#i wrote this at midnight whoops

[herbgerblin]

Hi Herb!! I was wondering if you had any advice on opening commissions? I enjoy your art immensely and you were one of the first people I thought of to ask since I know you do commissions on occasion

Sorry if this is totally weird, I am just at a complete loss! Thanks for taking the time to read this!

These are things I wish I had figured out when I started selling art commissions. Also, feel free to use my current commission form to pattern your own. (also if anyone >.> wants to commission me, I am open <.<)

Step 1: Write a Terms of Service

Good terms of service will manage the expectations of your clients, establish a level of professionalism, and protect you if someone tries to argue something already made clear in writing. You can keep your ToS really simple, but it's good practice to include the following:

What kind of art you will/won't do (I don't do nfts)

Estimated duration of the project (2-4 weeks is my M.O.)

Number of revisions (more than 3, I add a fee)

When and how often you will update the client

Rights that you retain as an artist/permit to the client

Note: This mainly applies to personal/non-commercial work. If you are approached to make art for a game/magazine/website, do a ton more research. You will need to write out a contract that makes things Boringly Clear, and you will want to retain all of your rights as an artist.

Step 2: PRICES (scream)

Everyone starts out underselling. I'm underselling (I'm trying to get better.) Just go at your own pace. Look at what other artists are offering, but don't just look at the quality of their work. Think about your turnaround time, your style, and your target audience. If you are a fast worker or very detailed, that's worth a pay bump. Niche communities will pay solid money for artists to cater to them. So for example, if you draw fetish art, you have more room to charge higher.

ALWAYS GET PAYMENT UP FRONT. You can offer half upfront and half upon completion. If it's a big or long-term project, it's okay to go 30/70. BUT NEVER START WORK WITHOUT SOME SORT OF COMPENSATION. I just had a client that has not paid me the 2nd half and they are blacklisted. This rarely happens but it does happen.

Once you think you've got a price chart you feel comfortable with, add $20. Do it, even if it feels wrong. You may have to pay transaction fees, or the work (often) takes longer than expected. It'll be a small mercy to yourself to account for these things. Raise your prices a little bit each year because you are growing in experience and inflation (scream) is a thing that affects the arts too.

Step 3: INTEGRATE AND AUTOMATE

I wish I had done this step years ago, but I slacked off, and therefore staying organized was a nightmare. The less "business" stuff you have to do manually, the more time you can focus on "creative" stuff.

Make a google form. Make it as easy for the client to input information as possible. In the settings, set it so that responses will go to an excel file. The questions you ask will be the titles of the fields, so keep them short and easy to read. Reference image attachments will save to google drive.

You can set it up so that you will get an email whenever you get a new response (you might want to make a separate email account specifically for commissions.) Prewrite confirmation responses and save them as templates so that you're not writing the same email to clients over and over again.

Set reminders for responding to clients, requesting payment, and finishing work. This can be through google calender or some other app. You are responsible for facilitating communication. Even if the email is just, "Hey, just letting you know the work is still in progress, I will send you a wip in 1-2 days." Client assurance is high priority.

I use paypal invoice for payments. It means I have to pay a transaction fee, but I factor that into my prices. It also ensures that I have clear documentation for orders, I can send reminders easily if I haven't been paid, and it just looks more professional overall. You can use whatever service feels most comfortable, just make sure you practice good bookkeeping (*stares at my taxes in horror*)

Step 4: Mockups and Descriptions

Provide examples of the work that you are going to. Make a mockup of busts/half body/full body, etc. Don't include anything you don't intend to actually produce.

Make sure that your form includes room to answer EVERY question about the commission that you might have. This will reduce the amount of back and forth you need to have with your client. You want to be able to get that request, confirm it, send that invoice, and jump on it ASAP.

Step 5: Start small, be honest, be firm

If you haven't done commissions before, have a limited number of slots available. Take break time after you've finished a certain amount. Don't languish over an art piece. At some point, it will be as done as it can be. Send it to the client, and keep rolling.

If you feel like you are getting overwhelmed, tell your client. It's bad practice to go on hiatus and not notify them while they're waiting on an update. If you genuinely forget to touch base with them, do so as soon as possible. Apologize, then finish the work as soon as you can. Refund if you think that's the most polite route, but completing the task is usually more appreciated.

Be cordial, but firm. People will try to bully you over little things, but don't give in. Ignore folks who say your prices are too high. Make it clear that if they ask for more than what is agreed, you will charge a fee. If you feel like a request is sketchy, get a second opinion.

obligatory paypal link: help me pay kravitz jr's vet bills

[gayghostrights]

my head’s caught up and tangled in those dreams

summary:

Arthur says John's name in his sleep, and John tries to make sense of it.

You can read it here

[the-dye-stained-socialite]

Final Chapter!!!!

just in time for national butch day babyyyyyyy!!!!!

Ship: Elias Leroux/Aurora Winn. One Sided Captivating Princess/Aurora Winn

Word count: 10,851

a resolution, a promise of further fun, and rory finally gets fed

(rory belongs as always to @thedeafprophet who was a big help with dialogue for this!!!)

[the-body-remembers]

Yesterday I went to the special screening of 'Who Am I?' and I thought I'd share the things I thought were interesting or funny or sad:

first of all, jantje wasn’t there due to still being sick, but i think it was still amazing to listen to bo

the interviewer asked bo how they manage to separate personal and work life and bo said that they tried that, but they both live for their work so the only time they don't talk about it are "every evening when we go to bed and every morning when we wake up"

bo said that their daughter is a great storyteller and they often pitch her an idea for a new episode/show/storyline and see what she comes up with

then they talked about the movie and bo said that he and jantje didn't know anything about the hacker world and the darknet (they were some dark puns) and they had a week time to inform themselves and come up with an idea for it (and they successfully did)

at one point a phone in the audience rang and bo was like: "mum?"

bo also talked about that the movie is for sure set in the hacker world of berlin, but the deeper question to it is identity and they didn't want to create a story solely based on hacking and instead wrote one about identity set in the hacker world

he joked about that the reason so many people came to the press tour of who am i? was because of fack ju goethe and elyas m'barek and that there weren't a 1000 people because of the movie

he talked about a meeting he and jantje had with an nbd agent in a coffee shop, which he thought was really enlightening for the story and that he told them so much information, which one wouldn't expect from an agent

they once shot a scene in front of the nbd illegally and just jumped out of a van and quickly shot it

the interviewer then asked about 1899 and the cancelation and bo said that it was really frustrating and absolutely wasn't in their plans and the news were just as shocking to them as they were to us.

personally i think it was really hard for him to talk about it (understandably) and you could still hear it in his voice that it was something that is still hurting them (again, understandable)

he continued to talk about "something is killing the children". they are really excited for it because they love the comic and are intrigued to work with an american production.

the contract for it was signed back in november 2022, before the cancelation news broke. the plan was 1899 s2, then something is killing the children, then 1899 s3. obviously that isn't happening like this anymore, which they are really saddened by.

bo also talked about the change in netflix and the algorithms. 1899 obviously had very good receptions and a high number of views, but he said even that can sometimes not surpass the algorithms.

he said that in the end the decision is with netflix and they don't know all the reasons why it was canceled and it sounded like it was a total surprise to them as well, because, as they have often stated, they always said that 1899 was supposed to have 3 seasons

the movie was amazing. i went into it without any expectations and me and my best friend were completely blown away by it. the plottwists were top notch and i was still recovering from the first when the second hit and wow i truly have no words how genius this movie was

i wish i could have told that bo, because it was really fucking amazing, but he went home after the interview. however, i didn't go there with the expectation to talk to him (or jantje) and i was just so happy to hear him talk and see who am i? it was truly an amazing evening!!

[basingstokemercury]

I think it's pretty cut-and-dry that Julian's Tenor Side is not a deflection mechanism to keep people from seeing his deeper personality.

It's the first side of him we see (I believe it takes a while before his more mature traits start properly coming through, but can't remember exactly when), and seems to be completely genuine/spontaneous as a part of his personality.

(Compare Starbuck in the original Battlestar Galactica, who I believe does intentionally lean into his less admirable traits because he's scared of seriousness/honesty)

I do think, however, that it might be part of the reason people rarely seem to notice when he's in emotional pain. The combination of "always there to help me, Wise Beyond His Years" and "who gave this child a diploma" means that they associate him both with the strength of maturity and the resilience of youth.

It takes some insight to see that the intelligent, loving man who takes joy where he finds it and doesn't fear being seen as childish is neither boyishly uncaring nor an imperturbable rock but a full person with multiple aspects to him, and to be honest I don't know if the other characters always realise that.

The fact that O'Brien is if anything more of a brat when he's in that mood and yet always seems able to talk about his feelings (especially to Julian) is interesting in light of this, I haven't done much analysis on him because he tends to confuse/annoy me but maybe I ought to.

Summary of what I think is going on here:

Julian doesn't hide his emotions on purpose. I think it just rarely occurs to him to bring them up, for whatever reason. It takes an awful lot of pressure before he feels the need to share his mental state with another person, and I can only think of one time (Life Support) that he opens up because someone noticed he was hurting and not because the pain was too great to keep inside.

If I wanted to go psychological rather than "that's just how he is", I'd say that maybe his parents were never that good at reading when he was unhappy, and he just never got into the habit of discussing his own feelings? I don't know if a "darker" explanation is necessarily needed though, it's just a reality that someone really ought to try and do something about.

[just-fandomthings]

so…by all accounts i should v much be asleep rn bc it’s been a day™️ but instead i sorta completed a glimpse of friendship… is it too late to publish the final two chapters?

[indecisivemuch]

Cupids in Converses

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: Valentine's was rolling up. You and Luke played Cupid on Percy and Annabeth. But what if playing matchmakers gave both you guys and your unspoken feelings the nudge that you guys have always needed? (Fluff, friends to lovers, happy ending)

Warning: sort of cliché, but it's Valentines so.

Note: Valentines got me in the mood of writing something rom-com-ish. Let's just assume Luke wears red converses that looks like Maia in the show. Also, I've been incredibly busy so I kinda rushed through this one to post it on time for Valentines.

Word count: 4.1k (whoops)

February has always filled the air with some sort of sugary chemical. Everything seemed sweeter like a pink filter had been put over the world. Some may dislike the upcoming February holiday, but it was perhaps one of your favorite times of the year. 

Why? You were somehow blessed with the skills of getting people together and nudging them just enough to cross the line they needed to. So far, you have managed to help six couples get together. With Valentine’s right around the corner, the urge to play cupid grew to the point it was itching your hands.

“Well, compared to the Chimera on Monday, Medusa on Sunday, could have been a lot worse,” Percy was quickly interrupted by Annabeth. 

“Medusa was Saturday.”

“I thought Sunday?”

“No monsters on Sunday. Monday, you died in a river.” You squint your eyes at the conversation that Percy and Annabeth were having. The familiar bells rang in your head; you could practically hear them roaring at you.

“Right, so Medusa on Saturday…” 

“Woah, guys, what’s this?” Luke interrupted. “When did you turn into an old married couple?” Percy and Annabeth both grew slightly flustered at the Hermes counselor’s words. Muttering a few things here and there, the two kids quickly excused themselves and walked off from you and Luke just to avoid the topic in general. You slowly turned towards Luke and peered up at him.

“Surely…” you spoke cryptically.

“Surely what?”

“Them!” you gestured to the direction that Percy and Annabeth had headed off to. You kicked a small rock with your Converse and watched it tumble away. “Surely we can give a little nudge?” you trailed off, bumping into Luke’s shoulder.

“You’re not seriously gonna play Cupid on them, right?”

“No, I’m not…because we are,” Luke let out a loud breath, hands on his hips as he peered down at you. However, you could see a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. 

“Sweet girl, I adore you, but why not let things run their course?” you hope he did not see the physical reaction over that nickname because, internally, your heart skipped a beat.

“Oh? And you’re telling me those six couples from before would have gotten together without me? You know I’m right about this kind of stuff. I can usually sense it. Besides, it’ll be fun, I promise.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Uhm…you get to spend time with me?” you decided to answer, grinning up at Luke when he gave you a feigned unimpressed look. “Please, besides, you and Percy are close, so it would help a lot. I already have a plan and I need your help for it.”

One look into your eyes, and Luke knew he was doomed. For some reason, you just can make him do anything you ask. Luke could feel the hands on his hips slowly slipping as he looked into your eyes.

“Fine.”

Stage 1: Get Percy to realize his feelings cause he’s blind as hell

It was midnight and everybody else was asleep except for you and Luke. The two of you were in the kitchen, trying to be as quiet as possible.

The two of you were making some fortune cookies for your plan. However, there was a tiny twist to the treat you two were making. You had personally printed out a couple of prompts that you wrote yourself in hopes they would nudge Percy into realizing his feelings. 

“Really?’“Romance is in the air. What you’re looking for is right in front of you’?” Luke read out the small piece of paper that you printed. You pulled the cookies out of the oven when they were ready.

“It’s cliche and sort of obvious, but hey! It’ll work because it’s Percy I’m working with,” you quickly pulled the paper out of his hand to put it in the fortune cookie before folding it into shape and letting it cool down.

“Mhm. He’s gonna realize you’re trying to play cupid.”

“Are we talking about the same person? I doubt Percy would realize. Annabeth would, hence why I’m not trying this on her.”

Luke helped you out with a couple of other spare fortune cookies that you two intended to keep for yourselves.

“Alright, finally done,” you muttered, washing your hands. However, you were caught off guard when Luke dipped his hand in the bag of flour on the counter and smeared some on your cheek. Your mouth hung slightly at this, and you looked up at him challengingly. You wiped your hands with a hand towel, “Oh? Is that how we’re playing it?”

“...No…” Luke sheepishly replied, a grin growing on his face when he saw the look of mischief creeping on your face.

“Game on, Castellan,” with that, you dipped both of your hands in flour and chased after the tall boy, who was sprinting around the counter. You caught up with Luke and compromised by smearing flour onto the back of his shirt first. At your attack, he turned around and smeared some more across your face from your other cheek to the top of your nose. You immediately did it back to him.

