#makes me feel like a child exited to draw again

[asterthought]

"You're so gorgeous it actually hurts..."

No.6 Week [Day 3]

First Snow of the Season | Dancing | Flower Shop AU

Made for @restructuralcommittee 's No.6 week! This is very badly colored but I couldn't leave it at only the pencil sketch-

(I'm trying to keep this Nezushi because I deeply love them, and I'm also attempting to cover as many as their looks I can) btw day 4 is going to be interesting 👀

Tumblr ruins the quality of the pictures so click on it to see the details!

[nights-legacy]

M'not Avoiding Him ~ Tsu'tey x reader

Main Masterlist ~ Avatar Masterlist

3350 words Warnings: vague mentions of injury + The Omaticaya begin recovering and rebuilding after the sky people left under the guidance of their new Olo'eyktan, Tsu'tey. Jake and you had gone through the transfer ceremony, you both start finding your place in the clan. You thought yours was going to be next to Tsu'tey because of how close you two had gotten close but that changed when you catch him with another woman.

It took a while for things to settle down after the great war and the Battle of the Hallelujah Mountains. The Omaticaya had to find a new home, the other clans returning to theirs, and the full transition to the new Olo'eyktan. Tsu'tey was taking the new position with stride. Not only because he had been training for this but also he had the help and support of Moat, Neytiri, Jake, and I.

Over that time and after Jake and I were permanently transferred to our Navi bodies With much reluctance, Tsu'tey had become accepting of us. He and Jake of course still butt heads but that will never change. Tsu'tey and I however grew closer. He seemed to really enjoy my company.

"Thank you, Ninat. I'll make sure Tsu'tey gets this." I held the bag of items that she asked me to deliver. I walked through the newly constructed village. It was nice to see the people getting back to their normal way of life. I made it to the Olo'eyktan's meeting marui. When I noticed a meeting going on inside, I walked over to a nearby branch and lounged on it.

"Hey Y/N!" I looked up and saw Jake walking my way. Behind him, many others exited the marui.

"Hi Jake. Meeting over?"

"Yeah. You could have come in. I doubt Tsu'tey would have said anything." He leant against the tree. I shrugged. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"Tsu'tey asked Ninat for something. I'm delivering them for her." I said, motioning to the bag.

"Well, you can go on in. I got to meet Norm. Bye." He waved as he ran off. I got up and walked towards the entrance to the hut. I paused when I saw Tsu'tey and sighed. He was picking up a few things that were scattered. He then stood up straight and looked over something. From here it looked like a child's drawing. A rare soft smile came across his face. I smiled as a warm feeling came over me. It was crazy how small things can fill my heart.

"Cute." I mumbled. I was about to step forward when I saw a woman come into view. Tsu'tey's smile disappeared as he turned towards her. I couldn't see his face anymore. 

I couldn't hear them but I could tell by the woman's body language and facial expression that she was flirting. I watched silently as she got more and more friendly. Tsu'tey didn't seem to react much. I felt my heart constrict at the sight. When she stepped in even closer, I immediately turned away when she went to wrap her arms around him.

"Nope, nope, nope." I walk back down the path a bit. I took a big breath to calm myself down. "You don't know what was going on. It could be nothing. Don't jump to conclusions." I talked myself down while clutching the bag to my chest. Once calmed down, I slowly walk back up and towards the hut. To avoid seeing them like that again, I call out Tsu'tey's name.

"In here. Come in, eylan." He answered before I heard him quietly speak to the woman. I heard something along the lines of 'you need to go.' I walked in and the woman walked past me in a huff. "How can I help you, eylan?" He looked up at the time.

"I have the things from Ninat you asked for." I took the bag off my shoulder. He reached out and took it from me, his hand brushing over mine.

"Thank you." He smiled and turned to set the bag aside. "I didn't see you at the meeting. Was something wrong?"

"No I was just getting back from an evening flight and Mo’at asked for help then Ninat caught me."

"Oh, very well. I'm glad there wasn't anything wrong." He said sincerely. I nod and look away from him. I kept seeing the other woman hanging off him. "Is something the matter?"

"No, I'm just hungry."

"Oh, well." He grabbed the bag. "Let us head to dinner." 

"Okay."

After that evening, I sorta avoided Tsu'tey. I had started to notice the woman around him more. I decided to keep my distance. The things I normally help Tsu'tey with, I made excuses to not do. Everytime I could see the confusion on his face but he never said anything. But Neytiri did.

"Why?" She said out of the blue as she and Jake sat down next to me.

"Hmm?" I looked up at her. "Why what?"

"Why are you avoiding Tsu'tey?" Jake asked.

"M’not avoiding him. I've just been busy and can't help him like I normally do."

"Uh huh. Yeah." Jake said almost sarcastically. The looks they were both giving me told me they didn't believe me. I signed and looked back at my snack. I spaced out a little until Jake snapped to get my attention.

"It's really nothing guys. I swear." I got up. I brushed off my lap. "Don't worry about it." I walked away. I didn't mention that I had noticed Tsu'tey nearby.

I groaned as I walked towards Tsutey's hut. Mo’at had asked me to go ask him to come see her. She couldn't go see him herself because she was extremely busy. I couldn't say no to her and I had a feeling Jake or Neytiri had something to do with this.

"Sneaky little shits." I mumbled as I climbed up the tree to his home. I made it up and stepped in. Normally Tsu'tey never has anyone in his home. This time I was wrong. I gasped when I saw the woman wrapped Tsu'tey. He was backed up against the wall with his hands on her waist. Both of their eyes shot towards me.

"Y/N..." Tsu’tey's face twisted as he pushed her away. "Please listen. I..." I didn't let him finish before running out. I jumped and climbed down from the tree. I took off running in a random direction. I could feel my heart break as I ran.

Tsu'tey was following. and calling for me to stop. I didn't listen, I couldn't. If there was one thing I was grateful for Neytiri teaching me at this moment, it was how to run and disappear into the trees. I could hear him getting closer and I moved faster. Silently, I slip behind a boulder near a cliff edge and stay still.

"Y/N!" Tsu'tey came into the clearing and slowed to a stop. I could hear him turn in circles, looking around for me. "Y/N! Please! If you can hear me, it wasn't what you think. That woman does not mean anything to my heart."

"hmm?" I made a small sound of confusion before covering my mouth.

"I don't have any feelings for her! What you saw in my home, I did not return. She has no respect for boundaries no matter how many times I have refused her advances. My heart only and ever will belong... to you." He said quietly but I could hear it. If this were a human male, I would call bullshit. But with Navi men, most don't believe in playing around. 

"Tsu'tey..." My heart told me to go to him but my head was too overwhelmed, too confused.

"Ga!" He yelled in frustration. I heard the sound of flesh against a tree so I assumed he had hit one. Too overwhelmed and still in doubt by the whole thing, I stepped back to sneak away. I didn't get too far before I felt the ground give way under my feet.

"Ah!" I screamed as I fell. I tried to grab onto something but came up with nothing.

"Y/N!" Tsutey's panicked voice was the last thing I heard before pain exploded in my body before I was knocked out.

3rd POV

Tsu'tey ran over to the cliff and saw Y/N unconscious at the bottom. He let out a cry before descending down to then. With shaky hands he checked them over to assess the situation. When Y/N didn't look in danger of fatality, he relaxed a bit. He closed his eyes and took a centering breaker.

"Oh Eywa..." He muttered before carefully picking them up. Before anything else, he ran for Mo’at's hut. "Mo’at!"

"Dear Eywa!" She jumped and nearly dropped the bowl of oitment she was holding, spooked. She looked at him annoyed before seeing Y/N in their state. She motioned to a mat. "Lay them down."

"Yes." He quickly and gently laid them down. Mo’at immediately began attending to them. "A cliff gave way under her feet."

"I see." She nodded. She worked quickly and efficiently. Tsu'tey sat on the side, never leaving and never looking away. He kept vigilance over Y/N even after Mo’at had finished and stepped out.

Y/N's POV

The feeling of someone running their fingers through my hair woke me up. I groaned softly and their fingers paused for only a minute before continuing. I opened my eyes and looked up at the blurry figure above me. When my vision cleared, I realized it was Neytiri and my head was in her lap.

"Neytiri..." I sighed. "What happened?"

"A cliff's edge gave way under your feet." She explained. "Tsu'tey found and brought you to my  Mother immediately."

"Oh, Okay. Yeah, I remember that now." I muttered as the ache in my body made itself known.

"You know... He hasn't left your side since." I looked up at her confused. She motioned to the side with her head. I looked and saw Tsu'tey asleep against the wall next to me.

"Oh..." I felt my heart swell.

"There is nothing between them, eylan." I looked up at her. "Tsu'tey and Lulon."

"There isn't? Nothing at all?" I sat up too quickly. She steadied me.

"No. Much to her displeasure." I gave her a questioning look and she chuckled softly. "Lulon has been trying to pursue Tsu'tey ever since they both were able to take mates. She was relentless with it, even though Tsu'tey did not return her advances. She tried even when he was to be mated with Sylwanin and then myself. She didn't care nor listen to reason. She only halted her advances when the fight with the sky people got worse."

"Are you serious?" I asked in disbelief. She nodded. "She's a bitch."

"I have to agree." She laughed. "Tsu'tey was always cordeil in his denial of her. I think she thought she had a chance now since he was not promised to anyone. What she didn't count on was his heart already belonging to someone else." She smirked before getting up.

"Where are you going?"

"To get Mother. So she can check to make sure you are alright now that you're awake." I nodded and she left. I turned to look at the sleeping Tsu'tey. He must have been exhausted if Neytiri and mine's talking didn't wake him up. I admired him, my head falling to the side like a puppy’s.

"What am I going to do with you?" I whispered as I moved a braid out of his face. I giggled as his nose scrunched but he didn’t wake. It faded away when I noticed his bruised and bloody hand. From the looks of it, that's the hand he hit the tree with before I fell. I scooted closer and gently shook him. I softly called his name, trying to wake him up.

"Hmph." He jolted awake, hand coming up to grab my wrist. He blinked a few times before he seemed to fully come to.

"Hey there sleepy head." I giggled softly. He became alert immediately, grabbing me gently by the arms.

"Y/N! Are you alright? Are you in pain? I'll go get Mo’at. I'll..."

"Hey, hey. Calm down." I interrupted his rambling, setting my hands on his chest. "I'm fine. I do have some aches. Neytiri already left to get Mo’at."

"Neytiri?"

"Yes. She was in here sitting with me while you slept." He relaxed.

"How long have you been awake?" 

"Only a short bit. Long enough for Neytiri to tell me about Lulon and her actions." He sighed and let his head fall back.

"I see." He nodded before swallowing a little hard and licking his bottom lip. I looked at him confused.

"What is it, Tsu'tey?" 

"Did you hear me? Yesterday? Before you fell." He asked almost nervously as his eyes met mine. I smiled and cupped his cheek.

"Yes. I did." He looked down. I can see the curiosity and nervousness swimming in his eyes even as he wasn’t looking directly at me. "And my response is that I feel the same. My heart only belongs to you."

"Y/N." The rare, energetic smile I love came across his face as he looked up at me. He gathered me in his arms and hugged me right. I giggled and hugged him back. "Oh, yawne. You've made me the happiest man alive. You will not regret this I promise."

"I know. I know I made the right choice in my mate." I placed my hand over his heart. "I see you, Tsu'tey te Rongloa Ateyitan. " He set his hand over mine and set his forehead against mine.

"And I see you, Y/N L/N." We sat in each other's embrace for a little bit before a small knock filled the air. We both looked to see Mo’at in the opening to the hut with a small smile.

"I hope I am not interpreting."

"No. Come in. This is your space after all." Tsu'tey waved her in. She came in and I pulled away reluctantly to let her check me over. It was quiet for the moment. She deemed me okay and to take it easy. I nodded and she asked, "So, do I need to begin Tsahik training?"

"Oh um..." I blushed and looked at Tsu'tey for help.

"In time, Mo’at. For now, let us spend time together and become One. There is time for that later. I know from personal experience that Y/N is a quick study." He took my hand and kissed my palm. I could see Mo’at hiding a smile in my peripheral vision.

"Of course." She finished up before looking at us. "I am happy for you both.Truly. Eywa has blessed you both."

"Thank you Mo'at." I said before giving the seeing gesture. She returned before giving Tsu'tey a hard look.

"Now sit. Let me see that hand of yours you refuse to let me look at in all your worrying." She    pointed at the mat. I giggled as his ears fell back like a scolded child. He gave me a half hearted pointed Look and I covered my mouth still giggling.

"Yes Tsahik." He moved over and gave her his injured hand. I moved to sit on my knees behind him. I kissed his shoulder before setting my chin there, resting my body against his back and loosely Wrapping an arm around him. He froze up for only a second before relaxing into me, holding his free arm over mine. 

"They're cute." I heard a muffled Jake say from somewhere outside.

"Jake!" Neytiri hissing and a loud smack followed. I chuckled and Mo’at rolled her eyes.

"Just like children ..." She muttered.

"Hey! I heard that!"

"Jake!" Another smack sound.

"Ow! Damn!" Jake fell into the doorway of the hut. I saw him glare at someone who I suspected was Neytiri before looking at us. He smiled sheepishly with a little wave. "Hiya."

"Skxawng" Tsu'tey muttered before turning to nose at my cheek. I smiled wrapped my other arm around his shoulders. 

"I was rooting for you two from the very beginning." He sat up before moving onto a knee.

"Jake..." I chuckled and shook my head. He smiled cheekily before he was grabbed by his kuru. I saw Neytiri lean into view and smile.

"Congratulations." She bowed her head with an I see you before pulling on Jake's kuru.

"GA! Okay okay. I'm coming." Jake flailed a bit as she pulled him back. He stumbled to his feet and disappeared from sight. I heard Mo’at grumble.

“Just like a child.” She shook her head as she finished Tsu’tey’s hand. She stood up and grabbed a leaf wrap to cover the wounds. “There you are. Now let it heal before doing anything too stressful on that hand. I trust you can keep him in check, Y/N.”

“Of course Tsahik.” I stood up and so did Tsu’tey. Bidding goodbye to Mo’at, we walked out of the marui. We walked through the trees in silence. Tsu’tey reached out and set his hand on my hip, pulling me closer to him. 

“Yawne. I cannot express how happy you’ve made me feel.”

“I think I know a way.” I said while stopping. He stopped and turned to look at me. He gave me a questioning look as I felt his hand spread out on my hip. 

“How Yawne?” He asked.

“Like this.” I reached up and cupped the back of his neck, pulling him down into a passionate kiss. He froze up for a second before kissing me back. His arms wrapped around me. One around my waist while the other wrapped around my mid-back and he reached up to cup the back of my head as the kiss deepened. 

“I see what you mean, Yawne.” He says as he pulls back. We were both panting slightly. He ducked down to kiss me again. I smiled into the kiss and deepened the kiss. Tsu’tey pushed me back a little and I felt the bark of a tree against my back. We made out for a few minutes against the tree until an exaggerated gasp interrupted us. We both pulled away to see Lulon standing there. 

“What is this?!” She nearly screeched. 

“This is a kiss between lovers. I am aware that the concept of lovers is foreign to you but I would appreciate it if you stop bothering Tsu’tey with your obsessive crush. He has let you down nicely so I am here to tell you bluntly. He does not feel the same nor has he ever felt the same.” I said. She looked at me offended while I could feel Tsu’tey looking at me in surprise. 

“I cannot believe…” She started.

“Believe it. If you bother my future mate again, we will have problems. You should have respected it when you Ole’eyktan when he turned you down.” I said. She paled a little and looked between us. She nodded and quickly disappeared into the trees.

“Future mate?” I blushed heavily at the suggestive tone of Tsu’tey’s voice. I turned and hit his chest.

“Shut up.” I muttered. He laughed wholeheartedly and I admired the rare sight. He slowly stopped and smiled down at me. 

“Well as your future mate, I appreciate getting Lulon to leave me alone…finally. Do you know how long I have tried to deter her? She doesn’t know boundaries.” He began to rant. I watched, chucking a bit. He paused when he heard me chuckle.

“Jake has rubbed off on you a little bit.” I said. His nose scrunched up a bit with disgust before his shoulders dropped.

“Maybe a small amount.” He said. I smiled and grabbed his hand. 

“Come on. I think we both need some more rest.”

“I agree.” He pulls me along a trail. We walked for a while before he guided me to a secluded small pond. On the side of the pond was mat and some baskets. “This is a spot where I come to be alone or clear my head. I want to share this spot with you.”

“Thank you, Tsu’tey.” He went over and sat on the mat, beckoning me over. I go over and sit next to him. I feel his tail wrap around my hips and he lays down. 

“Come, lay down.” He gently urges. 

“The tough warrior, acting so gentle right now.” I tease before laying down and settling down next to him. He shook his hand before he took my hand and let out a breath of content. 

“Let Ewya bless us with a wonderous life.” He said softly before kissing my hand. The sounds of the wildlife and gentle breeze around us seemed to promise just that.

