case may be, he allows his gaze to drift inside. What he's looking at isn't exactly a front-door. It's more like the rubble-remains of an archaic instrument shop--a once beating heart in the Streets of Music. District 9 hadn't always been this way. Sain has gossiped about The Pianist, as anyone has, and he knows that affluence was its curse. Still, he didn't expect the destruction to be so palpable up close. He can practically experience the past if he closes his eyes. Hearing that eerie tune... Watching staccato after staccato decimate countless buildings and livelihoods and innocent women--He shudders. There may be places where even the sun can't shine.

But he has a job to do. He's got to bury his fears beneath a mountain of sweet nothings.

✢⁎. snippy scissors