“Ok, ok, I surrender,” he coughed in between quiet waves of laughter after you smeared some from his cheek down his neck, marking your last attack.

For a moment, Luke and you stood in silence, but when you two let the state of one another sink in, laughs echoed throughout the room again. Luke was able to stop his laughter first, though he was still wearing a wide grin. He washed the flour off his face and dried it with kitchen tissues as you muttered: “Oh, I wish I had a camera. I could practically blackmail you with that photo.”

“I have no doubt you would have never let me live that down,” while replying, Luke also approached you and started wiping the flour off your nose before moving to your cheeks. Your laughter slowly faded as your cheeks heated at the feeling of his hand on your skin. He was looking at you so tentatively. Callous hands - a reflection of his remarkable title as best swordsman - delicately holding your face as if you were the rarest diamond to exist.

Something about this moment felt so domestic. Luke allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy that this is how it would feel like to be with you and share cute moments like these together. Luke unbeknownstly let out a breath he didn’t know he was keeping in as he made eye contact with you. 

However, the moment was interrupted by another camper who yelped upon seeing you two in the kitchen. The presence of another person caused you two to spring apart. “I’m so sorry, I’ll leave,” the camper muttered, clearly abandoning their plan of stealing food and sweets in the middle of the night. Luke coughed to break the silence.

“So what’s the plan after giving it to Percy?” Luke asked, looking down at the fortune cookies before picking one up and munching on it.

“Hopefully, he’ll finally realize his feelings, and when he does…Percy will come to you, for sure.”

Stage 2: Romantic gesture

You were right, Percy came to Luke for dating advice. As you planned, Luke suggested that Percy make a flower crown for Annabeth. Hence, here the Hermes counselor was - with Percy as he picked out flowers for Annabeth.

"I'm gonna need you to guide me on this 'cause I've never made flower crowns before," Percy muttered as he picked out California Poppins, Annabeth's favorite. Luke grinned at this. He found it interesting how the young boy already knew. "Maybe you could make one for someone special too?" Percy said, his voice somewhat unsure. 

At the young boy's words, Luke froze. The first person that seemed to pop into his mind when Percy said that was you.

"I mean, might as well, right? It's for Valentine's. Maybe you could give it to someone who means a lot to you and makes you happy?" Percy spoke, though there was something instigative about his tone.

Happy. The word bounced in between the walls of Luke's mind. Once again, the first thing that flashed in his head was you. Then, a surge of images came running from memories of you two. He almost could not remember happiness before you. A warm feeling embedded in his chest as he pictured your smile. Just seeing you happy seemed to do it for him, like you could spread happiness to him by just looking at him. You were like the first glimmer of daylight after a cold night. He subconsciously smiled at that thought.

You have always made him feel loved, even though he knew you were probably doing it platonically. However, he would gladly take any form of love that he could receive from you. Every day, waking up and knowing he had you in his life was good enough for him. Maybe he should try giving you more hints. Maybe you'll finally see it. Perhaps Percy was right with the flower crown idea. 

“Uhm, sure,” with that, Luke decided to take some of your favorite flowers into his hand and went to a nearby table, where he started guiding Percy on how to make a flower crown. However, ever so often, his mind would trail to its own thoughts whenever he focused on making this flower crown for you.

Percy watched Luke as the older boy started intensely working on his own flower crown, crafting it with so much care as if it was an artwork intended for a national museum. If Percy didn’t know better, he would think Luke was a perfectionist.

Meanwhile, you were sitting with Annabeth near the ocean where she had previously pushed Percy into the waters, leading to Poseidon claiming him. You asked, “Any plans for Valentine’s Day?” 

“No, you?”

“Nope.”

“Oh?” she replied, though you tilted your head at the tone of her voice. “I’m just surprised,” Annabeth explained as she looked out at the ocean instead of at you. “I mean…I thought you and Luke…”

“Huh?—”

“Well, I mean, you two are together all the time, and there seems to be something going on —”

“What do you mea—”

“It always seems like you two would gravitate to one another. I just assumed you two were together already—”

“We’re…just friends,” you settled on saying, though you could hear your heart beating loudly, seemingly echoing near your chest and neck. Of course, you knew you had feelings for Luke. However, you have always ruled it as a silly little crush.

“...You sure? You sound really unsure,” Annabeth challenged, making you sigh. 

“I mean, he’s really sweet, and nice…”

“Uh-huh”

“And he makes me laugh all the time…”

“That’s good,” Annabeth’s words echoed as you sunk into silence and started reflecting on who Luke was to you. He has always made you feel cared for. Out of everybody at camp, perhaps he was the one you were most comfortable with, never having to be afraid of being yourself. Almost all of your favorite memories at camp included him in them. 

You remember the night you told him about your minor fear of the darkness and how he promised to always protect you in it. In a way, since then, he has become your light. You always felt lit up when he made his way to you. Your eyes are always drawn to him like a moth to its flame. Then, it finally dawned on you how serious your feelings were. You realized how most of the time you seemed to be mindless about the existence of your heart until Luke was around because it was only then that your heart would tug or race to run you breathless. You gulped as your eyes darted around slightly. 

“I mean…maybe…” you started but snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Luke’s voice. And there it was again, the silly familiar tug your heart was doing just from his voice. “Hey…” you greeted Luke and Percy before noticing Percy with a flower crown in his hand. 

“Annabeth, can I speak to you privately?” Annabeth stood up and gestured for Percy to lead the way, presumably somewhere, so the young boy could give her the flower crown and ask her out on Valentine’s Day. You remained seated, still pondering at your feelings and wondering when they had exponentially grown that much. 

“I actually have something for you as well,” you finally looked up at Luke when he said this. You noticed he had his hands behind his back. Something about the way he looked now seemed so shy and timid, which was unlike the outgoing and confident boy you always knew.

Your mouth fell agape when he pulled out a flower crown made of your favorite flower. “Luke…” you said his name and stood up when you saw the item.

However, because your eyes were on his gift, you didn’t notice the way Luke’s breath hitched at the sound of your voice calling out his name. He never thought it was anything special until November two years ago when you said his name while laughing at one of his jokes by the campfire. It was probably a moment you did not remember, but ever since then, he felt so sure that he was named so because the name sounded like it was born just for the sole purpose of being sounded from your lips. 

“I made this for you,” he muttered, though it sounded almost like a whisper. His eyes shifted to both of your Converses instead of at you. Something about this made him so nervous as if he was handing you his heart instead of a simple gift. He almost scowled at himself for acting like a boy in kindergarten, confessing to his crush.

If only Luke was looking at you because you were looking at him and the item in awe. Your cheeks flushed from his gesture. Though, you were somewhat glad he was not looking at you because you were sure one look at you right now would tell Luke exactly everything about your feelings. You were a blushing mess. “Luke, thank you so much. This is beautiful. I can’t believe you made one for me.”

You touched Luke’s hand that was holding the crown, and he almost grew an even deeper shade of red. “Put it on my head,” you instructed, and he obliged just like everything else you would ask. He was sure he must have caught a sickness or something for wanting to follow you this blindly. But you were perhaps the only one with the power to get him to do absolutely anything. Just as the crown touched your hair, you peered up at him, and the sight alone made Luke swallow nervously. 

You looked breathtaking.

And he meant this literally because Luke felt like he stopped breathing for a second. He could not look away. That was until you wrapped your arms around his waist and hugged him. His arms wrapped around your neck almost immediately to return the hug as if they existed to only hold you. 

However, unlike the hundreds of hugs before, this one felt different. It was as if something had shifted and was bound to unfold.

Final Stage: Valentine’s Day

Annabeth had said yes.

You were ecstatic to learn that the young girl had agreed to go on a Valentine’s date with Percy. Even though you didn’t want to intrude, you and Luke decided to just have a peep to see what Percy had planned. You were not planning to stay long. It was just a sort of reward or a way to see your plan grow into fruition. You smiled when you spot the cute picnic date near the shore.

“See, I told you the plan was going to work,” you muttered as you tiptoed up in your converses to peer at the kids through the tall bushes nearby. You almost lost balance and step onto Luke's shoes that were similar to yours, except his was red.

The boy quickly steadied you with his hand on your waist. You muttered a quick thank you before turning back to the kids, trying to ignore the blush that was slowly decorating your cheeks. But you were quickly caught off guard at the sight of Percy and Annabeth pushing a small boat off the shore and hopping on it.

“Uhm…that is not what I expected. Where are they going?” Luke looked over your shoulder when you said that. Your eyes fluttered at his warm breath hitting your neck. 

However, you noticed the two kids looking like they were in trouble and panicking as they quickly started rowing away. You turned your head towards Luke, forgetting he was very close to you. Your voice faltered as you were about to utter your next sentence. Noticing this, Luke turned to you, only causing the two of you to come face to face with little distance in between. You gulped and forced yourself not to glance down at his lips, “Do you think they’re okay? Should we follow them? I mean…what if they’re in trouble?”

Seeing the worried look on your face, Luke frowned. He deeply disliked anything that caused that kind of expression on your face. Hence, he decided to go over to the second boat there and started pushing it towards the water. “Come on,” you hopped onto the small boat with him and started rowing after Percy and Annabeth, hoping to help them from whatever trouble they were seeming to have.

After a few minutes of rowing behind them, you saw Percy and Annabeth rowing into a small tunnel. Luke and you quickly followed in, rowing your boat, only to be engulfed by darkness upon entering the tunnel.

The wind blew much harder in there, causing goosebumps on your arm as your hand gripped your oar tightly. To make matters worse, it was your most hated type of darkness - utter pitch black. Even with your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you could see nothing, not even Luke. 

You were fine with darkness in familiar places like your cabin, where you knew at least there were other campers around and you were safe. You were also mostly fine with darkness where you could see as your eyes adjusted to it. But here, you were in a tunnel you’ve never been in, where there were possibly monsters that could attack you at any moment. 

You were slightly startled by the hand that softly touched yours that, unbeknownst to you, was crushing the wooden oar. You immediately recognize it was Luke’s hand from the warmth and familiar touch. He soothingly ran his thumb across your hand. His actions were proven effective at calming you down when you could feel your grip loosen around the tool.

“Breathe, sweet girl,” his words somehow made you release the breath you were subconsciously holding.

A few seconds later, the lights were turned on. You were met with one of the most beautiful sights you’ve ever seen. Lights were decorating the path throughout the tunnel. There were also plants and trees with extended branches and leaves that softly brushed past the boat Luke and you were on. 

Suddenly, you both heard a tune start playing quietly in the background, almost quiet enough to make you two think you were imagining it:

“There you see her, sitting there across the way.

She don’t got a lot to say, but there’s something about her”

His thumb hasn’t stopped rubbing over your knuckles even though the darkness was no longer casting over the both of you. His eyes were absorbing how you looked at that moment, embracing it. You were absolutely stunning and he was hopelessly infatuated with you. 

“And you don’t know why, but you’re dying to try

You wanna kiss the girl.”

The lyrics made Luke subconsciously lick his lips as he pictured himself kissing you. Gods, he wondered if his heart would even survive doing so and whether anything would ever surpass getting to kiss you. Your eyes flickered to Luke's lips, and he noticed it. He also noticed how your cheeks flushed as you gulped at his actions.

“Luke.”

“Y/N,” you almost melted at the way Luke was saying your name as if it was an honor or privilege to do so. The tone he used was sweeter than any dessert you have ever had. Gods, it was as if your name was a sacred passage he lived by.

“Yes, you want her

Look at her, you know you do”

Indeed he was looking at you, and it felt almost like he was spellbound because he could not take his eyes off you. Right then, you could see it all - he was utterly smitten. He was giving you a soft smile. The lights decorating the tunnel shimmered in his eyes, illuminating just enough to display his pupils and how they almost completely overtook the usual dark brown color that you love. Before you knew it, he was leaning closer to you on the small boat and you mirrored his action.

“Possible she wants you too, there is one way to ask her…”

Just when Luke was inches from your face, he stopped. His eyes longingly stare at your lips like a long-awaited dream that was within his grasp but not quite within his grip yet. You noticed how he took a deep breath as if mustering all the drops of courage he had. His eyes fluttered shut for a second before he opened them again. 

“Can I?” he uttered only two words, but somehow, his voice conveyed enough the yearning coursing through every inch of his body. Luke gulped as he restrained himself from closing the distance and waited for your consent. 

You nodded wordlessly.

“It don’t take a word, not a single word

Go on and kiss the girl.”

Almost instantly, he caressed both sides of your face and sealed the deal.

All the glory Luke has gained throughout the years seemed trivial compared to kissing you. It almost convinced him that everything he had gone through to get here today was worth it. He hummed against your lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer. Kissing you felt like the best gift he had ever gotten in his entire life. Luke knew he was forever screwed from the way it felt. He could not fathom the idea of his lips ever touching anyone else’s. Maybe they were made for you, but his heart and mind do not seem to oppose that idea.

You slowly slid your arms down, allowing your hands to caress his jawline and the sides of his face. However, your hands slightly jolted at the pace of his heartbeat along the side of his neck. It was as if his heart was trying to break out of his body. Your own heart started replicating the same rhythm. It had you flustered that you had such an effect on him. 

Luke broke away from the kiss breathlessly. For a second, he hated the idea of needing air to live because if he could, he would not have stopped showing you how much his lips belonged to you. His forehead leaned against yours while his hands rested on your hips. He looked at you endearingly as if he could not fathom that he just got to kiss you. You smiled at the sight of him.

“I know I’m a tad bit late, but will you be my Valentine?” he sweetly asked. 

“Of course, Luke.” Luke grinned at your answer. He drew you in for another kiss as giggles escaped your lips and echoed through the tunnel that now marked an important memory for the two of you.

You truly must be Cupid because your plan not only worked for Percy and Annabeth, but somehow also indirectly gave Luke and you the nudge you both needed.

14th February marked the day when two Cupids wearing Converses got their happy ending. 

Bonus:

“I told you that would work,” Annabeth whispered to Percy as the two hopped back onto their boat with a speaker in hand, rowing away hastily to be out of sight from the older couple.

