#nesting in my roof. loud. go away

[the-dot]

this fuckijgn BIRD is KILLING ME

[illyrian-lady-of-the-night]

Monster Trio Preferences- Where they like to kiss you

I got carried away with Zoro's sorry i'm not sorry. Not edited

MONKEY D. LUFFY

Luffy loves to kiss your nose. His favorite thing to do is catch you by suprise because it makes you laugh everytime.

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You sit at the table waiting for lunch talking to Sanji. The door slams open hitting the wall and your captain walks in.

"God dammit Luffy your going to put a hole in my wall," Sanji said clearly irritated. "And I told you I'd come get you when lunch was ready," Luffy ignored him and kept his eyes on you. Before you could ask him what he wanted Luffy sprints full speed up to you, grabbing your face he turns your head and places a gental kiss on your nose. You giggle giving him a playful shove, "Geez Cap I thought something was wrong,"

Luffy wraps his arms around your shoulders and looks at Sanji. "I'm not here for food i'm here for (Y/N)"

He picks you up and brings you to the figure head where you both sit and Luffy talks about his day. You chime in now and then but when Luffy is on a roll, to catch him off guard you kiss him on the nose. He stops mid sentence surprised at your action.

“Hey that’s my job he says’” kissing you back. This goes on for a while you two going back and forth kissing each others noses.

———————————————————————

“How long do you think they will do that for” Nami asks Usopp who is standing next her.

“Probably until one headbutts the other on accident,”

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RORONOA ZORO

Zoro's favorite place to kiss you is the top of your head. He loves how small you are compared to him and he likes to smell your hair, but he'd rather land on his own sword then tell you that.

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Living on the 1000 Sunny was always fun, the boys were loud and something was always happening. Today however your anxiety was through the roof and you just wanted piece and quiet and to be alone. You tried to hide in the girls dorm but Nami was practicing with her Clima-tact. You went to the baths to try and relax, but Brooke was in there practicing his singing because 'it has the best accoustics on board.' All you wanted was Zoro but he was training in the crows nest and just looking up at made your stomach turn with anxiety.

Sighing you go to Chopper, knocking before you enter his office. "Come in," Opening the door you feel your shoulders relax seeing that he was the only one there. Chopper smile fell as he saw you, knowing something was wrong as you didn't great him as your normal cheery self.

"Hey Chopper," you say laying down on the bed "Do you have anything for anxiety?"

Chopper's face lightens when he understands what going on. He smiles softly going over to his cabniet. He pulls out different herbs and starts to use his mortar and pestle.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks quietly making sure not to be too loud. You look at your hands in your lap holding them together so they don't shake. There's nothing to talk about, you've been anxious all your life living fine with it. However today was the worst you've felt in months.

"I just woke up with this weight on my chest and a pit in my stomach and nothing has help," you say tearing up. "And all I want is my Roro but I look at the crows nest and want to throw up,"

You let the tears fall not worrying about Chopper seeing you he's seen you worse. He walks over to you handing a steaming cup of tea.

"Lavender, Chamomile, and Valerian for your anxiety it also might make you sleepy, do you want me to go get Zoro for you?" Chopper asked, there was a reason why everyone loved the doctor he would do anything to make you feel better physically and mentally.

You nod staring into your tea. "Thank you Chopper,"

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Zoro walked into the office his presence taking up room. When you see him you immediatly bawl from all of the emotions in your system. He rushes over to you not noticing Chopper shut the door to give you guys privacy.

"Hey, hey doll what's going on," Zoro says softly wrapping his sweaty body around you kissing the crown of your head. You tell him about how you felt waking up and your search for your own space all day. How when ever you looked at the crows nest you were nauseas.

"And all I wanted was you, but it's ok I have you now," you say sniffly. Zoro kisses your head agin resting his lips there for a moment. He stands up taking you with him.

"What are you doing?" you ask him as you plant your feet on the floor your face in his chest.

"Chopper said that you need deep presure for anxiety," Zoro said in a matter of fact tone wrapping his arms around you holding you tight. "And I can kiss the top of your head this way," he says breathing in your shampoo.

VINSMOKE SANJI

Sanji's favorite place to kiss you is your pussy neck. He loves when you try and squirm saying his name in a giggle.

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Sanji had been making dinner for hours and for a good reason it was your birthday and you only deserved the best. When he asked you what you wanted to eat for dinner your request was anything but simple sea king sushi.

Luffy and Usopp have been fishing all day waiting for one that was Sanji aprove. Once they had caught one that had a good meat to fat ratio Zoro cut it into managable pieces. Now Sanji was locked by himself in the kitchen with a 'Screw Off' sign on the door.

———————————————————————

You were anything but lonely partying with the crew but you still missed Sanji, maybe you should have chosen something diffent. You should've known Sanji would put 110% into anything he does for you.

You lean back in your chair by the fire Usopp had started, the sun was setting on the horizon it was beautiful. Letting out a content sigh you take a drink your sake.

Suddenly you feel the tickle of Sanji's stubble on your neck before he kisses you. Scrunching up your shoulder you let out a giggle.

"Sanji your back," A smile spreads across your face.

“(Y/N)-swan I will always come back you don’t have to worry,” he said kissed you ok the other side of your neck.

Sanji stood up clearing his throat. “Now who’s hungry,”

Before he could finish what he was saying Luffy’s arms were on the inside of the door frame ready to launch himself into the kitchen, Zoro, Sanji, and Frankie had to hold him back so you could sit down first.

[usedtobecooler]

dropping monday 14/08…

this must be the place

eddie munson x steve harrington x afab!reader

summary: the summer of 1985 is only just beginning when a trip to scoops ahoy! unlocks some deeply hidden feelings you have swirling in your stomach for steve harrington. eddie munson won't let you live it down, and maybe that’s due to his own feelings too, but a chance encounter on a hot night at lovers lake sends you all down a rabbit hole you could never of prepared for.

content warnings: 18+ only minors dni, sexual content (threesome, piv sex, oral sex, dirty talk, van sex), porn with plot, eddie and reader are fwbs with feelings, gentle bullying and banter, eddie is canonically queer, mentions of past king!steve, brief homophobia mentions, a heartfelt conversation. feelings are felt on all three sides, if you don't like it look away <3 reader isn't explicitly described as alt/goth but it's implied.

sneak peek below the cut

You watch curiously as the Harrington charm working it’s magic right in front of your very eyes, Steve steps in close to Linda, brushes a loose curl back — Jesus Christ, why was that doing something for you — and says something you can’t make out, but it’s enough to have Linda blushing and pulling nervously on the hem of her denim shorts.

Why were you jealous?

The telltale noise of an obnoxiously loud horn beeping lets you — and probably the entire neighbourhood — know Eddie had arrived to pick you up, snapping you completely out of your daydream. Your lips curl up into a smirk when both Linda and Steve jump ten feet at the sound, Steve rolling his eyes and scoffing.

What a bitch.

Eddie catches you looking from your window and lets out an obnoxious laugh, grinning up at you with his annoyingly perfect teeth. You wanted to punch him, maybe, but Friday nights were for one thing and one thing only, and that was getting high at Lovers Lake in the flatbed of the van.

So it’d have to wait until you didn’t need him for the weed or the ride.

Summer meant the pretty sunset as a backdrop whilst you smoked the day's events away — it somehow made everything that little bit more relaxing, watching the swirls of orange, pink and purple melt together as your brain fogged with the drugs, a nice settling in your tummy as your high took over.

It was second only to the heavy September rain that you loved so much, you found yourself yearning for it all year around. The loud patter of the large droplets clinking on the tin roof of Eddie’s van, buried under a nest of blankets to keep the cool chill off your arms and legs. Eddie’s hot breath fanning over your neck as he kissed it, chest heavy against your back. Warm, solid and comforting.

Maybe you were in love with him, or maybe you weren’t. You didn’t want to think too much about that.

You glide out of the house as quietly as you can muster, not wanting to arouse suspicion about where you were going. Even in your twenties, your parents would still have a few choice words for you in regards to Eddie Munson, and you were in no mood for the lecture. You’d heard it too many times in the years you’d known him, since fifth grade when he pushed you in the playground and you pulled his hair in retaliation.

From that moment on you were inseparable, to the dismay of your parents.

You’re aware of two other sets of eyes watching you from across the street as you bounce down the driveway, all smiles as excitement thrums through your entire body. Eddie’s maybe looking at you like you hung the fucking moon or something, but that’s probably to do with the fact you’re wearing his shirt and looking the epitome of hot.

Okay, maybe you had a complex.

“So that’s where my shirt went,” Eddie hums, giving you an appreciative once-over as you wrench the passenger door open with a horrific sounding crunch of metal, “looks better on you, I’ve gotta say.”

You clamber into the van with a huff, laughter spilling into it, “Yeah, yeah. You don’t need to woo me, Munson. We’re gonna fuck anyway, don’t worry.”

Eddie laughs loud and so fucking obnoxious, as if for somebody else’s entertainment, and it does catch the attention of the lovebirds on the other side of the road. You look over just as Steve catches your eyes, and suddenly your chest feels kind of heavy as he stares at you with a kind of intensity that you can’t put a finger on.

“Take a fuckin’ picture, Harrington,” Eddie cackles, head basically out the fucking window and he’s grinning at them both, snapping you completely out of it, “that’s as close as you’re getting to her, count your lucky stars.”

Eddie and Steve weren’t friends. In fact quite the opposite. Steve and Tommy were miserable assholes for years, made Eddie’s life hell at any given turn unless they needed him for drugs.

You think back, and truthfully the turning point was during Junior year. Steve had tripped Eddie in the hall, called him ‘queer’. Eddie didn’t stand for that, sucker punched Steve right in the jaw, hard enough that his skull hit the locker adjacent to him.

“That shit might hurt you when your daddy calls you it, but you’ve gotta do a lot worse than call me exactly what I am as an insult, Harrington.” Eddie had grinned, vicious and seething, as he watched Steve clutch desperately at his bruised jaw, wide eyed and hair askew from the force.

Steve never bothered Eddie again after that.

In fact, not long after, Steve never bothered anybody again. Maybe the knock to the head had quite literally knocked some sense into him, or something.

“You good?” Eddie’s voice, his large hand gripping your thigh knocks you back into reality, out of the daydream, and the grounding is enough to have your entire body melting into the simple touch.

[e-dubbc11]

Still?

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F! Hunter Reader

Warnings: Swear words, mentions of guns and gunshot wounds, smexy imagination (f! Receiving oral), mentions of death, a few tears, smooches, alludes to sex

Word Count: 3.9K-ish

Summary: After a run in with a shapeshifter and the local police, you end up with a bullet wound that you can’t patch up yourself. You call your best friend that you haven’t seen in a couple of years and that you’ve been in love with since you were kids

A/N: Spoilers for anyone that’s never watched the show, or watched past season 5. This takes place a couple of years after the apocalypse and Sam goes into the cage with Lucifer and Dean shows up at Lisa’s door.

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

Your escape hadn’t been easy but you managed to get away and with only one bullet wound courtesy of the local police. Of course they didn’t believe you when you told them that the “person” they were tracking wasn’t you, it was only someone who looked exactly like you.

The shifter would have to wait, you needed this bullet out of your oblique muscle now but you weren’t going to be able to get it out by yourself and there was no way you could go to a hospital with your face plastered all over the news.

But you were alone without anyone to call. Well, that’s not exactly true, there was one person you could call but you did not want to see him. However, what other choice did you have?

After checking into a motel outside of town (they probably hadn’t seen the news yet), you texted him.

You awake? I need your help.

It was late so you were surprised to see the three dots immediately appear underneath your message.

On my way. Text me your location.

You gave him the address of the motel and he wrote back that he was about 40 minutes away so all you could do was sit and wait.

The sky had been in a vengeful mood all day and finally after a particularly loud crack of thunder, the sky split in half and you could hear the rain hammering against the roof and pelting the hoods of the cars outside your door.

Hoping it wouldn’t impede his arrival time, the incessant rainstorm dumped buckets of rain leaving massive puddles in the parking lot and the runoff water sounded like a waterfall falling into the storm drain.

After you sent the text, he was all you could think about…Dean Winchester. He was your childhood friend, fellow hunter and the man who’s had your heart ever since you were kids…although he didn’t know it.

**********

You met Dean, his brother Sam, and their father John when you were 12. Dean was 14 and Sam was 10. You and your mother were crashing at Bobby’s for a couple of days after a particularly draining hunt for a vampire nest.

The only familiar voice coming from downstairs was Bobby’s, but there were also three others so you decided to investigate while your mother was still sleeping off your first big kill.

Creeping down the stairs, you tried to make as little noise as possible and as you peered around the corner, the cutest boy you had ever seen was directly in your line of sight.

He was wearing a brown leather jacket, had light brown hair, eyes the color of summer grass, and a sprinkling of freckles across his nose. Immediately, your heart started beating faster and you felt flutters in your stomach. You were smitten.