[youlikefanficdontyousquidward]

By moonlight

Adar x Fem!Elf!Reader

Part one, Part two- Oaths

Summery: Things are tense with the Uruks and especially their Lord father but you make a decision.

Shorter but more ADAR. There will be more parts as things heat up with our Lord

When you were taken to their Lord Farther, a part of you assumed he'd be...more orcish? Before your kneeling form was what at first glance someone you'd assume your kin. Pointed ears and a tall broad form. Long onyx hair slicked back with stray strands framing alabaster skin. That skin seemed to be the only thing that set him apart from any elven man. It was marred with scarred flesh from his cheeks up past his temple. In fact the same pits and valleys stretched down his neck and bellow midnight armor.

You met his eyes, pale green as new growth. The Uruk Lord kept your gaze, challenging your claim as he shifted closer to you. His body seemed to follow after his head, smooth and graceful but predatory. Then his eyes closed and he took a sharp intake of breath. You were certain then that you would die here in the mud. Your heart felt like it would burst from its cage but you wouldn't close your eyes. You'd face what was to come, shivering and fearful as you were.

Before he could speak or draw his blade you heard a clamor from further down the tunnel. Raised voices, clattering and then Thrak stumbled past the corner. He scrambled in his turn, fists in the muck to change his direction before he slamming against your side at speed. You gasped, just able to keep your balance, as his little arms encircled you, pulling you into a tight hug.

"Lord Father!" He cried, breathless from his flight. "Please if I could explain!"

More Uruk rounded after him, scowling at him before dropping their heads in reverence to their Lord.

"Sorry Lord Father, we'll take this one back with the other little 'uns." An Uruk spoke as he entered the space.

Thrak dug in tighter his hair tickling at your throat. You tried your best to return his embrace but with your hands still bound the best you managed was resting your chin on his head.

"No." Their Lord said, his voice far softer than before. He moved in close now, dropping to his knee to meet Thraks eyes. "I wish to hear what you have to say my child."

"It was man who attacked us, not her! She killed them, burnt the one who burnt us!" Thrak rambled on, jumping up from your side to imitate sword slashing. He continued his descriptions of your heroism till his Lord raised a hand. Still on his knee he moved his gaze to the Uruk captain, brow set low.

"One rescues our youngest, keeps them safe from harm and returns them to our hands... and they are brought to me in chains?" He rasped, his low tone taking a sharp edge. The Uruk behind you shift. You could hear them stammering for a response.

"Release her!" Their Lord snaps voice just barely raising from a whisper but it's effect is immediate. Thrak stands straight and the captain is at your wrists immediately. The manacles snap open and you feel their weight pulled away from you. The Uruk doesn't meet your eyes, grabbing the length of chain and hurrying away out of your line of sight.

You rubbed your wrist before a large pale hand reached to you. You paused a moment to consider the Uruk's Lord before placing your uninjured hand in his. He rose, letting you use his hand to pull yourself up gracefully with him. He withdrew quickly, passing to a group of large rocks he offered you a seat.

The other Uruk made their exit, tugging Thrak along. He made to protest but a glance from his Lord made him comply. You felt increasingly tense as the atmosphere of the room shifted. Without Thrak again a fear returned and tightened your throat.

If the Lord Father notice he made no show of it. Instead just running his gauntlet clad hand over a map on a small table. He picked up a roll of fabric, unwinding some. He hummed, a deep and throaty sound that reverberated through your skull.

"You truly have my thanks..." His deep voice scratched. "However I am regretful that your kindness won't be repaid."

"I did not do what I did for reward..." You began but stopped when you met his gaze again. There was solemn look across his features that set your hairs on end.

"Adar, that is my name. And I fear you do not catch my meaning. This..." He said with a wave to the walls. "Is a sanctuary for my Uruks. I will not have it known."

He turned back to you, the sudden movement causing you to jolt to your feet. The Uruk Captain still had your sword and Adar stood between you and the tunnels. Your eyes scanned but fell upon nothing that would aid you.

"Be at ease mellon." Adar spoke. You surmised the elvish was for your benefit. Despite his appearance it seemed an ill fit for his tongue.

"What will become of me, friend." You asked hoping the shake in your body didn't affect the clarity of your voice. Adar stepped back across the room to you. You stood taller, though you still had to lift your head to meet his gaze as he came in close.

"For now, you will stay here. I'm sure the little ones would appreciate your company again." He said. Adar's voice was so calm and sure, the gentle rasp soothing. His hands took your injured one, gently binding your wound. You felt in this moment you could trust his honesty.

...

The Elleth remained at the tents far behind the front of the tunnels. Adar was surprised she'd accepted her imprisonment so easily. He supposed she wasn't quiet a prisoner. Her body was free of chains and she hadn't even swore to him. She came and went from the children and through the tunnels. Though he'd instructed Glüg to shadow her. Still she never strayed beyond his eyesight, even when she'd go into the sunlight beyond his grasp.

She had some skill with herbs and had been diligently caring for the baby she'd taken in. Adar couldn't deny the sight of an Uruk baby in her arms stirred something old and forgotten in him. He wondered how it might feel to have her hands caress his own face but shook himself from such imaginings.

She seemed as happy here as she could be anywhere else. Though Adar did wonder why she was so content. He'd shared few words with her over the last month but even so she'd made no mention of her own. Nor had he spied any ill will on her part, tending to the children with the utmost care. He often found her with Glügs expecting mate and the other women. Normally with one or more still sat in her lap as she listened to them talk.

Adar left the tents, walking past his children with a nod. He had been called forward to the front of the dig. They'd hit the first of the villages some weeks back and now had many new hands to work. The most troublesome were elven guards. They're faces were a far cry from hers. Drawn into scowls and curling lips.

...

You followed after Adar. A part of you screamed at yourself, to let sleeping dogs lie. A curious voice was louder still, risking rocking the boat for an answer you weren't even sure you wanted.

Why the tunnel?

You'd spent so much time passing through that it was little surprise that the Uruks paid you no mind. You smiled and greeted as you normally did and received the grunts and nods as usual. Whilst you'd grown a nicer reputation amongst many, you understood their stoicism. It wasn't too long ago they'd have been at war with Elves. What was a thousand years when that much blood had been spilled.

You slowed your approach when you heard Adar's voice ahead. Every time it sent the same chills through you. After so many weeks you'd hoped you could keep focus around him but alas you slipped up. You weren't even sure what he'd noticed but you saw him glance to you.

You tore your eyes from him and finally noticed the scene ahead. An Uruk, the Captain, lay still on the ground. His blackened blood pooled against the dirt, his face serene as in sleep. Then to the left an Ellon, dark skinned, cropped hair, the fair face of his kin set in barely hidden rage.

You watched as the elven man was taken away, the chains that bound him taken. He left your sight into the daylight beyond the tents edge. There you spied more chain, leading to more who dug into the earth.

"Don't lurk Andúnë." Adar called, his back still to you.

You flushed at his little nickname despite its frequent use. A jest to your kind not being known to have come so far west. It meant sunset in the language of men. You fought past the feelings it stirred in you and stepped into the sun beams the broken tent let past.

"The chains?" You asked, your eloquent words dying on your tongue. You wanted to say more but you could see Adar understood. His slumped shoulders rolling back as he straightened out.

"A necessary precaution." Adar grunted. You kept your eyes on him, his profile lit by the golden light. "We lost more than just Magrot."

You followed his eyes to the captain again, letting them rest on him as you lost yourself in thoughts. War and death had been so far from your kin's land, further still in the depths of the caves.

"Why would they...?" You began but felt your throat close around the sounds. You didn't cry but you felt if you kept staring any longer you'd break your mask soon. You turned your face away and met Adar's. He'd stepped closer, within reach of you now. A part of you still feared what he might do and a tear broke free. It slid down your cheek as your heart beat faster and faster.

"Andúnë..." He all but whispered. "My children have long been foes to most. That is why we must make a home for ourselves."

"I was born in the deep forest, where your world was just a story." You said not moving as he took another step closer. You took your eyes from his, looking to your hand. The scar was new, still wine dark against the surrounding skin. You ran your thumb against it until your hand was taken.

You suppressed a gasp as Adar held your palm between his rough hand and gauntlet. His thumb brushed the mark with a reverence that had your heart jump to your throat. Your fear seemed to slip away all at once and your cheeks flushed.

"You are not bound to stay Andúnë." He rasped, pale green eyes rising to meet your own.

"I know." You answered, placing your other hand over his.

[laniemae]

“I think I have to climb to the top of the hill if I wanna see what's going on on the other side...”

Drew this through tears as an acceptance that Ojima will be the killer of this chapter and that he’ll die and I’ll never see him again.

Vent/rant under cut

——— I’m actually crying right now while writing this. I can’t see any other possibility where Ojima isn’t the killer. Just everything story wise and plot and symbolic wise makes sense. He’s already the prime suspect with his shaky alibi, him going to the medbay at midnight, the blood on Hiroaki’s bed where he slept for the night, his strange disassociating more than usual. 

At this point there’s so much evidence pointing towards Ojima being the one who killed Chiba I’m already grieving his inevitable death this trial. Just, even with the parallels between him and Chiba with the story time episode where he wrote a children’s book with her, hence the text in the art referencing that. And how that one time he talked during his dissociative haze he said the exact words that Chiba said to him while writing the book. I can only think of this as Ojima in shock with how he killed her. There’s also their parallels as well with both having sorts of age regression and coping by living through a childish fantasy lens. It’d be so sad thinking how that could be symbolic of Ojima killing a perception of himself. And with Ojima being a children’s book illustrator who had his childhood taken away from him and Chiba looking like a child and having a similar form of regression I can’t imagine how tragic this story would play out through with the trial. 

I really thought Ojima would have more time as I felt it’d be inevitable we’d get a breakdown scene with his PTSD and learning more about that story, but with how things are going I could imagine that happening during the trial. God I don’t even wanna imagine how his execution would be if it goes the route on playing up his trauma, these killing game staff are sadists and I could completely imagine them doing that, especially with the mention of working on the execution in the staffside.

I’m also in absolute tears over his relationship with Hiroaki. Just… purple is so devastating with the likely idea that Ojima is the killer, and even imagining if he already killed at that time. Them sharing an intimate moment and Hiroaki confessing how he’s so reliant and attached to him and how they’re basically codependent, and as well with how he’s almost finished the drawing for Ojima. When he’s the killer he’ll never be able to show it to him and he’ll have absolutely no one by his side anymore who cares about him or even loves him. It would be the most heartbreaking thing ever.

Ojima is such an incredibly amazing character like I’ve never seen before I can’t prepare for him to be the chapter 2 killer… he would’ve gone too early and I’m such despair. I’ll never be able to see him again in the series, he’ll never speak again I’ll never be able to get exited whenever an episode pops up in a thumbnail he’ll never dissociate again he’ll never be funny and sassy again he’ll never help Hiroaki to open up again he’ll never have a hilariously gay moment with Hiroaki again. He’s lived 16 years of his life going through the worst abuse a human could face, only for when he escapes to be dragged into a killing game and forced to commit a murder of someone who shares so much similarities with him. I’m already feeling the effects of his death a week before it happens and I’d rather fall into despair than yearn for hope only to have it taken away from me. I can’t imagine how I’ll be able to watch tetro with Ojima gone forever. I have been crying the entire day over this and my tears are making this hard to write.

[sophswritingthings]

Mizu and her gf with a 4 or 5 year old daughter who basically plays match maker without knowing it. Reader leaves the room for a minute or two to make some more tea and the little girl just turns to Mizu and is like ‘are you gonna marry mama?’ or ‘are you my other mama now?’ and basically forces Mizu to think about her feelings for reader, but Mizu is stubborn and doesn’t want to admit it or act on it because she doesn’t think reader would feel the same way. But one day someone (who is like boss hamata) comes and forcefully takes reader because of whatever reason and she immediately shoves her child into Mizu’s arms because she trusts Mizu, and this is when Mizu realizes that she needs to confess. So then she saves reader and it’s a happy ending yippie ‼️ (if this is too much feel free to cut it down or remove some parts😭) Ps i love your Mizu fics

pairing: mizu x fem!reader

warning(s): kidnapping (this is fanfiction what did you expect), swearing, blood, mentions of injury/wounds

a/n: the child playing matchmaker and making mizu propose to you 🥹

summary: mizu lives with you, and your young daughter. one day, your daughter asks if she is going to marry you; and she takes a step back to look at her feelings and your relationship. and when your kidnapped, all of that comes into play.

word count: 992 words / 5,300 characters

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

“I’ll be back,” you murmur in that soft voice; gathering yourself to your feet and exiting the room.

now, mizu was left with your daughter, one that she had promised you she’d love as her own—if you wanted her to.

mizu glanced over, seeing the toddler tugging on her clothes.

“hm?” she hummed, casting her blue gaze at the young one.

“are you gonna marry mama?” she cocked her head, hugging a small patterned crane close to her chest, “are you gonna be my new mama?”

mizu was taken aback by the question, gazing down at the little girl. she didn’t want to upset her by giving her an answer she didn’t want.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. her words were true. she, truly, didn’t know. she pulled the girl onto her lap, “do you want me to?”

the girl giggled, smiling softly as she kissed mizu’s cheek. “mhm!”

mizu chuckled, ruffling her hair. the girls words made her think—did she want that? did you want that? if she asked.. which, she wanted to—would you say yes?

she didn’t want to be rejected. god, that scared her.

she knew of your past marriage; how it failed and left you and your girl out in the cold when she was so so young.

she didn’t want to bring up past memories—bad memories, at that. and would you be comfortable ever being married again?

she had no answer to any of these questions; well, unless she asked you directly.

and she definitely wasn’t doing that. 

she sighed, looking up to see you entering the room.

“you alright, my darling?” you call to her, cocking your head as you placed the tray of tea on the ground. 

“I am… alright,” she responded, giving you a little smile as you handed her the tea.

“and how’s my little angel, mm?” you laughed, watching as your daughter reached for you with open arms. 

you took her happily, hugging her to your chest with a smile.

boom—

you looked up in shock, the loud booming coming for your door. you hugged your child instinctively, shielding her from any harm.

mizu gathered herself to her feet. she was in no mindset or condition to fight, but for you, she would do anything.

“stay in here,” she commanded, stepping out into the hallway to be greeted by many a samurai.

they were looking for her, if she could guess. the blue eyed onryō that cut through shindo dojo without one care.

she pushed her glasses up her nose.

drawing her sword, she tapped it against the ground—the sound loud and screeching. that would stop them for only a moment, a moment she couldn’t waste.

she threw herself into the heat of the battle; but was almost immediately thrown to the floor.

her head wasn’t in the right place—nor was her body.

“mizu! mizu!” your voice was shrill, screaming her name until she was able to get up from the floor and get to you. in an instant, she realized your situation, held back by the guards—your child in your arms.

that was until you shoved the girl into her arms.

her eyes were wide.

“take care of her, please, mizu,” you say through a sob, your face bloody. “I-I love you both.”

“don’t say sh— things like that like you’re dying, (y/n),” mizu hissed. maybe she was helpless at the moment; but she would rip through hell and heaven just to secure your safety.

“I very well may,” you chuckle weakly. “just.. care for her.”

and with that; you’re ripped away from her.

she watched as the guards tore you away. tore your family apart.

they weren’t here for her. they never were—they were here for you.

she had an idea what it was about—they looked like the shogun’s guards.

so—to edo she’d go. she would go to edo and rip through the entirety of that damn shogun’s army to get to you. 

It took days. days of traveling with a young child in her arms to get to edo; but it would be worth it in the end. she’d find you, and take you home, and..

maybe tell you exactly how she felt about you.

she was getting ahead of herself, though. she hadn’t even reached the castle yet.

she wasn’t sure it would take long, though, the guards were trained with methods she’d perfected and learned how to beat.

she had handed the young girl off to a woman for the night, paying her handsomely for the task.

she wasn’t bringing a child so close to something so traumatizing. to possibly see her mother..

no, mizu possibly couldn’t think like that. you were alive, she felt it in her chest.

slicing through the guards, she found herself at the mouth to the castle. and soon, she’d find herself in the heart—you tied up and beaten.

she always loved the way your eyes lit up when you saw her; but not now. you’re face was bloody, scratches down your cheeks and what looked to be a stab wound through your stomach.

the shogun was no where to be found—nor his personal guards, seeing as they assumed you weren’t going anywhere.

she walked over to you, her hands caressing your bloody face.

“my love,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead as she unshackled you—taking you in her arms. “you’ll be okay. I am here now.”

you weakly nestled into her arms, squirming at the pain pulsing through your body.

“now.. may not be the most—appropriate time for this, yet—” she took in a sharp breath, “I love you, (y/n). I cannot breathe when you are not in my arms; would you do me the honor of.. being my wife..?”

you weakly nodded, mumbling so something of an “I love you” back to her.

now all she had to do was patch you up, buy you something nice, and make you her wife. than you’d truly be a family.