Little did you know, Annabeth had orchestrated the whole thing, including the conversation between her and Percy about their mission in front of Luke and you. Annabeth’s plan of getting Luke and you together through playing cupid together had seemingly worked just like she had planned.

Who said you were the only cupid at Camp Half-Blood?

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

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[nanaimothoughts]

Calypso, Nuance and Misogyny

Whoop-dee-scoop I'm mad at people on TikTok again. Yippee.

I love Not Sorry For Loving You. It does so much for Calypso's characterization in this musical. And I'm tired of seeing people blatantly ignoring that.

"This is emotional manipulation!!" "She's a narcissist!" "She's not actually apologizing to Ody!"

Y'all are fucking insufferable (/lh). Yes, what Calypso did to Odysseus is bad. I am not going to say it isn't. Forcing a man to be with you is bad. But a character doing bad things doesn't mean that you can brush off everything she says under "bad woman bad".

Here's the second verse of NSFLY (via LyricFind on Google)

Let me speak I spent my whole life here Was cast away when I was young Alone for a hundred years I had no friends but the sky and sun So when you washed ashore I thought for sure that you were my dream come true I thought I knew

This contextualizes her actions. Not excuses, but explains why she did what she did.

Calypso was banished to her island because she's Atlas' daughter and not much else from what I've gathered. And she's telling the audience that she's spent more or less her entire life completely alone. Of-fucking-course she's gonna be overly/unhealthily attached to the first other person she's seen in the last hundred years or so. She finally has someone to talk to. And ignoring that nuance is not fair to her character.

There's also the simple truth that Homer didn't write EPIC. He wrote The Odyssey, which EPIC is based on, but Jorge's the one that actually wrote EPIC, meaning that this is Jorge's version of Calypso, which is clearly more humanized/sympathetic than Homer's.

Speaking of the original Odyssey, if you've gotten this far you might be wondering why I put misogyny in the title. The answer's simple:

Homer was a misogynist. So were most all men in Ancient Greece.

As I'm sure a good chunk of people in this fandom know, Ancient Greece… wasn't kind to their women. When one of the healthiest marriages in the mythos starts with the woman being kidnapped, it's hard to argue anything else. And surprise to no one, this also affected the written versions of the myths, including Homer's works.

The original Calypso is no exception. She's an evil temptress who's only motive for being evil is being rejected sexually. There was nothing else to her character. In fact, every woman in Greco-Roman mythology is either "evil typically temptress mwah-ha-ha" or "I have absolutely no agency whatsoever"

On the flip-side, the version of Calypso that Jorge's written is more three-dimensional than that (well, as much as she can be with only two songs). So effectively, in brushing off the context given to her character because "well she's evil so…" is in my humble opinion, reinforcing the misogyny that was woven into her that modern retellings are trying to remove from her character.

Anyway, it's almost midnight. I'm tired. Thanks for reading to the end, and goodnight.

[panlight]

I know I've mentioned this before, but sometimes I think it's a blessing that SM hadn't really read/watched much Vampire Stuff before she wrote Twilight.

Don't get me wrong--there are definitely times where I'm very frustrated by this, where she misses a key moment that someone more genre savvy would have taken full advantage of. The main character being turned into a vampire in such a clinical way removes so much of the intimacy and eroticism of vampire lit, for example. Or the way she didn't give her vampires any weaknesses and how that makes it so much harder to raise the stakes and put them in any real danger. Or to feel bad for their cursed existence because like . . . it actually seems not that bad without all the weaknesses and limitations.

But It's a blessing in a way because it allowed her to come up with characters like Emmett, Esme, and Carlisle. MOST of the sympathetic, 'good' vampires in fiction end up being like Edward. This brooding vampire who hates what he is and probably has some kind of Dark Past (Edward's vigilante era in his own opinion) but wants to be good but oh, the endless midnights! And obviously that's a compelling story; these tropes are used so often because people ENJOY them.

But then you have Emmett, who is a 'good' vampire too and just . . . doesn't care. He's nice. He'll protect you. But he's also killed people. Whoops. Probably felt bad about it at the time. Probably still feels a little bad if he thinks about it now. But he's not brooding about it. He's generally pretty happy and fun and doesn't take things too seriously. Normally this would be a 'bad' vampire or at least morally gray vampire but as written by SM, he's clearly intended to be a good guy. Just one of the bros who happens to be a vampire.

Then there's Carlisle, who had every reason to be the brooding vampire who hates himself (was actively hunting vampires when he was turned! son of a pastor! alone for centuries!) but instead he . . . just got on with it. Also I think his success with vegetarianism is in itself kind of unusual and refreshing for the genre. I know lots of people think he'd be more interesting if he had killed people but as someone who read Twilight during a marathon read of other vampire fiction the fact that he HADN'T was actually what made him interesting to me. It was bizarrely . . . hopeful? It's the kind of thing that someone actually vampire genre savvy probably wouldn't have done.

Likewise Esme just being this white suburban midwestern vampire mom and playing it 100% straight. This isn't some commentary on how vampirism is a shallow perversion of motherhood or whatever, Esme IS the mom. She does mom things. It's taken seriously. She's not some sinister Other Mother, she is genuinely loving and gentle and motherly and again, I feel like someone genre savvy wouldn't have played it that way.

Anyway, yes sometimes I long for more typical vampire stuff in Twilight, but sometimes the lack of genre knowledge worked out in its favor.

[gallusrostromegalus]

The Rubicon, Part 3: Allegory Of The Cave

AKA, the Force-Sensitive-teenager-that-didn't-go-to-the-Jedi-I wrote-flash-fic-of-on-someone-else's-post-and-kept-going-Whoops-AU

Part 1

Part 2

---

The galaxy has had many brilliant philosophers, among them is Platocca, the Wookiee scholar wrote an allegory of prisoners trapped in a cave, shown shadows of objects, people and animals are projected onto the wall by their captors, as a metaphor for the limits of the senses, and how the shadow of a Rancor is not the same thing as a Rancor itself.

-

Her disappearance does not go unnoticed- it’s hard to miss when the chateau of a locally prominent political family explodes hard enough to cause a major power outage and the body of their ‘reclusive’ daughter is nowhere to be found.  A search is organized, and the scent-akks trace her footsteps out of the house and into the desert but lose the trail at the river, like how a vulpire evades the hunt.

The search expands- her holo is circulated on the local planetary networks, The family is interviewed and they, tearful, plead for her safe return. Her little sister’s tears and begging that it won’t Lifeday without her play particularly well. It gets picked up by the regional channels and soon there is a galaxy wide search for the Missing Girl.  

Everyone loves to be a Hero. 

The desert is searched by police flyover and volunteer foot teams.  Hundreds scour the bare rocks for clues. Someone treks a full hundred miles into the labyrinthine canyons in search of her.

Everyone loves a Mystery.

Interviews are conducted with the family, with her mentors, with her caretakers and doctors. People try to reconstruct the final day before she vanished, someone publishes her school essays and more photos are found- of a shy child, cringing in the back of the Science Bowl team, or trying to hide behind a tree in a family reunion photo.

Everyone loves a scandal.

Ten is not that young an age to enter politics in the Galaxy far, far away, especially not for the now-heir to a prominent local political family and the little sister’s announcement that she’s running for the local civic council wouldn’t be terribly noteworthy, save that it’s done at a rally to raise funds for missing children all over the planet in her missing sister’s memory. By that afternoon, medical records are leaked- seven major psychiatric institutions in under five years, involuntary commitments, ‘experimental’ treatments for an ‘undiagnosed’ disorder- she hurt her siblings, it’s said, she was mentally deficient and home alone- abandoned, when the home “mysteriously” exploded and she vanished without a trace. 

Tongues wag, and eventually agree that, best case scenario,  it’s a family capitalizing on the tragedy to further their political ambitions But best case scenarios are rare in the Galaxy Far, Far away, and the idea that a family might try to get rid of a troublesome daughter before launching the career of another isn’t even a terribly implausible scenario. 

Regardless of the situation, the Sister continues to poll well. Or, perhaps, because of it. Everyone loves to think they’re in on a conspiracy, and if this family is ruthless enough to kill a daughter, well, imagine what they’ll do to the opposition?

-

She first becomes aware of all this at a funeral.

She had gone back to the oxbow to bathe- having worked out podes that are durable enough for the desert and dexterous enough for her needs, and a steady, efficient gait to traverse the vastness of her new home, she was now experimenting with skin, and while the latest thick midnight-violet mammalian hide performed admirably in terms of thermal regulation and protection against the spines every plant and half the animals here had, it had a tendency to get oily and she thought a nice roll in the sand and soak might be in order. 

Instead, the far side of the oxbow was crowded with people, all dressed in mourning white and carrying candles.  A pyre was set up on the far bank, and a small, closed coffin sat atop it. 

Oh hell. A child’s funeral.  Who died?  Not one of my classmates? or- no, no there are Sis and The Baby, thank fuck. Mom and Dad too. Front row.  Hell of a crowd too. And reporters? Yeah, those are definitely holocorders, for the news. She squinted at the logos on the vans parked just up from the riverbank, having to switch spectra and focal distance a few times before the characters became clear. Big networks!  We don’t have anyone that famous, do we? Which unfortunate bastard are you all the way out here for?

She stalked closer, using the harsh angle of the setting sun as cover, long ears cocked to listen.  Voices sang monotonously through the traditional funeral dirge, her mother blotting at her cheek with a handkerchief. As the assembled tried and largely failed to reach the final note, The local temple priest lowered the funeral torch, lit the pyre, arthritically climbed both stairs to the podium, and tapped the mic. 

“Blessings upon us all, on this sad occasion.” He bowed his head. “We are gathered here today to mourn the loss of one who was taken from us too soon.”  he gestured to the holo broadcast in front of the pyre.  She had to shuffle through the underbrush, until she could make out the flickering image against the flame. A girl, about her age, in fancy dress, grimacing as politely as she could.

Poor thing. Looks wretched even in the best holo her family could find. Would we have been friends, this girl and I? Maybe I knew her-

 She squinted at the holo, something about it familiar- Gods, they’d even had the same awful bob haircut and itchy, itchy tule dress she’d been subjected to-

Wait.Is. Is that ME?

“She struggled in life, but was beloved by all who knew her-”

What.

“-She was a champion member of the Science Bowl Team-”

They kicked me off the team for ‘cheating’! It wasn’t my fault I knew the questions before they were asked!

“-and her artworks still adorn the walls of our school.”

WHERE? I got told that they were ‘Too Scary’ and ‘Not School Appropriate’!  

“She was always unparalleled in character- you could not find a more, sometimes brutally, honest person, and she clung unfailingly to her personal ethics.”

Oh? Oh, that’s what we’re calling it? Because last month in front of the shrinks you called me ‘tactless and prone to blurting things out’ and said I ‘rigidly conformed to arbitrary standards to the point of insanity’!  She seethed, a low rumble of disgust.

“We are all aware of her unfortunate medical history-”

Oh. Oh no.

“-but we can take some solace in the fact that she does not suffer anymore.”

Her mother took this chance to bawl theatrically. 

There are no words in all the tongues of the galaxy-

“While ultimately unsuccessful, the efforts to find her- hundreds, if not thousands of volunteer search parties, all across the galaxy as this tragedy has brought us all together in ways I no longer thought possible.  She is now one with the Nature she loved so much, and at peace.  May this pyre symbolize the light she briefly brought into our lives, and let us reflect on our memories of her.”  

The Priest stepped back and the line of mourners stepped forward- classmates, muttering about brief conversations in the hall, except a Longtime Bully, who gushed enthusiastically about how funny she was, with her weird turns of phrase and the way she-

She almost retched at the way her Bully imitated the way her hands would twitch when she was frightened, giggling. 

Then her mother stepped up.

“We.  We knew She was special, from the very day she was born-”

YEAH YOU SURE FUCKIN’ DID, DIDN’T YOU? She seethed, claws digging into the sand and tail thrashing. WAITING AT THE DOOR FOR ME, YOU SAID.  BUT NO-  NOT, YOU KNEW HOW TO RAISE ME BEST, YOU LOVED ME TOO MUCH TO GIVE ME AWAY, YOU SAID-

She crumpled, flattening against the ground and sobbing, strained hisses as her mother carried on, trying to hold back the tide of emotion before the Pyre exploded or something.  She stared at the hologram instead. The girl depicted  is a stranger- no really when the hell did Mom even TAKE that??  Fucking. Dress. When was the last time I even wore that thing? Gods, last Lifeday? No, I was back inside for that. It was…  Really? Really? You chose a picture two years out of date? 

She remembered the dress well. An awful thing made of tulle that didn’t itch so much as actually shred her skin where it wasn’t dangerously compressing her lungs and intestines.  She’d been ‘allowed’ home for the holiday, a probation for Good Behavior and the muscles around her mouths ached at the memory of the practiced smile she held for weeks, lest her Mother change her mind about letting her attend the party. She’d made it a full three months before her hand slipped doing the dishes and even though the cut on her hand was small it was just one thing too many and the smile cracked and she ended up throwing the offending knife across the kitchen in a panic.

She looked down at her ‘hand’ now, the scar still there despite the changes. Some landmarks were stubborn like that- she still had the freckles and that one mole, and the scar from attempting to ride a swoop and crashing into the shrubbery instead. Others vanished from her body and her memory without a trace with the shape-change. 

…Not that a more current image would really be more accurate but fucking really? That’s the one you picked?  I guess I should be glad you miss me at all, but-

Her tail thrashes, chewing on this emotion and the air around her. Her mother is bent over the podium, sobbing. Her grief seems genuine, really.  These are ugly, snotty sobs and the air around her cracks and splinters like bone in the Force. 

And yet.

…DID she have more current holos of me? I was usually the one holding the camera, but. No, not from last Lifeday, I was inside.  Not from Sis’ birthday, I was in the kitchen all day. Not on the Baby’s nameday either, all the holos are from inside that packed fire hazard of a temple and i refused to go in. Unless she took something between when my last camp ended and before they left for the mountains on the ‘normal vacation, for once’...