Suddenly, the stairs creaked underneath your feet, they all turned and saw you standing there staring at all of them with a nervous smile on your face. Your heart was beating even faster now, heat rushed to your cheeks, and the palms of your hands became very warm.

You remembered you had just gotten out of bed after a long nap so you nervously and absentmindedly started to smooth your hair and adjust your clothes while averting your gaze from Dean to your Henley shirt and jeans.

“Well look who’s awake. C’mere, sweetie, I’d like you to meet some friends of mine.” Said Bobby.

Feeling your knees beginning to shake, you slowly walked over to them, and stopped next to Bobby. Your eyes darted back and forth from Bobby back to the Winchesters as you gave them a slight smile and wave.

“Y/n, these are the Winchesters. That’s John, Dean and Sam. Y/n and her mother are resting here for a couple of days after a vamp hunt.” Bobby stated.

Dean looked a little surprised to know that you were a hunter too but learned quickly after a few hunts together that your mother taught you well. Also, after meeting your mother, she and John went on to have a brief relationship. Sometimes, they left the three of you behind to go off on their own hunts so you got to know Dean and Sam very well.

It was just nice to have friends in a “profession” where you normally worked alone.

You helped them anytime they needed you to and they would do the same for you. The three of you had been through a lot together, losing the only parents you had left, helping them track down the yellow-eyed demon that killed their mother, and trying to help Sam get Dean out of the pit of hell.

As you grew into adults and while on hunts, there were plenty of shared motel rooms, literally being in tight spaces, listening to the water run while he was in the shower, wondering if there were eyes on the other side of the door as you changed clothes…your sexual feelings for Dean were growing stronger too and you had gathered up the courage to maybe finally tell him.

But then it all vanished like air from a popped balloon.

You weren’t there when it happened, you were off on a hunt of your own but Bobby told you about Sam getting locked in the cage with Lucifer. Knowing that Dean must be devastated, you tried to call but there was no answer. And the next time you called, a woman answered which prompted you to quickly hang up.

“I didn’t want this for ya, kid.” Bobby had said, trying to console you.

Fresh sobs escaped from your throat. “Why didn’t he come to me, Bobby?!! He’s my best friend and he went to someone else?! She doesn’t know him like I do! She doesn’t know the life!” You cried.

Bobby was like a father figure to you and he tried, he really did but he didn’t know what to do to try and make it better.

“I know, kiddo. I know.” Bobby said softly. “I got somethin’ to tell ya, though. We need your help.”

Confused by the term “we”, you swiped the tears away from your cheeks and heard the front door open. Sam walked in and they both explained everything that was going on, how they’re purposely leaving Dean out of it because he was happy living a normal life which just made you sad but you agreed to help hunt down a powerful group of djinn that was after the boys for killing one of their own awhile back.

They were closing in on Dean. They stalked him, caused him to hallucinate, see things that weren’t there which is when Sam and Bobby decided to pull Dean back into it and that was when you had to walk away. He was already on your mind all day every day but you couldn’t see him again. It hurt too much, he hurt you too much.

But the brothers were back together again, you were saving people and hunting things by yourself which probably wasn’t a great idea but you’ve hunted alone since your mother’s passing. Now, you’re stuck outside of a shit town and waiting for the best friend you haven’t seen in over two years to come and help you.

What were you going to say to him?

Well, you had about 20 minutes left to try and figure it out.

**********

You could hear the low growl of the Impala and as it grew closer, the growl became a rumble before it stopped completely when Dean turned off the engine. The room was completely quiet; you didn’t have the tv or the radio on as you sat at the kitchen table carefully listening to the drumming of the rain up above you and trying not to wince at the pain in your side from the bullet. Then you heard the signature door squeak as it slammed shut, followed by five loud raps against the motel room door.

“Sweetheart, are you in there? Open up!” Shouted Dean over the rain.

“Sweetheart?” You whispered to yourself. “He has a lot of damn nerve!”

Turning to face the door, you yelled out, “IT’S OPEN!”

Dean stormed through the door.

“Are you nuts?!!” He yelled, coldly.

“Jury’s out on that one, Winchester. Lock the door behind ya, will ya?” You replied, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

He glared at you. “Leavin’ the door unlocked, y/n…seriously, what is wrong with you?!”

You closed your eyes, shrugged and frowned in his direction.

“Alright…show me what happened. I heard your name all over the news…shapeshifter?” Asked Dean.

You nodded and showed him the wound on your back, right on the love handle.

“You sure the bullet didn’t come out?” Dean asked.

“Uh yeah, I think I would have noticed if I had another hole in front, Dean!!” You yelled through gritted teeth.

“Well you don’t have to yell at me! I’m here aren’t I? Actually, I’m surprised you texted me, Sam busy or somethin’?” He asked with a sly smile on his face.

“You know he’s working on something else so don’t play dumb with me Dean Winchester!” You hissed.

He was frustrating you to no end and he’s been there for five minutes.

“Get this bullet out of me now before I bleed out all over this floor!” You said.

Dean pointed toward the bathroom.

“Ok, ok, get in the bathroom, hands on the counter but before you do that, you’re gonna have to inch your pants down a little.” He said.

Caught off guard, you stumbled over your words.

“U-uh…y-you want m-me to do what?”

“Just inch them down a little bit; they’re just gonna be in the way if you leave them in place.” He said.

Dean set up everything he needed to extract the bullet on the counter. The only anesthetic he had with him was alcohol which took away only a fraction of the pain whether you were drinking it or pouring it on the wound.

The look on your face could have scalded paint off of the walls and your voice was tight with anger as you weaved a web of profanities so obscene, you would have probably made a sailor blush. Dean had finally managed to get the bullet out intact, stop the bleeding, and put a bandage on the wound.

“Thank you.” You said sheepishly as if you didn’t just spend an hour cursing his very existence.

Another sly smile stretched across his lips as he finally replied, “You’re welcome, sweetheart. You have some sweats or somethin’? Jeans are gonna be too harsh to rub against the wound.”

You did have some in your bag that was on one of the beds.

“They’re in my bag. I’ll get them.” You said starting to walk out of the bathroom.

He held his hands out in front of you, “Whoa, no…I’ll get them, just stay right here.” He said.

With your hand resting on the counter, you tried to take the weight off of your left side while Dean ran out to the other room to get your sweatpants. The bullet wound was really quite painful.

He set the sweats on the counter, inched closer to you and reached for the waistband of your jeans.

“Hey, hey…what are you doin’? I can do it myself, ya know.” You said in a scolding tone.

He folded his arms across his chest and with narrowed eyes, and asked with a smirk “Oh really? Ok, well I’ll be right on the other side of that door. Call me when you need my help because you will.”

He tapped you gently on the nose.

Scoffing at him, you tried your best to get your jeans off and put your sweatpants on but the pain was just too much. You were definitely going to need his help.

Softly, you called out to him.

“Deeeeeean?”

You could feel him smiling on the other side of the door.

“Yessssssss? You need some help in there or somethin’?” He asked in a semi-taunting voice.

Deflated, you replied, “Yes please.”

Dean slowly opened the door with a wide smile on his face, walked toward you and once again reached for the waistband on your jeans. Gently, he inched them down your thighs, all the way to your ankles before he had you rest your hands on his shoulders so he could take them off completely. If he only knew what this was doing to you.

He was eye level with your core, looking up at you through his long lashes with those beautiful green eyes of his and all you could think about was what it would be like to have his face buried in between your thighs, tasting you, and tongue fucking you until you see stars.

“I still can’t believe you fight monsters in a thong.” He chuckled.

Heat rose to your cheeks as you replied, “Oh my god, not the time! This is SO not the time for that!”

He laughed at you again as he gently pulled the sweatpants up, being careful not to touch your bullet wound, until he was gazing down at you fondly with a slight smirk on his face.

“Come on. I’ll help you to the bed.” He said.

After easing you down onto the bed, Dean started to gather everything he brought inside with him to bring out to the car.

You caught yourself staring at him. Actually, it was more like staring AND clenching. You’ve been in love with Dean Winchester since you were 12 years old and he’s never even tried to kiss you but you’ve wanted him to every single time you have been in the same room with him. He was all you had ever wanted.

As he continued to gather his things and clean up, you finally asked him with a hitch in your voice, “Why?”

“Why what, y/n?” He replied, still shoving things into his bag.

Tears stung the back of your eyes as you answered.

“Why did you go to her and not me after Sam went into the cage?! WHY?!” You asked. “I thought we were best friends, Dean!”

Stunned, Dean knew you weren’t going to let him leave without giving you an answer but the dejected look on his face told you he knew he made a huge mistake cutting you out like he did.

“I-I don’t know, y/n. I really don’t know. I got in the car and I started to dial your number but I stopped myself because I didn’t want you to see me like that! I didn’t want you to see me broken and hollow, ok?!” He said.

“So you went to someone who doesn’t even know you like I do? Doesn’t know the life? Doesn’t know that this life took the people that we loved the most in this world away from us?!! What kind of comfort could she have been to you?!!” You yelled. “Oh wait, nevermind. I actually know the answer to that one.”

“HEY! That is NOT fair!” Dean growled back.

“Oh you wanna talk about fair?! I called, texted, called again…one of those times, SHE answered your phone and I gave up after that. But you didn’t bother to call me back, EVER!! How fuckin’ fair is that, Dean?!” You sobbed with tears streaking down your cheeks.

You could see it in his eyes how angry and hurt he was. Dean’s lips were pulled tight in a straight line and the muscles in his forearms immediately tensed before tightly clenching his fists. He was trying his hardest not to snap back like you knew he wanted to.

Dean then shakily placed his hands on the back of a kitchen chair, leaned forward, and stared down at the floor for a minute before bringing his gaze back up to you.

“Look y/n, I guess I went to Lisa to feel better about myself knowing that I could protect her and Ben, to make up for not being able to protect Sam. You’ve never needed me to protect you, even when we were kids so I just went to them instead where I knew I could be of some use.” Said Dean.

Fighting back your tears but failing miserably, you replied, “When have you ever not been useful, Dean? All I wanted was to comfort my friend, my BEST friend, help you figure out how to get Sam out of the cage…something! But you didn’t give me that chance, did you.”

With his eyes shut tight, Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a low growl. You knew the last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt you but it was too late for that. Over two years had passed since you had seen him last but not a day had gone by where you didn’t think of him, miss him, or not love him. You thought maybe those feelings for Dean would eventually go away, but they never did and they never will.

You were young and it was a childhood crush, it should have gone away but those feelings for him just became stronger as the years passed so when Bobby told you Dean was with someone else it felt as though someone was crushing your heart inside your chest.

That dull ache would never go away and it became a sharp pain as soon as he barged into your room tonight. Seeing him again brought all of those feelings back to the surface, made your entire body tingle, and you wanted him more now than ever before.

The only people that knew your true feelings for Dean were Bobby and your mother. She knew from the minute she met the Winchesters that you had eyes for Dean.

Bobby only found out after he told you about Lisa but you made him promise not to say anything which he had kept tight to his chest until his passing. But you were unsure if Dean had any idea about your feelings for him.

“When have you ever NEEDED my help, y/n?!” Dean asked in a raised tone.

You replied, “NEEDED? Never, I’ve never NEEDED your help or anyone else’s help but I’ll always WANT it! I’ll always want…”

A lump formed in your throat as you finished your sentence.

“You…I’ll always want you, Dean.” You said with trembling lips.

“Say that again.” Said Dean.

Your heart lurched into your throat as you tried to get your words out again. With a deep inhale and a forceful exhale, you told him again.

“I always want you, Dean. I always have.” You finally said.

You could practically see the words bouncing around inside his head like in a pinball machine.

“This is gonna sound really cheesy but I’m tipsy from those shots of whiskey so here goes nothin’…I have never wanted, nor will I ever want, anyone else except you, Dean Winchester. I’ve been in love with you since I was 12 years old, no matter how many times I’ve tried to push it away, no matter how many times I told myself it was ‘just a crush’, and I even told myself that you’d probably never love me back. I still love you!” You said with conviction through tears and a slight nervous chuckle.

“Son of a bitch…I need to sit down.” He said, pressing his palm to his forehead and planting himself in one of the kitchen chairs.

You started to get up off of the bed.

“Lemme get you some wa—“ You started to say.

Dean held out his hand to stop you.

“No! Don’t you dare get up. You’re the one with the bullet wound and I’m just a clueless asshat apparently.” He said.

That made you laugh.

Cutting through the awkward silence, Dean said, “I really can’t explain what it was, what I felt but something happened to me every time I saw you smile, every time you laughed, or hugged me, and even when you poked fun at me. I knew that I never wanted to NOT hear your voice, feel the extra squeeze at the end of your hugs, or see your eyes light up when I walk through the door. Even when you’re pissed at me like earlier tonight, your eyes never lie, you’re STILL happy to see me.”