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

a/n: the writing got a bit sloppy at the end because I am tired

[extremelyblackandwhite]

pairing: dad!bucky barnes x au pair!reader

warnings: age gap (reader is 10 years younger than bucky), smut (18+, dni if under 18)

author’s note: here it is! enjoy xx

he says everything i need to hear, and it's like i couldn't ask for anything better. he opens up my door and i get into his car and he says, "you look beautiful tonight" and i feel perfectly fine

Y/N had never met Steve. She knew of him, she knew he was Bucky's best friend who had joined the ad company in New York when Bucky was first assembling it. From what she had heard from other people, he was the only person Bucky really trusted, so much that when the ad company set up shop in London, it was Steve who Bucky sent to manage the whole operation. However, Y/N had always found it somewhat odd that Steve and Bucky were best friends as apparently they were completely different people - at least according to Sam.

Steve was reliable, a goody two shoes who followed the rules and was universally liked by everyone and anyone that came into contact with him - a poster child. He was also married to someone he had known since he was 15, the two had bought a house, picket fence and all, and were carefully considering when to have children. Bucky, on the other hand, was either liked or hatred but always respected. Marriage seemed like something he didn't particularly consider anymore and had had a kid without even wanting one. It didn't make sense the two were close, yet agin opposites attract. Nevertheless, Y/N was yet to meet him. Sadie appeared to like him, or at least liked him enough to include her in her drawings.

Since she was not the one to pick up Sadie up, she had plenty of time to spend wallowing over her PhD thesis and nit pick at every single word by wondering if she used the word 'comparison' too many times. She sighed, burying her hands in her hair and almost hitting her head against the keyboard of her laptop.

      -Hi. - she looked up to see Chris sitting next to her, still wearing his suit and holding his briefcase. - How are you?

      -Chris. - she smiled. It was nice seeing him. - Got off work earlier?

      -Sergeant Barnes dismissed me early today. He was in a mood.

      -He's always in a mood. It's Bucky, after all.

      -He lets you call him that? - he asked and Y/N shrugged. - He doesn't even let us call him James and that's his name.

      -Well, I do sleep in his place and watch over his daughter. I have perks. - she joked. - I'm sorry I had to leave early this morning. I was worried about Sadie.

      -Since you left early, I was wondering if you'd like to maybe spend the night with me again. - he kissed her shoulder. - I'll do the thing you like and then bake you pancakes in the morning.

Y/N smiled. She'd had a wonderful date with Chris and he'd been nothing but charming the whole time; however, she didn't like to leave Sadie by herself. She was little, she didn't understand if Y/N wasn't there to sing her a lullaby or read a Dr. Seuss book or make the buttered noddles the way she liked it.

      -I'm sorry but I need to go home and watch Sadie.

      -I thought Steve Rodgers was in town. - Chris closed Y/N's laptop as it went onto standby. - He usually parades Sadie Barnes around town, so I'm sure Sergeant Barnes wouldn't mind.

      -Yes but Sadie is 2 and she gets nervous around new people.

      -She's not your daughter, Y/N. She's Bucky's and you can't get her used to having you by her side all the time. I mean, you're finishing your PhD soon.

Y/N forced a smile. She knew that, Bucky had told her that, she knew Sadie wasn't hers, she knew that. She moved her laptop to her tote bag, getting up and throwing her hair to the side before making it to the exit. Chris followed after her with a sheepish look.

      -Y/N, I didn't mean it like that. - he apologised, following behind her as she closed and crossed door after door.

      -I know what you meant, Christopher.

      -I just don't want you to get hurt when you eventually leave. It's not like Sergeant Barnes will let you visit Sadie. He's only nice to those who can do something for him.

      -I really would enjoy it if you didn't butt into my work. I don't mess with yours so don't mess with mine.

      -Okay, I'm sorry. - he rushed in front of her, raising his hands up in surrender. - I'm so sorry, Y/N. I just worry about you.

      -I don't need you worrying about me, I can handle myself just fine.

      -I know, Y/N, I know. - he lowered his hands. - I just feel overprotective over you. I've known Barnes for a while and he can be an idiot, I just don't want you to experience that.

      -I've known Bucky for a while too, Chris. I don't need to be protected.

      -I'm sorry. We'll hang out another day when you're not busy with Sadie. Sounds good?

      -I'll think about it.

      -Think about it while I drive you back home?

Chris was nice, Y/N liked him. She told herself that she liked him because she did. He was stunning, he was smart, he had a PhD, what else could she possibly want? The trouble became when he started talking about what would come after her graduation - if she graduated which at this point she didn't believe. But when she did, he was right, it wasn't as if Bucky, being the stubborn man he was, would allow her to continue seeing Sadie. Maybe she shouldn't have gotten this close to Sadie, maybe she should start to distance herself from her. Yet, as she approached the front door and saw the little yellow rubber boots Sadie had begged and begged Bucky for and were still a bit too big for her, she was certain it would be very hard for her to forget the little girl.

She put the key on the keyhole and turned around. Chris smiled at her, leaning down to kiss her before pushing the door open. She was expecting an empty house, instead she turned around to see Sam and the much discussed Steve holding Sadie.

      -Hm, I'll pick you up tomorrow for breakfast, Y/N. - Chris waved her goodbye leaving her now in the very awkward situation with Sam and Steve.

Sam chuckled to himself before taking a gulp of coffee. His eyes searched for Steve with a hint of "told you so".

      -Bucky gave you the day off? - Y/N asked as she took off her scarf and coat.

      -Bucky is not the boss of me. - Sam replied. - So ... Chris Davis?

      -Mind your business, Wilson.

      -What? It just explains a lot doesn't it? - Sam continued on teasing, mostly talking to Steve than Y/N. - Oh, this is Steve by the way. A weirdly tall blonde stranger isn't holding Sadie.

      -I know Steve from the photos. - Y/N poured herself a cup of coffee, pointing towards one of the many frames with photos of Steve. - I'm Y/N.

      -The heartbreaker, I know. - he extended his hand towards her. Y/N furrowed her brows, what was that supposed to mean? Luckily for her, Steve corrected himself as Sam discretly elbowed him on the side. - I meant rule breaker. Sam said you rode Bucky quite hard.

      -Maybe not, based on how much of a bitch he was today. - Sam chuckled mostly to himself.

      -Don't swear in front of the 3 year old, please.

      -Sorry, Y/N, I don't know what's the Bluey equivalent of a massive pain in the ass Bucky Barnes.

Y/N rolled her eyes, moving to the kitchen to start making dinner. Yet before, she could, Sadie hugged her leg demanding attention. The au pair smiled, leaning down to pick her up and kiss her cheek countless times getting a few good giggles from the 2 year old. Sam and Steve mostly kept to themselves, sitting in the living room while gossiping (although they would never admit to it) about Bucky and his many, many shenanigans. Y/N tried not to pay much mind to it, not wanting to know about Bucky's sexual escapades and trying to ensure Sadie didn't hear any of it.

Bucky came home, as per usual as of lately, very late. He came in like a hurricane, dropping his jacket and briefcase and making a direct bee line to grab himself a drink. He barely acknowledged her existence, still somewhat stirring in his passive aggressive behaviour, instead going to greet Sam and Steve.

(...)

Dinner had gone by pretty uneventful, most of it being Steve and Bucky reminiscing about their teenage years and early 20s as well as Steve posing Y/N the occasional question about her career and studies. She'd finished her evening by putting Sadie to bed and going herself to bed leaving Bucky and Steve by themselves to tidy up the plates and the kitchen - something Steve had told Y/N not to do.

      -So, why are you here? - Bucky asked as he loaded the dishwasher.

      -Can't I come see my best friend and work colleague?

      -Without your wife? No, something's up.

      -Believe it or not me and my wife don't come as a package deal.

      -Cut it off, Steve. You don't visit unannounced and you don't go anywhere without your wife specially when you're trying for a baby. Why are you here, Rogers?

      -I heard about you and Anna. - the blonde sighed. - That was stupid.

      -Who told you?

      -Anna.

Bucky stopped loading the dishwasher, a rare look of surprise on his face. Anna? Why would Anna be talking to Steve?

      -Why the fuck would you be talking to Anna? - he said in a silent tone, ponctuated by deep breathes as he attempted to ground himself and not get angry.

      -I never stopped talking to Anna, Bucky. - Steve felt uneasy as he said this.

      -What? - Bucky shut his eyes. - You've been talking to the mother of my child, the same child who is your godchild, the same child who got abandoned by her mother at my doorstep right after she was born?

      -We've known Anna since she was 6, Bucky. I wasn't gonna drop her, not when she needed help.

      -What help did she need? Abandoning more children?

      -You know that's not fair, Bucky. - Steve crossed his arms. - Just because she doesn't want to be a mother, doesn't mean leaving Sadie was less hard.

      -So what, Steve? What are you here for? You're here to come ask me to be kinder to Anna? What the fuck are you here for?

      -I'm here because you keep trying to make something work that won't work! Bucky, she doesn't want to be a mother, stop it. Stop trying to make Anna a mother to Sadie, she doesn't want that.

      -I'm not trying to make anyone into a mother.

      -Oh sure, you're just trying to find Sadie a mother but because you're too chicken to introduce her to any of the girlfriends you've had, you always pick Anna, trying to make her something she isn't.

      -Oh shut up, Steve. Sadie is my priority, she's my daughter, I'm not gonna introduce her to women who are not a fixture in my life!

      -And what's even going on between you and your au pair?

      -What is that supposed to mean?

      -You're feuding with her boyfriend.

      -He's not her boyfriend.

      -You're feuding with Chris Davis. Chris Davis? And for what?

      -I don't owe you any explanation on how I run my company that you work for.

      -You're playing the CEO card, Barnes? Is that it?

      -Chris Davis is not the man for Y/N.

      -What and you are? You're quitting trying to make Anna the mother and moving on to Y/N?

      -So that's the only reason I like women as of late? They can be mothers to my child?

      -You're being self destructive. Stop bullying Chris Davis before she figures it out and quits or he gets annoyed enough and breaks up with her. She has a boyfriend, let it be.

      -Coming from the guy who broke someone's engagement?

      -I didn't go around trying to actually break it, Bucky. Just because she's good with Sadie does not mean it's right for you.

      -And what would you know?

      -I know you. You're gonna date a postgraduate student? You're gonna expect someone who is yet to start her life to settle down and play wife and mother?

      -No, of course not. I would never ask that of her.

      -Then what? Is it because she hasn't slept with you and your fantasies have gotten out of control?

      -I love her.

taglist : @talesofadragon @themermaidscales82 @winters1917 @vladsgirlxx @stinkerbelle007 @maybefoxysouls @unaxv

[anotherfloridaman]

In the Stronghold…

A human child-‘im not a kid! Im short!’- sits near a tent. This human barely leaves a special member of rhe clan for more than two hours.

They play with sticks, rocks and some leaves. Making it into different shapes on the dirt with a critical eye. Nobody really cares what they make, just that they dont get hurt doing it. Rak’ka wouldnt like that.

As a massive orc exits the tent, he smiles down at the human, who has yet to notice him drawing near. He softly pats their head, and they snap their head up from their little game, a short yell leaving them until they realise who it is. They let the orc pick them up, almost limp in his hold.

“Rak’ka, you will give the human a heart attack one day.” Another orc, Shwola, says with a smirk. “My pet wont die from a simple sneak up, they are stronger than that.” Rak’ka smiles, not seeing how the human drops one of their twigs and frowns at the lifeless object, displeased with it’s sudden departure.

“Your pet looks like it will fight the twine.” Shwola grunts, and the human does, in fact, look like a depressed quokka, muttering something in their language that Shwola and Rak’ka dont understand.

“Disrespectful. How could you leave me like this?” The human mutters at the fallen stick, waving their handful of sticks and a few leaves at the lone twig. The human shakes their hand a little too much at the tiny branch and a leaf falls too. The sudden second betrayal makes the little human gasp, sad again. “How could you! You were my favorite. Your colors are so nice…”

Shwola picks up the stick and leaf, holding it out in front of the human as it smiles again, reaching for the pieces of nature as it wiggles in Rak’ka’s hold. “Your human needs someone who will understand it.” He tries to say, but Rak’ka nods, understanding in his own way. “We have our own code. If they’re hungry, they pat their small belly.” He gently pokes the human’s side, and it squeals, releaseing all the sticks and leaves and attempting to hold Rak’ka’s hand away from their ticklish spots. “If they dont feel well, they hold their head with both hands. If they want to see something, they point to it and tilt their head.”

“But what if they feel sad. Or need to say more than ‘hungry’ or ‘curious’?” Shwala says, raising a brow. Rak’ka clears his throat, looking away. “Im working on that-“ “Rak’ka.” “Rak’ka.”

Everything stops for the three of them. The human was still paying attention to the fingers in front of them when Shwala’s stern, intimidating voice booms next to them. ‘Rak’ka’ being said. The human has heard this plently of times, and it seems to get the orc’s attention well. So…

When their orc in front of them said it again, the human decided to test it.

Now both orcs stare at the human, and they dont know what to do. Was it a curse word? Were they calling this orc names? Was that his name? Did you mess up?

Rak’ka smiles wide, pressing the human close to his chest as he laughs loudly. “The pet said my name! Ha! They can be taught!” He laughs, spinning with the human who looks to be completely caught off guard by his sudden celebration.

Shwala sighs, thinking a human heart attack isnt too far away for Rak’ka’s little pet.

[just-a-carrot]

since it’s halloween time and they’re midwest mfers, do you think they ever went to one of those big corn mazes when they were kids? like post-arc 5 versions of them bc I think that’s the only timeline they’d ever go to a corn maze together when they were younger lmao

like genzou’s mom drove them all there and she’s just waiting at the end of the corn field at the exit, talking with the other parents also waiting for their kids, not knowing those damn kids she brought are going through a fucking Expedition right now like they’re scaling the rockies.

Gidget is the ONLY FUCKING ONE actually trying to get out correctly and actually taking the time to memorize directions, signs, etc.

Too bad nobody is listening to them 😭😭😭

Bucks is like “WHY CAN’T WE JUST GO THROUGH THE CORN IT’S EASIER AND WE’LL GET OUT FASTER”

“because Bucks, it’s against the rules and we’ll get in trouble. Plus it ruins the fun.”

“I WANNA EAT THE CORN.”

“Bucks, this is the reason you’re on a child leash right now.” says Gidget, holding said child leash.

Genzou pipes up from behind them. “I wanna see her eat the corn!”

Gidget scowls. “Shut up, Genzou. I do NOT need your input right now.”

Like Gidget is STRESSING. Bags under their eyes. Looking old and disheveled at 10 years old. Orlam 100% grumbles a snarky ass “Finally someone said it-“ in response to that which Genzou snaps at him and asks him who the fuck he thinks he’s talking to.

Orlam shoots back Yet Another Snarky Ass Comment and now they’re Bitching Yet Again.

Iggy starts crying because he’s scared of all the big stalks and now Genzou and Orlam are crying and it is NOT!!!!!!!!!! helping his undiagnosed anxiety disorder that he should NOT have at that age. Poor baby’s at his limit. Plus, he was clinging to Genzou’s shirt the whole time (which Genzou did. Not Stop Him From Doing…For Some Reason)(we know the reason) but since Genzou starting beefing with Orlam he can’t anymore so his metaphorical Security Blanket is gone.

It’s been 30 days (20 minutes) since they entered that corn maze, and they’ve started to fall to madness (not cooperate). Their food supply is gone, they’re starving (they had dinner before coming less than an hour ago)…they may not make it. (They make it).

Literally every argument is resolved immediately after bc they get candy apples after and now all debts have been paid (Genzou can’t fight with Orlam anymore bc his mom is there and he doesn’t wanna get in trouble :/)

i felt compelled to draw this lol

but fr this was so much fun to read, i love this idea!! and all their dynamics and interactions made me laugh so much. also i feel like they would definitely wear those silly shirts that turn colors in the sun HAHAHA

they could go on so many adventures...

[kerubimcrepin]

Liveblog: Wakfu Season 2 (episodes 1-5)

Episode 1 - Monsters and Chimeras

I didn't mention it in the liveblog of season 1, but I think it is probably common for a person in a group of adventurers to be a scribe/quest journal keeper.

(putting on a crepinjurgenite tinfoil hat) We know that Kerubim keeps one canonically, and that as a child Joris liked scrap booking, so my headcanon is as follows:

While travelling alone, Joris keeps a private travel journal nobody is allowed to read (it has: drawings and photos of views he found beautiful + quick sketches of maps and notes on environment to refine at home (HE'S CANONICALLY INTO CARTOGRAPHY, BESIDES PHOTOGRAPHY) + he gets sappy&mentally ill about it all, so it's cringe to him.) (Unsurprisingly, it never contains any sensitive political data or his objectives, and if he does need to write something like that down, he tears that page out asap)

Atcham doesn't keep journals as a rule (having a literal paper trail might reveal to the investigators the location where he hid the bodies)

While travelling as a group, Kerubim keeps the journal, and it's a pretty pragmatic one (for him. He writes down the most random things, from important info, to actual fucking recipies he learned and personal notes à la "NOTE! next morning after we exit the tavern i should buy tangerines. i think Joris is beginning to suffer vitamin C deficiency but is keeping silent about it as usual"). Unlike Joris, he isn't into photography or doodling, HOWEVER, he will purposefully ask Joris to take photos and draw maps/landmarks in that journal. Because Joris is good at it. (And because he has had a folder of Joris's art through ages 4-600 in a hidden room in the house, all framed and sorted alphabetically, and he NEEDS more items in the collection.)