That really is the last Holo you have of me isn’t it?

And it’s not even me, just your favorite role I played.

Her father pulls her mother away from the podium, and she latches onto The Baby, cradling him close. The Priest shambles up to the podium again, and starts the final prayers. For peace, for a happy afterlife. The mourners got up and filed by the pyre, setting their candles around it before shuffling past the family, offering their condolences. 

They lay hands upon her parents, and shake the hand of her sister, wishing her luck with her campaign. 

She watched them file by, shrinking and retreating back, cowering in- in what? Fear? Anger? Grief? Disgust? She clawed at her face, unable to run, unable to stay.

Eventually, the neighbors collect Sis and The Baby, and her parents stay, waiting with the priest for the pyre to blow out, as per tradition. Her father stares off into the distance, mother clutched to his side. 

“You. You’ve done this before, right?”  he eventually stammers, turning to the priest.

“Fifty years of funerals.” the priest nods. 

“And. And children?”  He asks.

“Some of them, yes.” the priest sighed. “Children are always the hardest.”

Her father stared into the flames.

“Is. Is it wrong to feel… Relieved?” 

Her mother wails again. 

“I, I just… I keep thinking I hear her, around the house or out in the yard and I keep thinking she’s not really dead but- but it’s dread. I dread having to be on guard all the time or take her to another doctor or suffer another tantrum. I- I loved her, like any parent would but- but-”

“- We couldn’t live with her.”  Her mother sighed. “Not really.“

The priest nodded slowly. “It’s not uncommon to feel relieved that our loved ones are no longer suffering. Or to feel some relief from being free of burden of care, even as we mourn.” he tried, over-optimistically.

“It’s not something you say to a child but. Oh gods. Oh gods what a nightmare.” Her mother sobbed.

“Her spirit may yet be with us!” the Priest pleaded. 

“Body and Spirit, Holy Father.”

They all looked up.

She stood on the sandy bank of the river, the thin nervous girl from earlier this summer. She held her arms out, silently asking for a hug.

Her father shrieked, and stepped back, her mother cowering behind him. The priest held his own arms up defensively.

Ah. So that’s how it is. 

“Relieved? That’s how you feel? The nightmare is over?”  Voice high and tight as she grimaced at them, smiling like a primate baring its teeth before an eye-gouging, face-eating assault. “You know what? I can’t blame you. I have to say, this last month? I’ve been pretty relieved too.  No white-knucke social events.  No more being abandoned so Sis and The Baby can grow up ‘normal’.  No more ‘treatments’- you know the last one involved electrodes, right? Of course you did. You signed the wavier!”

Her mother opened her mouth, but choked on whatever it was she was going to say.

“But the biggest thing?  No more pretending.  No more playing the sweet, stupid girl for you to pity and be pitied for. No more pretending I’m the crazy one here.  No more being something I’m not.”  She grinned, and began to change again, skin darkening to midnight again, stretching her spine out until she tipped forward, forelegs splashing in the water and making them jump. She stretched to the height and shape that felt comfortable, A deeper shadow of limbs and muscle and teeth and too many eyes, tapetum lucidum glittering above them in the last of the Pyre-light. 

Her mother gagged, her father stared, frozen except for the tears, and the priest crumpled back in revulsion.

“I really can’t blame you.” She rumbled, stereophonic now. “-But I won’t let you delude yourselves. I might be free of you, but you’ll never be free of what you did to me.”  She grinned mouths full of teeth at them, before turning and walking into he river, vanishing below the surface with a flick of her tail.

Her mother’s screams echoed in faintly through the water as she made her way downriver. There was a spaceport there, and nothing for her here.

---

Now, Platocca rather famously got in a brawl with another Philosopher named Ogg who posited that while the shadow of the thing is not the thing itself, if there's a moving shadow shaped like a Rancor, it's being cast by SOMETHING, and there are better things to do than standing around philosophizing about it.  Like finding out what's casting the shadow from a safe distance, on account of the downright-likely chance that the thing casting the Rancor-shaped shadow is, in fact, a Rancor.  You Pedantic Twit.

-

It doesn’t take long for the carrion beasts to come around.

The scandal embroils the galaxy, and the gruesome details of the child’s history are the gossip of the day.  

Some can sniff between the lines, and take notice- if it was any of the more common ailments, something would have worked by now. The details of the ‘explosion’ hit the insurance market- no point of ignition- indeed, no fire at all, like someone had swung a wrecking ball out from inside the home in all directions at once. And they dig a little bit and compare her birth date to the public logs of Jedi deployments and make an educated guess or five. 

The only vehicle available for rent was an ugly yellow cargo vehicle, but a make and model with an extremely reliable engine and good mileage, which he decided was a decent tradeoff for its abhorrent color. Alas, to rent! He's already in hot water with the Bounty Hunter’s Guild for ‘retroactively purchasing’ a vehicle the last time he was chasing a mark and while the work was undignified, being a Sith didn’t pay like it used to.

He can hear her miles before he sees her.  A low, rumbling thrum in the force, sort of crunchy and guttural, but not unpleasant. He stops the speeder in the blazing white light of late afternoon and cocks his montrals, the physical sensation helping him mentally triangulate the noise. It’s constant, steady drone, like she’s meditating.  Or asleep.  Either way, a sensible thing to be doing in this disgusting heat.  Maybe she does have promise.

The bounty hunter’s guild membership is a convenient source of income, but more than that, it’s an excuse to stick his nose into whatever business the Force demands.  Need to get into a secure building? It’s fine to put his boot through a window, he’s after a mark!  Need to make some dubious contacts to keep himself appraised of the movements of his fellow force-users?  People are much more willing to wag tongues about criminal gossip for some coin than snoop on the Sith, but the relevant details are the same.

And now, when he was trekking into the desert after a teenager- he’s just doing some public service, and certainly not looking for an enraged force-user to take as an apprentice!  Besides, if she wasn’t up to snuff, he could always turn her in for the money. 

He drives on deeper into the thrum, and eventually spots her location- a grove of massive cacti in a small, depressed ditch.  If there is water anywhere out here, its in there.  Honestly, did nobody know how to conduct a search these days?

About 100 feet front he grove, he stops, and listens.  The thrum is much louder now, but he can’t pick out a specific point of origin inside the grove, which is… peculiar. He hopped down and instantly, the thrum ceased.

“Oh, so you do have some wits about you!”  he laughed, strolling closer, hands up and saber tucked behind him, hidden by his coat. “Hey, hey- no reason to panic, I’m just a… well, you and I- we’d be kin, after a fashion.”

No response.  No scuttling through the underbrush, no tension from nerves. Cool as a cumcuber fruit, watching him.

“Well, maybe not Kin. I’ve heard all about the bastards that you got stuck with for a family. Most of the galaxy has now!” He shrugged, stepping into the shade of the outermost cacti and squinting into the grove. “They didn’t understand, did they?  The connection, the POWER that flows through you- it scared them!  And honestly, I can’t blame them, if half of what I’ve read about how you blew up a house is true, why, you’d give some of the elders of my sect a run for their money.”

He can feel her gaze on him, taking in every minute movement. No particular direction, almost as though she were circling him. Good, good!  She wouldn’t have lasted long if she was completely without talent, of course.  Still, let her circle.  Let her come to me. 

“My parents never understood either.” He sighed, strolling deeper into the grove. “Always insisting that I was breaking things on purpose, that I was being cruel by telling the truth-  but why shouldn’t I?  They always said ‘Honesty Is The Best Policy’!”  He laughed.

“But my Master?  He understood. He understood how big and cruel the galaxy can be, especially for people like us. And it’s not wrong for us to defend ourselves!  I’ve got just as much right to exist as a vrelt or a tooka!  They can’t make people understand growling, so it’s not wrong for them to bite! So what if I had to resort to force when they couldn’t be made to understand?”  He laughed, stopping near the center of the grove.  It wasn’t that easy to hide in- the cacti didn’t branch much, and the scub wasn’t that dense. She has to be using the shadows, or keeping her nerve to stay perfectly still and pass herself off as a rock.

“..I suppose it’s fair for you to be cautious.”  he nodded, reaching into the pockets of his coat. “I mean, the galaxy is full of hucksters and con-artists that think they know what’s best.  I won’t pretend that I do, but I know what it’s like to suffer for having a connection like we do.  And well, like how I was taken in, I should return the favor to those in need.”  He pulled out a bottle of clean water- still cold even!- and a protein bar. 

“Here, a token of my goodwill!” he said, tossing them into the scrub. “I’ll be in the speeder when you’re ready to talk.”  he waved, strolling back towards the rental.

“...You have The Force too?”  She asked. 

He stopped, and couldn’t help grinning a bit. He squinted at where he thought the sound had come from, but only found a plain cactus, and no sign of the frail little girl from the posters.

“That’s right!” He nodded. “That’s how I knew where to find you- belongs like us, we’re all connected.”  He explained, tapping his forehead and sitting down on the ground, lekku dragging a bit on the dirt.  The circling sensation was back, but he definitely had her interest now. He expanded his perceptions- ah, there it was- she wouldn’t know how to shield yet, of course and he could feel the head-tilting sensation of confusion.

“...Do some people have more Force than others?”  she asked, on his other side now. 

“Yep!”  He laughed. “Good trick, throwing your voice like that!  But yes, there’s a huge variation in the capacity people like us have in the force.  Don’t worry-  it took me years of training to get like this, but with practice-”

A sharp chortle of amusement rang through the grove. 

“...What’s so funny?”  He asked. 

“Years Of Training, you say?”  She snickered, and he felt the scales on the back of his neck prickle. He could feel her, close, and moving now, stalking and coiling like a carnivore, but he still didn’t know WHERE-

He was suddenly struck with a vision of himself- sitting, lanky and small, laughably small from her perspective. All the weapons on his person were highlighted, including a dark red throb of the Kyber Crystal in his saber, along with the ache in his back and knees, and the tinnitus in his left montral and his name and his master’s name and- and-

“SHIT!”  he snarled, instantly on his feet and glaring up at the tops of the Cacti, lightsaber thrumming in his hand. “Rude little bitch, aren’t you?  Sneaking into people’s heads without their permission!” he scolded.

Another amused chuckle. “Better a bitch than a braggart.”  she gave the impression of a shrug. “Because I know exactly where and what you are, but you-”

He felt something around his ankles. Midnight violet tendrils, like stalks of mycelium sprouted from the ground and wrapped around his legs. He flipped the saber around in his hand, plunging it into the ground-

“-Don’t even know where to look.”  She finished and suddenly the cacti all fell inwards on top of him, as the tendrils yanked down, and he was pulled under the sand, choking and flailing.

He could see her now and-

Oh.

Oh FORCE.

She felt like she’d been all around him because she HAD. She was the cacti and the root system that spanned the grove and dug deep into the underground river system, and hell, even the river itself. Any resemblance to a humanoid form was gone, she was now a companion shadow to the environment around her, a branching form more like a plant or subterranean fungus than anything else.

You were right of course, to head to the only source of water.  She conceded, and he felt his skull figuratively pop open like a pocket filing wallet, and the midnight tendrils rifle through his memories with a vague disinterest. But you didn’t know that most of a river is underground, did you?  I don’t think any rational search party would have guessed how I’ve been traveling, really-

So, a Sith with a day job? That’s… He felt the mycelium of her body wince in the soil around him as he began to choke on the sand. Pretty embarrassing, actually.  But, you’re right, money makes the galaxy go ‘round…  memories of The Guild application process, how he’d modified his ID card, His Master back on Korriban, the disciplines of the order, assembling his lightsaber-

His lightsaber!  

He swung through the dirt and she flinched away from the blade.

“Well, if you’re going to be like that, I’m going to leave.”  she laughed, a mouth forming and unforming from the mycelium ad hoc, and she withdrew from around him.  He clawed furiously, reaching up with the force, pulling himself awkwardly up out of the soil, spitting and howling curses as he tried to untangle himself from the roots and the pile of toppled cacti over him-

“So long, and thanks for all the snacks!”  She called and he turned-

…to see the yellow rental speeder flooring it into the distance.

He patted his coat and realized that the speeder keys, his wallet, and lightsaber were all missing. 

Oh.

Oh fuck. 

She was too far to reach now, but he could still feel the crystal in his lightsaber, calling out to them.  It’s fine, all I have to do was trust in the force and follow the crystal-  She doesn’t know what its capable of-

-

She set cruise control at just under the speed that made the cheap speeder shudder like it was about to fall apart, and leaned back in the driver’s seat, taking a swig from the water bottle and unscrewed the bottom of the lightsaber.

It was a simple enough device really- a small rechargeable battery that fed energy into the crystal, which was focused through a series of lenses and a magnetic field to create a looping blade of plasma.  Basically a more refined version of a Plasma Chainsaw, with a magic rock for a laser. 

The magic rock pulsed.

She blinked at it. 

It was a pretty thing, the color of really expensive rubies or fresh blood, and sparkled more than either. Not with sunlight. With… Potential.

There was a lot of power in her, and this would let her focus it, to carve the world around her as she saw fit, to conquer all that tormented her-  Visions danced, of her on a throne, the dismembered bodies of the doctors and orderlies and her mother at her feet-

“Nah.” She laughed, tossing it over her shoulder and out of the speeder. “I don’t want conquest or to cut throats or whatever.”

“I mean, I do.” She admitted. “I absolutely did fantasize about killing her, more than a few times, just to shut her up.  But that’d just leave Sis and The Baby without a parent that genuinely cares for them, and they never did a thing to me.” She shrugged. “It’s a nice fantasy, but it’s not what I want.”

Then what? The natural question followed. I really do have unlimited potential. What Do I Want?

She stared at the shimmering horizon in silence for a while, not so much thinking as listening.

“I want.” She started and paused. “I want to be happy.”

“It’s been a relief, to be away from all the doctors and eggshells, and to be the shapes I want.” She nodded. “But that’s not quite the same as happy.”