“Dean…” You started to say but he cut you off again.

“I think that’s why I could never really be in love with Lisa because I was already in love with…you.” Dean said in a low gravelly tone.

His words made your stomach drop, those words that you never thought you would hear other than the love you shared between friends, but he was in love with you too which made your heart soar.

You wanted to go to him so you tried to stand up but again he stopped you.

“Whoa! What did I tell you about getting up, huh? Just stay there. Now what do you need? I’ll get it.” He asked.

“I need you to kiss me, Dean.” You replied in barely more than a whisper.

He stood up, slowly walked over to the bed and gently helped you up to standing.

“You ok?” He asked softly.

You nodded as he titled your chin up so you were looking up into his green eyes. With his hands cupping your cheeks, he leaned down and gently pressed his lips to yours. Dean’s tongue swept your lower lip before parting them and pressing it against your teeth wanting desperately to tangle with yours.

He pulled you flush against him as your arms snaked around his neck and he continued to kiss you hungrily while the ache between your thighs felt like it was going to explode.

Great…what a time to be wounded and in pain.

Dean loved to hear his name fall from your lips over and over again as he kissed up and down your neck and you loved to say it like a favorite song you had memorized all of the words to. You let your fingers glide through his hair as his lips collided with yours again and he whispered again and again how beautiful you were.

You always wondered what this would be like, to have his lips on yours, his calloused hands touching your body, caressing your face, telling you that he loved you and it was everything you hoped it would be; it was the best kiss of your life.

He accidentally got too close to your wound as he moved his hand to your lower back.

“Ow, ow, ow.” You said wincing in pain.

He apologized profusely.

“Oooh shit! I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry…for everything.” He said as he gently brushed your cheeks with his knuckles.

You gave him a warm smile and replied, “It’s ok, I still love you, Dean.”

He kissed you again, his lips were soft and tasted like dark roast coffee; you never wanted him to stop.

“Still?” He asked with a wink.

You winked back. “Still.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.” He said, kissing the tip of your nose. “I always will.”

“Always?” You asked, biting back a smile.

Dean licked his lips before kissing you again.

“Always.” He said with a sly smile. “I’m taking you back to the bunker with me and when you’re all healed up? Plan on not leaving my room for at least a couple of days. I’m gonna show you how much I love you, over and over, and over again.” He purred in your ear.

Heat rose to your cheeks, you felt delightful sparks run down your back, and choked on the lump in your throat.

“Well…until then, can you just kiss me over and over and over again?” You asked.

He replied with a warm smile, “I think I can do that, baby.”

Tag List: @munsonownsmyass @gijos @vaguekayla @stoneyggirl2

Others that might enjoy: @k-marzolf @jvanilly @fluffyprettykitty @deans-spinster-witch @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend

[cheesycatz]

I have reached 160k words on the fic. Considering that three out of the five pieces of Wormton fanart I've received involve unmasked Wormton interacting with Blue in some positive/lighthearted way, I'm sure you will all be happy to hear that they are completely separated and Wormton's mental state is even worse! It's okay, though, because he found a new androgynous blue person to befriend, one who can actually help him with his original plan to make Cyber City his again. Wait, no, put the soul slurping silly straw AWAY—

I'll probably change some stuff, but here's my current concept of how Wormton would fit into Chapter 2.

Spamton first detects the Heroes of Light when they fall down in front of his burrow. His soul-sensing ability is immediately overwhelmed by the sheer presence of the red SOUL, infinitely more powerful than any darkner soul he's even encountered, and somehow still infinitely brighter than the souls of the monster lightners. He sees it as an answer to his prayers, a way to give him the power to make this city his. He is cautious, though, as a powerful soul reflects a powerful owner. He stalks Kris, learning their name as he tries to get them alone. Between NPCs (and the addisons he is avoiding like his life depends on it), battles, and Noelle, it takes a while for him to find the opportunity. But, as an ambush predator, he is very patient. He takes his disguise with him, hoping to use it to gain Kris's trust. Like Flowey in Undertale, the player may catch a glimpse of Spamton on the walls or roofs, disappearing into the darkness if they turn back.

Normal fight:

Disguised Spamton corners Kris in the same alleyway, popping out of the dumpster. He pretends he's never seen Kris as he requests to see the SOUL, jumping out of the dumpster on all fours before standing up. He fights them not with the intention to kill, but to keep them trapped in a battle so he can prattle on about his “deal.” Spamton speaks about it in the vaguest terms possible, promising riches, power, to be BIG, and whatever other word-slop comes out of his mouth. He also picks up on how Kris's stiff movements remind him of his disguised self—as in, a puppet being pulled around by metaphorical strings. He wonders out loud if Kris's body even matches the SOUL they carry, and perhaps that was just enough for Kris to genuinely consider his offer. Once the player accepts Spamton's extremely dubious deal, he tells Kris to come to the Trash Zone alone and scampers offscreen, soon removing his costume and resuming his stalking.

Shop?

If the player remembers to go back to the Trash Zone (genuinely every letsplayer I've watched forgets Spamton even exists if they're not trying to do the secret boss, so emphasis on the “remembers”), Spamton doesn't actually let them in. His nest only had one exit, and Susie and Ralsei were standing in front of it and would definitely check it if Kris never came out. Spamton isn't confident in his ability to fight them, so he unfortunately has to keep waiting.

Spamton continues to stalk the Heroes through the mansion, easily concealed by its high ceilings. He eventually finds the basement and sees it as the perfect place to lure Kris. He leaves his disguise on the floor and smashes whatever dingy lights remained in the basement, enveloping it in darkness. He leaves and whispers to Kris between room transitions, disappearing where the player, and Kris by extension, cannot look before the other party members appear. Eventually, he retreats back to the basement, waiting for Kris to enter. Because Spamton never previously broke into the basement, it doesn't have the security forcefield, heinous tea cup ride, or encryption wall. The player can only hear scratching as Spamton walks across the ceiling in the darkness, Kris's sword being the only source of light. He tells them to find him as a distraction. Once the player finds the empty husk of his disguise, he lunges at them while laughing. Kris's armor prevents his claws from puncturing their skin, but they are still immediately restrained. His proboscis is shown for the first time as he attempts to start feeding on the SOUL, but he is knocked over by Susie's Rude Buster. Sick of waiting, Spamton finally attacks.

Secret Boss Fight

In order to defeat Spamton mercifully, the player needs to destroy his disguise to get him to focus on something other than killing the Heroes. Any magic spells used during the fight by Ralsei or Susie produce light, which makes Spamton's attacks easier to see, but also makes him angry and causes his damage to increase. All three Heroes can act to damage Spamton's disguise, but Spamton doesn't initially notice it. Throughout the fight, he continues to speak about the future for Cyber City he plans, dumping some lore about what happened to his species, fondly describing their parasitic larvae, and making it clear how much he despises the antiviruses. He purposefully uses clips he gathered of the other lightners and the Heroes, which the player can hear as his dialogue soundbyte switching to different characters. Spamton is meant for ambush hunting, not endurance, so he begins to be worn out from having to chase after the Heroes. As he slows down, he finally notices his destroyed disguise, and panics. He can't safely get out of the mansion without it, and is terrified of being discovered. He's exhausted enough for Ralsei's pacify spell to finally work. Spamton gains enough clarity to start feeling remorseful, but he passes out before anyone can make amends. He's still alive, but his gray eyes and lack of visible breathing makes him appear dead. The player can raid his destroyed disguise to obtain a Shadow Crystal and the AppleFlower item (exact same abilities as DealMakers). Maybe the fact that Spamton believes he can't survive without the disguise he has to wear kind of correlates with how Kris can't survive without the SOUL they don't want, but it's a bit of a stretch. I think the fact that Spamton could tell that the SOUL didn't belong to Kris would have shook them a little bit, but, yeah, most of the symbolism from the original NEO fight is kind of lost here.

Violent Normal Route:

The player can still fight unmasked Spamton in the basement even if they attack him during his first fight. His exoskeleton is strong enough that he doesn't get seriously injured, just angrier. The player obtains the WormScarf (exact same abilities as PuppetScarf) instead.

Weird Route:

Spamton still assists the player by telling them how many darkners are left. Idk if he'd have the thorn ring, as I don't know why canon Spamton was carrying around a torture device in the first place. He takes over the mansion, but tries to stop Kris once he learns that destroying the fountain will destroy the city he just got control over. He may have high defense, but he's extremely weak to the cold in general and is killed the moment Noelle hits him.

I'll probably rewatch a chapter 2 playthrough to look at the dialogue and events. Maybe the Jerma playthrough? I've only seen the clips from that “starring Jerma985 as Spamton G. Spamton” video I watched like four times and not the rest.

[lemimmaid]

Day 4: Dream

Vea (she/her)

Taking in a lost Darkness puppy.

Artists: Gazzi, Baydews, @ar-guile

Background:

While traversing the rooftops of San Fransokyo at night, Vea stumbles across an unconscious boy in a pile of garbage, wearing what she assumes is some sort of vigilante getup.

Having been recently freed from Xehanort's influence, the Darkness known as "Vanitas" is seeking a new host, but accidentally finds a new Master instead when the girl responds with an unimpressed demeanor to his "I am darkness" spiel, and clips a dog leash onto the base of his helmet before leaving him in the alley and heading home.

After exploring the city a bit, Vanitas finds himself with nowhere to go and not enough power to leave, so he seeks out his new master, following her like a lost puppy.

Introduction:

He came in through the window.

Honestly, it was like something out of a fairy tale. Meeting a boy on the rooftops in the dead of night, wind whipping his messy hair this way and that for a breathless moment of eye contact.

Her own storybook-blonde curls were less than magical, she could feel the weight of her hip-length hair concentrating into a gnarled nest against her back and long pieces lashing at her bare skin like a flogger. There would be a storm soon. The air was thick and heavy with energy, and she was sure she'd hear the rolling growl of thunder in the distance if not for the shrill whistle of the wind battering her eardrums. The world around them was a coiled spring on the verge of snapping.

In the dim light, she thought his mouth was moving. Was he talking to her? She squinted against the bangs smacking against her face, shifting her feet to balance better. "What?!"

Vea felt her voice in her throat, felt it buzz through her skull, but if the sound made it into the air it was immediately snatched away on the wind like a leaf. This was pointless. A brief moment passed, and she gestured vaguely in his direction before turning away and crossing the tiles as quickly as she dared to the adjacent building.

Bracing herself with one arm, she slid sideways down the angled roof, one step at a time, and lowered herself onto a wide windowsill, tripping the latch with her fingernail. Her grip tightened as she lost balance slightly, startled by the loud clatter of the window bursting open in the wind. A steadying hand closed over her wrist, and she looked up. The boy had followed her, expression unreadable in the conflicting light, so she dropped her eyes away from him. She offered him a nod of thanks, waiting until his grip loosened to slip inside, re-latching the window when he made it in after her.

The sudden lack of sound was painful, and she idly rubbed at her ears. They stung badly from the cold, sharp air, not to mention the ringing and dizzying pressure. 

"Fuck," the boy—Vanitas?—muttered under his breath. Vea raised an eyebrow, turning to him with a curious expression. He was untangling something in his hands, a wad of knotted chain and leather rope. Following the rope to its base, it was attached to that same helmet and tangled in some kind of tattered skirt and mess of belts around his waist.

"You good?" she asked, a hint of dry amusement creeping into her tone. Some fairy tale. Who wore such a stupid outfit, let alone while running around on rooftops in the middle of a windstorm. Weirdo. "Have to admit, I didn't think I'd see you prowling around the neighborhood again after yesterday. Couldn't keep me off your mind?"

"Couldn't get the leash off," he replied dryly, not looking up from his task. "Thought you might want it back."

A small surge of heat clenched at her chest, but she managed to keep the embarrassment from reaching her face. "What a gentleman, skulking around on a girl's roof to return her lost property."

Vanitas snorted a laugh, the barest smirk curling his lips. "Can you call it lost when you clipped it onto my helmet?"

"You expected me to sit pretty and listen to your dumb supervillain speech? You sounded ridiculous and I reacted appropriately."

"Fine, whatever."

"Good boy."

The pause that followed wasn't as awkward as she'd expected, but her words hung almost visibly in the air between them. She hadn't thought she'd see him again, especially with how abruptly she'd left.

"Anyway," he said, giving up on untangling his skirt and belts. He'd finally extracted the leash from the gnarled mess and, clearly thinking that was enough for now, held it out to her.

A playful smile crossed her lips. "What, you didn't want to keep it to remember me by?"

"Don't think I'll need it," he replied. "You make an impression, Master."

"...excuse me?"

Today you get Vea. Tomorrow? Who knows...

thank you @ar-guile for being my vanitas dialogue consultant

[gassywill]

(Pt 2) The Gassy Master - Jakes Friend Ben

I woke up in a daze, I tried to look around but I couldn’t see anything just the roof. I still felt the sleeping bag as I moved around and I definitely still had the gas mask on. The smell of farts still lingered.