Episode 2 - Rubilaxia

It was mentioned at the end of the previous episode that Eva would be making her way through the Cania plains, and I am glad the series shows us at least one of the unique rocks found in Cania.

I don't know why, but it feels nice when the games and the cartoons represent the same place the same way. That's why I'm pointing that out.

Episode 3 - Remington Smisse

(coughs) This sword appears in episode 1 of the critically acclaimed (and worldwide-beloved) show under the name "Dofus: Aux Tresors de Kerubim"

Once again, the show has been planting seeds for Adamai's joker arc for its entire run, and still managed to squander it during season 3.

I have never seen a show fumble the bag that bad, I'm sorry.

Episode 4 - The Return of Percedal

Big believer in rubitristeva. A family can be a dad and swdad (sword dad) and a mom.

Episode 5 - The Dragon Pig

Wakfu Cannibalism Counter: 1

The reason I point this out is that, with every instance of inter-adventurer cannibalism in canon, the chance that Joris, Kerubim, and Atcham have tasted human flesh (outside of Waven) grows.

On the topic of Waven Cannibalism Lore, strangely, porkassess, AKA the pig people who are stuck in a mutual cannibalism war with Bonta under Joris's rule (technically not cannibalism because they are a different sentient species from twelvians, similar to goblins and bworks, but I doubt it's much better...) worship the minor god Ougah (who is a mushroom)

It is unknown (at least, to me) what the hell the Dragon Pig is.

But he is definitely tasty.

While they were busy grinding their professions and doing pizzlarva quests, he was dungeon crawling with his guild.

Also, let me be real, the whole conflict of "boo-hoo, nobody respects Tristepin" is random, mean-spirited, and out of character, inserted into the show simply to create conflict. Tristepin got resurrected after weeks of them thinking he was dead. They should not, logically, treat him this way (at least yet).

Reasons I think Dragon Pig might be an immortal, perpetually reincarnating/perpetually killed porkass: Does this to a person who lives in areas surrounding Bonta.

[chronicbeans]

Hi! Since I saw the illustrator wally series I've been exited to request this, it was also sad to see how nobody has yet come with this idea or at least I haven't seen anyone else bring this up so here I come!

It will be interesting how It would work a relationship between Human wally and reader who has maladaptive daydreaming along with autism, I thought of how would it be to meet someone who has to experience something familiar with you. ( since maladaptive daydreaming can be described as a variant of schizophrenia with some small differences ) anyways, I'm a desperate for representation-

ET TU, BRUTE? Omg I maladaptive daydream too (if I am reading it right and you mean to say that you do IT-). My therapist says that I am like, addicted to it lol. My family counselor also likened my case more towards depersonalization/dissociation/a variant of DID due to me only daydreaming myself as other people. This is actually the first time I have heard of it being described as a variant of schizophrenia, but it actually makes a lot of sense, now that I think about it! I need more representation too, so let's do this! I'll try to make it as broad as possible, because everyone daydreams about different things!

Illustrator Wally with an Autistic Reader who Maladaptive Daydreams:

TW: Mentions of Hallucinations, Maladaptive Daydreaming

🖍️ He is a bit confused when he sees you pacing around your living room. He is visiting, and decided to try to surprise you by sneaking up behind you and giving you a gift! Now, though, he is a bit enamored by how you are prancing around, muttering little things to yourself as you seem so carefree and happy in your little world. This is the first time he has seen you like this.

🖍️ You finally end up turning around, in his direction, and your face grows a bit pale from shock and embarrassment. "Uh... Hello... I'm so glad you came to visit!" You try to play it off, but he is too intrigued. Maybe you are like him, and hallucinate, too?

🖍️ You explain what you were doing. You daydream... WAY more often than other people! Intense worldbuilding, character arcs, and more all take place in your head the majority of the day. You like to prance or pace, finding it helpful to feel more comfortable. You also tend to stim in other ways if you cannot pace or prance. The odd facial expressions and mutterings were just you getting in character and reacting to what was happening in your daydreams.

🖍️ Wally is intrigued. It is so... similar, but different, from him. Both you and him are autistic, yes. He's known that for a while, since you told him around the second or third meeting between you two. THIS, though, is so amazing to him. He wants to know more about the stories in your head!

🖍️What do they consist of? Are they horror? Romance? Action? Comedy? He wishes to know. Are you in them? Do you play someone else? Is it from a third person perspective, watching over your creations? If it is something child friendly, maybe you can write a book and he can illustrate it!

🖍️ Even if it is something more... dark, disturbing, overall NOT a kid friendly topic... he would still want to draw it! Maybe he can start to expand his illustrations into more adult books. He is shockingly good at drawing horror, you know. Some of his vent art is a really disturbing treat to view.

🖍️ You might get onto the topic of how both of your conditions are similar and different. You have a lot of characters floating around in your head. Different worlds, stories, everything! Wally does have, in a way, characters, too! The little voices in his head count, right? Sometimes the same one will pop up every now and again. Both of your conditions seem, in a way, uncontrolled. Due to Wally preferring to not use medications, he simply lives with the voices and hallucinations, going to therapy to help him cope and learn to live with it. You just go with the flow, in a way. As far as you've heard, the best and only way to help deal with it is therapy. No real medication or anything.

🖍️ You both are finally happy to find someone similar to yourselves. The best part is that it is similar enough to be familiar, but different enough to have such interesting conversations!

[fishrights69]

My Top 5 GARBAGE fish that suck

Here we go again. After receiving a very high ammount of notes!! (61 UwU) on the last fish list, here's another top 5 no one asked for. I've tried to use the reasoning of ''all fish are good'' but let's be honest, we'd be better off without these. 5. Monkfish🙏

So these things are weird as hell. Their ugliness alone landed them on this list. Not only are they ugly as shit, but they're also mean motherfuckers that eat basically anything. They like to cover themselves in mud and just chill there until something crosses their path which imo is fucking lazy. Some people do eat them as a delicacy apparently(ew?). Props to them for getting over the looks. Ugly/10 5/10 for laziness 4.Hairy Frog Fish💇‍♀️

If you wonder wtf are you looking at, this fish is the living embodiment of that feeling you get when you find hair in your food. This girlie loves to swallow as it's mouth can open to make space for fish almost twice her size so don't go sitting too close 💦 Still, it doesn't take away from the fact that she looks like a mistake. 4/10 appearance 8/10 for the deep throating skills 3. Goblin Shark 👺

First of all, these sharks look like if someone designed a fish based on a child's drawing of a shark. Instead of going the terrifying route and choosing one of these pictures, I opted for a derpy yet still creepy photo. Besides being quite good at ambushing prey, these dudes still tend to eat man made garbage which further argues their position on ''the garbage fish top5™''. They also are basically living fossils since they're old af and most of their body is atrophied. 3/10 appearance 6/10 for still living so long despite everything.

2.Bony-Eared Assfish🍑

This fish is for all ass obsessed fuckers. Grilling this baby and enjoying it counts as eating ass. Some cool facts about him: -The bony-eared assfish has the smallest brain-to-body weight ratio out of all vertebrates. -Assfish are soft and flabby with a light skeleton (so like a real ass) As for personality, they are not what I'd call assholes. They are quite sluggish as they prefer to sort of flap around with short bursts of energy instead of swim. They don't do much besides that which makes them a very underwhelming fish despite the sexy name :( Apparently they were given this name to make up for how utterly boring they are. 2/10 appearance 1/10 Interest in them or what they are good for (spoiler, nothing)

If you're a fish enthusiast, you probably know what's coming at nr.1 🥁 🥁 1. Ocean Sunfish☀️

There are far, faar too many reasons for this fish to be on the first spot. Not only are they the dumbest fish in the whole world, but they also are not good swimmers AT ALL (wtf is with these poorly designed fish who cannot swim??). Scientists are still perplexed at how this fish continues to stay alive. If you want more shitty facts about them, here's a link to a very famous post trashing these bitches. BUT, I have my very own reason to hate the sunfish. One cursed morning, I decided to go get educated about animals and visit Naturalis, a museum in Leiden, The Netherlands. I was having a blast looking at all the beautiful animals showcased, along with the cool facts and atmosphere. I excitedly get to the aquatic creatures floor and mesmerised, I try to take in all the beauty. At the long corridor nearing the exit, I look around admiring the fish that were displayed. Thinking I had seen it all, I move further when I turn a corner and out of nowhere.. . . . . . . . BAM

this GIANT motherfucker, hidden in a corner makes it's presence known. I'm not kidding when I say this thing is huge. Here's a picture of the replica from another angle for size reference. As you can guess, I was legit extremely spooked and actually screamed. :( 0/10 appearence 0/10 fuck this thing. useless and it gave me a heart attack

BONUS: I'm sorry but I think I've tortured myself and you enough, so to make up for it, here's a cute fishy instead: (take him)

Alright thanks for reading and follow for more fish content. Suggest me some more top5's I could do, be it fish related, or whatever your mind decides to curse me with. Still need to cleanse yours eyes? My top 5 coolest fish

[my-stories-vault]

Chapter 3 ~ The Supernatural Wars.

Pairing: English Dean Winchester X English Y/N L/N.

Blurb: When the residents of this Earth found out that they were but a draft in God's numerous stories, they decided to make noise in hopes that their creator would return. Nothing can be louder than the begs of the powerless, the cackles of the ruthless, or the unending destruction left in the wake of the most merciless wars any universe can ever see—here the bloodshed never ends. So, tell me how can two young soulmates, then, find love's shade of red under all this crimson gore?

Warnings/Trigger Warnings (18+): Language, gore, voilence, major and minor character deaths, thoughts of suicide (not graphic), substance abuse (alcohol and cigarettes), mentions of wars (I mean, it's in the name).

{ Series Masterlist ; Main Masterlist }

Chapter 3: Be A Stranger.

He wanted to be appalled; it had been his idea, but now that they had actualized it, he wasn't feeling too comfortable. They'd picked the highest building of this dead compound - and when he said "dead", he meant dead. The angels had killed the last man, woman and child in this village of three hundred (give or take). That made Dean feel justified to how petulantly he dealt with his warning. There had been about thirty-five angels - Leader Dean had required only twenty-seven for declaring his message loud and clear; after slaughtering the bulk of angels that illegally squated in this small town, Dean used twenty-seven of these angelic vessels to spell out: "TRY HARDER" on the tallest residence of this sleeping, and now, forever sleeping town.

In hindsight, it was cruel to do that - these bodies were once humans. Then he hardened his resolve by recalling the bloody houses and the innocent lives taken.

Wars, aimrite?

He pursed his lips as one of his men drew a circle of holy oil around the bodies. He lit a match and ignited the circle. It surrounded the bodies, a celestial smell filling their nostrils - one that they hoped would penetrate the clouds of Heaven and reach the two notorious archangels left to rule the angel faction: Lucifer and Michael.

All that was left to do was quickly disperse before the archangels themselves flew down and did indeed, try hard enough to kill all the hunters that had secured this piece of land.

He only took a moment to warm his hands on the burning mess in the frigid morning; he loathed winters; before he followed everyone out the lost village. Dean didn't even know most of these hunters. He knew their faces, knew where they came from the colourful badges pinned to their chests with the names of their countries - Austria, Greece, Rome, Ukraine - the classics, you know. Everyone spoke English, it was universal - they had their own secret languages, but Dean didn't know any of them - he had an assistant for that kind of shit.

He had crammed the names of all countries and continents, he knew the names of his diplomats and all the villages - he would be drawing the line there. It wasn't even like he had any fun mnemonics to learn what he already had; travellers to alternate universes had come back with their world maps and created these invisible borders on this planet for "convenience". Far as Dean was concerned, Europe was Europe, rest all were ways to partition. He wasn't going to stop saving humanity because of some stupid borders - a reason why he was on his ex-partner's, Gordon Walker's, land - Poland - taking care of his people after Dean killed that imbecile. He would only have to take care of them till the Temp came though - the Secondborn they were sending from America.

When was that again?

He hadn't slept well in three weeks, running around the continent - it's no Asia where he grew up, but Europe wasn't a small place either.

They exited the city, and he sealed the place shut with a "Danger: Do NOT Enter" board and an abnormally large lock. The lock was as heavy as his heart was, he had to swallow a lump in his throat before he got ready to face the crowd of about fifty hunters waiting on him for further instructions. In had went seventy - he was relieved that more than half had made it out.

'Thank you all for coming,' he said urgently, in an English accent he wasn't entirely used to, but he was practicing. 'Please collect your wages from the infirmary in an hour. Return safely to your homelands, and notify us when you do. Many thanks to your Governers for sparing few of their best.' With a curt nod, the crowd was scattered.

He skirted around it, and hit the tree line. He climbed the first tree with skillfully found handholds and footholds that most people wouldn't even see, and he was at the top within seconds. He swung from tree to tree till he reached the edge of the small camp of treehouses they had created for this side-war three days ago. All the houses and trees were now covered in thin layers of snow - given that it was January. Planks were wide enough to place two feet on it, they connected the treehouses intricately. There were also ropes on the hand levels that people could hold onto while walking these narrow planks that were snowy as well. Permanent settlings had far more sturdy bridges, but this camp was mostly for sleeping or healing during the war.

Dean went over the roof of the first treehouse he reached, and landed cat-like on the planks from there. There was slight ice collected, the water had frozen at the underside of the planks after rains last night.

He balanced without thought on the planks, not even worried when they creaked under his feet and walked as if on solid ground - as if he wasn't about fifty feet above ground. He would swing with the help of one of the hanging branches if the planks under his feet gave away - he was too accustomed to trees to be worried otherwise.

He was headed towards the makeshift infirmary. The door was ajar. Inside, men and women were heavily bandaged. With a sigh, Dean mechanically started assigning the maimed hunters to people who could carry them back to their families. There were about ten people here - they were paid more, obviously. Dean also authorized retirements of the people who he knew could never hunt again - putting them on pensions. This took him roughly a half an hour.

'Is that all?' he asked the medic, Mrs Prom, as he put his pen down on her table that was by the house's door. It had a machine gun attached to the edge that would rain down bullets was anyone unknown to enter, and a gaurd who was Mr Prom, who shadowed Mrs Prom wherever she went.

Mrs Prom nodded, shyly (as most people were in Dean's presence). 'Thanks a ton, Lord Dean. We will clear this house in an hour.'

He hated the "Lord", it was way to rigid and formal - he felt like a freaking prince on a horse. He preferred first name basis; and if at all required, he would want to be called "Mr Winchester". Yet, right now, he didn't have the time or the energy to correct them.

'I'll let the others know to do the same.'

The other fifty hunters from back at the site must be arriving at this treehouse camp soon - they weren't as fast as Dean was because most of them preferred walking after a hard day like today. 'Anthing else you require, Mrs Prom?'

The couple exchanged a weary look. Dean tensed.

'Is something wrong?' He was already thinking about dispatching troops to nearby villages, thinking about the monsters in the nearby areas. He did not expect what came out of the Proms' mouths next, even if he should have.

'Um,' the man stepped ahead. 'Could we acquire your autograph, Lord Dean?'

Dean did not know who blushed more - the red-headed Mrs Prom who seemed to have grown a tomato for a face, or the awkward Mr Prom who went crimson all over, even at the bald spots on his head. Even Dean's ears turned pink, but he plastered his famous fake smile.

'I . . . didn't know you were fans,' he said.

He hated signing autographs. He hated his fame. And sure as hell, he hated being seen as the invincible hunter who had his statues or plaques in every moderately to highly populated cities, villages and countries - none of it was with his permission. Every time he saw one of those statues, he got the strong itch to unleash his grenade launcher that his assistant and best friend, Sebastian Slay, had hidden somewhere to reel Dean's temptations in.

'We're, uh, well, our son, you know,' Mrs Prom stuttered. 'Kid's birthday!' she chuckled nervously, 'He's a huge fan of your work!'

'It would mean a lot, Sir,' added Mr Prom more coherently.

The strain in his grin went unnoticed by the relative strangers. 'Of course. What's his name?'

After signing "To Daniel. Love, from Dean Winchester" on a birthday card, a book, and a t-shirt of all things, Dean couldn't duck out of the treehouse fast enough. Walking briskly and dignified, he reached the treehouse at the centre. He jumped over the railing that his treehouses often sported, and brushed past the door of leaves - most temporary treehouses had leaves for doors and windows, sometimes even the roof.

There were two hammocks, one desk with books, papers and stationery, and a small pantry inside.

There was also a man with chocolate brown skin, hair cropped shorter than Dean's but just as spiky, who wore a seemingly permanent attire of printed cargo pants, a tight t-shirt with suspenders and hunting boots. He looked like a soldier, but he didn't have the soldierly attitude to match. In fact, he had a beaming smile of a baby's; an ever-cheerful and smooth son of a bitch that often annoyed Dean out of his mind.

