#or are given one by settled down family or neighbors as a going away gift

[happytaffeta]

I made this poncho out of about one and one third blankets. It's neat. The plush currently serving as Marie's head is a Doomlings plush and the cream knit blanket peeking out is being used to bulk out the arm area to make the poncho hang more or less correctly.

It can be worn with the hood opening and body seam at either shoulder or at center front. I don't have a photo of the center front position because i don't like it as well visually so I went 'meh' and simply didn't take any.

Assembly was done by hand using crochet cotton I had on hand because it was about the right color.

[yelena-bellova]

Twenty Years Later: Joel Miller x F!Reader - One Shot #4

One Shot #4: The Artist Formerly Known As Joel Miller

Plot: Joel gets another little piece of himself back in the form of music.

Word Count: 700+

Warnings: none (for once lol)

A/N: A little bit of well deserved fluff. I feel like I haven’t written anything for TYL that isn’t tainted with sadness but this is a rare dose of pure serotonin for y’all. Hope you like it!

—————

It was a truth long denied; Joel Miller needed music.

His long held dream of singing and strumming for a living was put to rest when Sarah was a blip on an ultrasound. There was no way to support a family on bar gigs. He hadn’t minded all that much, knowing the million to one odds he’d make it. Still, Joel wasn’t 100% Joel without a song.

In the three months that he’d been settled in Jackson, there’d been shockingly little rest. First there was fixing up the house. Nothing major, adjusting the furniture to his and Y/n’s liking and general cleaning. Then there were the emotional adjustments. Ellie and Y/n took a long while to ease out of the fear Silver Lake had left them with. Not to mention the new life the three of them had been given and how wildly different it was from the one they were used to. Joel and Y/n got set up with the work rotation of the town and Ellie started to (with great hesitation) socialize with the other kids.

It wasn’t until three months in that Joel allowed himself to think about the little things.

He’d been in conversation with a neighbor on patrol one day. An older guy who’d miraculously managed to live into his 70s in a post-Cordyceps world. They were talking about something and somehow it came up that Joel used to play guitar. The man mentioned that there was an old Taylor sitting in his spare bedroom. He’d never been any good and was too old to get any better so it was up for grabs.

Joel immediately accepted.

He beamed as he strode back home with the instrument clutched in one hand. Sailing through the front door, he let go of it only long enough to leave his snow coated boots at the door and remove his gloves.

“Rose,” he called out.

“Kitchen,” his wife called back. He could hear the sink running.

Joel moved through the house to where Y/n stood at the counter doing dishes. Sensing his presence before she even heard him, she looked over her shoulder and her face lit up. First upon seeing her husband, then at what he was carrying.

“Oh my gosh.”

Joel didn’t even try to temper his joy. “I know,” he smiled.

Y/n flicked the faucet off, her attention fully focused somewhere else. “Where?”

“Bud down the street,” Joel nodded in the general direction of their neighbor, “Said I could have it since no one was using it.”

There were only two things Y/n wanted for their patch-worked family: happiness and health. Music was directly correlated to a percentage of Joel’s happiness, making the guitar a gift from God himself.

She threw her hands out expectantly, “Well?”

Joel left the doorway and headed towards the living room, Y/n grabbing a towel to dry her hands and following suit. They perched themselves on opposite ends of the couch.

Joel adjusted the guitar on his knee before pausing, “It’s been so long.”

“It’s musical bike riding,” Y/n washed away his hesitation, “Play me something, cowboy.”

He chuckled under his breath, waiting just another few seconds before pressing down on the strings and forming a cord. The callouses needed weren’t a problem due to years of manual labor. Y/n and him both grimaced in anticipation of what twenty year old strings might sound like. Surprisingly, they were decent as Joel strummed once.

“Not bad,” he commented, “Little out of tune.”