My mouth was so dry with his socks, the taste still very much in my mouth. The horrible taste mixed with the left over gas didn’t help.

I heard the door open, and Jake say “this is it” a male voice I didn’t recognise said “holy fuck, you’ve secured him well” I struggled a bit to see if I could find out who this person was but it was at this point I realised I was strapped down now. That was new.

Jake leant over me and looked down, his cute face smiled with a cheeky grin as he said “I have got you a new friend, his name is Ben he can fart on command and burp on command. Your in for a treat, I’m off out for the day I will be back later” I screamed and squirmed as true smiling Jake moved away from me.

Ben soon showed his face, he towered over me. He was wearing an adidas tracksuit, with white stains around the crotch, my eyes locked onto that bulge. He said “I see you’ve noticed my cum stains, I always cum when I torture slaves”. My eyes widened, what was going to happen to me.

Ben grabbed the tube to the gas mask, un screwing it. This was good maybe he would taker me out of it.

He screwed something back on, I couldn’t tell what it was at first until he showed me two tubes. It was then I realised he had fitted some sort of splitter to attach two tubes. I shaked and moaned. He sat over my chest looking down at me.

He showed me inserting one tube into his tracksuit, the smell immediately hit me. It was rancid. The smell of his ass plus the cum was absolutely toxic. Nothing I had taken before. Where the fuck had Jake found this stinky man.

The other tube he kept a hold of. I then heard him gasping for air, thinking to myself that will teach him. He then placed the tube next to his mouth and let out the loudest burp ever. The whole mask vibrated with the power of it, then the smell hit me. Fuck. It was rancid, I have no idea what he had eaten but it was absolutely toxic. The small was unimaginable. I saw him laugh as he sat over me. Then my cock vibrated, he was sat right on it.

The fart wasn’t too loud, but had a lot of power behind it. The smell again, was toxic. The raw eggy stench filled the mask as he continued to burp down one of the tubes and rip silent but deadly farts down the other end.

Each fart vibrated by dick more and more, each more toxic than the last. They weren’t loud, just powerful and toxic. How would I survive. I moved and thrashed as much as I could, however there was no stopping him.

I was close to cumming, this wasn’t good. This would have been the second time I had came in this toxic sleeping bag. Luckily before I climaxed he got off me. Laying down next to me, he turned the TV on and ignored me. He watched TV for around 2 hours. Gassing down the tube when he needed too.

The other tube that he frequently used for burps was also used for another purpose. He had his trainers, that he would put the tube into, these mixed with the taste of Jakes gag was not good. The smell was just toxic, they clearly hadn’t been washed in years.

I endured this torture for around 3-4 hours in total, even with him watching TV. I didn’t realise how bad this was going to be when Jake got back. I heard the door open, Jake belched loudly as he entered the room saying “guess who’s back” Ben farted one more time, and belched down the gas mask saying to Jake “he’s been a good slave, i have kept him entertained”

Jake laughed, he then ripped the gas mask off me, meaning i could finally move my head slightly, i looked around and Jake was at the door, with a cute twink gagged and bound nest to him… what was this? What was he going to do with him?

[cryptid-crow13]

I have a migraine, but I wanted to write so I projected onto Tim <3

word count: 1,633

CW: chronic pain, migraine, passive suicidal ideation

Red Robin sat on the edge of a rooftop and closed his eyes. He’d signed off for the night, but hadn’t returned to the Cave or the Nest. Everything today was just too much and his head pounded.

Tim knew he hadn’t gotten any blows to the head recently, but that’s almost what it felt like. Any of the lights in the city were like ice picks and any sound made his head throb. However, he stayed sitting on the edge of the rooftop and sighed. The idea of making the trip to the Nest or even one of his safehouses almost made him hurt worse.

He didn’t bother calling over comms to ask for help. Tim thought of having to deal with Bruce, Dick, or Damian made him want to bang his head on the concrete of the roof. It wouldn’t make the pounding in his head go away, but maybe he wouldn’t have to deal with it or them.

Tim opened his eyes and immediately snapped them closed against the pain it brought. He would be more worried about getting caught on the roof if he could think past the pain. It felt like everything around him was at a volume that threatened to blow his ear drums, but he still couldn’t focus on any of it enough.

Tim tightened his grip on the roof’s ledge when a wave of pain threatened to make him fall. It felt like his brain was going to burst out of his skull.

He slowly leaned back to lay on his back with his legs hanging over the edge. He didn’t trust that he wouldn’t just fall at any given moment. Tim supressed a relieved sigh when some of the tension in his neck eased.

His mind drifted in a haze of pain. Tim tried to gather his thoughts into anyhihng coherent so he could head back, but all he managed were half formed thoughts. He really should have ended patrol as soon as he had realized his vision had gained a distinct static quality that wasn’t due to the lenses in his domino. He’d thought he’d have more time or that he’d be able to push past it. He did manage to push past it as long as he kept moving and adrenaline was pumping through him. However, as soon as he’d stopped to rest he had to end patrol.

The others didn’t ask questions about why Tim would cut his patrol short. They didn’t seem to think it was odd when normally keeping Tim from his regular patrols was like trying to herd a cat. Tim couldn’t think of why they didn’t ask past the hurt. Nor did he think the metaphor in his own head made very much sense.

Tim flinched but didn’t move when a thud sounded on the roof. He slowly pieced together that the sound was boots hitting concrete. Tim forced himself to open his eyes.

A red helmet stared down at him and Tim couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“What’s up with you?” Jason asked in a voice that was far too loud.

Tim’s face scrunched in pain, but he couldn’t make himself cover his ears.

“Red Robin,” Hood said gruffly and Tim forced himself to pay attention. That name meant he needed to focus, but the effort of it was monumental.

Tim managed a hum in acknowledgment.

“Why the fuck are you still out? I thought you ended patrol early.” Jason’s voice had lowered in volume and Tim could only feel relief.

“Head,” Tim managed to say.

“Concussion?” Jason asked and Tim watched idly as he crouched down.

Tim shook his head and immediately regretted it when the motion made him feel like he had vertigo.

Jason hummed above Tim. A gloved hand rested on Tim’s forehead, just above his domino. He sighed in relief at the pressure and feeling of cool leather.

“What’s wrong, Tim?” Jason asked in a voice that Tim knew he should have more thoughts on, but he couldn’t manage anything past confusion.

“I feel like my brain is going to burst out of my ears,” Tim deadpanned.

Jason cursed and Tim mourned the loss of the pressure on his forehead.

“Are you really out here with a migraine?” Jason asked in a voice that made Tim want to cry. Why was it so loud?

Tim only managed a pained whine.

Jason cursed again as he shuffled a bit further from Tim. There was the sound of his jacket rustling and when he unzipped something Tim whined at the noise. He didn’t realize he’d closed his eyes until he opened them again when something was set on the roof beside his head.

Jason’s helmet stared back at him and Tim made himself look back up at Jason. He had moved closer again and Tim noted how his jaw was tense.

“Ear plugs and then I’m taking you to a safehouse,” Jason said in a whisper.

Tim groaned, but managed to lift his arms and take the ear plugs from Jason’s hand. He put them in and felt tears prick his eyes in relief. Everything was so much quieter and it made Tim feel like he could think just a bit more.

Jason bullied him into standing up and held Tim close when he teetered on his feet.

“I’m gonna grapple us down, but I need you to hold onto me,” Jason said and Tim realized he’d put his helmet back on.

“I can do that,” Tim said quietly. He moved under one of Jason’s arms and wrapped his own around the taller man’s neck.

Jason nodded and shifted his hold on Tim before he walked them to the edge of the rooftop.

Tim groaned, but held on as Jason lowered them to the ground.

“I’m sorry, Timbit, but we’re gonna have to use my bike. I don’t want anyone trying anything while we’re walking,” Jason said in a tone Tim barely recognized as regretful.

Tim hummed in acknowledgment and followed Jason. A gloved hand held securely around Tim’s upper arm to keep him steady and walking straight.

A smooth black helmet was pressed into Tim’s hands. He fit it over his head and sighed in relief again. It blocked out even more sound and the visor dimmed the lights around him.

When a hand tugged at one of his wrists he looked up and saw Jason had sat on his bike already. Tim allowed himself to be tugged closer. He held onto one of Jason’s shoulders to steady himself as he sat behind him.

Tim rested his head against the broad back in front of him and didn’t bother to feel embarrassed. Him and Jason had a much better relationship now, but they weren’t exactly close per-say. It felt odd having Red Hood care for him when the man had caused him so much pain before. Tim lost his train of thought to pain when the motorcycle roared to life under him. He tightened his hold around Jason’s middle.

Jason said something and patted at Tim’s hands consolingly before they started moving.

The drive was a blur of pain and noise. Tim was ready to start crying by the time the engine shut off.

Hands patted Tim’s own again and he reluctantly pulled back.

“Almost there, but you gotta get off the bike,” Jason said in a hushed tone.

Tim opened his eyes and realized they were in a small underground parking garage.

He held onto Jason’s shoulder again as he stepped off the bike.

“Safehouse?” Tim asked.

“Yeah, Timbit. One of my safehouses,” Jason said as he stepped off. He didn’t comment on how Tim still held onto him.

Tim whined and closed his eyes when the helmet was removed from his head.

“Sorry,” Jason said quietly. “You can keep your eyes closed, okay?”

Tim nodded.

He idly followed Jason as he was directed with a hand on his back. Tim tried to focus on the point of contact and not how he wanted to curl up in a ball and cry.

He sat when Jason directed him to. Tim relaxed back into the cushions and listened as Jason moved around. When the movement stopped in front of him he opened his eyes.

The lights were still off and Jason stood in casual clothes. He held a bundle of clothes out to Tim.

“Change. Just leave your stuff on the table. I’ll handle it.”

Tim took the clothes and changed out of his gear. The shirt he pulled on was far too big, but the shorts he was able to pull the strings on and tighten.

Jason walked back into the room.

“Did you take anything?” He asked.

“No, was in the middle of patrol when it started,” Tim said quietly.

“What the fuck, Timmers? You spent half of your patrol like this?” Jason asked in a harsh whisper.

Tim’s shoulders sagged. “I didn’t think it would be this bad.”

Jason scoffed and guided Tim by the shoulders to a bed.

“Lay down. I’ll get you some pain meds and water.”

Tim whined but listened and crawled into the bed. He closed his eyes and drifted in a haze of pain again.

A hand tapped his and Tim looked down to see Jason holding out a pill and water. Tim recognized the letters on the pill and popped it in his mouth. He took the water gratefully. It was cool and eased some of the pain.

Tim lied back in the bed and gasped when something cold was set against his forehead.

“What the fuck?” He asked.

“Its just an ice pack. Now shut up and go to sleep. We’ll talk when you can actually function again,” Jason said gruffly.

Tim flipped him off, but sank further into the pillows.

~*~

That's all I have for now. I might continue this and post it properly onto ao3, but who knows. I just wanted to project and Tim is the one that suffers with me today.

Lmk what you think!

[phlebaswrites]

Here (And Queer)

Summary:

Tobirama doesn't have the time for a love life.

His family vehemently disagrees.

Rating: Teen And Up Fandom: Naruto Relationship: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara Word Count: 2,324 (Complete)

Entry for @madatobiweek

Day 5 - November 9: Reincarnation | Mistaken Identity

This story is for @tarutaruga who showed me the post that inspired it.

"… and she's a very nice girl, or so her father says." Tobirama wants to sigh, but suppresses the impulse as his father keeps describing yet another daughter of a business partner. "She's doing her MBA, so I'm sure she'd have a lot in common with you."

"I don't think we would suit." Tobirama shakes his head, refusing to back down. "Besides, between the students inflicted on me by the university and my research, I don't have time to date."

"You could make time if you wanted to," otousan dismisses his objection, waving it away. "Meet her and see, I won't press you for more than that."

Kawarama grimaces behind his bowl of rice, and Tobirama shares his feelings. It always begins like this - a single date, organised by their father, then another one if the woman isn't completely objectionable, and soon there will be expectations.

No, Tobirama has had quite enough of it.

"Otousan." He puts down his chopsticks, making sure to align them carefully on top of his bowl. "I'm never going to date any of these girls."

"Your brother used to say that, but now look at him." Their father points at Anija, who smiles sheepishly but puts his hand over his wife's, covering it completely. "Happily married! It's possible, Tobirama, you just have to try."

"It's not possible, not for me." Tobirama looks up, catching his father's gaze. "Because I'm gay."

The silence that falls over the table is both sudden and total as the whole family stares at him in shock. He's never mentioned it before - he never thought it was anyone's business but his own - but if this is the only way Tobirama can get some peace, he'll do it.

He won't date another woman again, ever.

"Well…" Anija's voice breaks the hush, sounding overly loud by comparison. "There's always a nice boy…?"