“It’s boring too.” She added. “Cacti are all fine and good, but hardly good conversationalists. I want-”  

“I’m lonely.  And sad, and scared about a lot of stuff.” She admitted, and the truth sat uncomfortably on her breast, but it was better than where it had been sitting inside her, aching, before. 

“I want a friend.”

She paused, having picked up a thread in the force.  A thin one, feeling like only the finest spun fiber, barely tying her to-

She saw the Apprentice from the documentary again, babbling excitedly about learning about how to conduct diplomacy and the the ins and outs of negotiation, and all the people she was going to meet, and the places she’d see and-

“She looks like she’d be fun to talk with.”  She mused.

----

Philosopher Ogg got thrown through a window for arguing with Platocca, but was really the ultimate winner because centuries later, when an excitable and somewhat high-strung Jedi Apprentice got up from her afternoon meditations and saw her shadow finish stretching a full two seconds after she did, she did not write it off as a trick of the light or still being groggy from a meditation session that had accidentally turned into an unplanned nap. 

She also, in a demonstration of what an early start learning  self-control in an emotionally supportive environment could do for someone, did not immediately panic.

“Alright.” She said, watching her shadow where it stood obediently against the wall in the reflection of the window. “Next we have Saber Practice, and then Rhetoric and then it’s dinner,” She listed off to nobody in particular. The ‘Royal’ We’ they used to call it. Very handy when you couldn’t specify exactly who or what you were talking to. 

She walked down the hall, watching her shadow in reflections and when it skipped ahead of her as she turned down the halls, keeping a close eye on when it actually met up with her feet as she walked. It was close, within the margin of error between the complex shadows cast by the architecture of the temple and the shadows of other Jedi but…

When she finally stopped at her place in the lineup to do katas, she could swear she heard herself take another step.

“You seem distracted today, young one.” The saber master frowned as she missed her thrust for the third time that day.

“I-  yes, sorry master.” she bowed her head. “It’s going to sound bizarre, but- I don’t know.  Does my shadow look weird?”

The master stared at her blankly for a second, then turned his attention to her shadow, which lay on the floor beside her in the expected fashion.

“...No.”  He spoke slowly, running his chin with concern. “But that’s my perspective.  How does it look to you?”

“Like it’s- lagging? Not quite doing what I am-  I stretch, but it stretches for longer. I walk, and it does too, but with a different gait. It’s not much but- I suppose it could be a problem with my peripheral vision? I have been having a lot of migraines lately.”

“Hm.” He nodded. “Well. I do not see any evidence of your shadow behaving in any abnormal way, but you should tell your master and perhaps make an appointment with the ophthalmologist.  I promise to tell you if I do see anything out of the ordinary, though.”  He smiled gently.

“Thank you master.” She nodded, shoulders drooping a bit. It was, most likely, a trick of the light or her eyes, but it was nice to have an additional perspective. 

Her next thrust landed perfectly. 

-

Her shadow was largely out of her line of sight during rhetoric, mostly cast under the desk behind her, and it was easier to focus, but there was the nagging sensation that the usually-empty seat beside her was occupied with someone who kept fidgeting and straining to hear the lecture. 

“You okay?”  her friend asked, taking her hand as they left class together. “You seem really tense.”

“I don’t know.” the apprentice sighed. “I think I might have a problem with my peripheral vision.  I keep seeing my shadow flicker or think there’s someone standing-”  She stuck out her free arm  and waved it in the air beside her.

“Ick.” Nodded her friend. “Yeah, that’d drive me right up the wall. Hopefully you only need glasses or something?”

“Ugh, glasses.” the Apprentice rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure which would drive me crazier- having to clean the lenses constantly just to be able to see or actually being haunted!”

They laughed, and walked together toward the cafeteria.

“So your master’s away?”  her friend asked grabbing trays for both of them.

“Yeah, Mirial, so you understand why the council sent an all-male contingent to the negotiations there.”  She nodded, grabbing a pair of allpes fruits. “He’s actually probably back by now but messaged me earlier that he’d been up for three days straight so to finish classes as normal and go see friends if I wanted because he’s going to have the mental faculties of a sofa for a few hours once he lands.”

“Oh nooooo-” her friend giggled. “You don’t worry about him?”

The Apprentice shrugged. “I mean, a bit? But this is pretty normal for him- he’s like a loth-cat, slinks away and hides when he’s not well, but he’ll call if he’s in real trouble. Still, I think I’ll finish dinner here and go back to our rooms, I’ve got so much reading to catch up on-”

It was good to talk and catch up on all the gossip for an hour- She’d been one of the first of her class to be picked for an apprenticeship and as much fun as her new freedoms and responsibilities really were, she sometimes missed the camaraderie of the creche. There were the expected interrogations about off-planet missions and OH FORCE THE PADDWORK and learning one-on-one and the splitting of responsibilities between master and apprentice. 

“It’s pretty normal that you don’t go on all the missions early on, I know.” She sighed. “But I did miss him this week.  The rooms are too quiet without him taking random calls or doing the dishes at weird hours, you know?”

“Yeah, it’s weird not having you snoring at night.” her crechmate  nodded, grinning.

“I DO NOT SNORE”!” she yelped, mock-threatening to throw the spare piece of fruit at him. 

“We’re kidding!  You whistle a bit, at most.” he friend patted her shoulder affectionately. “Besides, if you get really lonely, you’ve got your little peripheral vision fairy for company!”

The Apprentice rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help a surreptitious glance at her shadow.

“Your WHAT?”  her crechemate asked.

“I think I’ve got something wrong with my peripheral vision, and it’s faking me out into thinking my shadow is misbehaving or I’m being followed by some sort of sprite that hates rhetoric class.” She shrugged, waving at her shadow, and it waved along with her. “It only gets more boring- tomorrow is Economics, so you should go haunt someone more exciting.” She told it.

“UUUUGH that sounds so annoying!”  her crechmate groaned.

“I don’t know- I suppose it’s not so annoying if I think of it as an invisible friend or something.” The apprentice laughed, and her comm beeped.

>I have returned safely to the bosom of the temple once more.  Wretched migraine, grab me a snack? XD

She snorted and showed her friends the message.

“He texts like such an old fart!”  her friend giggled. “I thought he was like, really young?”

“He’s only a decade older than me, so practically a kid for a Knight, but damn good at it.” She nodded. “He’s Accumulated Great Wisdom For His Years!”  she said in her best esoteric philosopher voice. “So he’s the galaxy’s youngest old fart.”

Her friends cackled as she got up, pocketing the fruit and a few snack bars for him, before waving her goodbyes.

He was curled in bed with a pillow over his head to block the light and noise when she came in, but rolled over and reached out towards her anyway.  Her shadow stretched all the way across the room and onto the wall his bed was pushed against in the slice of yellow-orange light cast through the doorway, like the spectre had already joined her master. 

“Hello Master.”  She smiled, sitting on the bed beside him and pressing a juice pouch into his hand. “I missed you.”

“-and I you.” he replied, slowly sitting up and squinting at the pouch an inch from his face. “Melloon!  You remembered my favorite flavor!” he beamed. 

“You’ll read with less headache with your glasses.” She sighed, handing the small device to him and watching as he unfolded them and blinked, large dark eyes now appearing twice as large through the prescription lenses.  “...How did you know you needed glasses?”  She asked as he fiddled with the straw, trying to puncture the pouch.

“Couldn’t see shit.” He grunted. “Well, actually, it was when I couldn’t distinguish the letters on the board back in my very first formal classes. I’ve had them longer than I’ve been able to read.”  he said, taking a long sip. “...Why?”

“I’ve- all day my shadow’s looked weird.”

He paused, face still scrunched in discomfort. “...shadows in general, or your shadow specifically?”

“-” She opened her mouth to reply, but stopped. “-just mine, actually.  And I thought I could hear someone walking behind me, and all rhetoric class I had the impression someone was sitting next to me-”

Her master was suddenly sitting all the way upright, staring at her with rapt attention.  She winced.

“It’s alright.” he soothed, hand on her shoulder. “But please, tell me everything.”

She sighed, slowly recounting- the way her shadow seemed to lag or not quite match her, the ongoing headaches, the sensation that “-I don’t know, like someone’s standing beside me? I mean, I absolutely could be working myself up over nothing-”

“If it’s bothering you this much, it’s not nothing.” her master nodded, still watching her face. “Even if it’s just a flicker brought on by growing pains, it’s not nothing. What was the first lesson you were ever taught?”

“...Trust your instincts?” She tried,

“Trust your instincts.” He nodded, smiling gently. “...Without looking at your shadow-  do you have an impression of what this… companion looks like? Are they tall, short? A sapient being? Or maybe an animal?”

“They’re uh…” She unfocused her eyes, concentrating on the sensation of the person that had been beside her all day. “-They’re… A girl, like me, my age- not me though, she’s… thinner. A little frail maybe? Skittish- no, that’s not right.  Like she’s hanging back.  Not sure when to come into the conversation kind of awkwardness?  And thirsty. Like, dehydrated.”

“Alright.” Her master nodded. His voice had shifted, like he’d sat up more and closer to her. “Anything else?  Do you know what she looks like?  Has she said anything?”

“No.” The Apprentice shook her head. “Quiet. Listening, but not having an easy time of it.  Keeps fidgeting. She-  she has a shape, but it keeps changing. Like- sometimes people don’t know who they are, like they have blurry edges around their sense of self?  She’s got really sharp edges of what is and is not her, but those edges are always moving.  The eyes are the same though. Intense focus, and an eyeshine, like an animal.”  She started to tremble at the feeling of that terrible gaze fixed on her.

Her master shifted his weight, gently wrapping his arm around her and pulling her to lean into his shoulder. 

“...I’ve seen her before.”  the Apprentice realized. “I don’t know where but. I remember those eyes, staring right through me.  Something-  something terrible happened…”

“I’m sorry.” a voice whispered. 

Her head snapped up, staring at the shadow on the wall on the other side of the bed- it had changed- still the same size as her, but they sure as hell weren’t the same species and a pair of holes in the shadow, in the shape and location of her eyes, still staring.  The shadow flinched and the Apprentice’s heart race, but, gazes locked, neither could move.

Visions- the brilliant night sky of the desert, electrodes on her temples, a map tracing the route of a subterranean river, a wound (and the knowledge she’d caused it), the furious screaming of a bounty hunter who had meant her some malice- arced across their connection like lighting.  And visions from her mind- The flowers carved and painted into the bunk bed posts at her creche, the buzz of a training saber, the warp of her Master’s prescription glasses, the weight of his arm across her back- arced back.

“You!” She gasped.  “You’re the girl who- who-” She gasped, tears flowing but she refused to blink, if she blinked she’d be gone-

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry!!!”  She yelped and whimpered, unable to pull back from their connection, fear and despair and-

“It’s alright.” her Master’s voice settled over them like a thick blanket, and he reached out, touching the shadow’s shoulder, fingers curling around it as she seemed to peel off the wall, in three dimensions now, and became her own being, still a shadowy echo, but herself and not the Apprentice’s shadow. “It’s all alright.”

He pulled her closer, translucent form still trembling, until the Apprentice couldn’t hold it back and blinked, throwing herself at the other girl, wrapping her arms around her strange not-doppelganger, and sobbing- “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have-  that wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair-”

The shadow screamed, hugging her back and clinging to both of them, smoke-like fingers digging into her robes and hair. 

“By The Force.”  her master whispered. “Oh no, oh dear-” He stroked their backs as the girls cried in his lap.  The shadow girl began to flicker, and his apprentice grabbed at her, trying to keep her with them.

“I- I can’t stay- please- please!”  She wailed.

“We will find you.”  The Master promised, voice heavy with the seriousness of his pledge. “I don’t care how far we have to go or how long it takes, we will find you.” he promised, clutching the girls close in an embrace, the shadow-girl trying to cling to him hard enough that her fingers drew blood on the side of his face and across the back of his apprentice’s neck, before she succumbed to whatever was pulling her away from them.

The apprentice continued to sob as their connection faded, her Master still holding her.

“...I need to speak to the council about this, and fast.” he spoke, voice still grave. “That- If she was doing what I think she was, he is an immensely powerful force-user.”  He swallowed hard, hands trembling. “-A very dangerous thing to be in this galaxy, especially alone.  She could fall prey to all sorts with ill intentions…”

-

She woke up, screaming and clawing at the cheap third-class cabin mattress pad, sobbing, and could only lay there for a second, whimpering and pawing at the blanket that a moment ago had been a robe-

“So uh.” a voice spoke up from the other side of the cabin, pausing to clear his throat. 

She looked up realizing she’d gone from a plausibly-normal-but-uncommon humanoid to something three times her regular size with horns, long thrashing tail and covered in spines in her sleep. Pressed firmly to the far wall was the tiny cabin’s other occupant, a man that was actually probably not that old, but looked like he had gone through the garburator of life without the sink running, judging by scars covering his torso and his cautious but strangely calm demeanor as he slowly stood up from where he’d been taking cover behind his mattress, which was now covered with spines.

“-Do you usually sleep-shapeshift?”  he asked. “Because if that’s the case we’re gonna need to ask the steward for a lot more bedding.”

“...I was having a nightmare.” She croaked awkwardly, slowly collapsing back to her previous humanoid shape.

He nodded slowly, shaking the spines out of his mattress as they shrank along with her and setting it back on his bunk, opposite hers.

“Not to be entirely self-interested, but that’s an unusual talent you have there, and something I would find immensely helpful in my line of work.” he said, studying her with interest. “Ever considered getting into crime?”

[cuubism]

I’m BEGGING for more “retired!Dream opens up a weird magic fey bookshop” au. Its so intriguing!

you are in luck. i wrote more

--

"So," Hob says, leaning in the doorway of Dream's study-of-sorts, "much as I love the recommendations, do you mind if I browse?"

He's taken, recently, to meeting Dream on the upper floor of the shop, bringing coffee and watching Dream label and sort his new books in incomprehensible categories. He usually gets some interesting book facts out of it, too, or strange little stories -- "this book washed up on the Sardinian shore some years ago", "this was signed by a long-dead author, I've been curious to see how long it will take for a collector to find it," "an old man bestowed this upon me on the eve of his death, it's the only copy in existence" and so on -- not to mention the pleasure of Dream's company. He is so odd, and so engaging.