But Y/n didn’t hear the imperfection. Nothing touched her. She was too struck by the sight in front of her. Joel, back in his element, plucking the strings. The way his hunched frame hanging over the guitar’s body was relaxed as ever. How his fingers found their way as naturally across the fretboard as if they’d touched the wood every day since Texas.

Joel was transported with each note. Back to some spiritual space where he had no fears and no worries. Nothing could break through his front door and destroy his life. No one could hurt him. The world didn’t cease to exist, it reframed itself. For every strum, every pick, every change of chord, the world held itself together without his help. He could just be.

However many minutes passed, neither one of them were sure. Y/n pulled herself back to reality enough to remember she had to finish cleaning before grabbing dinner from the mess hall. She swiped the tears beginning to form and got off the couch. Joel didn’t move, still transfixed.

Smiling, she leaned over her husband and kissed the top of his head. The guitar’s song sang sweetly for the rest of their evening.

——————

TYL Taglist: @bachiracore @stolenxkissess @kayleezra @the-wistful-reader @allthesesonsofbitches @goth-detectives365 @trippovert @rh1nestonecowg1rl @emiliaserpe @khaleesihavilliard @frietiemeloen @gracie7209 @dorck26 @thegirlnextdoorssister @alanis-altair @mariwinns16 @whosscruffylooking @endofthexline @alexiaricciardo @eonnyx @pedrosmexicangf @scarlettequinn @ao-sleepy @toinfinityandbeyonce2 @deanlovescassie @turmoil-ash @sorrowjunky @kpopslur @xxlilyxx90 @midgetpottermills @presidential-facts @scoopsnini @tubble-wubble @jamesdeerest @burninggracesandbridges @star-wars-lover @lucyhotchner @cococola-cocaine @witheringhqarts @fall-writes @alwaysdjarin @xxmoonn @emilia-the-artist @wand-erer5 @boneyarrd @lizard-zombie @themultifandomofmadness @cassidylea123 @paleepeaches @mxltifxnd0m @kettlekatie @ultimate-cinephile @gloryekaterina @caramelkatsukis-bitch @whovianayesha @memeorydotcom @deadunicorn159 @get0ut0fmyr00m @siriuslymooned @emmyeed @superbreadsoul @hellu-people1 @ourautumn86 @inas-thing @noraapple05 @givemylovetoall @luvwanda (tags cont. in comments ❤️)

[waltwhitmansbeard]

go on, claim my heart: chapter thirteen

see my masterpost for what came before this.

Percy is deep into an account of emptying cemeteries in Whitestone when his shoulder is shaken roughly, jerking his attention up and away from his reading. Vex smiles softly down at him, dark circles under her eyes. "It is late. We ought to sleep before we leave."

He looks reluctantly down at the report in his hands. He cannot stop now, not when he is, for the first time in over a decade, learning about his home. "You go on," he says, nodding toward the door. "I'll be in in a bit."

She frowns at him. "You're no good to anyone exhausted, Percival. Not Keyleth, and not them." She gestures to all of his reading on Whitestone, and he knows what she means.

He takes her hand and kisses the back of it. "I will be in soon. I promise. I just want to finish this."

It is a lie, and they both know it, but she lets him tell it anyway. She kisses the top of his head and makes for the door. Percy nods to Vax, who is ushering an exhausted Keyleth out as well. Pike pries Scanlan off of the book he's been drooling on for hours and waves good night to Percy and Grog, who, too big for any of the beds in the house, curls up on a nest of blankets on the floor in front of a crackling fire and passes out, and then, Percy is alone.

In the past several hours, he has learned a great number of things about his home. Both imports and exports have declined steadily since the Briarwoods have come to power, suggesting a declining population and workforce, and tourism, once a thriving segment of the Whitestone economy, has all but ground to a halt. For years, those with family members in Whitestone have filed complaints with their own rulers, citing unusual silences from their loved ones and claims of being denied access to the city to see them.