Otousan shoves his chair back, standing up and storming out of the room, clearly disagreeing with that option, and Itama bites his lip. "Well, fuck."

Tobirama shakes his head, getting up and heading for the door.

"Nii-chan, wait!" Kawarama chases him down the hall, but Tobirama doesn't stop for his brother the way he'd normally do.

No, he needs to get out.

He always suspected his father would take this particular bit of news badly, and he won't stay under a roof where he's not welcome.

"I'll be back for my things when I can," he grabs his coat and swings it over his shoulders. "Don't wait for me."

He closes the door in his brother's face, and takes a deep breath. The chill of the air is calming, and he draws it into his lungs.

Dinner from a conbini, a bed at the capsule hotel near the station, and then he'll take the train back to Tokyo in the morning.

This isn't a disaster, it's just the way of the world. All children have to leave the nest some time.

It looks like it's finally his turn.

Read the rest on AO3.

[lilmcttens]

@roleplay-parlour

A sewing needle pushed partway through the fabric, just barely poking his fingertips, Hunter almost didn't register the familiar voice coming from behind him.

A quick cheep from his palisman acted as an surefire way to grab his attention, Flapjack quickly fluttering up from the shirt-nest and onto his shoulder. He paused a moment, then glanced over his shoulder to see his friend.

"Amity, I didn't think you were gonna come down here," Hunter said. All the other kids in the house were busy, so he'd assumed he would've been alone down here. Apparently not, not that he was complaining about that.

Her noting of his current project got Hunter glancing around, face growing red when he realized there was a mess of cloth and sewing supplies everywhere. He quickly shuffled some of it aside, as if trying to make room for her

"O-Oh, yeah," He muttered softly, draping his latest attempt at sewing patterns on his lap gingerly, careful not to poke himself on the little needle "I wanted to catch up on my stitchwork, guess I was on the verge of getting carried away"

Addressed by her name. Amity nodded; Lips lifted to give Hunter a smile so he would know all was well with her. Things were still awkward. It was like Willow mentioned, "These few weeks have been weird." but so many new memories to share. By this point, she was spending so much time with Hunter now. Living under the same roof Eclipse Lake was hardly a thing on her mind anymore.

"You didn't think I would come down to Camilla's basement? You don't know. Maybe I came to make certain you didn't pass out or burry yourself under all your clothes down here."

She shrugged how she could make light of her arrival. Her golden eyes darted around the room. Her mother would tsk..tsk.. at such a mess, but Amity was cutting him slack because she was not her mother. The bright blush in his cheeks made her laugh out loud in his direction.

"Well everyone wanted to go and get some ice cream, but no one could find you. I stayed behind since you didn't show up someone had to make sure you were okay. Gus mentioned you were working on something. He wanted to stay too, but Luz insisted he had to try some so she could see his reaction. The notion of a "Brain Freeze" scared me off down here to you."

Amity stood by his clothes and the project that he was working on. Curiouser still the amount of time that was spent on the project.

"Care to show me what you're making?"

[pixies-and-poets]

Of Verses and Curses: Chapter Ten

Darkness flows from you We can’t keep the storm from settling in We can’t rescue you Hopeless, we can’t do anything to help

Author’s notes: I’ve had this chapter written out almost entirely in my head for a while, dialogue and all, and sat down and typed out the whole thing tonight in a fit of... trying to distract myself from my earlier bad brain moment today. This silly bunny story really helps me process a lot of things, seriously. So thank you for reading it, if you have. It means a lot to me.

Various people, via private messages and asks, have guessed at things that are going to happen in this chapter, or soon... so let’s get going before people guess the entire rest of the story! ;)

Warnings: Slightly more graphic description of injury/blood.

Thanks: @minnesotamedic186 and @monsterbride99​ for the idea that Phantom’s temperature is affected by his emotions! Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten - In the Thick of the Woods

In the depths of the forest, a patch of shadow flitted in the air, darker still than its surroundings. It fluttered and circled around the prone and injured body of a tall creature, trapped under a fallen tree. It was a tiny raincloud.

Could a cloud feel panic, worry, concern… love? Some of the residents of Palette Prime would have already told you yes, and anyone watching the scene would surely have been convinced as well.

But it was dark, and there was no one around to see. No one around to rescue the cloud’s unconscious companion. And what could a cloud do, on its own?

—

Sweetlopek was awakened by a crack of thunder. He opened his eyes, although he might as well not have; it was still pitch black in his bedroom, no light making it in through the window. He rolled over, listening to the rain pounding his wooden roof.

The lumberjack tried to get back to sleep, but just as soon as he was drifting off, a flash of lightning rent the sky outside his window, and a clap of thunder so loud it shook the house followed almost instantly. He clenched his jaw, turned his bedside lantern on, and looked at the clock. It was six A.M., soon to be sunrise. He might as well get up…

In the dim light of the lantern, he saw Chipper’s shivering tail sticking out from under the bed as the beaver cowered from the storm. He thought of Dryad… she was spending the night in her nest, and he hoped she’d be alright. Where had this storm come from, anyway? There had been no hints of rain the evening before. Had he known it was coming, he would have invited her to stay… well, he needn’t be silly; she had weathered far worse. Still, he hadn’t seen rain this hard, or this sudden, since that night Woodrow had…

“Oh stars, Woody,” he said to himself, suddenly afraid. He got up, threw on his shirt and overalls and boots, and stepped outside into the rain. He didn’t know where to start looking, but-

Although he had already gotten quite wet in those few seconds, the storm suddenly... stopped. He looked up and noticed the raincloud, still dripping out a few remnants, was quite localized over his own house: he could see beyond it, to the lightening sky of the coming dawn not far away. It was only pitch black in the shadow of the storm where he stood.

And off of that cloud broke a tiny piece, which zoomed down to him, circled him frantically, and pressed itself against his cheek.

“Oh- Jinx,” he said, his apprehension growing even stronger. “Yer here- without him-” He looked up and saw the bigger cloud starting to drift away, across the fields- in the direction of Woodrow’s house.

“Wow,” he breathed, “you brought the whole big behemoth, eh? This must be serious…” The cloud paused in its frantic flutter, then after a moment, rose up and down rapidly - a nod.

Sweetlopek directed a groan towards himself - who knew how long Jinx had been trying to wake him up? Curse what a deep sleeper he was - but there was no more time to lose. He looked at the cloud, his face drawn tight with worry, his heart pounding fast in his chest, and said “Take me to him.”

—

The lumberjack cut a quick pace through the woods, following the speedy cloud; but still they had been going for quite a while, into the depths, and the dawn was properly breaking. Finally, he saw in the distance the fractured base of a tree, and could tell it had been freshly splintered. More than that, he had an intuition, and rushed ahead.

Sure enough, lying near another (older) stump, was a familiar white-furred body, his arms splayed out and his coat rumpled around him. His chest was trapped under a massive tree-trunk, his face sideways in the dirt, and by the dim morning light, the woodsman could see that the top of his head was-

“Oh STARS,” he said again, for the second time that morning. A puddle of blood had seeped down into the dirt from the top of the warden’s head, trickling down over his face and limp ears, and pooling around his cheek. It had mostly dried, but not totally; it still carried a bright-red sheen. Woodrow’s eyes were closed, his glasses knocked a few feet away.

Sweetlopek moved immediately to lift off the tree, summoning all his strength; with a burst of adrenaline and a great heave, he moved it and thrust its weight off of his best friend. He then kneeled down next to the warden, his hands trembling. Woodrow had survived an entire cruise ship falling on him, surely he had to be alright…

Jinx seemed to sense that Sweetlopek was terrified to try and touch his friend - both afraid of making his injury worse, and afraid of what he might find out, afraid of finding his body cold. So she hovered over her fallen companion and dripped a few large raindrops onto his cheek, like tears. There was silence for a moment, and then…

“Nngh…” a tiny groan emerged from the warden, who twitched slightly, then flinched at the pain that throbbed through him.

“Woody!” cried the lumberjack in relief. Ever so gently, he slid one of his large paws under his friend’s chest, with the other on his back for support, and slowly lifted him up into a sitting position.

“Sweets,” said the poet, his eyes barely open in the early morning light. “I… I wrote…” For as weak as his voice was, there was still a detectable note of shame in it.

“I coulda guessed that,” said the woodsman, cleaning off the warden’s glasses with his flannel. “But it’s alright, don’cha worry ‘bout it. I’m here now. Yer gonna be alright.” He put his friend’s spectacles back on, and then once more slowly and carefully, he lifted the warden, cradling him to his chest in a bridal carry. “Sun’s up… Dryad should be in her nursery now. I’m gonna take you to her, she’ll know what to do.”

“Mmm,” the warden murmured. “Where’s….” he trailed off.

“Jinx? Jinx is here,” he said, as he set off walking with the cloud in tow behind the two of them.

“...No,” said the poet after a moment. “I… Tom…”

The lumberjack frowned. “Oh, I dunno,” he said bitterly. “Not takin’ care of you, that’s for sure-” but he caught himself, bit his lip, then took a deep breath. Animosity was not what Woodrow needed right then.

“But I heard him,” said the warden weakly, leaning his face into his best friend’s chest as he rose and fell with the steady, careful plod of his footsteps. “I heard him… singing…”

“Listen, Woody,” said Sweetopek, kindly yet firm, “yer a little delusional right now. He can’t sing, remember? Just close yer eyes and rest, will ya?”

“No, no. It hurts. Everything hurts... please... keep talking...”

Sweetlopek felt his throat tighten, almost moved to tears at the pain in his friend’s voice. “Woodrow… are you alright? Like, emotionally?”

The other didn’t answer, but shuffled a bit, showing he was still awake. He was leaving a small patch of blood, dark enough to be visible against his friend’s red clothing.

“What didja write out there? Not a… break-up poem, I hope. Not a poem of sorrow?”

“Break-up poem?” the warden repeated softly. “Who would I be breaking up with?”

“Er- dagnabbit, I’m sorry, I thought you two had… you an’ Phantom- I’m, I’m sorry, never mind.” He had best not tell him that multiple people had seen the two sleeping curled in each other’s arms in the crook of the moon, and the whole town knew about that...

“Oh, Sweets,” said Woodrow, his voice coming stronger now, “It’s not like that.” He clutched at his friend’s shirt, his voice cracking with misery. “It can’t be like that, it can NEVER be like that-”

“Shush!” said the other, “Calm down, now! …But why is that? He ain’t treatin’ ya bad, is he?”

“No, no! You mustn’t think that. He’s wonderful. He’s…. he’s wonderful…” His aching brain struggled to find another word, but this was the only one he could procure. And it was enough. It was Tom. Wonderful.

“...Are you in love, Woodrow?”

Silence.

“Yer not answerin’, so that’s answer enough. So... what’s wrong?”

“I cannot saddle him with me,” said the poet, after a moment. “Look what I have done to myself…” He moved one of his paws to touch the red trail on the side of his head. “I am stained with my own blood. And so shall I do this, to anyone with whom I am bound.”

The lumberjack was silent for a moment, and there was no noise except for chirping of birds and the crunching of his boots upon the leaf-covered ground. Finally, after considering his phrasing carefully, he said: “Woodrow. Do ya really think there’s no one out there who’d find it worth the danger, an’ the worry, of bein’ close to you? …Think real hard now.”

The warden gave a little sob, and clutched at his friend’s shirt again. “But, you’re different, Sweets. We’ve been friends since we were young, and- I feel bad enough that you care as much as you do. But I suppose… I suppose I am just used to it.”

“Well, what about Dryad? She cares too, y’know. Yer luck has done a number on her forest, more’n once- but she doesn’t blame ya for it.”

Woodrow was silent for a moment, then swallowed hard, trying to think of what to say. He opened his mouth to speak, and then-

Sweetlopek stopped dead, as both he and Woodrow - and Jinx - stared before them. About twenty feet away, between the trees and staring back at them in shock… was Phantom.

“Tristan?” came his voice, and suddenly he was beside them in a flash, zooming so fast it was almost as if he had teleported. He reached out to put a paw on the warden’s head, but, stopping in horror at the blood and not wanting to disturb a wound, moved it to Woodrow’s chest instead. With a weak smile, the other rose up his own hands to put them on top of Phantom’s, holding it to him tightly. “Tom…” he croaked, in blissful surprise.

“Mon chéri, mon pauvre chéri… What happened?!”

Sweetlopek grimaced, still under the impression that the Phantom didn’t know about Woodrow’s affliction. He looked down at the poet, and said, “Er, Woody couldn’t sleep, so he came out here for a walk in the early mornin’. What with the windstorm last night, there was an accident. Luckily-” he shrugged his head in the direction of the cloud, “Jinx found me an’ led me to him, so he’ll be alright. I’m takin’ him to Dryad’s nursery an’ she can get him patched up.”