'How d'you do, boss?' he mocked Dean with formality. His hands were detaching one of the hammocks that he was rolling into a ball as fast as he unfastened it.

'Amazing,' Dean said the textbook answer. He had given up on trying to correct Sebastian about the "boss" thing. 'Updates?' he asked, moving to the second hammock.

'Good or bad first?' Sebastian asked, good naturedly keeping up with Dean's general sourness.

'Bad,' came Dean's usual answer.

'Okay,' Sebastian said. He flipped open a pocket notebook that had thinned due to tearing of used pages. Sebastian used these to keep track of innumerable things and dates that Dean couldn't directly be bothered with. Sebastian had two duffels, and one was seemingly filled with these tiny notebooks to write on.

'We got two pages,' he said. 'One from Venice, Italy. Village of Caorle. Case of werewolves.'

'Put Garth on it,' was Dean's fast reply. It was a fishermen town - Garth, a werewolf, would have quicker access to the area.

'Okay,' the assistant slashed the job off. 'France paged us - from outskirts of Nice. Sirens, they think.'

'That's a day away,' frowned Dean, without sleeping. 'Who can we spare?'

'Um,' Sebastian produced another book with a lot of scribblings and overwriting. ' . . . Germany? Kehl just finished a case of Krampus.'

His brows scrunched. 'Which was?'

'Half-goat, half-demon,' Sebastian jogged his memory. 'Kills "bad" kids.'

'Oh, right. The Christmas Devil. He doesn't give you coal - he just kills you.'

'Yeah.'

'Is Bulgaria free?'

The countries were large enough to handle their own most time of the year. But they paged the Headquarters and their Leaders, only when a country needed outside help - when they couldn't reach a village or a city because they were already stretched too thin.

Dean's first response would be to send the neighbouring countries to aide, but if they were too tired or too busy, then few from Dean's palace of hunters would have to go, or he would have to go - whoever was closest.

Right now, Dean was worried Kehl, the place in Germany, would be too tired to handle a band of Sirens alone with Nice. They had already been on enough back-to-back cases.

These days the frequency of pages had increased - a matter of distress for a single Leader. When paged, it was the personal responsibility of the Leader to clear to the monster infested area by themselves or with extra troops. Only Dean didn't have extra troops to send to the other half of the country. Usually, there was a page or three in two weeks, max. Now, there were two pages within three days.

He was jumping from a country to another like a fucking pinball - but there was only so many places he could be at, at one time. Right now, he was in the northern region of his continent - both Venice and France, where the pages came from, were far enough that he may not reach in time.

'I'd give them three more days,' Sebastian said for Bulgaria.

'Okay. Line them both up as aides, one after another - I want this case finished within the week.'

'You got it, boss. Next is . . . '

Dean balled up his hammock, proceeding to Sebastian's while the other man searched for another page in his notebook. Dean eyed it wearily, wondering what new horrors those small pages could contain.

'Leviathans,' Sebastian finally completed.

Of fucking course.

'What now?' Dean was unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice, contrary to the calm and composed mask he was supposed to wear at all times as a Leader.

'Well, they're in clusters, methodically attacking smaller villages.'

That wasn't news. Ever since Dean's ex-partner, Gordon Walker had betrayed the continent and sheltered the Leviathans, this clusterfuck of events had Europe inching towards a darker time. Murdering Gordon had been easy, but the damage had been done. The Leviathans, who were running from Jessica Winchester, Dean's sister-in-law, who rules half of Asia, had now been driven into Europe.

It was hard for an unprepared continent to deal with shrewd Leviathans and keep up the timely removal of the monster groups and Ferals that was a daily task for the continents. It was especially harder when half of that continent's resources were going unused because they were a Leader down.

Dean was losing more hunters than ever. He was surprised he wasn't pulling his hair out by now.

'But they're moving in one direction. They seem to be collecting near the Irish Sea,' Sebastain informed.

Slight panic rose in Dean's chest. 'That's where the western port is!'

There were two ports in every continent. One each for a Leader. Dean's port was in the Black Sea, something he shared with his younger brother Sammy who was in-charge of the Western Asia as Dean was in-charge of the Eastern Europe. It was usually near ports that the Leader's palaces were found. More or less diagonally opposite of thisBlack Sea port of Dean's was the Irish Sea Port where the Temp's palace was supposed to be.

'That's what I thought too,' Sebastian calmly replied. 'But I found out that they shifted course to dock at our port a week ago. In fact, they deboarded there last night. They are taking cars for the rest of the journey.'

Dean's palace was in Moldova. The Temp was headed for the United Kingdoms where the second Headquarters is - in London - currently kinda compromised since all the Leviathans are headed for the Irish Sea.

'Did you tell them about the Leviathans?'

The borders might be invisible but they existed for a reason, according to most other Leaders; if the newbie was crossing his territory without notice, the reason needed to be large. He didn't see why they would waste so much time travelling cross-country from the Black Sea to the Irish Sea unless someone tipped them off about the Leviathans.

'Nope,' said Sebastian. 'Jessica asked us not to disclose it to anyone until they reach here - unless it's an emergency. I will inform them now that they are here, but I don't know why they originally switched ports. Speaking of Y/N—'

'Who?' Dean's brows scrunched. He was nearly done with his packing; the hammocks, the weapons, the food, and the books, all stuffed into buldging bags. All that was left, was to dismantle the treehouses - which would take about three hours to load into his car, a sleek Chevy Impala of '67, the only possession that he inherited from his late parents.

'Y/N L/N - the Temp?'

'Right.'

'She gave away a few islands in the northwest to vampires.'

'Why the fuck would she do that?' Dean stopped for a second, bewilderment struck his face. Land to monsters, however small, was wrong. 'Do we have to kill her, too? Is she stupid?'

Sebastian was almost amused when he shook his head. 'Beats me.'

'Which islands?' Dean asked.

'Anglesey.'

'We don't use it,' the green-eyed man realised.

'Not since the angels blasted the town, and made it radioactive in 1832,' Sebastian agreed. 'We have been maintaining it for no one.'

The Temps never made large decisions because, well, they were temporary. But this girl who hadn't stepped foot on Europe when she made this decision, broke one of the human faction's most important rules, and saved Europe millions.

'. . . What's her name again?'

Sebastian gave him your name again, and this time Dean actually memorized it.

'Why would she risk pushback for a Temp job?' questioned Dean. This would no doubt cause protests among your followers, if you even had any, and damage your reputation before you'd even begun—safe to say, he was slightly impressed by your audacity. 'What did she get in return?'

Sebastian shrugged, another date written in a chicken scrawl on the corner of his page, catching his eye.

'If you want to ask her yourself, she's hosting a Debutant Ball.'

Your good impression soured in his mind.

'Fucking figures,' Dean scoffed. 'She must've done it for the money—Why do something selfless when you can throw yourself a party with extra crowns and unicorns?'

Sebastian snorted. 'Then I probably did a good thing declining the invite.'

Dean cringed in agreement.

Sebastian knew Dean well enough to accept or decline on his behalf.

'All right!' Sebastian threw his books in his bag, zipping it shut. 'Onto the good. Lady Winchester is expected in five days.'

Dean's surprised expression told his assistant that he had forgotten what day or date it was. 'Huh. That's . . . this week.'

Sebastian smiled fondly, 'What will I do of you?'

Dean's eyes rolled. 'I just got caught up—'

As if on cue, the pager hooked on Sebastian's belt buzzed.

'Another case,' Dean's jaw hardened.

'It's close.'

'Let's go—'

Sebastian tutted. 'I will. You, Dean, are headed home.'

'But—'

'Lady Winchester would want to see you,' Sebastian said. 'Plus, if you finish the Leviathans - all this goes away.' He threw Dean the pager; it was Dean's to begin with, Sebastian only took it when Dean was busy elsewhere.

Dean was convinced, but he hesitated for his friend. 'And you're sure you can handle it?'

'Positive,' grinned the man with the bronze eyes, that when hit the mellow sunlight streaming in from the window, seemed golden.

Dean held in a sigh: he was not looking forward to going home.

Two days later, Dean was somewhere in Romania. If his sense of direction was right, within two more days, he would be home. Right in time for the family reunion - joy.

He was at a hotel; there were several flanking the dirt roads that cut through the forests - it was a good way to make money for the villages nearby.

He refused to hand his keys over to the valet, so he followed the confusing instructions from the annoyed valet driver, towards the left, down an unmarked path. He reached the face of a tiny hill that had an opening. Two men with guns stood on either side.

The one on the left came to check the driver. Dean rolled down his window and handed a wad of cash to him, asking for prime parking - only the best for his Baby.

Once he had secured his car underground, he got out and climbed the nearest tree, his duffel bag full of weapons and clothes was slung across his right shoulder. He hopped from branch to branch till he reached the edge of the treehouses that belonged to this hotel.

It was five star hotel. In the centre of the treehouses, a few trees had been cut down from the middle to create platforms with large tables that had swings for chairs, a fine outdoor dining - this system, most hotels followed across the country. There were rope nets that the patrons can use to climb, and not risk falling; these nets took everyone to the higher levels as well where there was a chain of treehouses well-hidden into the disarray of trees, interconnected by far sturdier bridges than Dean was used to.

He swung over the back railing of the biggest treehouse - he was about fifty percent sure that it wasn't allowed - he intruded the reception from the back anyway. One or two workers may have given him a double-take, but they knew his face to know that he was to be left alone.

He rang the bell at the reception desk after entering a lounge with sofas for people to wait on. It was busy today; all the seats were taken and a loud chatter buzzed throughout the room. Dean noticed a lot of them had healing wounds, but he realised after another minute that so many hunters are not usually found at a five-star hotel. A quick assessment made him purse his lips; the badges on their chests told him all he needed to know - these hunters belonged to the Temp. He wanted to get out of this crowd as soon as he could, even if he could admit to the slightest twinges of curiosity.

A young face was lured out of the back room who lit up in excitement, no doubt, having realised the famous presence of Dean Winchester.

'Oh, Lord—!'

'Smith,' Dean quickly interjected, his eyes darting out to the myriad of unknown faces. He wasn't about to be caught dead in the middle of an autograph-slash-photoshoot. He had bags under his eyes, and one across his shoulder that dug into his weary body from how heavy it was. He wanted to sleep, and ignore the world for his usual four hours - thank you very much.

Fortunately, the youth of the man didn't make him dumb. He nodded in understanding, prisoning his glee to his eyes and professionally accepting the card Dean slid out. The man's eyes twinkled when he noted Dean's name on his black card, but he bit back his smile; for most people, simply being in his presence was a privilege, and touching his things was "the experience of a lifetime" - he honestly didn't see the hype.

'How many nights?' Tag, as the name tag said, said.

'One.'

The card swiped, and he was bumped to the classiest room of the place.

'Thank you.'

Tag Myers asked, 'Should I alert the kitchens Mr Smith, to make you something special?'

Dean shook his head. He didn't have the energy to eat.

'I'll just be visiting bar,' he said. 'Later,' he added, 'if possible.'

'Oh!' the worker clapped his hands excitedly, oversharing: 'Of course! It's open all night, tonight!' He waved at the crowd, 'All these people headed there for a celebration of their arrival in Europe! It was Lady Y/N's request. She offered us money from her own pocket, but we waived it! We'll be paying for this ourselves, of course, as a welcome to the new Leader, we said!'

'All right,' Dean said. He didn't have more of a reaction, he was just waiting for his key.

'But then,' the man continued. 'She wouldn't have it! She said it was her duty to pay - how proper and kind of her!'

'Right,' Dean said. 'Can I have my key?'

'Of course! Oh, and would you like to meet her?' Tag practically bounced on his feet, his floppy hair so long that they almost obstructed his eyes. He had his hands clasped earnestly, expression almost begging to be in the presence of the meeting of two Leaders. 'I can show you to her!'

Tag offered the key to the largest suit in the place, along with a complimentary matchbox.

'I'll find her,' Dean quickly said before the worker could broker this meeting that Dean wasn't planning to have that night. He excused himself, indifferent to the disappointment in the young man's eyes.

Dean swung over the tops of the treehouses, trying to avoid encountering anyone on his way. He inserted his key into the house that was furthest from the centre of the hotel, on the edge, closer to the forest and away from the road.

He used the matches to light the nearest torch inside, continuing till most of the lights had flickered to life. He dumped his bag on the couch in the living room, taking a gun and a knife from it. He didn't bother to light any torches in the bedroom, simply leaving the door open, and cracking ajar the window to let the meagre moonlight in.

He only had strength to untie his boots before he was tumbling headfirst into the fluffy bed, over the duvet, head barely reaching the pillow, but at least his legs were on the mattress, his weapons next to his either hand.

He snored himself into a deep sleep - well, as deep as it gets for hunters.

He didn't know what had woken him up, he hadn't felt ready to be awake that's for sure. A tugging in his lower abdomen soon made him realise that the urge to hit the head had made him wake up from his fitful sleep. He grudgingly slid off the bed.

Once he used the washroom, he decided on that drink. For that, he first took a hot shower. Electricity was hard to maintain in some places which is why it was used in things like heaters and kitchens, cars and communications, etcetra.

As he waited for the water to heat up, Dean penned down a quick entry in his journal about the case of angels and the three hundred dead. He had to subdue a shiver when he thought that the world had moved on from those three hundred even if it had only been three mornings ago - so many dead, and there were just more in dire need of help.

After he'd scrubbed off the traces of that haunting case, he slipped into blue-washed jeans, a white shirt and a blue flannel. He soaked his usual armour-type clothes to get the blood stains off of them so that they would be clean by the time he was ready to leave the hotel, later at daybreak.

He locked after himself, watering the torches as he went - let the houskeeping worry about drying the torches and restocking them before the next nightfall.

He had the gun and the pocketknife which he'd slept with the night before, tucked under his shirt; the heavy weight of the knife in his pocket next to his phone, and the cool metal of the gun against the small of his back was comforting.

His watch told him it was three-thirty in the morning. He was glad about the all-night bar, otherwise he usually had to rouse a grumpy bartender who wouldn't settle for less than an autograph besides money from Dean.

The rough branches were soothing under his callous palms. His body felt weightless as it skipped from tree to tree, but he also felt much grounded, sure of himself.

He found the bar nestled into one of the taller trees with a chair situated outside the entryway so that no kids would sneak in. The watchperson was almost asleep himself: his half-lidded eyes only widened a little before he let Dean pass.

The aroma of alcohol filled his lungs. The promise of the intoxication burning holes in his memory, made him drift to the countertop that separated the bartenders from all the partygoers. Even this late in the night, there was a large number of people milling around, enthusiastically chatting, new people mingling with the locals, getting to know their new home. The two pool tables had line where people were openly hustling. The chairs kept shifting across the bar floor going from table to table. The other games like beer pong and dartboards occupied lesser space than the pool, but still kept the gamers on their toes. Anyone could easily spot the weapons everywhere - blatant show-off of guns, daggers, some people went as far as demonstrating swords - just as well, if you lost all your money, weapons was the next best bet.

Dean ordered himself a beer, starting light - he told the bartender to keep it coming. He also warned the bartender who knew him, to call him Mr Smith for the remainder of the night. He selected a seat near the windows where his back could be to the whole bar scene. He would be gazing out onto the treetops that glinted more clearly under the moonlight from this height. The dark, luscious green of the leaves, and the distant sound of the crickets - it would make for a peaceful night when Dean tuned out the crowd behind him.

Out of habit maybe, his did eyes sweep over the room once with disinterest.

Some days he would flirt with a woman. But he would only go for one-night-stands when he knew his reputation wouldn't be tainted as a womaniser - that could only be avoided at independent bars or restaurants, not a hotel like this; no matter how much he hated his fame, he still found himself gaurding his reputation slightly. He was taking his first sip, leaned back in his chair, his lazy gaze fixed on a game of poker a few tables away - when something in the corner of his vision grabbed his attention.

He glanced, and he choked. He coughed it out, but his gaze was fixed on her then. The world around him blurred, intensifying on her. His sensations dulled, all but the ones trained on her. It was like he was slowly slipping into a bubble-wrap that only consisted of him and this beautiful mystery.

Inexplicably, his heart started accelerating. He couldn't figure out why he was staring at that woman across the room, sitting poised, her hands folded in her lap, nodding polietly at the group in front of her. She had a small professional smile, an innocent face with intelligently flashing eyes.

She was startlingly gorgeous to Dean. Like if he'd ever have the perfect type of girl, his type of girl - it would be her.

H/c h/l hair, s/c skin, a hunter's physique; he was afraid someone would construe him as a sexual predator for he couldn't imagine tearing his eyes off of her.

He'd never had such a reaction to a woman. He was almost desperate for her to notice him - he was desperate to see her eyes. It took strict control on his part to not get up and strike a conversation with her - even as he wondered what her voice would sound like.

She laughed at something. Without knowing her or listening to it, he knew it was fake. Her features were all carefully arranged - there was nothing about her potrayal that seemed real to him; the way she tucked an errant strand behind her ear, the way she acted out all her expressions, the way she moved her lips with calculated words - all drama.