Dream looks up at him now with a tiny smile that crinkles the corner of his eyes. "Of course. Find whatever you wish."

Hob has been wondering if Dream's serendipitous knack with books will extend to browsing, to random finds. Only one way to know.

He leaves Dream to his labeling and goes to wander the shop.

This time, he does get swallowed in Oneiromancy, where he finds Sleeping Worlds, a book about dream travel. Then he wanders deeper into the shop, passes categories like, "Cat Training," CLOCKS, "Mathematics: Easy -> Impossible", and, "♾". Of course he goes into Infinity, and picks up The Birth of Numbers, a book whose text starts in the center of the page and spirals outwards, font growing larger as the book goes on, and in another section called "Romance: DIFFICULT LEVEL" -- whatever the hell difficult means -- he picks up a tiny book that's just one line, one syllable on each page.

I

on

ly

want

ed

you

to

see.

God, Dream's shop is weird.

Dream finds him there some time later, deep in Sleeping Worlds. "I see you've had a productive day."

"Yeah, sorry, lost track of time."

Dream keeps looking at him with a little smirk.

Worry darts through Hob's stomach. "Wait, what time is it?"

"Midnight," says Dream, with satisfaction. "I've absorbed you."

Yeah, no kidding. Hob scrambles to his feet. "Jesus, Dream, sorry. I'll get out of your hair."

"No matter. This is what The Library is for."

Hob goes to hand him the books, and he waves a hand. "Keep them, I will get them back eventually."

Ominous. Great.

"Gonna break into my house and retrieve them?" Hob asks. He probably wouldn't even mind, to be honest.

"Nothing so alarming." He gestures Hob forward, and Hob follows, lets Dream walk him out.

It is, indeed, pitch dark outside on their shared street. Hob's supposed to open the cafe at 6. Whoops.

"Thanks for the books, Dream," he says. "And for. Ten hours of distraction, apparently."

Dream leans in the narrow doorway of his shop. "Of course. Come browse... anytime."

And he melts back into the shadows as Hob steps down onto the street.

--

Hob wonders if he's an idiot for wanting to ask Dream out. Dream is clearly some kind of other thing, and hanging around him did kind of get Hob cursed. But the way he bites his lip when he's making notes in books is so cute. His unerring ability to make perfect book selections is both strange and endearing -- even the books Hob had picked up on his own had been exactly what he hadn't known he was looking for. Hob's heart picks up every time he steps into the cafe.

But if he's to ask out Dream, his own personal weird bookshop creature, he has to do it right.

And he knows how.

The next time Dream comes in for coffee, Hob sits down across from him and hands him a book. Dream looks at it in surprise, and Hob has the sudden thought that as the all-powerful selector of tomes, he probably isn't gifted books himself.

The book is called, Broken Hands. Hob had pulled it off his own shelf. Dream doesn't ask him what it is, instead he flips open the cover and reads, as Hob had hoped he would.

The first page of Broken Hands has the following paragraph:

Kissing her hand, he came to know himself. Kissing her mouth, he came to know them both. When they went onward, for now only in his mind, he kissed more of her, and more, and more, and then, he knew her. He wanted to know her.

Dream reads it, and looks back up at him. Offers a tiny smile. Yes, Hob knew he would get it.

"You have something you would like to ask me, Hob Gadling?" he says softly.

"You have something you want to answer?"

Dream takes a long sip of his coffee, but looks at Hob over the rim of the mug, a smile in his eyes. Then he swipes away the milk foam from his upper lip with his tongue and says, "I'd say that you are very foolish, to still wish to associate with someone who did, in a sense, get you cursed. But that I find myself grateful for this foolishness. People do often come back to the library, once they find it-- but they don't often come back for me."

It makes Hob sad to imagine--Dream the perennial custodian of The Library, shepherd of its patrons, gifting small touches of coincidence and magic, but always in the background, a bridge and not a destination. Meanwhile, Hob likes the strange books, but it's Dream he keeps wanting to hover around, to lure back into his own space.

He dares to take Dream's hand and squeezes. "...So?"

"I'd say that I'd like to get coffee with you, if you know a place."

Cheeky thing. "Yeah, there's a Starbucks a couple blocks down," Hob says, gesturing, and Dream chuckles. Hob's still holding his hand, and brings it to his lips for a light kiss, and gets to watch as Dream's cheeks tint pink. His heart lifts in his chest. So easy and light.

"You're gorgeous," he says, and that blush deepens. "I'd suffer even Starbucks for you."

"You would suffer much, then," says Dream.

"We'll get our Starbucks and wander around WHSmith and have a fabulous date," Hob says, and Dream's face goes through the most exquisite journey of horror.

"You demand too much," he says, faint. "You enjoy my suffering."

"Little bit, yeah." Hob's certainly enjoying the reaction.

Then Dream looks at him in challenge. "Very well," he declares. "You've set the date. Now you must follow through."

Hob can't even spare a thought to the distasteful activities he's now gotten himself into--he has a date with Dream. "So that's a yes?"

Dream smiles again, a tiny, pleased thing. "It is a yes, Hob Gadling."

--

They do go to Starbucks. Hob is treated to the glorious sight of Dream sipping a pink drink out of a long straw, which is so worth dealing with the coffee. Then he indeed drags Dream to WHSmith, where Dream stands in the middle of the brightly-lit store, spins in a circle staring at carefully lined book displays with wide eyes, says, "Hell would be more merciful," and bolts away. Hob follows him, laughing.

Outside, he finds Dream leaning in the shade of a tree, looking vaguely shell-shocked. Hob really shouldn't keep laughing at him, but he can't help it. "Were you traumatized permanently by the big chain store?"

"Yes," says Dream, but, despite the perilous adventure, smiles. "You are a cruel man, Hob Gadling."

"Nah. Just harnessed the fluorescent lighting to chase you back into the safety of my arms."

"Oh?" Dream pushes off the tree and steps closer, until he's standing just before Hob, close enough to touch. "Was that the goal?"

Hob takes the leap that's offered and touches Dream's cheek with a light hand. "Did it work?"

This close, in the midday light, Dream's eyes are almost grey. The shade of the tree dapples his skin. It's still odd to see him out of the contained space of his bookshop, of Hob's cafe, but it does make this feel more real. A part of the world beyond the spun-sugar story of their orbiting binary stars.

Dream rests a feather light hand on Hob's chest. Studies Hob from under his eyelashes. And instead of answering, he leans up and, with that same light touch, presses his lips to Hob's.

Hob revels in the mere touch of him for a moment, but doesn't let it stand at light for long. He takes Dream's face between his hands and deepens the kiss, sweeping his tongue into Dream's mouth, swallowing Dream's hum of pleasure. If only he could put into the kiss what he had felt when Dream had handed him Nightingales. A sudden finding of something long lost that was always meant to be rooted in his heart.

When they part, he makes good on a promise and does pull Dream into his arms. It feels like a great indulgence. It also feels right.

"Make me a solemn promise, Hob Gadling," Dream says against Hob's cheek, arms wrapped around his back.

"Anything."

"Never take me here ever again."

Hob laughs into his hair, squeezing him tight. "What could one possibly want from here when The Library exists?"

This seems to greatly gratify Dream, who preens in Hob's arms. Hob kisses the shell of his ear, then his cheek, then they part again, and he takes Dream's hand. "I'm glad you expanded your horizons with me for a day."

"And now I will shrink them again," says Dream. "Except for one." To which he runs his thumb along Hob's lower lip, a touch Hob sways forward to follow almost drunkenly as Dream smirks. "Come."

He starts leading Hob back in the direction of their quiet street, and far far away from any fluorescent lighting, and Hob follows, touching his lips fondly. And lets himself be cautiously, tentatively hopeful that this will continue spiraling up into something real, because he wants it so bad. Curses and all.

[waywardxrhea]

Part of Your World - George Weasley

Chapter 9

pairing: George Weasley x fem!Muggle!reader

installment list / previous chapter / next chapter

word count: 4,162

a/n: as mentioned in the last chapter, if you are purely here for the fluff and the story you don't have to read this chapter! when i wrote this i had went down the sex pollen rabbit hole and ended up here lmao! and to be clear, these are two legal, of age adults in this story! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION! content warnings below the cut!

content: some fluff! alcohol consumption (enough to be tipsy, not drunk - well, except Jasmine lmao), smut! sex potion (dub-con technically?) kissing, love bites, public sexual acts (obstructed from others’ view by magic), fingering, handjob, overstimulation, begging, oral (male and female receiving), language, unprotected sex, aftercare, mentioned future use of a morning after potion.

a/n: wow that’s a lot of content looking back to edit this😅🤣 i got carried away whoops!

“Would you look at you!” George breathed before letting out a low whistle when you opened the door, ready to go to your university’s awards ceremony. For the occasion you opted to wear your favourite glittery lilac dress that had a sweetheart neckline and ended right above your knee. The skirt of the dress rippled in the light June wind and it was one of the few dresses of this length you felt truly confident in, especially after those months at the gym. 

“You’re looking quite sharp yourself,” you replied with a smile, noting that George opted for a matching lilac tie and pocket square. 

“Are you ready to go?” he asked, offering out his arm. 

“Yep!” you replied, locking the front door. After you did, you hooked your arm in his so you two could begin the walk to the university campus where the small awards ceremony was being held. “Thank you for agreeing to come,” you told him quietly after a few moments, a fondness in your tone that was unmistakable.

“Your forever plus one, remember?” George asked softly with a smile on his lips. You started referring to him as that a few weeks prior when you first invited him, and every time you did it made George’s heart flutter. 

During the ceremony, which was quite long-winded as the professors droned on about different fundraising events planned in order to put on the best shows possible in the coming year, George ended up entertaining the small table the two of you sat at with quiet jokes and “sleight of hand” magic with some of the Muggle magic trick items from the shop. 

When it was time for awards, George of course cheered the loudest when you got the award for “Most Dedicated Performer.” When you arrived back at the table with the small trophy in hand, George kissed you deeply before congratulating you on the award. 

Later that evening, a mid-sized group of your theatre company went to a nearby pub to celebrate the end of a successful year. The group had faces from all across the university’s specialties of performance, from stage coordinators, to dancers, to those who specialised in plays, then of course the musical theatre students. Once the group all settled down around a few tables they had mashed together, one older student raised her glass and called, “Here’s to another wonderful year performing and to many more to come!”

“Hear, hear!” the group called back, raising their glasses in turn. 

And with that the festivities kicked off! You chatted for a little while with your close friends before you found yourself watching on as George and Matt competed to see who could catch the most peanuts that were being thrown their way in their mouth. As you watched, Jasmine slid up beside you and asked with a bit of a slur to her voice, “Well isn’t your boy toy the life of the party?”

“That’s him,” you replied with a smile, yawning a bit afterward. It had been a very long day and it was already nearing midnight, but the fun at the pub seemed far from over and you didn’t want to be the first one to call it for the night. “Where’s Abbie?” you asked, trying to busy your mind. 

“Believe it or not,” Jasmine said, leaning in close to your ear with a faux serious look on her face, “she’s actually been kissing up on that older boy Thomas all night!” 

“You’re kidding!” you said, your eyes darting around the room, only to find the pair lost in each others’ lips over in a corner of the pub. You laughed quietly before saying, “It’s about time she let loose.”

“Right!!” she exclaimed before stepping, well more so stumbling, off of the tall stool and saying, “I’m going to get another! You need to let loose too girl! The semester is over, it's time to unwind! Get your honey to get you something fruity!”

“Did I hear something about getting something to drink?” came George’s voice as he approached you from behind, wrapping his arms around you as he kissed your cheek. 

“If you don’t mind,” you told him as you closed your eyes for a moment and relaxed into his embrace. You stifled a yawn before lowering your voice and asking, “Do you happen to have any wideye potion on you? I didn’t sleep well last night and I’m exhausted but I don’t want to be the first to leave…”

George slipped a hand into the inside of his coat and looked before nodding, telling you, “It looks like I’ve got just enough to keep the two of us up long enough to stay for a while. What drink do you want to mix it with?”

“Pina colada please, I don’t particularly like wideye option, I’d rather not taste it,” you replied with a quiet laugh. 

“You got it,” George told you before departing and ordering both of you drinks from the barkeep. 

George returned with your drink in one hand and a shot of dark liquor in the other for himself. He handed you your drink in which you saw the blue potion swirled in, and told you with a chuckle, “The trick for taking these nasty potions is to get them down as fast as possible.”

“I think the flavour of rum and coconut may work out in my favor. This way then at least it’ll last longer,” you replied in a teasing tone before taking a few sips of the drink. Rather than the bitter taste of the potion, all you tasted was the coconut and pineapple flavour along with something a little sweeter that you attributed to the pub’s spin on the drink. “See, tastes great,” you said with a giggle before taking a few more long sips while giving George a wink. 

A few minutes later while you were chatting with an older girl who majored in musical performance as well, you felt your heart rate begin to increase and felt like someone had turned on the heat in the pub. So to combat the heat, you began sipping more on the frozen drink you had in hand, taking it down nearly to its last dregs before you finished up your conversation with the girl. While the advice you had been given to further improve your performance had been solid, some of it had gone in one ear and out the other as you concentrated on cooling your body temperature. 

When you were alone at the table again, George came up behind you and moved your hair out of the way before beginning to gently kiss your neck, asking, “Have I told you how gorgeous you look tonight?”

“M-maybe a few times,” you replied, letting out a breathy sigh as you relaxed into his arms. You laughed lightly before asking, “What’s gotten into you, love?”

“My bloody amazing fiancée wearing a dress that has been driving me crazy all night…” he whispered. 

As he said this, he splayed his hands out over your barely covered thighs and began massaging them gently. The motion seemed to ease some of the heat in your body, but at that exact moment you could practically feel the transfer of heat from your body to right between your thighs. “F-feels good…” you mumbled as you tilted your head to allow George easier access to your neck as he began gently sucking love bites into the sensitive skin. 