Phantom was staring at Woodrow, his eyes wide in despair. “My poor dear,” he said. He looked back up at Sweetlopek. “May I carry him?”

“Well, we’re almost there. Best not to disturb him too much, y’know?”

“Ah… certainly. That is wise. But let us make haste then.”

The three Rabbids and the cloud headed off quickly on the final leg of their journey. As they walked (and floated, and were carried… Sweetlopek was really the only one walking), the lumberjack asked, “So, uh, Phantom- what were YOU doin’ out here?”

“Oh- I could not sleep either, and… truth be told, I have taken to haunting these woods sometimes, at night. Ghost instincts, you know-”

Woodrow smiled woozily. “I did hear you,” he said. “I heard you singing, in my injured sleep-”

Phantom looked startled, and he said, cautiously, “Well… how did I sound?”

“Beautiful…”

“Then, I am sorry, my dear… but that was merely a dream.”

—-

Dryad bent over one of the hanging seedbeds in her nursery, checking on the saplings. The hammocks must have been thrown about violently in last night’s winds, but the saplings had been well-planted under her careful hand, and luckily seemed firmly rooted and unharmed.

Suddenly, she heard heavy footfalls some distance behind her. She would recognize those footsteps anywhere, and she turned with a merry smile.

“Good morning, SweetieAAAAAAAH!” her greeting turned into a shriek as she saw four visitors (inclusive of a cloud), with Woodrow’s limp body and bloodied form being carried by his friend.

“Oh, is he-” she began in terror, floating towards them, and then sighed with relief as the warden looked up towards her. “Hello,” he said, with a weak smile. “My apologies, Dryad, but would you please try not to yell like that? My head feels agonizing-”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Yeah, I- I can see that.” She looked her partner in the eyes, and said, “Unlucky accident?”

“Yep,” said the woodsman. “Out… walking by himself in the middle of the night.”

Dryad nodded, understanding the code. Now the sudden, violent windstorm made sense.

“Can you fix him up?” Sweetlopek asked. “You’re so much better’n the doctor in town, frankly.”

“I’ll do my best,” she said. “Let’s get him into one of the hammocks. I have an empty one with no soil in it right now.”

The lumberjack carried his friend to the hanging bed Dryad indicated. It was indeed empty, made of soft and supple branches woven together. He began to lay Woodrow in it, but the forest spirit put out her hand.

“Not yet,” she said. “I’m going to want something to support his head and make sure it stays clean. Some cloth I could bundle will do-” She looked at Phantom, and suddenly made a beckoning motion with her paw. “Alright, hand it over.”

He looked at her in confusion, pointing to himself, and then suddenly it clicked. Swiftly and without question, he reached around his neck, taking off his cravat and handing it to her. She folded and bunched it up artfully, and Sweetlopek finally laid Woodrow down, his head resting on it as a pillow. In spite of his injuries, the warden stole a glance up at Phantom’s more exposed neck and chest, and turned his head away quickly, feeling warm.

“Hmm - his head is still bleeding a bit,” Dryad said. “We’ll use some better bandages soon, but for now, is there anything else we can use to staunch the-”

Before she could even finish her sentence, Phantom had withdrawn something from his pocket, quick as a flash. It was a monogrammed handkerchief.

“Oh, is that- clean?” Dryad asked. “No offense, but you don’t blow your nose into it or anything-”

“It’s for show,” he said. “It’s pristine and spotless, I promise you. Will it work?”

She took the silk cloth and wrapped it around the warden’s wound, trying it tightly, pressing his ears down behind his head. “Perfect,” she said. The poet closed his eyes.

“Alright,” she said, thinking quickly. “I can make a poultice from herbs, but I’ll need to go gather them. And Sweetie - can you go fetch some clean water, and some bandages from your house, and your mortar and pestle?” She turned to Phantom. “It’s really lucky you’re here too,” she said. “You can stay and watch him. Hopefully we won’t be gone too long-” she started to turn away, but then turned back. “Question - sorry if this is insensitive, but- can you make yourself cold? Being a ghost, and all…”

He blinked at her. “I can be…”

“Well, if you can do it on purpose… using something ice-cold can reduce any swelling, so- if you could keep your paw on his head. If that’s alright?” He nodded.

“Alright then,” she said, patting Sweetlopek on the shoulder, “Let’s head out.” The two hurried off into the woods together, although their paths would soon diverge.

Woodrow and Phantom were left alone. The singer sighed and took a deep breath, and as promised, put the palm of his large hand on the poet’s head. Woodrow opened his eyes again, in surprise.

“You really are cold,” he said, weakly. “You have always been so warm before… I didn’t know you could do this.”

Phantom gave a wan smile. “I am barely trying, to be honest. When I am devastated, or afraid, I cannot help being cold. Although I do not often feel those things.”

“You are afraid, Tom?” said the other, softly.

“Of course I am,” said the ghost. “I’m terrified, seeing you like this. Oh, my darling, will you be honest with me? Please? Let there be no more secrets between us?”

Woodrow swallowed. “What?”

“Were you making sweet poetry, last night?”

“I don’t know if it was sweet, but… yes.”

“I figured as much,” said Phantom, his heart breaking. “Why did you go alone??”

“You know why. I’m sorry, I was weak, I was foolish- I should not have done it at all. It won’t… it won’t happen again, while you are here. I’m, I worried you, I… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“You need not apologize, tesoro. But- if you want to write again, if you feel the urge, per favore, you must have me along. Had I been there, I could have protected you-”

“By having the tree fall on your own head?”

“Mon ami, permit me to brag, as that is my nature. I was - I am, a boss, thank you very much! I was designed to stand in the way of Mario himself- do you think such things as a tree will deal me a mortal blow? It took a team of capable heroes to take me down the first time. I am, no offense, my darling- I am stronger than you. Physically, at least. I can take it.”

The warden huffed. “I shall consider these things,” he said. Tom sighed, moving his hand to another part of his beloved’s head. Stubborn, stubborn, foolish man. Foolish, wonderful, good-hearted, selfless, STUBBORN man…

With his free hand, he reached out and took one of the warden’s. “How are you feeling?”

“Alright, I think. I think… I shall sleep soon.”

“You do that,” said Phantom. He took off the poet’s glasses and tucked them gently into his own pocket, where his handkerchief had once lain, and then retook the other’s paw. Watching him close his eyes, and rest, the trails of blood still visible on his long face, Phantom cleared his throat. He opened his mouth… broken and cracked though his voice may be, perhaps… perhaps it would be worth an attempt at a lullaby...

“I’m back,” came a voice behind him. He hadn’t heard Dryad’s approach, floating as she was, and he closed his mouth again. “Has he been alright?” she continued.

“Yes, he seems fine,” said Phantom, as the pixie-like Rabbid joined them, her arms bundled with freshly plucked leaves and flowers. “In fact, I think he’s asleep now. You were quick.”

“Well, I knew just where to look. When Sweetie gets back, I can get to work.” She looked Phantom in the eyes. “By the way- thank you for looking after him. Not just now, but… in general. I know there’s nothing you can do if he wanders off by himself, but- well. I know you care for him, and my partner and I appreciate it. Though Sweetie might struggle with expressing that to you.”

Phantom nodded, and looked back at the sleeping poet. “You two seem to take great care of him. I appreciate that as well. I am very thankful you have kept him safe and whole.”

In a few moments, the lumberjack rushed back into the clearing, a bag slung over his shoulder. He set it down near Woodrow’s hammock, and pulled out a roll of bandages, a large thermos of cool fresh water, and a mortar and pestle.

“Thank you, dear,” said Dryad. “I’m actually going to make two different things- one for numbing, and one for actual medication. It’s going to take a little bit, if you two want to, um… step away… that’s fine.” She gave Sweetlopek a knowing look, and he sighed. She’d been wanting him to talk to Phantom one-on-one for a while. The lumberjack nodded to Phantom, who looked back at Woodrow. “C’mon, she’ll do better with some privacy,” he said, and the two headed off to the edge of the clearing.

Dryad smiled at them, then set to work placing herbs and flower petals into the mortar. Finally, they would have their heart-to-heart… the longtime best friend, and the new lover… perhaps they would find they weren’t so different after all, that they could get along…

---

“You let him get hurt,” hissed the lumberjack, when they had gotten out of earshot and eyeshot of Dryad. He was trembling with anger. “You let him run off, and- we’re lucky this is the worst that happened. He could have-”

“Excuse me!!” hissed Phantom, clearly offended, but trying not to raise his voice. “I suppose you keep track of him at all hours? I’ll have you know, it’s because I respect him that I wasn’t with him last night.”

“Oh yeah?” said the other in an angry whisper.

“Yes, you fool of a woodcutter!! He was not- he did not wish to be with me, last night. He wanted some time alone, in his own house, and of course I obliged. I was not going to beg him to come to my room with me. Even if I would have wanted it so. Were it up to me, I would have not taken my eyes from him until the break of dawn. He would have been far too busy and distracted to write poetry, unless he be an exceptional multitasker-”

“Alright, alright, I don’t need to hear all THAT,” grunted Sweetlopek with a wave of his hand. Then he did a double take back at Phantom. “Wait- did you say he wouldn’t have been able to write poetry?”

“Yes. It’s why he got hurt, isn’t it?”

“So… you know? How long have you known?”

“I’ve known the whole time. Although he did not know I knew, until last night.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” breathed the lumberjack. “Dancing around all that was- so hard.” He crossed his arms, though his frown was now more thoughtful than angry. “So you’ve known, since you got here? Or before? And yet - you still got this close to him? What’s yer game, Phantom?”

“My… game? My game is that I… that he fascinates me.”

“And you played along, with not knowin’ about his condition? Why?”

“Well, because… I wanted him to tell me, in his own time. It was clearly something he did not want to broach, at first. But he did, in time. And now I know - or rather, now he knows I know.”

“I see,” said the woodsman. He bit his lip with one of his big upper teeth, looked sidelong at the ghost, and said, “Have you asked him about his writer’s block? The truth about it?”

“I know that too. I know it was a fabrication, and that in reality he has ceased writing on purpose, to spare me from any misfortune.”

Sweetlopek blew out another sigh of relief. “Alright. Well, I’m glad everything’s out in the open, then.” He scratched the top of his head, which felt so bald when Chipper wasn’t there. “All these secrets were drivin’ me nuts. I’m not a very secretive man.”

Phantom smiled. “You do seem the honest sort. As does Tristan. I do not think the lies were comfortable for him.”

The lumberjack shook his head. “I’m sure they weren’t. And I’m sure not writin’ poems is even worse. Listen- listen to me, Mr. Phantom.” He looked the other in the eyes, his voice involuntarily raising slightly in its urgency and passion. “This is mighty important. You realize he’s givin’ up the greatest passion of his entire life fer yer sake? His nonstop obsession since he was a little boy?”

“I do,” said the ghost, his eyes moving away from the lumberjack’s and looking sadly into the distance, at the leaves that covered the ground, blown into drifts and piles by last night’s winds. “I do not agree with him for it. I am trying to change his mind. I am trying to convince him that I will stay by his side through good fortune and ill.”

“Well… it’s gonna be a lot of ill fortune, if yer with him. You understand that, right? Ya really do?”

Phantom nodded. “I know. But every day… every day, I am more and more convinced it is worth it. And I hope I shall spend the rest of my days growing ever more secure in that conviction.”

Sweetlopek felt himself soften on the inside, the knot of mistrust in his heart loosening. “It’s not easy, carin’ about him. It’s constant worry, and sometimes ya gotta be a comforter and healer too. I just need ya to know that, and accept it. But… yes, you are right. It’s worth it.”

The lumberjack uncrossed his arms as he continued. “Y’know, yer really not what I thought ya’d be like, Phantom. At first, I… really didn’t like you. And I’m not sure I still do. But I can see what Woody likes about you… that much makes sense. I just need ya to answer me one thing, and do it honest- what do you see in him?”

Phantom was quiet for a moment, taking some time to consider his words. “I don’t blame you for not liking me,” he said, still keeping his voice low. “You must have heard the worst. And the worst… is true. I am selfish and vain. A narcissist, an egotist of the highest order. I think only of myself. My last relationship of any note, my sweet honeybee, my darling of springtime… I threw her out like a flower that had wilted in its vase. I know how I ended things with her was wrong. I knew this at the time, and I did not care.” He looked the other in the face. Sweetlopek’s eyes were wide, and his mouth drawn into an anxious line.

The Phantom continued. “The stars have punished me, perhaps. I have become a victim of my own personality. Bea is happy now, but not I. She has found peace, so I hear; but I have fallen into despair. She gathers flowers, while I still wish to gather fans, to drown in their adoration… and I cannot. Perhaps I never shall again. I am washed up, and washing up further by the day.”

“Er… I’m glad ya can be honest with me,” said the lumberjack. “But I ain’t sure what this has to do with Woodrow.”