It made Dean frown with disappointment. Which only riled up his incredulity. He had to physically shake his head to get the ridiculous notion out, but the grip of his instincts was too tight on him right then - as if she was his personal windchime and he could be stock still, staring at her, listening to her all day long; as if she would be his instrument of peace.

What the fuck?

He glared at his bottle of beer, wondering if he'd somehow been roofied. Another good theory would be that he was so drunk that he couldn't remember if this was his first bottle of beer or the twentieth.

He shook his head again. With much force, he turned himself to the window like he'd originally planned for his night. He hated how his heart seemed to whine in alarm like having her out of his sight was a crime. 

Seriously, what the fuck?

Dean's glance rate seemed to increase and lengthen with every beer, so he had to cut himself off after the fourth one. He reduced himself to ordering virgin margaritas; he grimaced with every sip.

Yet, that all faded when he checked her out again.

She was making rounds now. Attentively but detached, all in all, she didn't seem to give a rat's ass while pretending that she did. Could no one else see it?

He sipped from his frilly straw and he plucked the lone olive from this fruity concoction with his toothpick umbrella. His eyes raked over her, berating himself for it - even then he couldn't stop appreciating her curves.

He still hadn't seen her eyes. He was actually positive he never would. She belonged to the clan that had just arrived in Europe - the Temp Leader's. He could see that she was only going to people belonging to her group - she probably wouldn't even notice Dean. Plus, this group was headed to the West, and they would never cross paths later.

Weird, he thought. He spent most his time on this continent running from people who knew his name and face. These new people must know his name, but they couldn't possibly know the association of that name with this face; they had never seen his face before. It should have been a reprieve for him, for the night. And now, he wanted her to find out, he wanted her to know.

He had unknowingly finished his drink, something he realised from the slurping sound he made. His neck reddened, and his eyes darted to the girl - wondering if she's noticed him because of it; she was busy beating some guy's ass at darts - her aim was perfect, all the darts in the centre, spreading out like five petals as if she was showing-off a little. 

He sighed at his childish crush, deciding to leave earlier than planned - for his own good. He abandoned his spot by the window, flagging the bartender. Phil raised a finger for Dean to wait as he was in the middle of pouring drinks to a rather large group engaged in a poker game.

'Are you enjoying yourself, sir?'

Dean froze at the melodious feminine voice. He'd never heard it before but if the way his heart was acting uptil now was anything to go by, it was her. He liked her voice even if he didn't like her tone - once again, it was too pretentious. Like she didn't care.

Nevertheless, Dean twisted on his bar stool, getting exactly what he secretly wanted - he found her eyes.

E/c. They were a striking e/c that made Dean's breath hitch. Finally, something that wasn't a sham: her eyes. They were guarded, but Dean felt like he had a VIP pass that would allow him to venture far and beyond onto adventures behind her mask. Up close, she was even prettier. Dean's arms itched to wrap around her, if only to test the theory - a theory that had been brewing in his head, that she would perfectly fit against him, if only he tried.

Fucking hell, Dean, get a grip!

His cockiness seemed to slip into his façade, as practiced. 'That depends,' he said, relieved that his voice didn't come out all squeaky and breathless.

She placed a small smile on her wavering lips, her hands interlocked in front of her body - all very polite. 'On?' she asked.

'On how long I can keep you myself,' he boldly grinned. Shock seemed to melt some of that demure, bringing out the fierceness of her eyes.

'Excuse me?' she raised a brow, her hands clenching slightly. Her proper and pristine English accent - far better than Dean's - made everything sound much more prime than it should've been.

'I'm sorry,' he sincerely said. 'You're just very beautiful.'

She blinked in surprise again, her right hand retracting up to lightly graze the handle of her weapons - she had two daggers placed against her belt on the that side. There were red tints in the apple of her cheeks. 'Are you flirting with me?'

'Blatantly,' he smirked.

She didn't know what to make of him. Her brows mingled and the crimson deepened, but she frowned. 'I don't suppose you realise who you're talking to,' there was an edge of anger in her tone.

'Enlighten me,' he geniunely wanted to know.

'Well, I'm the—' she had gone straighter somehow in her posture, when Dean cut her off.

'I don't want to know your name,' he said, making it up along the way.

She paused. 'What?' confusion had finally driven out the professionality from her voice.

'I want to know you, not your name,' he clarified.

'Where's the difference?'

'Oh, there's plenty,' Dean assured. 'Tell me about yourself and I'll decide who you are - not your name.'

She scoffed. 'Quite the ego you seem to have,' she dropped her act, 'thinking I'll indulge in whatever game you're playing.'

Dean shrugged. 'That's all right, then. I'd rather not know you at all than know only your name.'

Her lips set in menace. 'I can have you beaten and thrown out of here with one scream.'

'Is that what you want?' he asked softly. 'I'll leave if you want me to.'

That seemed to set her back. She was threatening him because she thought he was a threat, but if he was so willing to give her the control - she didn't know what to make of him.

'What's your name?' she tried.

'Why should I tell you?' he teased.

'Because I'll need it to throw you—'

The bartender came at the very opportune moment. 'Mr Smith, anything else? Sorry it took me so long.'

She practically swelled with smugness. Dean gave her a sheepish look, asking the bartender for two whiskeys, the most expensive kind. The man quickly slapped two round glasses next to Dean's elbow and went on to attend other customers. Dean pushed one glass in the unnamed girl's direction.

She hopped on the barstool, crossing her knees, and accepting the drink with a tirumphant look. 'I know your name.'

'It's a fake, of course,' Dean answered; he couldn't bear letting her believe a lie for some reason. Her smile disappeared and the glass halted between the table and her mouth. She suddenly seemed furious again.

'Who are you?' she gritted.

'Now, that, I can answer,' he said. 'Tonight, I'm a guy who is in search of a few pleasant conversations before I'm pulled into reality.'

Her lips pursed, she kept the glass back down, drink untouched. 'Or a smooth-talker who wishes to add another notch on his bedpost.'

'Do you want me to sleep with you?' he lowered his voice, loaded with unspoken promises.

'Of course not!' she said too quickly, flustered. Her eyes scanned the room, mortified - as if afraid of her reputation. It stung a bit more than it should have, Dean could admit, but that wasn't the point.

'Then I won't,' he affirmed.

'Then why were you flirting with me?' she challenged.

'Because I find you attractive, darling,' he sipped on his own whiskey. 'Doesn't mean I'm expecting anything more from you than perhaps a few nice words.'

She was clearly puzzled, staring hard at him as if he was uttering a language she didn't know.

'What do you want from me?'

'I just told you,' he calmly said.

'Well, what do you want me to say?' she was exasperated.

'Hmm,' he wondered. 'I don't know. Maybe . . . your favourite colour?'

'You . . . want to know . . . my favourite colour?'

Dean laughed. 'You're looking at me as if I'm an alien.'

She rearranged expression then. 'Um, why?'

'Because it's irrelevant,' he said. 'And you, I doubt, have ever spoken out of turn - which would make your favourite colour unknown to anyone but me.'

'Why would I tell you anything?' she scowled at him even if she looked like she was contemplating opening up to him.

'Because I'm a stranger,' he replied. 'And you can tell me those things that you're afraid of people getting to know about you. They would be of no use to me because we'll never meet again.'

For a long moment, Dean thought that she was going to throw the whiskey in his face. He was even ready for it when her hands wrapped around the small ornamental glass.

Instead, she surprised him by taking a long pull from her drink for courage and then she miraculously gave him her favourite colour.

'I like it,' he said with a soft smile. 'What's your favourite season?'

And so it went.

She slowly opened up to him like a flower blooming. He had to speak more in the beginning but once she trusted him enough, she gave back information about herself.

The night rose to give dawn a chance. Dean had the girl for the rest of the night, who gave the name "Ms Heart" for the sake of convinience, even if Dean was perfectly okay with calling her "darling".

They exchanged their favourite colours, flowers, seasons, drinks, foods, desserts, cars, and slowly progressed towards larger things - they were soon debating continents, and Leaderships - both of them were surprised to find the other person so political; their little debates forming the rocks for a bridge between their hearts.

By the time the sunlight rented the sky, the bar was close to desertion, and the unlikely duo was sharing their hunts - trying to decide who was better at this essential life skill. Dean wasn't trying to win however, he just wanted to see that glint of passion in her eyes - if he were competetive he would tell her about Abaddon and Amara, and let her know who he really was; she would probably go back into her shell, address him with excessive respect and never look him in the eye again - that would surely be unbearable.

She was on her sixth glass of whiskey, and Dean was pleased that she was holding her own in the alcohol department; he would've challenged her at that, if he didn't have to drive, which made him nurse his single glass of whiskey throughout.

Her eyes were still sharp, and she had no slurr in her speech. Her hands were moving far more freely, though - more animated gestures that accompanied her stories, and that cute voice that giggled when she indulged him in things that particularly amused her.

Dean noticed a buff man that wore a sleevless armour slinking up to their sides. She hadn't noticed him yet. The man had the same formal form as you had been carrying yourself with when Dean had seen you first. The new man was highly tanned, with eyes as sharp as razors. He had ponied hair and plaited beard. And a long scar running down from his shoulder to the tips of his fingers. He cleared his throat gruffly.

The effect that it had on Ms Heart was drastic. She shot back into her well-crafted act like a tortoise ducking into it's shell. Dean was almost shocked to see the traces of the girl he was getting to know - all gone . . . Then again, didn't he also feel his features smooth into a blankness, a stoic mask?

'Mr Griffith,' she smiled tightly. 'Please meet, uh, Mr Smith,' she grimaced because she was wrong, but she didn't have a choice. Dean shook hands, his thumb gracing the scar on the back of his right hand. He smiled like Ms Heart did, fakely.

'Lady—'

'Oh!' she abruptly stood. 'Mr Griffith,' she lightly touched his shoulder, 'would you mind?'

Even if she'd prevented him from hearing her name, he knew now she was a high-ranking officer. That, and how she was making rounds earlier that night, her formalities, and her attitude would explain a lot.

Mr Griffith glanced at "Mr Smith" with wariness. 'Of course not.'

They went away from Dean. A small coil of sadness tickled Dean's gut. This was coming to an end, he sensed. He sighed - it wasn't as if he hadn't expected it, but where did the time go?

He polished off his drink in one large gulp, letting the burning liquid soak his mouth before he swallowed. He took both the glasses towards the bartender, Phil, who looked quite dead on his feet. Dean shot him an apologetic smile, and paid his tab, tipping hundred percent to the man who scrounged up a large smile at the gesture.

He almost bumped into Ms Heart when he turned after pocketing his wallet. Her friend was nowhere to be seen - as were most people, Dean realised. There were only three men in the corner of the room playing their last hands, concentrating so much that their eyes could pop. Them, and the bartender were the only people in this treehouse except "Mr Smith" and "Ms Heart" now.

'You paid!' she exclaimed.

Dean laughed. 'You see, a guy usually does that.'

'We drank expensively,' she said, running a hand over her red-rimmed eyes since she seemed to not have slept all night, and over her pony-tailed hair that had strands springing out from here and there.

He shrugged. 'Money isn't a problem for me, Ms Heart. Plus, I had a wonderful night with you, you should let me reciprocate somehow.'

She seemed frustrated with him even if there was a blush taking root in her face. 'Have you been told how capable you are of annoying people?'

He grinned.

She mustered a small smile.

It was silent for a beat.

' . . . Are you leaving?'

Reality came a-knocking. Dean's gaze veered to the sun on the horizon, rising steadily. He should've already left about two hours ago. He was sure his watch would tell him that it was between eight and nine if he checked it.

'Aren't you?'

She should be leaving with her group of Americans towards London, where her new home would be. He wondered if he would ever see her again - probably not.

'Drivers went to sleep early,' she said, hope shining in her eyes, 'they won't wake up for another hour or two which is when we leave. We could grab breakfast.'

He smirked. 'Don't you want to sleep?'

Her reluctance to answer told him that she did.

'I'll drop you off at your treehouse,' he decided for her.

Her face fell, but she gracefully recovered. 'Please don't wait on my account. I can go by myself.'

'It's not a problem,' he said, walking with her to the edge of the treehouse where the watchman was snoring at his post by now.

'Uh,' she glanced at the height below. 'You should really go ahead,' she insisted again, 'I'll find my way.'

'Are you trying get rid of me?' he probed playfully.

She bit her lip in embarrassment. 'Um, actually . . . .'

'What?'

'I-I can't climb down and up fast enough,' she confessed. 'Where I come from, we're underground dwellers. I'm not used to trees.'

That was fair. Europe was a treehouse region, America lived underground. Land dwellings were on every continent, but all of the continents had a distinct way of living that suited them the best during hunts. Where Dean came from, Asia, the trend was trailers.

'Didn't they teach you about treehouses if they knew you were coming here?' he queried.

She shrugged uncomfortably, 'Well, my parents just thought I'd learn with experience, you know?' There was a certain amount of defensiveness there that irked Dean.

'Would you mind if I carried you?' Dean inquired, smirking, intending to distract her. She was effectively surprised, her mouth falling open a little.

'No - I mean, yes, I'd mind. No, you cannot carry me!'

'Why not?' he resisted the urge to pout. She looked at him increduously.

'This is not some book, and you're not some protagonist.' She huffed, 'We could fall and die!'

'That's a bit dramatic,' he said. 'Hunters pull off heroic feats all the time - trust my experience.' He offered her a hand.

She stepped back from him, arms crossed. 'I'm sorry,' she shook her head. He could see the finality of her answer in her eyes behind those gaurds that had went back up.

'Alright,' he said, showing his hands in surrender. 'Guess this is goodbye then.'

That seemed to soften her. She nodded in agreement. 'Thank you for a wonderful night.'

She was polite again. Her hands curled before her. She walked him to the edge of the bar-house. Her eyes regaining demure along the way. Her posture ramrod and stately.

He quirked up a half-hearted smile, turning to a long hanging branch that would allow his swing. But before he could fall, he got the urge to surprise her again. See her for her - one last time, his addicted mind begged. Turning on his heels, he lightly placed his free palm on her waist, tugging to let her fall into him.

His theory of a perfect fit was proved right.

She was too shocked to hug back - making a smile creep up on Dean's face in bemusement, something she couldn't see, of course, because of the height difference. She fit perfectly under his chin, especially with her heels.

'Goodbye, darling,' he was only audible to her. 'Do be a stranger.'

He pressed a kiss to the juncture or her forehead and her hairline, lingering for the shortest of minutes while her scent invaded his being. His first touch, first kiss, first smell of her - and all probably the last.

He let her go, frozen still. And that was his last glance of her looking at him as if she had never seen a man in her life before.

He snickered bittersweetly as he swung out of her life.

It was like waking up from a fever dream. Or coming out of an ice-cold bath. He could feel the radical difference between who he is and who he had become for a small while, and it scared him.

He was consoling himself that whatever had happened was purely a physical attraction - that he only talked to her because of how beautiful she is. And sure, he liked what he heard, but that was it. Just a night of distraction, right? Nothing else.

As he pulled his car out of the crowded parking lot - now that he wasn't tired, he was finally noticing the multitude of cars parked in the lot - the memory of the girl felt like a distant longing.

As if the girl was Heaven and he was just coming back to life.

'Fuck me,' he scoffed. 'What is wrong with me?'

His car didn't say anything. He shouldn't be feeling so strongly for a girl he just met, right? He needed to get his head in the game.

Focus, he reminded himself. He needed to focus on Jessica and the Leviathans and the world that was going to the pooper.

Such a trivial thing for him, girls - he couldn't let himself be caught up in one again. He would only get his heart broken like the last time. He wasn't relationship material, he wasn't boyfriend material - hell, he had no material to him outside of his job, so why the hell should he dare to obsess over a girl he stupidly didn't even ask the name of.

What was he thinking? Where did all that bravado come from?

He recalled her indignance and it brought a smile to his face. Why did it matter to him at all if she was real with him or not?

It wasn't like he was ever going to see her again.

He took a deep breath to curb his restlessness. He had a fear growing in his chest - of what the girl had done to him, he felt like a transformed man, as if he'd wanted to be anything and anyone for her. It frightened him how close he wanted to be with her . . .

Or at least, that's what he reasoned his fear was.

But if he would just be honest with himself, it would be revealed to him that he was more phobic of the fact that he may never see her again.

It was easier to forget - more like ignore - the nameless grace the further he went away from her in manners of space and time. He'd crossed the borders into Moldova that morning. He was sure to reach his palace gates within minutes, on this fifth night of his driving.

He'd encoutered a few estranged Ferals on his way which didn't slow him down by a lot. Mostly, he ran them over with his car and when he knew they could hinder his Baby's path, he shot them before trodding onto their dead bodies. He was going to let the decomposers of the nature do their job as they devoured the remains of these filthy monsters.

He touched the compoud fifteen minutes to midnight. He didn't need to flash his badge at them - the palace soldiers would recognise his Baby anywhere. He parked in his designated spot and hurried out the door. He planned to freshen up before he greeted his relatives - who by the voice message Sebastian left, were only an hour out from Dean.

He smiled strainfully at every single face that passed by him, greeting most as he went. His social battery was in negative by the time he reached his chambers.