“Need to get you home,” George told you as he took a short break from his assault on your neck. “Need to have you,” he mumbled in your ear, sending a jolt of electricity directly to your core. As you shifted on the barstool in order to ease some of the tension between your thighs, your bottom brushed against George who seemed about as aroused as you were at the moment. At the brief contact, something almost like a growl rumbled out of George’s chest before he grunted out, “Don’t know if I can wait that long though, darling…”

“Then let’s go,” you replied, grabbing his hand as you jumped off the barstool, nearly toppling over in the process. George took the opportunity to grab your body and hold you close in order to hide his now painfully hard erection from the rest of your classmates as you called your goodbyes for the night. 

You two couldn’t even get more than a few blocks closer to the Leaky Cauldron before George was slamming his lips onto yours, his hands exploring your body as he pulled you into a darkened alleyway. “I can’t wait,” George told you.

 When he did, he pulled out his wand and began casting charms on the area, one you didn’t recognize with the incantation cave immicum and one that you remembered as the same one he cast on your door the night he revealed he was a wizard to you. The one that concealed sound within an area. “G-George, dear, what are you-?”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence before you felt George lift one of your legs and hook it around him, his fingers sliding up your thigh and rubbing over your clothed and sensitive clit. When you relaxed at the touch and opened your legs the slightest bit more, George slid your knickers aside and pushed two fingers into your slick cunt, telling you, “I cast that charm because I know you can’t keep quiet when I have my way with you, darling. And right now,” he began moving his fingers at a rapid pace, “I plan on finishing you off in this alleyway.”

“Oh God, yes,” you whimpered, the leg holding you upright already starting to give way as the pleasure mounted and made your joints feel like jelly. The heat in your body seemed to continue to lower as he worked you up on his fingers, and without even consciously thinking about it, your hand snaked its way down to begin gently rubbing over the strained tent in George’s slacks. “These are in the way… I assume…mmm-! Privacy charm? N-No one can see us? Or hear us?” you asked, your sentences clipped as he continued to pump his fingers in and out, your orgasm building faster than you anticipated, likely due to the setting.

“Correct,” George grunted as he thrust his hips into your hand. 

“Then I’m getting you off too, mister,” you told him as you managed to unbutton and unzip his trousers with one deft hand. 

As you freed his length from its confines, George let out a satisfied sigh as he buried his head in the crook of your neck, muttering, “Bloody hell…” as you began to pump him in your hand after lubricating it with spit. 

The feeling of pleasuring him along with the sounds of George’s quiet grunts and groans pushed you over the edge after a few more strokes of his fingers. The feeling of pleasure took over your whole body, every single nerve feeling as if it was on fire as your orgasm rocked you. Even though he had the charms cast over the area, George greedily captured the sounds you made with his own mouth, savouring the sweet noises as he continued pumping his fingers into your pulsing cunt, itching to make you have another. The whimpers that accompanied your overstimulation were what sent George over the edge, a louder than he intended moan leaving his mouth in response his unexpected release. 

“That…was amazing…” George breathed, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as you both caught your breath. 

“Exhilarating,” you panted back, your chest still heaving as you lowered your leg from around his waist. “I think we should get going though before we get caught…”

“Right,” George said as he hiked his trousers up over his semi-hard member. 

You proceeded to get ever closer to the Leaky Cauldron, but as you neared, you began to feel that same heat begin creeping into your body as your heart rate began to rise once more. As you passed through the pub and into the back area where you would traverse into Diagon Alley, you couldn’t help but glance down at George’s nearly fully erect member straining at his trousers, leaning up to kiss him deeply and grazing your fingers over him as you whispered, “George, I-I still need you… Bad. Your fingers weren’t enough… I feel this… heat inside. Won’t leave unless you’re touching me… Please…”

“We’re almost there,” George told you, his hands shaking as he tapped the correct bricks with his wand. 

The short walk to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes felt like an eternity, but once you entered the shop and George confirmed that Fred was out for the night in Hogsmeade talking business with Bilton Blimes, you dropped down to your knees and began undoing his trousers once more. He stuttered out your name in shock at your bold actions. “We’re- we’re still-” George started to say as his breath began to come in sharp. “In the shop,” he finished, a sigh leaving his lips as you began teasing him with your tongue, the heat from his own body transferring to his stiff member. 

“Can’t wait,” you told him, swallowing hard before taking him into your mouth. 

George felt his whole body relax in response to your mouth around him but he couldn’t help but bring his hand to your hair, gently tugging as you worked him up again just right. The pulling of your hair elicited a moan from you that reverberated around George's cock, nearly causing his knees to give way. “So good…” he whispered, his chest heaving as he rapidly approached his second climax. “That pretty mouth… Know what you’re doing… Bloody hell…”

When you smirked around him in response and hollowed out your cheeks with a soft groan leaving your throat was exactly when George lost it. As he spilled into your mouth, a series of curse words left him that you had never heard him utter and they filled you with a sense of pride as you swallowed down everything he gave you before standing back up on unsteady legs. “You like that?” you asked teasingly as you pecked him on the lips. 

“I did, but it’s your turn now,” he told you as he lifted you into his arms after redoing his trousers, carrying you up the staircase that would take you to the flat above. As he passed through the dining area, George felt that burning desire building again and he couldn’t take the heat any longer. Laying you down on the dining table was the only gentle part of the next few moments as George found himself accidentally ripping off your knickers in his haste to taste you. 

Before you could even process what was happening, George’s mouth was on you, attacking your sensitive clit with his lips and tongue. “Ahh, shit!” you whimpered as your hands instinctively went to his hair, tugging gently to encourage his ministrations. 

“Taste so good, darling,” George told you when he took a few moments’ break, plunging two fingers inside which went in without any resistance. “Come on, give me a second one…” George mumbled as he watched your jaw drop in response to the pleasurable feeling before returning to lapping at your throbbing clit, the pleasure insurmountable from both sensations. 

“Oh my God, George! George!” you cried as you reached your high for the second time that night, your grip on his hair tightening as you fell apart. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you came and white filled your vision, causing you to clamp your eyes shut as you moaned and writhed under George's skilled mouth.

“That’s it, easy, easy,” he mumbled against you as he worked you down gently. 

What he didn’t know was that the reverberations of his voice on your most sensitive area only fueled the fire raging inside of you and the heat from before returned with a vengeance. “George, I-I still…” you whispered, a pained groan leaving your throat as you sat up and clawed at your dress, desperate for some relief from the heat. 

With the slightest bit of relief still flooding his mind, George took in your desperate state and began to question what had gotten into the both of you… You had never done anything of this nature in public before, not in the shop, let alone in a London alleyway! “One second…” George told you as he shed his coat from his body. 

“But Georgie, I-” you replied as you began to unbutton his dress shirt. “I need you… I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but… Please…”

Right as you said this, George fished something out of a pocket in his coat and at the sight he sighed and closed his eyes, cursing quietly. “Darling, I’m so sorry, this is because of the effects of a new experimental potion… I-I thought I pulled out the correct one earlier, but…” he showed you the vial that had the colours blue and green swirling inside, rather than just the blue that was mixed into the drinks at the pub. 

“W-what kind of potion?”

“It was a new love potion we started working on recently. The intended effects were affection, but… Maybe we were heavy handed with an ingredient and-”

“Affection turned to uncontrolled lust,” you finished, a quiet laugh leaving your lips as you looked down at your hands that had gotten to the last button of George’s shirt. 

A soft smile made its way onto George’s lips that faltered as he told you, “We haven’t brewed an antidote yet…” His thoughts raced through what that could mean and he spoke aloud as he went through them. “Hands didn’t seem to work to stave off the potion’s effects and neither did our mouths… Well… It worked well enough for me because I have a clearer mind than I did before- Wait.”

“What?” you asked, unable to control yourself as you began kissing at George’s exposed skin. 

“My mind became less clouded when I finished inside your body,” he glanced down at his trousers which were starting to become tented once again at your desperate touch and finished with, “but it’s starting to take effect again. And you… your body is still craving me.”

“Are you saying that means-?” you asked, your heart jolting at the implications of the statement. Even though your mind was clouded not only by the potion but the liquor coursing through your veins, you still understood what George was saying and it scared you. You two had never had unprotected sex before - you always bought condoms and kept a box in George’s room as well as yours. Even though he revealed that he was a wizard and knew potions and spells that could prevent pregnancy such as coutus interruptus, you were still cautious. You couldn’t have a baby now, not this early in your stage career. 

George’s voice snapped you back into reality as he kissed your cheek, telling you between sloppy kisses, “Unprotected sex, yes.” He pulled away and placed his hands on both of your arms, squeezing gently as he said, “But if you’re not comfortable with that we can wait for the effects to wear off. I just don’t know how long that’ll take. And I don’t want to see you suffering like you are right now…” As he finished his statement, he brushed a piece of stray hair out of your face and felt the heat radiating from your body. 

“Please,” you whispered as you relaxed into his touch.

“Are you sure?” George asked, tilting your chin up toward him as you opened your eyes to gaze into his soft and sincere ones. 

“Do you have any of that morning after potion?” 

“I can brew some when we’re finished. It doesn’t take long and it’ll work as long as you take it within two days,” he told you. 

“Promise?” you asked tentatively as your hands fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. 

“Well considering Angelina is at Hogwarts and not pregnant right now after the winter break she had with Fred, I think it’s safe to say it works,” he joked with a hint of seriousness in his tone. 

“Okay…” you agreed with a nod as you leaned up to kiss him once more. 

This time though George controlled the pace, guiding you the rest of the way out of your dress and slowing your desperate hands down as you helped him out of his clothes. “I’m gonna treat you right, don’t worry,” he told you as he kicked his trousers and underwear off and lifted you into his arms to take you to his room. 

Once there, George got the two of you into bed and took a deep breath as he asked again, “Are you sure?” 

“Positive,” you replied, your hips bucking up to meet him. You whimpered when you felt his bare member against your core, but desperation for his touch and his love outweighed the fear bubbling in the back of your mind. 

And so George gently thrust into you, the velvet of his aching cock dragging against your walls causing the both of you to let out satisfied sighs as the heat in your bodies once again dissipated into your most sensitive areas. This time though, instead of wantonly trying to get one another off, it was a slow and passionate act of love and desire as George showed you how much he cared for you through his actions. This, combined with the oversensitivity of already having two orgasms brought you to the edge embarrassingly fast. “George, I-I’m close…” you whimpered as you grabbed at the sheets of the bed, wanting to hold on for longer. 

“That’s fine, let go darling,” George told you, his voice low as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, picking up the pace after shifting his hips to try and hit that one spot inside of you that he knew drove you crazy. 

The noise that ripped from your throat when he began hitting that spongy spot filled the room as you abruptly crashed into your third orgasm of the night. George pulled his head back to watch the pleasure contort your face and he smiled as he said, “That’s it, you feel so good… So bloody good…”

As the aftershocks began to run through you and your cunt continued to pulse around George, he felt his orgasm quickly approaching as his pleasure once again neared its peak. “I-I’m gonna-” he grunted as his hips began to stutter into you. Still oversensitive and aching, you moaned George’s name like a prayer before he crashed his lips onto yours, but not before telling you, “I love you, so, so much…”

“I love you too,” you whispered into his lips. In response to the whispered words, George felt a wave of pleasure wash over him as he began to paint your walls with his release, continuing to thrust into you as he worked through his orgasm. 

Within seconds, you felt the heat and desperation leave your body as you relaxed into the bed. As George pulled out and laid beside you, you rested your head on his chest as you both tried to calm your breathing. You lifted one leg to rest on George’s bare thigh and cringed as you felt his release leaking out of your soaked centre. “Do you feel better?” George asked softly as he caressed your hair, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. 

“Much,” you replied, your eyes closing as you relaxed further into his embrace. 

“Here, let me…” he said as he sat up slightly, grabbing his wand off of the bedside table and waving it, summoning a clean washcloth from the nearby bathroom. “Auguamenti,” he mumbled, causing water to wet the rag before he cast another spell that warmed it up. Remaining as gentle as he was during sex, George took the rag and began cleaning you up from the mess he made. “Just relax,” he whispered, placing a kiss on your temple as you cringed at the initial touch, utterly sore from the assault of pleasure you had experienced that night. 

Once you were cleaned up and George summoned a couple of cups to hydrate the both of you, he took a sip of the cool water before mumbling, “I’m sorry I messed up with the potion…”

“Hey, don’t apologise, it was an honest mistake,” you told him. A smirk graced your features as you told him, “I mean it resulted in some great sex…”

George chuckled as he pulled you close once more, saying, “Yeah, I don’t think that’s a potion we’re going to be selling any time soon…” 

“Maybe keep the recipe though, just in case,” you told him with a wink and giggle that for once left him speechless. 

a/n: i'm not even sorry, this was fun to write lmao!

ps: i wanted to poke fun at the scientific word for the pullout method being "coitus interruptus" so i made it into a spell rather than using the classic fetus deletus

we will be back to our regularly scheduled programming in the next installment which is super angsty so you'll want to hold on for the rollercoaster of emotions coming up in the next few chapters...

as always, likes and comments are appreciated! xo, brooke <3

taglist: @reidmarieprentiss @superduckmilkshake (one has been taken off of the taglist due to not having any age indicators in the profile)

dividers by @firefly-graphics as always!

[raindailies]

the chase is over. ᝰ.ᐟ

HACKER!SHU YAMINO x CRIMINAL!READER ──★ ˙ ̟ !!

INFO: you've been playing a game of chase with an infamous hacker who goes by Shu. He's finally caught up to you, after years. What will you do?

WARNINGS: major character death, angst no comfort, descriptions of blood, suicide ; no use of y/n

A/N: i wrote this at 12 am on a school night with a french test tomorrow so this is probably rlly shit spare me

English isn't my first language - so excuse any grammatical mistakes and bare with me here (╥_╥)

words:

𝐒𝐇𝐔 𝐘𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎 ✦ !

Who would've thought things would end like this?