The Briarwoods make themselves known in neighboring courts sparingly, maybe once or twice per year, enough to keep up appearances without needing to answer too many questions. They were last seen about six months ago at an event in Emon, the wedding of one of King Uriel's children. Percy recalls Sovereign Korrin and Keyleth receiving an invitation to that event, but given that it was scheduled right around the time of Vilya's birth, the Ashari Nation sent a gift in their stead.

Most disturbing are the whispers coming from within Whitestone itself, rumors that the dead walk again. This is not a surprise to Percy; shortly after he arrived on the doorstep of the Zephran castle, scarred and terrified, Sovereign Korrin sent spies to investigate the Briarwoods that Percy had claimed slaughtered his family. One of these spies was able to relay that the Lady Briarwood had studied the necromantic arts on the continent of Wildemount before word returned that said spy was found dead, mysteriously drained of blood. That Delilah Briarwood has reanimated the dead of Whitestone for her own aims does not shake him. What does is the idea that some of those dead might share his blood.

Percy's eyes are starting to cross, so long has he been staring at these reports by dim candlelight, but it is only the creak of the parlor door behind him that moves him to look away. He turns to see a most unwelcome sight at the entrance to the room: Syldor Vessar, still dressed himself, frowning at Percy. "Do humans not sleep?"

Percy grits his teeth. "We do, my lord. Perhaps I do not do so as much as I should."

Syldor enters the room, eying the snoring Grog by the fireplace with disdain, and approaches the table upon whichPercy has piled his completed reading. "My wife tells me you are a de Rolo."

The air in the room goes very still. "I am."

"It is...surprising to learn that a member of that family still lives."

"It is a piece of information that the Ashari Nation graciously kept to themselves these many years." Percy tips his head, curious. "Were you acquainted with my family, Lord Vessar?"

Much to Percy's surprise, Syldor settles in a chair beside him. "As city-states in a world of kingdoms, there has long been a...friendship between Syngorn and Whitestone. We have advocated on each other's behalves on numerous occasions, and our trade partnership goes back further than even I remember. I was...saddened to hear of the illness that took your family, though, I suppose that is the way of humans." He pauses, his frown deepening. "Though I am starting to believe that the story we were told about the fates of the de Rolos contains fewer truths than we once believed."

Percy gathers up as much of the reading on Whitestone in one hand as he can and tosses it closer to Syldor. "Read for yourself. The Briarwoods murdered my family and have, in the intervening years, clearly attempted the same to my home. I will not know for certain how well they have succeeded until I see it with my own eyes."

Syldor does not move for the pages. "And these are the people who have kidnapped my...son's daughter?"

He wonders what is harder for Syldor, admitting that Vilya is his granddaughter or admitting that Vax is his son. "Yes. Lord Briarwood leaves behind a...signature of sorts. One that I saw with my own eyes as a child, and again the morning Princess Vilya was discovered to be missing."

"Then I should wish you the best of luck in your endeavors. Syngorn would enjoy a...renewed partnership with Whitestone, should the rightful caretakers be reestablished."

"Is that what concerns you? Syngorn's relationship with Whitestone?"

Syldor bristles. "Lord de Rolo—"

"Please, I am the lord of nothing and no one. Call me Percy."

"Lord de Rolo, I understand that you have a..." His eyes flick up to the ceiling in annoyance. "...rapport with Vex'ahlia, one that I prefer to know nothing about—"

"How wonderful, I prefer to tell you nothing about it."

"That being said, I do not know the light in which my children have painted me in their time in Zephrah, though I cannot imagine that it is flattering."

"No need to imagine, Lord Vessar."

Syldor's nostrils flare; it is clear he is not used to being spoken with such flippancy to by someone who is technically his peer. "The twins were nightmares while they were in this house, and though I regret their manner of leaving, I cannot deny that I felt relief at their absence. You may feel however you wish about them, about her, but know that I will not be chastised in my own home for doing what I believe is the best for my family."