Large as it was, it was also lonely and depressing. His trinkets and personal effects took just enough space to fit in his small duffel bags, something that he carried with him everywhere. The rest of the room was merely luxuries that he didn't have a requirement of.

He brushed his teeth and hair, slipped out of his armour and into his jeans and flannel. Even threw on his leather jacket to keep the chill of the night out.

He headed down to the council meeting room. It was empty, as expected, but he would be meeting his family here.

He'd seen his brother and his sister-in-law at the recent-most Half-Yearly Meeting - in December. It had been held in Asia, where Dean had grown up. After that, all that apocalyptic showdown had happened.

He'd murdered Gordon three days after the winter solistice when the Half-Yearly Meet had been organised: the day before Christmas. They had returned from Asia, and before they could part ways, Dean had found an opening to murder Gordon.

He'd been able to calm his governors down with damning evidence and proof of Leviathans in Europe.

Ever since, they'd been on road.

He had returned to the palace not once; he'd not even come for clothes, he just bought new ones; he'd been too busy answering page after page.

Now that Jessica was here, he would finally be able to kill those sons of bitches once and for all.

He mustn't have realised how exhausted he was from the sixteen hour drive he'd pulled.

Once he sagged into the head chair of the room and placed his head on his hands, he was sleeping with his head down.

'Dean,' a hand shook him awake. 

He jolted instantaneously. His watch had imprinted on his face, something he felt when he rubbed his hand to ward off his sleep. But he didn't feel threatened enough to pull his gun on the soft voice that had intruded his mediocore nap.

'Good morning, sleeping beauty,' teased another familiar voice.

He blinked back sleep to notice Sam and Jessica staring at him with identical grins.

The uneasiness he had for seeing them melted a little. He rose to hug them tightly. Jessica first, then Sam.

'Hey, Sammy,' his voice was raspy, he patted his brother's back in affection. 'Jess. Sorry,' he said, pulling back.

'No, we get it,' Jessica said, an Asian accent to her. Her accent however, was much better than Sam's who had only been practicing for a few years - kinda like Dean with his English accent. 'How are things here?'

'Good,' Dean said, on autopilot. 'Did you find replacements for you two?'

'Jody hooked us up,' Sam nodded. 'Jack teleported them.'

Jody would substitute Leaders in case of emergencies like this one - only if the Leaders asked, of course. And Jack, the sweet innocent coordinator between all the factions, would be kind enough to transport the substitutes back and forth. They were the Leaders of Australia.

Dean nodded, having already expected that answer. What he really wanted to ask, he couldn't frame.

He made more small talk to bring himself some time. 'Were your travels comfortable?'

'They were safe,' Sam said, his arm around his wife's waist. The gesture reminded Dean of why he had stormed out of their home the last time.

'Just safe?' Dean said. He knew the answer to that as well. In a world where you couldn't cross a street without proving your worth as a hunter and killing a monster, coming over from Asia to Europe by road wasn't exactly the most luxurious tour.

Jessica frowned at him. 'Are you purposely being more dense than usual?'

He shifted on his feet. 'You're right. Let's talk about the Leviathans.'

The couple rolled their eyes unison.

'Look, I'm sorry!' Jessica broke the ice. 'I should've asked. I'll never do it again, I promise.'

The memory still sat bitter on his tongue.

They'd tried to introduce him to a girl for marriage, again. After they'd failed to find a perfect match for him on blind dates, he'd told them that they should stop looking for girls for him altogether - for a while, they had - then last month, they sprang a family that pounced like wild hungry wolves on him.

That bunch had known about Dean's life like his fucking PR staff. They knew everything about him, except the real him.

He'd shook them off before he stormed to his younger brother's chambers and the talk that ensued had been less than pleasant. They didn't seem to understand what he was saying.

His pissiness hadn't improved upon learning that it had been Jess' idea (he could rarely be mad at his sister-in-law); they had crossed a line last time.

It wasn't like he was desperate to get married or fall in love. Hell, why would he want the guilt of ruining a poor girl's life like that?

Sam supported his wife, 'Look, man, we're just worried about you, okay?'

They had been for a while now - ever since Sam and Dean got orphaned.

'Why? I'm fine!'

'You're alone.'

'People don't leave me alone enough,' he huffed.

'You know what we mean,' Sam said, pulling a chair for his wife to sit on like the gentleman he was, then taking a seat himself. Dean mirrored their action.

'I don't need anyone, okay?'

'When was the last time you had a genuine connection with anyone?' Jessica posted.

Dean wavered in his protests. His mind immediately took him back to two nights ago, to the mystery woman who stole his breath away.

'Oh, my God, you met someone!' Sam said, always quick to read his brother.

'What, no!' came Dean's squeaky reply, his British accent faltering for the milisecond where he panicked. 'Of course not!'

'Who is she?' Jessica eagerly ignored him.

'All right,' he said. 'Calm yoursleves. We're not having this discussion anymore. And stop forcing this marriage crap on me - you're not my fucking parents!'

That seemed to damper their mood at least. His accusation had been heavy, given every person in this room had lost both their parents. Sam's lips pulled down, disapproval in his gaze, "Not cool," written in his expression.

Dean felt bad about pulling that on them, but he was done with the whole institution of commitment, and love forever bullshit. He was too broken to believe in that.

'Do you have a weapon?' Dean pointedly changed the subject.

Brooding, Jessica took out what looked like a broken bone. She explained the concept behind it: to permanently kill the Leviathans, their Leader had to be stabbed with the bone of a righteous mortal washed in the blood of a fallen angel, the ruler of fallen humanity, and a father of fallen beasts. She tucked the weapon back in.

'We leave in the morning for Irish Seas,' Jessica ended.

'Great,' Dean quipped. 'I'll have my troops ready.'

'Well, no,' Jessica said, exchanging a worried look with her husband.

'What do you mean?' a sinking feeling grabbed Dean. 'I'm coming with you.'

Sam sighed. 'Dean we've been contacting you through Sebastian this last month.'

He'd noticed. 'Because you thought I was mad at you,' he stated.

'That's what you thought?'

'What else could it be?'

'Actually,' Sam said, 'it was because we think our phones were tapped.'

That hadn't occured to Dean in the mayhem.

'The Leviathans are smart,' Jessica began. She's had the most experience dealing with this batch of monsters that crawled out of Purgatory last year and attacked the most populated continent. Jessica offered her services to solely focus on eradicating the world of Leviathans. 'It's a possibility that they have been keeping tabs on all the Leaders. Which is why we have only been contacting others through their assitants.'

'Also, that is why all the other Leaders know that we are coming here to meet you, but they don't know that we are here to kill the Leviathans. Or that the Leviathans are in Europe.'

Dean processed that. '"We", as in-'

'Sam and I.'

Dean's jaw clenched and he leaned away from the conversation. 'You've gotta be fucking kidding me!' Then another thought occured to him, 'Is that you called me here? For some twisted sense of goodbye?' If he wasn't joining their hunt, they hadn't needed to meet him at all.

'We have a plan, okay?' Jessica calmly said. 'This is just in case . . .' she trailed off. 'We don't think either of us will die.'

'You don't think—' he had to cut himself off for a deep breath so his voice wouldn't accumulate a few octaves. He glanced towards Sam who had a grimace attached to his face. Dean could read it clearly in his brother's eyes that he didn't think it would be a cookie-cutter job.

'What is the plan?' he asked instead.

'We can't tell you,' she shook her head. 'I'm sorry but you might interfere—'

'Oh, that's just awesome,' he scoffed, standing up. 'Are you on board with this? Are you really going to let her do this to me?'

'It's her choice—'

'But you're going,' Dean gritted out. 'Why can't I?'

'He's my husband, Dean,' Jessica said as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. 'My soulmate.'

'I'm family,' Dean emphasised. 'I can help!'

'Doesn't mean you should,' she argued. 'We will just be requiring the regular duties from you as a Leader.'

'Jess, I'm not letting you go onto a warpath alone!'

'She'll have me,' Sam supplied.

'I meant both of you!' Dean's temper was inching to a point where it would snap. 'What's gotten into you two? I'm the big brother!'

'No, you're on a different continent,' Jessica sharply said. 'Sam and I qualify because we live in the same place. You have limited education about fighting Leviathans - taking you would be killing you!'

'Screw that!' he slammed down his hand. 'We're in Europe - my continent. I'm coming!'

'If you try to join our case, we can have you suspended,' Sam suggested, his voice much restrained.

Shock tumulted Dean's resolve. He glanced between the couple to see if it was a joke.

Jessica seemed to side with her lover. 'You don't want that, Dean,' she warned. 'Think about thousands of lives depending on you day-to-day. Do you really want to leave it in the hands of a rookie who has just reached this continent?'

Her words stung like a slap. He was cornered by his own family like a fucking animal. He rose, seething. 'Yiu take that fucking back,' he almost growled.

Jessica slumped a little. 'Please try to understand. We can't have your death on our hands.'

'Don't you think I'd feel the same?' he snapped.

They exchanged guilty looks.

'I'm your family,' he insisted.

'So were mom and dad,' Jess whispered.

He felt like he'd been sucker-punched.

'We can't let you think this is on you,' Sam said. They had decided. 'It almost killed you last time . . . And we can't feel the same either.'

He felt nausea congest his throat. Behind his eyes, it stung, and his heart tripped with agony.

'Just be a Leader here,' Jessica pleaded. 'A bystander. Let us protect you for once.'

He steadied his breathing and his voice, carefully making them devoid of his emotions.

They want a Leader? Let him have some fucking manners then.

'You are welcome to my house. My armies are yours. Hope you have a good stay,' he told them like he would another Leader on business here. He made his way towards the door, making Jessica scoff and Sam groan.

'Dean, we're just doing what's best,' Sam's voice came, chiding. 'For all of us! You did the same thing to us with Amara. How is this any different?'

Dean paused with his hand on the knob, his horrible past flashing in front of his eyes. His heart ached, his throat constricted.

It wasn't different. They were pushing him away like he had done them. But it had been ruinous, and even though he knew it, it pained him that he couldn't help his loved ones in this similar situation.

He settled for a petty reply he would later come to regret: 'Good luck, Mr and Mrs Winchester. Pleasure doing business with you.'

His first tears didn't breach his lids until he was well and truly alone, like he always seemed to be.

A/N: What did you think of their first meeting? And what do you think is in Dean's past?

Anyways, you don't be a stranger 🙃. Star, comment, follow, and share, people!

Tag List.

@hobby27 @stoneyggirl2 @globetrotter28

[cariantha]

Daddy Distress

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks) Rating: General Warning: None Category: Fluff Word count: 1.3K Prompt: Based on this ask from @socalwriterbee. What would Ethan's reaction be to his son calling him by his name, instead of Daddy? Also for @choicesjunechallenge, I used the prompt: Father’s Day

As Ethan entered the penthouse, he could hear their happy voices. He dropped his laptop bag on the floor and called out to his family. 

“Hey guys, I’m home!”  

"Hi, babe!"

It was a familiar greeting he heard almost every day but not one he expected from his three-year-old son.

Sawyer broke out into uncontrollable laughter, tears rolling down her cheeks. Ethan couldn’t help but crack a smile, too.

“What?!” Bending down, he swooped his son into his arms and asked, “Babe? Why are you calling me babe?”

"Dat your name."

"Noooo, my name is Ethan."

"E-tan?"

"Yes."

A couple of hours later, it was time to put their toddler to bed.

"Time for bed, sweetie. Go get your cuddles from Daddy and say nightnight. I'll go get your sippy cup."

Returning to the living room, Sawyer’s heart melted at the sight before her. Lying peacefully on her husband’s chest, their son nuzzled his chestnut waves into the crook of his father’s neck. Ethan’s large hand gently scratched the little one’s back while a much smaller hand absent-mindedly rubbed the grown man’s stubbled cheek.

As Sawyer came near, Ethan stood to pass him into his mother’s arms.

"Goodnight, buddy. I love you."

"Night, E-tan."

Sawyer giggled, and Ethan rolled his eyes.

🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

It was funny at first that his mini-me addressed him by his first name. But after a couple of days, it was no longer amusing. Sawyer sensed the frustration when Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose as they exited their son’s room. 

"What's the matter?"

"I just miss being called ‘Dad.' He's growing up so fast, but he's still my baby boy, Sawyer. And… and it just reminds me of my situation growing up. I started referring to Louise by her first name when I decided she was no longer worthy of the title ‘Mother.’ I… I don’t want that ever to be the case with my child.”

Sawyer wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him tight. "It won’t be because you are an amazing dad. And I'm sorry, babe. I thought it was kind of cute and figured it was just a phase. I didn't realize it bothered you this much, but I get it.”

“Thank you.”

“I'm home with him tomorrow. I'll try to talk to him and help him understand," she offered.

Peering through the open door, Ethan nodded, his bear cub already fast asleep.

Sliding a hand under his T-shirt and up his chest, she said, "Come on, Daddy. Take your other baby to bed," Sawyer winked.

😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏

“Are you ready to make a present for Daddy's special day tomorrow?” Sawyer asked, spreading out the craft supplies.

"I want to draw picture."

"He'll love that," she said, passing the paper and crayons. "Hey, I have a question. Do you know why I call you 'sweetie' sometimes?"

He shook his head.

"It's because I think you are soooo cute, and I love you soooo much," she leaned over and squished a big kiss to his baby-soft cheek.

"I lub you, Mama."

"Aw, thank you,” she held her hand to her heart. “Do you know why I call Daddy 'babe' sometimes? It's because I think he's cute too, and I love him a lot. Like this much..." She spread her arms open wide.

"I lub him too! Dis big," he mimicked his mom with outstretched arms.

"Did you know that when you call him ‘Daddy,’ he feels all that love?"

"Uh-huh. Mama? When E-tan come home and play with me?"

Sawyer chuckled in defeat. She tried and will have to try again later.

😚😚😚😚😚😚😚😚😚😚

Shortly before bedtime, Sawyer received a text from Ethan. A pileup on the freeway meant all hands on deck in the E.R. and that Daddy would be tied up at work for several more hours. The chaos in the E.R. is a walk in the park compared to the bedlam Sawyer was about to experience putting her daddy’s boy to bed.

"Cuddle with Daddy!" he cried. "No! I want Daddy!"

"I know, sweetie. Daddy got stuck at work helping people with boo-boos.” Finally, caving, “Do you want to sleep with me until Daddy gets home?"

He nodded his head affirmatively, instantly calming down. 

Sawyer kissed each cheek as she tucked her son into the middle of the king-size bed. "I promise you can cuddle with Daddy when you wake up in the morning. It's his special day, remember?” With a conspiring tone, Sawyer shared the plan for the next day. “We'll sneak attack Daddy with kisses, and then you can surprise him with your picture, okay?"

It was after midnight when Ethan finally arrived home. He peeked into his son's room, which was empty, so he continued on to the master bedroom, where he found a picture-worthy scene. Sawyer was asleep on her back. A small human clung to her tightly, as if its life depended on it, with one arm around her neck and a leg draped across her stomach.

After a quick shower, Ethan changed into his pajamas. He gently extricated his son out of bed and into his arms, trying not to wake him or his mother.

"Hi," Sawyer spoke softly, stirred awake from the movement. "I was going to put him back in his own bed once he fell asleep, but I must have dozed off.”

"It’s okay. I'll take him," Ethan said, holding the slumbering babe against his shoulder. "I need my cuddles."

“He was really missing you tonight."

😴😴😴😴😴😴😴😴😴😴

The next morning, Sawyer woke early to make coffee and start breakfast. Hearing the wrestling of sheets through the baby monitor, she went to coordinate with her co-conspirator.

"Gooood morrrrrning," Sawyer sang quietly as she knelt at the side of the Goldilocks-sized bed. As she tamed his bedhead, "What do you think? Is it time to attack the Tickle Monster?"

"Yes!" 

Sawyer led them down the hall. Holding a finger to her lips, she playfully reminded him to be quiet as they tiptoed into the large bedroom. After a helpful boost onto her side of the bed, they crawled like cats to Ethan's side, ready to pounce.

"Get ready," she whispered. 

After rolling Ethan onto his back, Sawyer straddled his waist and held his hands at his sides.

"Huh," he responded groggily.

"Okay, now. It’s a slobber attack!" she declared.

The excited tot leaned over and placed wet smooches all over his dad’s face.

"Who dares to wake the Tickle Monster," a deep, hoarse voice bellowed out. Breaking free from Sawyer's hold, Ethan sat up and caged the intruder. "Looks like I have a prisoner," he said, tickling his son's ribs until high-pitched laughter filled the room.

As Ethan paused to let the captive catch his breath, Sawyer took advantage and leaned forward. Landing a quick but tender kiss on his lips, "Morning, babe. Happy Father's Day." 

Climbing off the bed, Sawyer grabbed the artwork that had been drawn the day before.

"Sweetie, do you want to give the Tickle Monster his present?"

Taking the piece of paper from his mom, the youngster handed it to Ethan and settled into his lap.

"Oh wow. What do we have here?"

A little finger pointed to each scribbled blob as an enthusiastic voice explained, "Dis is me. And dat Mama. And dis is you!"