Roughly 3 years ago, while simply robbing a small shop just down the road, you met face to face with an infamous hacker. You managed to slip out of his grasp then, but he had made it his mission to catch you with all his might - though you were a difficult one to deal with. You always ran away somehow, and it was like a never ending cycle.

Or so you thought.

He'd come close to catching you, and you'd slip away right as he's about to get you. You'd come close to finding out where he lives and boom it's actually a random garage. It was like a cat and mouse game. Over. And over. And over again.

A never-ending game.

Until it ended.

There you two were face to face with the man that has been hunting you for 3 consecutive years. You both standing on a rooftop, you stand near the edge of the rooftop, while he stands firmly in the middle. You have nowhere else to go. He finally caught you. He should feel proud, and satisfied, right? That's what he thought too.

"Looks like I lost" you smile, turning back to him.

"..don't say that." Shu mumbles, as his purple eyes interlocked with yours.

you smile.

he frowns.

"When are they arriving? The police, I mean." you chuckle bitterly, facing the man that you've been dreading to kill, but now that he's in front of you, you feel something else entirely.

Shu frowns, silent.

"Oh come on, don't tell me you didn't call the police, you must have." You knew he did.

"..are you really okay with this?" he mumble.

"No, not really. I wish our game went on for longer." You smile, dryly. "I had fun you know? Despite everything, the game was the highlight of my days"

"..it was mine too" he admits, his head low.

"you know, I never saw you close up" You turn to look at him, closely. His eyes reflected the midnight blue skies behind you. His purple eyes stare back at you, and the wind is softly blowing his hair around. He was charming, quite more than you had remembered.

"you're pretty." You breathe out, as you observe his flushed face.

"I- what. Uh.. you're. You're pretty too.." He finally mutters, his voice shaking as he avoids your piercing gaze. It wasn't a lie, no, in fact, he thought you were drop-dead gorgeous when he first saw you years ago. Ever more gorgeous now, his gaze is fixated on your figure.

"I take it you're not very happy. Why is that? Aren't you happy to finally be catching me after all that time? I must've been a pain in your ass, I apologize." You softly chuckle, though tears were threatening to spill at that point.

"..no. No not really. I- Thank you. Thank you for just..being you. It was really fun." He sighs as he comes to the realization of his own feelings. He thought it was just the adrenaline during those chases, but it was butterflies.

"whoop, there they come." You laugh, your eyes peering down at the police cars and sirens heading your way.

"I'm sorry." To your surprise, you look back, to see Shu with tears running down his eyes.

"Wh- no don't be sorry! I knew this day would come anyway." You quickly waved his tears off.

"I've grown to really like you over all that time Shu." You spoke again, this time, approaching him softly. As you stood near him, your hand brought his face to look at you in the eye, but tears were blinding his sight.

You sigh, using your thumb to wipe away some of his tears. "I'm sorry for everything I've done, maybe in another universe, we could've been friends, or more." you smile softly at him as his eyes widen in the realization of your next actions.

You quickly pulled him in for a hug, tightly, as Shu very quickly returned the favor. He hugs you back while sobbing on your shoulder, his weight falls on you.

"I'm so sorry." He mumbles through his tears.

"Don't be. I'm just glad we got to meet each other" You laugh softly, as the police come closer with each passing second. "In another universe, yeah?"

He nods.

"Good good, I'm sorry for this." You spoke lightly, softly tearing yourself away from the hug as the noises from the sirens and police yelling got louder by the minute. Shu's eyes widen in shock as he realizes your intentions now.

"no wait-!" He calls out to you, his legs just had to be so numb that he couldn't move. His breathing got rapidly faster as he saw you going closer and closer to the edge of the building.

one step.

another.

"thank you for being with me Shu! Our time together was short but the best I could ever ask for." You exclaim from the edge of the building.

Shu's ears were ringing, and everything in his body urged him to run at you.

"I love you." Your last words were uttered, and you finally let your body fall back.

in another universe, we'd be inseparable. But not this one.

© 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 - all rights reserved. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or share my work on other platforms in any way, shape, or form without my permission. if found, you WILL be blocked.

❝𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥.❞

[danisbrainrot]

yellowjackets as taylor swift albums (I'm bored). this became deeper than I meant for it to go OMG. whoops, anyways, enjoy:

1. tai: reputation. oh my god this girl is soooo in love with van, and at the end of the day, that's what reputation is. a love album. yeah it's got a little revenge in it, but overall, it's about being in love with someone who was there for you at your most vulnerable. and who's always been there for tai, adult AND teen timeline? VAN!

2. van: 1989! it's nostalgic, fun, iconic but still has the emotional rawness that flows throughout all of taylor's albums. everyone thinks 1989 is just heaps of fun, but it has this emotional intensity to it that once you look closer to it, you realise how much of a masterpiece it is. also, it just gives me van vibes tbh.

3. jackie: lover. she's so insecure about being in a relationship with who she thinks is the love of her life (shauna) in case she fucks it up (spoiler alert, she does). taylor also wrote this album as a last hurrah, to prove she had more stories to tell, and I think that ties in nicely to jackie's character. her insecurity forces her to try and prove herself to shauna, and show her best friend how much she loves her.

4. shauna: she's a red girlie. taylor's most emotionally raw album (besides ttpd) and she just gives the vibes. this is taylor's first heartbreak album (like how jackie's death was shauna's first heartbreak), and it's so intense that it takes a few listens to understand, but once you do, you realise it's an album about a girl with big heart learning how to recover from the devastation of losing someone she loves deeply.

5. lottie: folklore!! I love my little baby. this album was written in isolation, and you can definitely hear it in some of taylor's lyrics, and I just feel like that's lottie's character. the isolated girl who's held up to a higher standard than everyone else.

6. nat: ttpd. okay, i was tossing up between giving this to nat or travis, but then I remembered the adult timeline and went with nat. when I first heard this album, it reminded me of her purposeless speech. it's also an album where taylor was going through a manic phase, and if that isn't nat, I don't know what is. she's just lost the love of her life, and then she's kidnapped by lottie's cult and promised so many wonderful things, that she believes it—only for it to end in tragedy.

7. misty: she gives off such speak now vibes. she has so much she wants to prove, and she's reeling from being in love with a man much older than her.

8. travis: evermore. he's such a tragic little guy, that the album suits him. I really just think of happiness, marjorie and right where you left me because he's stuck in the past. he literally kills himself (accidentally I know, I know) because he's so trapped in the wilderness despite being free from it. this album has always given me: depressed sad, compared to its sister albume: folklore, which gives me angry sad. and while he's definitely more angry then lottie, he's got this deep sadness in him that echoes evermore.

9. mari: midnights. okay I don't know how to explain it better than this is how I interpret mari. she's the first to throw herself into believing lottie because she's scared and when I think of midnights, I think of how scared taylor was at losing her relationship and joe that she ignores her feelings. and mari ignores her feelings because if she really thinks about it, I don't think she'd be able to handle herself, i.e. being trapped in the woods, eating jackie.

10. javi: taylor swift (debut). just the innocence and naïvety of the album. it's her first album, she wrote and released at 15/16 so there's a lot of childish beliefs and hopes, which I think javi has—but there's still an underlying feeling of heartbreak. he tries to be a kid, but is still traumatised.

11. laura lee: fearless!! this is purely based on the album title. I mean, learning to fly a plane just to save her friends? this album is probably my least favourite, so you're not going to get a lot of analysis, but the few times I've listened to it, I understand it's about having faith things will work out (this might be wrong, but that's what I'm choosing to believe about it). and her faith makes her believe she can do anything, including save her friends. omg I love her so much <333

[scarredlove]

Across the Waves

I wrote this... then stopped... decided to come back to it at midnight... whoops

Sun got a fic from me so... who's next~?

Forgive any mistakes or weird phrases

Even the night was gloomy. Not even one sparkling speck in the sky.

Your sandals separated your feet from the now cold sand, but didn't stop the few strays from sticking in between your toes. "Moon?" You called out, looking out at the span of the beach front, black waves washing the shore to your right, large rocks and trees lining your left.

Today, all of the boys had wanted out of the tank and to stretch their legs out. Eclipse wasn't always the most talkative, but as the biggest out of the lot (and the most stern), you had no worry when he ventured out by himself. He certainly had a presence to not be messed with. However, Moon was different.

Not that he couldn't take care of himself, being the most sneaky out of the trio had it's advantages... Until it pushes Sun a bit off the bend and he accidentally dirties his brother's bright yellow garb. If it had been Eclipse, or even reversed, it probably would have just made the whole event funnier. But not when one of your slugs was the largest germaphobe you'd had the pleasure to meet.

"Moony?" You called again, still no obvious 7ft slug man in sight. Of course, you didn't blame Moony. You did try to warn him that your drink was on the edge of the stout coffee table but by then, it was too late. The Hypselodoris Obscura startling its brother back and knocking the drink in the process.

An incident like this was very much like any regular family, a small thing blown out of proportion. But until it was clean enough again, Sunny wouldn't be able to return the water. So as much there was slight tension, you'd quickly thrown it into the wash before coming out here to hunt the culprit. You knew it would be fine, and so did Sun (behind all the frustrated grumbles). Now time to reassure blue boy.

A gentle hum reached your ears. Or at least, within your mind. You looked over to the trees and caught the faintest speckled glow. They were certainly not there a second ago. Chuckling softly, you made your way to the sulking incarnate of the moon, the musical mumbles growing in volume. Behind the scrawny trunks, Moon was crouched down to the half grass, half sand ground, both arms wrapped around his torso.

"Hey there." Though he already knew you were there, it never hurt to inform him that he was indeed found. He didn't look up to you, the back of his cloak losing its glow to return hidden in the shadows. "You ok, big baby?"

The bells on the large hood rang as he turned his head slightly to you, though you still couldn't see him. "Is Sunny angry?" He asked solemnly. Stepping around the train of his coat, you knelt down beside him to see he'd bent down before a little pool of water. You weren't sure if anything was within it, but didnt chance dipping your fingers in.

A small laugh left you. "You know he can never stay angry at you." You thought for a second. "At least, until he gets to scold you for being a menace to his wellbeing." A raspy chuckle was your response. Good. "So, am I going to have you drag you back, or do you want to stay here a bit longer?" Moon outstretched a hand to glide over the small pool before you both, the circular movements almost hypnotic.

Moon said nothing, though did return to his melody. It was a gentle song, he would hum it on occasion but it was always welcomed. And every time he did, you would catch his shoulders loosening up, the tension easing from his form. Seeing his back droop a little bit, you rose a hand and pressed it to his back, rubbing up and down for a few moments, a sigh leaving your sweet Obscura. "Sorry." The hood murmured, his face still hidden. "Knocked your drink." He elaborated.

"It's ok, Moony." You shrugged. "It'd probably been cold for ages. May as well be poison by that point."

He chuckled again, the tone not as croaky, and leaned into your touch. "Then I'm not sorry. I saved you."

A gasp left your lips in return. "What a generous hero you are!" Your free hand rose and pressed against your chest for added theatrics. "You should be rewarded instead!"

Red eyes turned to meet yours finally, the off-white glow of his pupils soft like his namesake. There was a charming grin on his face but you could see tiredness in the expression too, the mental strain of an internal war having taken its toll on him until he clawed back to himself. From him shifting, the hand on his back moved to his shoulder, cupping him whilst rubbing small circles with your thumb like his fingers across the dark liquid.

Dropping the arm from his chest, his hand moved to lay over yours on his shoulder, scooping up your dinky digits in his much larger hand and nuzzled his cheek over the knuckles, eyes closing as he red against them like a tiny pillow. "Warm." He noted softly, moving to press the back of your palm to his chin. "My sweet sea star..." His voice echoed in your head, making you sigh gently.

"C'mon..." you started, "we should get home before the other-"

He tugged you into his chest. Face planting into the ruffles of his gown. His hand leaving yours to secure your middle to his. An arm wrapping around your shoulders... Which all sounds nice enough... Until you feel wet fingertips rub the back of your neck. Body temperature falling drastically as stray droplets worked their way down your back. "MOON-!"

He ripped away from you just as fast as he pulled you in, leaving you stretching and almost scratching the coldness away from your throat as quickly as possible, though making you look like a maniac in the process. He was giggling and cackling to himself, standing back up on his feet though not too far away for you to see his face and glare at his betrayal.

"Alright boy. That's it." He stopped his laughter, the grin was still etched on his face as he watched you slowly take off your sandals and rise, the sand smooth against your toes. "You better run before you have to face both Sun AND my anger!"

The laughing resumed and he ran away as you gave chase, though, the way he was 'running' was more like a weird crab scurrying away. Making him looking like a little gremlin in your eyes. But he never outrun you. Always remained the same distance as you both ran back home. Where Moon was promptly scolded by his sunnier twin before being welcomed back home.

[karkkidoeswriting]

Off-brand NaNo Update #1

Obviously I'm not using the official nano org website or anything anymore after hearing about all the shitty things, but I've never really done it properly anyway so it doesn't really change the way I do it. I learned yesterday about TrackBear from my friend. It's very cool, you can similarly track your progress as in the nano org website, but it's even better (you can track for example time instead of words!). So I made my own extremely low stakes nano goal, writing every week 7 hours during November, so 30 hours in total. I'll be tracking my words too, but I'm not putting goals for that.

I'm working on Bear Castle Cycle (I changed the working title again from Bear Castle Cronicles). I'm on my millionth rewrite of the first draft. I again made some major changes to the story (before starting this draft last year). The story has four distinct storylines that intersect very little, and I'm currently writing Valeri's storyline and I'll also start with Faerathos', since I recently re-outlined it. I still need to re-outline Fiolev's and Cassia's storylines. If I end up doing that in this month, I'll count the time spent on the outlining on my goal.

I already started after the midnight, by writing whooping 35 mins, during which I wrote 221 words for the prologue. I had mostly rewritten the prologue before, but I skipped the last scene since at the time there were still things I hadn't figured out about it. I'm now almost done with the prologue.

Words written: 221

Current word count: 14 399

Time written: 35 min