“I’m getting there!” said the ghost. “Anyway- I have learned something about myself, in my relatively brief existence. And that is this: even thought I have lost much of my glamor, my flaws cannot be shamed out of me, even now. Chide me for my vanity, and I will convince myself I am more beautiful than ever. Dismiss me for my egocentrism, and I will dig in deeper to the idea that everyone else is wrong. But you see- one day I came upon some poetry, and it…filled me with a desire for a peaceful life, quiet afternoons by rivers, the tranquility of the farmlands and the forest. A yearning in my heart for calm.

“And then I met those poems’ author- humble, gentle, selfless, and kind. So many artists I have known, be they actors or writers or singers or painters, are much like myself- ultimately, they care only for their own work, for advancing their careers. Their friendships with others run only as deep as what can be gained by having a wider network. And yet here I had met someone who did what he did whilst caring little for fame or even his own safety. Someone who hardly even discussed his own work. A pure soul, kind and dear, who would give up what he loved to protect someone else. And this past week, Signor Sweetlopek, I have felt… a desire to become better. Not out of shame, but out of inspiration. The desire is within me to be humble and self-sacrificing. I will never be what he is. But I am drawn to him. I want to try, and I want to learn.”

During this monologue, the crackles and fuzz in Phantom’s voice had come out extra strong. Sweetlopek frowned in concern, as he had not heard it to such a degree at the dinner party- but the passion was, perhaps, breaking it.

He reached out his hand, and Phantom met it with his own. The ghost had grown warm again. The two shook.

“I’ll be honest. That is a far better answer than I could’ve expected. Good job… you pass.” He gave Phantom a smile, and a wink. “Now. Let’s go check on our good friend, shall we?”

And the two headed back into the nursery.

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

One of us is a killer

Gonna do another Lifegen thing but I focus only on what they say to me every six moons! Going solely based on that, I'll build a story for another resident!

Orange highlights will be moments that don't actually have to do with the main character (Burnetkit) / are things not directed to her

Of course, SOMEONE here will end up a resident...we just don't know WHO yet...

The Suspects:

-----

-----

MOON 0:

Mother (Wetfish): [looks at Burnetkit and reaches out to prod at their tiny paws, to which Burnet mews]. It's fascinating....Cats start out so small....

.

Mom (Beaverspeckle): "Oh, my precious kit. I love you so much."

.

Sister (Midgekit): Prrrr.

.

Brother (Privetkit): "MROW!" [Mewls angrily as they're shoved out of their nest].

.

Brother (Yewkit): [Burnet falls asleep next to Yewkit into a peaceful slumber].

.

.

MOON 6:

Mother: [Talking with Beaver, nothing to Burnet]

.

Mom: "Here, Burnetpaw. I saved this fish for you. What? You don't like fish anymore? It used to be your favourite when you were a kit...Heh. Look at you, growing up on me.

.

Midgepaw: [Watches Fleetkit and Privat talk together, too nervous to join].

.

Privetpaw: "Burnetpaw! I finally got away from Mouseshadow! C'mon, let's go explore! Oh no, wait, I think I see them coming over here...Aughhh...maybe if you stand in front of me, they won't see me?"

.

Yewpaw: [Running around the clearing, disheveled as they try to complete many tasks at once]. Burnetpaw, what's up? Do you need something too? I'd be happy to do it for you! [....] Working too hard? I'm not working too hard, don't worry! In fact, helping around camp is how I relax. Yup, definitely relaxing. Definitely."

Mentor/deputy (Cloudmoor): "Good morning, Burnetpaw. How are you today? Did you hear that rain on the den roof last night? It was really loud, it sounded like hundreds of tiny paws slamming on the roof up there. I wonder if StarClan came to visit us, in the form of the rain?"

.

.

MOON 12:

Mom: "Hey, kit, could you grab me the-paw, I mean. Burnetpaw, not kit. Still getting used to that. But, ah, you'll always be my baby to me."

.

Midgepaw: "AAH!" [Jumps at own shadow, then awkwardly grooms their own chest fur to play it off].

.

Privetpaw: [Privat's breathing is shallow. They stop breathing for a moment, worrying Burnet. Burnet decides to tell the medicine cat].

.

Yewpaw: "Hey, remember when we were young, and Beaverspeckle used to parade us around the nursery on the 'border patrol'? Or remember when Beaverspeckle caught us trying to sneak out of the nursery? StarClan, I've never seen you so mad!" [Burnet and Yew continue to talk about stories of youth, making eachother laugh more and more].

.

New Mentor (Goldfoot, Cloudmoor's other apprentice): [Grieving] "Leave me alone..."

.

.

MOON 18:

Mom: [Gossiping].

.

Midgefreckle: [Gossiping].

.

Privetdusk: "Zzz...huh? Wha? Burnetshriek? What *yawn* time is it...Oh StarClan, the patrols! I'm going to be late!"

.

Yewstripe: "Shove off. I'm busy." [Burnet shoves her nose in Yew's face, making their best cutesy face until Yew breaks]. "Psh, alright, alright...I'll come eat with you. But only for a few bites!"

.

Former mentor (+deputy): "Hey, Burnetshriek. I overheard you talking earlier. Can't say I agree with you, but that's just me being me."

.

.

MOON 24:

Mom: "Heyy, there's my favourite patient! Doing better today, pal? That's good. Hey, get this. Today, when I was gathering herbs, I saw this huge hawk..." [Beaver's voice puts Burnet on ease, but their lashing tail shows hidden emotions].

.

Midgefreckle: "Is it just me, or has Beaverspeckle been looking a little lonely lately? [...] We should go check on them."

.

Privetdusk: Zzz..[Half asleep, passed out on a half-built nest].

.

Yewstripe: "Prey is scarce...We'll all have to double down and only take what we need, for the sake of the Clan."

.

F.M: "I've been told a lack tact. Honestly? I see it as a service. At least you know where you stand with me. I just believe in being straightforward. Saves time and energy."

.

.

MOON 30:

Mom: "Did you see Heathertree earlier today, Burnetshriek? Oh, StarClan, it was the funniest thing ever! They mistook a twig for a fox and flew, like, five fox-lengths into the air! Hahahaha!"

.

Midgefreckle: "Hey...I saw you hanging out with Palekit earlier. They're a fun cat, huh? It was good, seeing them make you laugh so hard, heh...Way harder than I ever could...[Midge smiles, but their eyes flash with something potent and fearful].

.

Privetdusk: [Talking with Beaver].

.

Yewstripe: "Burnetshriek, can I ask you something? [...] ....Do you think that I'm doing enough for the Clan? It might be a silly question, I know. I'm practically always on patrols, or helping the apprentices patch up dens, or whatever, but does that all really matter if you feel like you aren't making a different? All I've ever wanted was to help my Clan and to be someone other cats can look up to. I want to be able to inspire someone to work even harder, just like I was. But sometimes, it just feels like I'm getting nowhere, like I'm barely making a difference. My whole life, I have been trying to live up to my Clanmates' expectations, maybe even more than that! But now, it's starting to feel like the pawsteps I'm trying to fill are too big. I appreciate you for being patient while I work through all of this. Just know that I'm trying, okay? I promise I'm doing my best."

.

Mate (Heathertree): [Stretches out under a sunbeam, in the clearing where cats must step over them].

.

.

MOON 36:

Mom: "HEY!!! You leave them alone! [...] Ugh. Can you believe how cruel some cats are, Burnetshriek? A bunch of apprentices were trying to convince these two kits to sneak out of camp...what a bunch of mouse-brains. [...] No matter what, don't let anyone try to pressure you into doing something you don't think is right. Go with your gut, and stick with your own values. That's what's really important."

.

Midgefreckle: "Oh, hey, Burnetshriek, can I talk to you about something? [...] I saw a rogue out on patrol today. I managed to chase him off the territory, but then I got carried away, and...well, I kept following him. I don't know what I was trying to do. He just kept making me so angry! Calling me weak...calling me a failure...saying I was a disappointment to my Clan. Eventually, I realized what I was doing, and I let him go. But I couldn't stop thinking about those things he said...Sorry. What am I doing? I'm being such a downer today...Thanks for being here for me, Burnetshriek." [Midge presses their head into Burnet's shoulder and sighs into their fur].

.

Privetdusk: [Burnet tries to sneak up, but Privet knocks them with his tail]. "I can tell it's you by just the sound of your pawsteps, dummy! Haha!"

.

Yewstripe: "Hm? What's that? You want to know if we can train together?...I work best alone. But...thank you for asking."

.

Mate: "Hey, Burnetshriek! You're looking a lot better than yesterday! If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're healing up pretty nice! The medicine cat says you should be outta here in no time, which is good, since I'm starting to go crazy without you around...If you don't get better soon, then...Hehe. Let's not even talk about that. Bad luck."

.

.

MOON 42:

Mom: [Burnet asks Beaver why they chose to become a medicine cat]. "Ah, well, that's easy...the medicine den is full of adventure! I get to explore far and wide gathering all sorts of different herbs, collaborating with medicine cats across territories, and literally commune with the dead! That's plenty of excitement, no? You might think you know life-or-death situations on the battlefield, but here in the medicine den are where the stakes are really high. My decisions could be the difference between a Clanmate surviving, or joining our warrior ancestors. It's terrifying...But thrilling, too! There's lots of different paths a cat can take in this world, but I know this is the path for me. Can you say the same?"

.

Midgefreckle: "Sometimes, I wonder if I'd be happier just living out on my own, as a loner. Away from all the pressures and hierarchies of Clan life, just free to wander and live my life. But then, if I were a loner, I wouldn't have you, would I? No...No, that just wouldn't do."

.

Privetdusk: [Gossiping].

.

Yewstripe: "StarClan...I just can't sleep. My mind's telling me to keep working! Ever feel this way, Burnetshriek?"

.

Mate: "Oh, Burnetshriek! Are you goin on a hunting patrol? [...] Can I come along? I'm more than happy to help if you need me to!"

.

.

MOON 48:

Mom: "Burnetshriek, your fur's standing up in the back, let me get it for ya...Hahaha, okay, okay, I'll stop! You may be grown now, but you'll always be a kit in my eyes."

.

Midgefreckle: "Oh, hi, Burnetshriek. You wanted to speak to me? [...] Sure, I suppose I'm not busy. The Clan has been well recently, hasn't it? Heathertree seemed in a pleasent mood, judging from the slight spring in their step. I'm genuinly glad for them, the day is ours for the taking, and I'm glad everyone's ready for it."

.

Yewstripe: "I love you, Burnetshriek. And...I'm sorry if I don't say it enough, either. Without you, I don't know what I'd do."

.

Mate: "There are days when I wonder about the purpose of love...But then, I look at you, and I'm reminded.

.

.

MOON 54:

Mom: Y'know, Sega was gushing to me earlier about what a good job you're doing. The whole time, I was just going, 'Yep, that's my kit!' Hehe! Keep up the good work, kitto. I think everyone else is starting to notice, too!"

.

Midgefreckle: "Hmm...so you're expecting. I...well, I guess it means more mouths to feed, more noise in the camp. But maybe, just maybe, they might bring...something. I don't know, a kind of fresh perspective to the Clan, maybe."

.

Yewstripe: "Say..ahh, what do you think about Mouseshadow? I mean, like, me and Mouseshadow. Do you think we would make a good pair? [...] I dunno. I just...value your opnion, I guess. I really like them, but asking someone to be your mate? It's a big decision. Plus, I have no idea if they even feel the same way! I just don't want to make a mistake and end up heartbroken..."

.

Mate: "Our kits are gonna be the cutest, I already know it! I can't help but be excited for the tiny little paws running the camp soon. You'll let me visit, won't you?"

BURNET IS PREGNANT!

That means our character cast will expand, so I'll save the continuation for another post, so keep a look out!

As for now, who are your suspicions on, and why do you suspect them?

[debaroohoo]

So I'm buying a house. Like. A whole dang house. As someone who's pretty terrible at being an adult, this process is terrifying. I keep going back and forth between being excited and wondering what the hell I think I'm doing. In an effort (probably in vain) to keep my brain focused on the latter, I'm making a list. All pros, no cons since I don't need that in my life right now.

Hopefully no more very brief power blips at the start of minor storms that like to happen when I'm in the middle of playing a video game. This actually happened earlier and what prompted me to start typing this up as I waited for my internet connection to come back.

No more sharing a wall with a guy who likes to crank up his music for a couple hours each night. Headphones are useless, my brain knows it's there, so it seeks out the annoyance against my wishes.

No more sharing a…floor? with people who like to yell at their barking dog and crying child to shut up.

I'll finally have a bathroom (2 bathrooms!) that hasn't been used by strangers. Removing the sliding shower door and cleaning the questionable crud on the bottom a few years ago nearly made me throw up three times (that is not an exaggeration) and I've never felt truly clean since then.

No more living right next to the county fairgrounds. Hearing cows and sheep and roosters once or twice a year is kinda fun. Concerts so loud that the noise makes my walls and windows shake, not so much.