"I love it. Thank you.” Ethan kissed the top of his head. “I love you, buddy.”

"I lub you, Daddy. Dis big," he stretched his arms out.

Ethan cradled his son into a hug and looked up at Sawyer. She was smiling ear to ear as she mouthed, "Daddy." Ethan responded with a smile of his own.

"All right, boys. I'm going to finish making Daddy's special pancake breakfast," she said as she left.

"Rookie?" Ethan called, causing her to look over her shoulder, "Thank you."

“Pancakes?” Wiggling free from his dad’s hold, their pride and joy slid down the side of the bed. "Wait for me, Ookie! I help."

Facepalming, Sawyer shook her head with a smile and then looked back at her laughing husband. “Babe, I think we officially have a Threenager.” 

Tag List: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @potionsprefect @jamespotterthefirst @annfg8 @peonierose @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @jerzwriter @quixoticdreamer16 @mysticalgalaxysstuff @inlocusmads @txemrn @trappedinfanfiction @mvalentine @takemyopenheart @ofmischiefandmedicine @openheartforeverinmyheart @doriopenheart @coffeeheartaddict2 @genevievemd @starrystarrytrouble @hopelessromantic1352 @kyra75 @lsvdw-blog @rookiemartin

[wrens-versus-the-world]

Dazai’s path:  umarekawattara, anata o motto hayaku mitsukeru darō.

If I were to live my life again, I’d find you sooner

I’d decided to go with the armed detective agency, deciding to go with someone whom I was more familiar with. And that person just so happened to be one Osamu Dazai. It took us but a few hours to fully exit what I had perceived as a jail (which was actually just some abandoned warehouse that an anti-ability organization had utilized). After we had escaped from the cell they held us in the larger group split into four smaller groups who I would later come to know as: the armed detective agency, the port mafia, the decay of angels, and the hunting dogs. 

I later found out that the I went with the armed detective agency (whom Dazai was apart of) and that Chuuya (the shorted male) was apart of the Port Mafia (a rival organization to the ADA), while Fyodor was apart of a much darker organization, the Decay of Angels. 

A few months after my bumpy arrival to Yokohama I have found myself working for the ADA alongside Dazai, Ranpo, Yosano and a few others. Many of the people here are really sweet and entertaining. Kunikida often scolded Dazai for his lack of work, while Ranpo would send me on snack runs with him. 

In these months I’ve fallen into habit, making me not want to leave Yokohama so soon anymore. Especially when it means I’ll have to leave my new friends and the city I’ve come to love. Not to mention that I’ll have to leave a certain bandaged maniac. 

“-n, Y-N” Dazai called sing-songedly causing me to tear my gaze away from the window looking out at the people below. “Yes, Dazai?” I asked, wondering what he could possibly want now, just minutes after Kunikida had yelled at him for neglecting his paperwork. 

He stared at me for a few moment, a serious expression on his face before his expression briefly changed to one of being beaten, only for a moment though, before it was replaced by a cheerful goofy expression. “I must say, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve had the luck of working with. Would you honor my deepest wishes and,” He paused, his ears turning a shade a pink, “Commit double suicide with me?” 

I let out a sigh, a small smile gracing my lips, “No, sorry not today Dazai.” I said as I picked up some of my completed work to hand into the president. 

Once I had entered the president’s office Dazai leaned back in his chair, head pointed up towards the ceiling while covering his eyes with his arm (covering his blush). “Why can’t I just ask them out?” he wondered in a quiet whisper to himself, quickly fixing his posture once he heard the click of the door opening, signaling that I was coming out. 

Just as I came out, Ranpo beamed, “Hey, Y/n wanna go get snacks with me?” he asked, smiling goofily like a small child. Not being able to resist his charms, I obliged, “Sure Ranpo, allow me to put my papers away first.” I said, returning his smile as I made my way over to my desk, putting the papers away. 

As Ranpo and I made our way out of the ADA office Ranpo turned around, looking towards Dazai and mouthed something to him, ‘coward,’  which Dazai responded to with a callous glare. A glare that became even more pointed when Ranpo smiled evilly and grasped my hand, giving me a, “Let’s go! I know of a great place to get snacks!!” as he dragged me out of the building, causing a smile to find its way to my lips. 

After the hour-long excursion for snacks, Ranpo and I made our return, handing snacks to the various members of the ADA. As Ranpo retired to the couch to eat his snacks I made my way over to Dazai, placing a snack on his desk, drawing his attention away from his paperwork. “Ah, my dearest bookworm you shouldn’t have,” he said dramatically, picking up the bag and spinning around in his chair in joy, “I will cherish it!” He said, grinning at me. 

“You do that, Dazai,” I responded, feeling a smile appear on my face as I made my way to my own seat. Taking a deep breath I resumed my work on the paperwork before me. Soon, the sun sank in the sky, giving the agency office a golden glow. By this time everyone had made their way home, only Dazai and I remained. After fifteen more minutes of paperwork I decided to finally retire for the day. I turned my head towards Dazai, only to meet his eyes, ‘oh gosh, how long had he been staring?’ I wondered to myself. 

“It’s pretty late isn’t it, Dazai?” I asked, already knowing the answer, “Want to go to the dorms together?” I asked, watching him stare at me—studying me almost before saying, “Osamu.” 

“I’m sorry?” I asked, not sure what he meant by his sudden statement. 

“Call me, Osamu,” He said, gazing into my eyes the golden glow of the sun making him look almost ethereal, accentuating the color of his eyes. 

‘Call him, Osamu?’ I pondered to myself, ‘isn’t that more intimate than just his first name?’ I shook myself out of my thoughts, ‘if that's what he wants there is no point in fighting him on it.’ I took a deep breath, trying to keep my expressions under control, ‘it's not like it’s a big deal, it’s just his first name. So let’s try this one more time.’ “Would you like to walk to the dorms together, Osamu?” I asked, watching his eyes twinkle. 

“Why of course my bookworm,” He responded, sitting up offering me a hand. I smiled, taking his hand in my own as we made our way out of the agency. 

After a while of walking hand in hand Dazai, or Osamu rather stopped drawing my attention away from the path before us. “Say, Y/n.” he called out, a rather serious expression adorning his features. “Yes, Da- Osamu?” I asked, correcting myself mid-sentence. “Let’s go on a date.” He said, looking at me, a familiar emotion swimming in his eyes. 

“I,” I paused, ‘I what, I have to leave soon. I’ve been in Yokohama for a few months and I’ve overstayed my time.’ Sensing my inner turmoil Osamu gave me a small smile, “It doesn’t have to be anything too big,” he said, looking at me with a sort of fondness that you’d only see lovers with, “We can start with this walk.”

I was speechless, what was I supposed to say to that? I would be a liar if I said I didn’t harbor some sort of feeling towards Osamu Dazai, romantic feelings. But am I even allowed to feel such things? I am going to have to leave Yokohama at some point, I have a life back home (even if it was far too bland for my tastes). Can I afford to be selfish before I leave? “Okay,” I said, my voice smaller than a whisper. 

But Osamu heard it and smiled even more (if that was possible), and turned to resume our walk before I stopped him, grabbing his sleeve. “Osamu, I like you,” I said, looking into his eyes, watching as they widened in surprise. “And I would love to go on dates with you, but I’m not sure how long I can stay here.” I said, voicing my concerns, watching as he stared at me with an unreadable expression. 

Osamu came close, grabbing my hand, “Y/n, I’d think by now you would’ve known that you can stay here as long as you’d like.” He said, looking into my eyes as I stared back with shock. 

“What do you mean?” I asked, genuinely confused. 

“The agency has taken you under our wing, you are apart of us now.” He paused, “Meaning you don't have to leave, if you don't want to.” He added

I could feel my eyes widening in surprise, “I dont have to leave?” He shook his head. 

A sense of relief overcame me at the news and I found myself reaching out towards Osamu, pulling him into a hug. One he graciously returned, going as far as picking me up and spinning me around.

Still hugging me, “So, how about we go for dinner first?” 

“Sure, I’d love that.” 

Fin!

(1399 words) 

Bonus: jealousy 

A few months later: 

After the first dinner Osamu and I had many more dinners followed. I’m fairly certain the rest of the agency could see that something had happened between the two of us, not that they were against it, quite the opposite. 

Although, Ranpo and Osamu frequently glare at each other when I am with the other. Just because Osamu and I started dating didn’t necessarily mean I was going to stop being friends with other men or treat them any differently. And because of this Osamu and Ranpo have begun competing.

Ranpo and I go on our normal snack runs every other day, and whenever we leave he shoots Osamu a shiteating grin. One Osamu returns with a death glare (likely perfected from his days in the Port Mafia).

But on the other side, whenever Osamu and I go on break he makes sure to hold my hand and press kisses on my face as we leave for lunch. And while he does so, he makes sure to give Ranpo a shiteating grin (to return the favor from earlier incidents).

(A/N: Ranpo is your best friend, and Osamu knows that it just irritates him with how close you are sometimes (and Ranpo lives for irritating Osamu))

[phantomwritezstuff077]

The Runt - Billy the Kid

Warnings for this chapter: child abandonment mention, Laurie's mommy issues, Jesse Evans existance is it's own trigger warning, swearing, violence, underaged drinking, angst, sad Laurie

Chapter Eleven

Early the next morning, Laurie saddled up Artax, mounting him with a small smile as she looked around at the rest of the gang, thanks to Billy, Laurie was able to accompany them on this little trip. Once everyone was ready, they took off on their horses in a gallop. 

Laurie didn’t keep track of how long it took for them to round up the chosen cattle that they were going to steal, cantered alongside Billy, making sure none of the cattle tried to escape through the side as Artax snorted, enjoying this little adventure. It was a beautiful day, the sun was up and shining bright, the sky was a bright blue and the rolling hills looked especially gorgeous today. Once the cattle were all rounded and had calmed down, the gang walked along the trail, Jesse and a few guys trotted ahead while Laurie trailed at the very back, helping make sure none of the cattle strayed behind. She pulled Artax to a stop when they got to the army base that the stolen cattle had been sold to, allowing Bob and John to herd the cows into the corral. Once the cows were inside the pen, the gang quickly left, a lot of the men were very rowdy and cheery about the successful round up.

ⅠⅠⅠⅠ

Later that night, when the sun had left the sky and the world was becoming dark, Jesse returned to camp in a wagon pulled by two black Friesans, tossing booze to the excited gang-members as women exited the wagon, greeting the men with smiles. The young teenager watched from her spot in a tree branch, drawing a picture of Artax.

Laurie wasn’t stupid, she knew what these women were – prostitutes. She never really knew how to feel about them, but all she knew was that when she saw them coming to the camp, she would be in for a very sleepless night listening to the guys have their fun with them. The girl rolled her eyes, however just before she was about to turn her attention back to her drawing, one of the women caught her eye. Laurie recognized hat voice and face and it felt like time froze. 

It was Jennifer.

It was her Ma.

She immediately climbed down from the tree, pushing through the crowd of overexcited men to get to the woman. It had been almost 4 years since she had last seen her mama. And it was so surreal to finally see her again.

“Mama?,” the young teenager asked, following the crowd into the house. The older woman froze upon hearing the child’s voice and she turned around with a shocked look. 

What are the odds of seeing the daughter you abandoned at the camp you were going to be having sex with pretty much every guy there? 

“Lauren?,” Jennifer questioned, looking at the teenager up and down. “You’ve grown.” She did not sound as happy to see Laurie as Laurie was to see her. Laurie was stunned for a moment, trying to figure out why her Ma didn’t sound happy to see her.

“It’s been years,” Laurie said, the happiness in her voice faltering into sadness and disappointment, maybe a little bit of anger, even. “Where have you been all this time, Ma?”

“I’ve been around,” Jennifer replied awkwardly, her tone was somewhat dismissive as she tried to go into the house but Laurie grabbed her arm.

“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?,” Laure pleaded, her voice breaking. “Why did you leave me? Why? I just need to know why? Was I not enough for you?”

Jennifer didn’t answer, she went stiff, staring at her daughter. She had left because she felt like Laurie was nothing but a burden to her. 

“I left because you were doing nothing but cause me unneeded stress,” the woman snapped, yanking her arm away from Laurie. “You’re nothing but a burden to me and everyone else in this camp, Lauren. I don’t know how you even survived this long, but I want nothing to do with you.”

Laurie was frozen to say the least. Tears spilled down her face, poor Laurie didn’t know whether to be angry or heartbroken. She simply left, crying as she climbed her tree again, she sat in the thickest branch, quietly sobbing as she hugged her knees to her chest and rested the back of her head against the trunk of the tree, cursing herself for thinking her reunion with her mama would have been this heartwarming thing filled with happiness and strong emotions.

She hated herself for thinking that that was how the world works. 

Later that night, a few men were outside drinking and having a good time. Laurie hadn’t left the tree since interacting with her Ma. How could she have just left her alone like that? She was only 9 when she left. She wiped her face, turning her attention when she heard the sound of Billy snapping at Bob.

“Shut the fuck up, Olinger,” Billy snarled, fixing his hat as she stood up.

“You don’t tell me what to do, boy,” Bob shot back, taking a swig of his beer. “Now everyone thinks that you’re something special. You ain’t special. And neither is that runt you seem to have made friends with. I ain’t never seen anything special about you, and there ain’t nothing special about the runt either. She’s just another body to bury.”

That last comment really pissed Billy off, especially because he knew how much those kinds of comments affected Laurie, she wasn’t just another body to bury. “All right, then let’s fight it out.” Billy drew his gun from the holster at his waist and Bob groaned, shaking his head.

“I ain’t fighting you with a gun,” Bob said simply, taking another sip of his drink. Billy glared at the man, undoing his gun belt and tossing it to the side. Laurie could tell he was drunk as a skunk right now, which was probably why he was acting more defensive and impulsive than usual.

“Then lets fight with our fucking fists like men,” Billy replied.

Bob smirked as he stood up, also tossing his gun belt to the side as he approached Billy. “I’ll beat your ass any day.”

Jesse and the few other guys that were still awake started cheering for Billy after Bob threw the first punch, decking Billy square in the nose. Laurie slid down from the tree and approached the fight, the tear stains on her face were all too visible but she didn’t care. Billy grabbed Bob, slamming him into a wooden pole a few times before throwing him over the table. Laurie knew better than to intervene in fights like this, so all she could do was watch as the men all cheered in Billy’s favor. The fight continued as they fell into the empty barn where the rest of the guys were going at it with the girls.

Billy had Bob pinned as he threw a few more punches into the man’s face, hitting him hard, making sure he felt the pain nice and clear.

“Get the fuck up, Olinger, get the fuck up. You wanna talk shit and bully a child behind her back?,” Billy hissed, hitting Bob one more time before Jesse went over, breaking up the fight as he held Billy’s arm into the air, smiling as he announced Billy the winner of the fight. Everyone cheered and clapped, all except for Laurie, of course she was happy someone had stood up for her, but when she caught sight of her Ma in bed with one of the guys, she just shook her head and left. 

Billy noticed this ad pulled his arm away and followed the upset teenager outside. He watched as Laurie picked up a random bottle of whiskey, chugging the rest of the contents before throwing it at a tree, smashing it into tiny pieces as she yelled in frustration. The outlaw felt his heart break for the girl, he had never seen her upset like this before. He walked over to her, gently grabbing her shoulders in a firm grip and making her face him, his face was soft and full of worry.

“Laurie, kid, what’s got you so upset?,” he asked, wiping the fresh tears from the young girl’s face.

“Because it turns out my mama left because I'm nothing but a burden to her,” Laurie snapped, hiccuping as tears dripped down her face. “How could I have been so fucking stupid to think she would actually be happy to see me? I mean, who am I kidding? She chose to leave me, and yet I still fucking believed we would have a reunion and…”

Laurie was a mess, she was rambling by now, not making much sense but Billy got the gist of what she was saying and it broke him upon hearing that Laurie found out her Ma wanted nothing to do with her. The outlaw pulled her into a hug, rubbing her back as he tried to soothe the sobbing child in his arms.

God she really is just a kid, a scared and lonely child, he thought to himself as he allowed her to cry on his shoulder. 

Laurie didn’t deserve this, and he knew that.

But did Laurie know that? 

A/N:

I am a part of the Laurie's mother hate club

Laurie deserves better, but will she get that better she deserves? Prolly not idk

Tag:

@slutforsnow

[chunguang2104]

my OC Oliver Zinnia and his ✷

i used to write big texts under my drawings, explaining what i feel abt it, abt what it is and what i meant by that. but now it doesn't make much sense for me. it's like being a child who is telling smth in exitement to their parent, who does't care or doesn't bother to answer. it's meaningless. point of art and showing it to ppl is to communicate. it's some kind of dialogue. is it really so interesting to just listen and not respond back? not to think over the answer? i want to leave some space for you to think. so you can understand by yourself what am i trying to say. even if i will never know abt that. explanation kills art if short. i asked different people what they think of that specific painting and their versions were so unexpectable for me. and all of them were completely different and unique. it's wonderfull. and i want to experience it again. (also i'm sowwy if my english is not so good, it's not my native language)