More room for activities!! And storage. Really looking forward to the storage and having more shelving so I don't have to keep any of my favorite junk hidden away in boxes.

A better kitchen! There are some recipes I haven't tried in a while (or never tried at all) since I don't have enough storage space (see above) to keep various cooking gear on hand.

A GARAGE!!!!!! My poor car hasn't had a roof over it's head for most of its life and I'm tired of how filthy it gets. The headlights have so much built up gunk on them I haven't bothered trying to clean since being outdoors 24/7 means it'd probably get bad again eventually. I'm weirdly looking forward to cleaning those and wonder if there'll be a noticeable difference in the light quality.

No more lugging groceries up the stairs. The garage leads right into the kitchen plus I won't have to shut the back hatch between trips if I can't carry everything in one go since I'm paranoid someone might try something funny in the few seconds my car would be out of my sight. Plus, I won't have to worry about wasps trying to build a nest in the door cracks. ...Hopefully.

Garbage and recycling pick up! I'm mainly happy that I won't have to take my recycling to a drop off center anymore. I tend to let it pile up…

Closer to family! I currently live on the opposite side of town. It's not a long drive to see them, but it'll be nice to be only 2-5 minutes away.

Customizing!!! I know I can technically paint the walls in my apartment if I wanted to, but putting everything back to normal before moving out would be a headache. If I want to go ham and Jackson Pollock up a wall I can do as I damn well please.

I will have a patio! It's small but it's a place to put a chair outside!! I can sit outside and not have to worry about making eye contact with neighbors!!!

Complementary to #13 - I will have a YARD! I can GO TOUCH GRASS. I can get a DOG someday. I'll have to get a fence installed first which won't be cheap, but that's okay because DOG.

The front door is purple. PURPLE. That was actually a paint choice the builder had and I took it. When I give directions to my house I can tell people it's the one with the purple door. No one tell my dad. He would uh...totally approve and I want it to be a surprise. Yeah.

I can mount a TV. Again, I technically could do it in my apartment but I don't really trust the walls to hold up… Anyway, I have a plan to move my consoles and other things currently hooked up on the TV stand to a shelf where I can have better cable management. That means no more cable jungle! Seriously, I wonder if the space behind my TV can be considered a fire hazard.

I think that's all I've got for now? I'll probably think of more to add to the list, but that covers most of it. If you read all that…what the hell man, I appreciate it but I know you've got better things to do with your time.

[scribbledquillz]

F5 for Wen and Rev c:

A23 for Imakai

If you would like two c:

Dragon Age Inspired Dialogue Prompts

Hello Mo! <33 Thank you for the prompts! I fully intend to do the one for Kai as well, but will post it separately when I'm able to write it. In the meantime please enjoy our two being adorable. : 3

A Moment in the Storm

The squall had swept in off the Waking Sea with all the subtlety of a cudgel, and wasted no time in battering the whole of Denerim with torrential rain and thunder the likes of which only the heat of late summer could provide. Miraculously the old warehouse's roof seemed to be doing a passable job in keeping out the worst of the weather. Yes, the far wall was half collapsed and its cover along with it, but aside from a gust here and there blowing in the odd spatter of damp, it had remained quite comfortable in this quiet corner of its loft.

The walk home they really aught to be taking soon, however -

"Shit."

Wen stirred beside Revka, the heavy scent of old burlap and cotton wafting about the both of them with the motion. Her nose wrinkled as she stared out at the sheets of rain racing over the harbor, mouth set in a bitter curl.

"Well, isn't that just wonderful. We'll both look like drowned rats by the time we make it home now. Drowned, guilty rats."

It was Revka's turn to frown out at the weather, though not for precisely the same grievances as Wen. The night might not have been young any longer, but it should have still been far from finished. She'd hoped they'd have at least another hour or two here before the rain picked up. It had been too long since they'd last been able to slip away to their hideaway, to share a quiet night of chatter over nothing without the weight of home life on either of their shoulders. Where it was just Arianwen and Revka.

Just how she liked it to be.

"Not if we wait 'til morning."

The suggestion was off of her tongue the moment it formed in her head. Wen's eyes flicked to her, looking as though she couldn't decide whether to be more surprised or bemused.

"You're having me on, aren't you," she said, humor winning out and flashing in the toothy grin she shot over a shoulder. "You want to stay out all night. Little miss responsibilities and obligations. What happened to that big day helping your Mam tomorrow you were just whining about?"

Revka's face felt warmer than she'd have preferred it too, though she didn't let that stop her from answering Wen's jab with a huff. "Forget I mentioned it, then."

"Oh come off it, Rev," Wen said, one of the pilfered grapes in the bowl between them plucked up and lobbed at Revka's head. "Don't go all sour on me now! You were just about to prove my Pa right - maybe I am a terrible influence on you."

"Absolute worst there is."

The same grape went flying back at Wen, who caught it easily with a laugh and tossed it into her mouth.

"So?" Revka asked after a moment's silence. She didn't like how much anticipation she could hear in her voice, stomach flopping awkwardly at the sound. "You staying with me or not?"

Wen slumped unceremoniously back to her place in their nest of piled sacks.

"Of course I am," she said as she settled her head into the crook of Revka's arm. An old, comfortable habit that poked at something warm and flitting in Revka's chest. "Just thought you would never ask, that's all. Besides-" Wen gestured out to the storm raging past the crumbling mortar and lumber. "I haven't gotten to watch a storm like this in ages. Can't miss our chance, can we?"

"Right." Revka drew in a long breath, only letting it go when the next peal of thunder roared loud enough to hide the tremble in it. "Wouldn't want to miss this."

[deer-with-a-stick]

Wildest shit happens in D&D man.

Alright, story time.

There was a D&D night for fun and to introduce newbies to the game. I ended up with a slightly more experienced group but they took pre-made auto-generated character sheets.

We ended up with Normal Human Artificer whose part of a guild (I ended up tying the backstory to the illegal Artificer Cult), a Centaur Hermit who is afraid of civilization, an Orc Fighter who hates civilization, and a Half-Orc Barbarian raised by wolves and who has an alcohol addiction.

The oneshot happens in Waterdeep, the fucking New York City of the Forgotten Realms. They go to a bakery to try and find clues as to where this important guy (the Beggar King) is. First thing that happens is the Barbarian gets up onto two feet and fucking spartan-kicks the door open. They kill one ghoul (Barbarian gets half their face bitten off, retaliates with a Nat 20 bite, and rips the ghoul’s throat out). Then the centaur picks up the second and ends up fucking adopting it and getting it addicted to Raspberry Danishes instead of cow blood and humanoid flesh.

Then they get ambushed by the BBEG’s men. Ghoul flies at the leader, and with another Nat 20 because my metal dice loves combat, rips the guy’s head off. Fighter splits another guard in half with ANOTHER Nat 20 (the dice aren’t weighed, we just ended up being D&D Game Georg. Our Barbarian actually couldn’t stop rolling twos earlier and during the ghoul combat, the ghoul that got adopted ended up rolling three Nat 1s in a row). The centaur tries to pick up a third guy only to get shield bashed in the head. Third guy gets his neck snapped because the Neutral Evil Orc Fighter jumped on his neck. The party proceeds to traumatize the last guard there for several rounds by shooting arrows at him (and missing) as well as hurling a fucking Great-axe at him (courtesy of the Barbarian, who also missed). He tries to climb over the roof, fails Acrobatics, falls to the ground where the Fighter proceeds to shield bash HIM, shattering the guy’s jaw, and the Barbarian ground-pounds his diaphragm, killing the poor guy. Throughout this whole thing, the Artificer is just standing there with his bow and five Cherry Danishes in his hands (since he wants to try and train the ghoul to attack people).

They make their way to the BBEG’s ship, and somehow, despite the highest Charisma score there being fucking TWELVE, convince the guy guarding the gangplank that the party + ghoul are the Orc’s pets. Artificer finds who fucking pistols and the Centaur somehow manages to climb up to the crow’s nest using the fucking ROPE RIGGING. I made the mistake of saying that there was a barrel of rum, and the Barbarian strapped the >400 pound barrel to their back. Somehow, they make their way to the brig and talk their way past the guards (genuinely don’t know how they managed to pass so many Charisma checks). They convince the guards to close the door because “uh... the rum is for interrogation techniques? it might get loud.” Then the artificer gets like an 18 for performance and just starts screaming from behind the door and the guards run away (despite the Barbarian getting a Nat 1 Stealth to try and pour the rum out of the barrel). They fucking shove the prisoner, the Beggar King they’re supposed to rescue, into the fucking barrel Bilbo Baggins style, and with more charisma checks (Nat 1 from the Orc to convince the gangplank guard that the barrel was another pet but a 19 from the Artificer claiming orders from the Captain to transport materials) they fucking left with the Beggar King passed out in a fucking barrel.

Like, they skipped the boss fight, they skipped every possible fight in the ship, half fought the first one because a ghoul got fucking ADOPTED and I-

This was so fucking fun. Play D&D yall. You might meet some of the greatest people in the world and form the greatest memories in your life.

[7r0773r]

Figure Studies by Claudia Emerson

Housemother

This life began as mere employment, something that would pass; she had private joys then,

reasons to close her door. This is how she breathes now, moving sharklike through the halls' courses,

sensing the constant blood of wakefulness, girls' hands swimming—pale fish—into and out of tense

bodies held still as water dense with early blooming.

***

Funny Valentine

She had been a late and only child to parents already old and set; none of us had ever

wanted to go inside that hushed house and play with her, her room too neat, doll-crowded.

We did encourage her later, though, to enter the high school talent contest—after we'd heard

her singing My Funny Valentine in a stall in the girls' bathroom, reckoning the boys

would laugh, perhaps find us even prettier in comparison. Still, we would not have predicted

those wisteria-scaled walls, the one room we could see from the street with its windows

open year round so that greening vines entered and birds flew in and out—bad luck, we thought,

bad luck. By then we were members of the ladies' garden club, the condition of her house

and what had been its garden a monthly refreshment of disappointment, the most

delectable complaint her parents' last Coupe de Ville sinking in tangled orchard grass

and filled to the roof—plush front seat and rear— with paperbacks, fat, redundant romances

she had not quite thrown away—laughable, we laughed, unphotographable—with wild restraint.

***

Anorexic, Farmers' Market

All around her, we sounded melons, practiced at hearing what we couldn't see, pretending not

to notice when she stopped at the stall where the Amish displayed their loaves of zucchini and pumpkin bread,

hand-thick oatmeal cookies, pecan pies, all wrapped in plastic, airless, preserving.

Touching the invisible film, she looked as though she were trying to choose—or touch

some part of herself, her own skin paling, illusory, her hair falling water-thin

and colorless behind her. We had seen her denial before, backward hoarding,

the house emptied except the dark cellar where she'd put up the sterile breath of resolve

in jars, wax-sealed, ordered, a reversal that deliberate, and that much work.

We were relieved when she chose at last red bell peppers to weigh in the scale's basket

hung beneath its palsied needle, then counted exact change from her zippered purse. We watched

her leaving, disappearing behind a line of brightly painted gourds swinging, opened

and hollowed for birds to nest inside, perfect round mouths vine-chased, filled with wind.

***

Piano Fire

How she must have dreaded us and our sweaty coins, more than we hated practice, the lessons,

scales, the winter-hot parlor, arthritic hands, the metronome's tick. She lectured

to us about the history of the piano: baby and concert grand, spinet and player

had come across oceans in the holds of ships, across continents in mule-drawn wagons,

heavier than all the dead left behind. On her face we could see the worry: the struggle had come to this,

the black upright she had once loved haunting the room it could never leave. And her piano

was now one of a mute, discordant population doomed to oldfolks homes, bars, church basements,

poolhalls, funeral parlors—or more mercifully abandoned on back porches where at least

chickens could nest, or the cat have kittens. So when she could no longer play well enough

even to teach us, she hired some of the men to haul out and burn the piano in the field behind

the house. We watched the keys catch, furious, and all at once, heard in the fire a musiclike relief

when the several tons of tension let go, heat becoming wind on our faces. We learned that

when true ivory burns the flame is playful, quick, and green. And in the ash, last lessons:

the clawed brass feet we had never before noticed, the harp's confusion of wire, and the pedals we'd worn

thin, shaped like quenched-hard tongues—loud, soft, sustain. We waited with her until they were cool enough to touch.

***

Triptych, part 3: The Garden

She made her husband's dinner in the afternoon, then sealed it for him to warm up later while she gardened

well past dark. Used to it, he no longer complained. Every morning she let in the neighbor's gray cat;

she didn't know his name, had never fed him, but every day he returned, faithful, to spend

hours moving with the sun through her house in a drowsy migration. Sometimes he followed her into the garden,

would rub against her legs as though comforting her, as though he alone understood that every bulb she sank into this earth

was another stone sewn into the hem of her skirt.