Percy blinks. What a thing, to live as many years as this elf will, and to spend all of them in such self-imposed, abject misery. He leans forward to rest his forearms on his knees. "Lord Vessar, no one would ever accuse you of not doing what you believe to be best. It is clear from every syllable from your lips, every expression of scorn on your face that you are utterly consumed by achieving whatever passes for best in your sad, cold world. You have expressed to your children an intense desire for them to be as far from your gloomy little kingdom as physically possible as soon as the dawn breaks, but let me tell you this: your nightmares are the rest of the world's dreams. Vax'ildan and Vex'ahlia are bright, dedicated, compassionate, loyal, and, most importantly, undeniably better than you."

"Good sir—"

"Oh shut up. Have you not heard enough of your own voice? Do you not grow tired of objecting to every inconvenience and slight that musses your impeccably pressed robes? Do you care more for your perception at court than for the lives of your own children, children whom, might I add, would not exist without your indiscretions in Byroden?" Syldor's face colors in embarrassment and outrage. "Let me be clear: I do not care if you get to have the light of your children in your life. I do not care if you lock yourself in these marble walls and mold over like bread kept in a cupboard. How you craft your misery for yourself is your business. But while they are here, while they are in earshot of your contemptuous tongue, you will speak to them with respect. You will remember that you speak to the Champion of the Raven Queen and the husband of the future sovereign of the Ashari Nation, and you will remember that you speak to the Captain of the Royal Guard of Zephrah and the chosen of the rightful heir to Whitestone. And so help me, Syldor, if you ever again speak to them as you did today, Syngorn's future relationship with Whitestone will be the least of your problems."

With that, Percy shoves himself to his feet and stalks from the room, not giving Syldor a breath to respond. He storms down the hall to the room he is to be sharing with Vex and, quietly as his rage allows, pushes inside. Vex is asleep, sprawled in the middle of the bed in such a way that Percy has no idea how he is meant to get in bedside her. Rolling his eyes affectionately, he strips down to his underthings, sets his eyeglasses atop the beside table, and manages to nudge her limbs so that he can slip beneath the covers, claiming what slice of the bed he can.

Clearly sensing him there, Vex moves in her sleep, twists until she is curled into his side the way a puppy snuggles into its littermate. Percy presses a kiss into the top of her head and marvels at her beauty in the sliver of moonlight peeking in through the curtains. How that man could be so ignorant of the gift he has given the world, this wonderful thing he created and set loose like a song on the wind, melodious and heartbreaking? Percy should be endlessly proud of a daughter half as capable, half as scintillating, half as intelligent as Vex. He slides an arm over her to pull her in close and closes his eyes, breathing her in as he drifts off into whatever dreams, dark and haunted as they may be, await him.

[edogawa-division]

Mista Z.B. - Hey kid.

Mista Z.B. - Open up.

Mista Z.B. - You got a special delivery hurry up.

Kanra's birthday was going well without a doubt. With her family by her side, the Kuromiya household was in great spirits. Having befriended the former yakuza, it was no surprise that he wanted to give the pink-headed teen a gift. That wasn't without him texting her number rather than daring to ring the bell. His fear of Yuriko was the same as always.

However as Kanra approached the door, an unexpected ring echoed through the house. The closer she got, the louder she could hear Ryuko swearing up and down, followed by a few muffled replies.

"I'm asking you again, you bastard. What the fuck are you doing here?!"

"Happy birthday Kanra-san."

"Hey, I'm talking to you, moron!"

In a twist of fate, both the leaders of Toyama and Suginami stood at her doorway. Asato, standing by the doorbell most likely rang whilst holding two bags out toward the young girl. Ryuko, behind the purple and green-haired man was losing control of his own temper, clutching a plastic bag with more gifts for the girl.

"It's out of season for most of what we grow at my place, so a lot of this stuff is things gramma and my neighbors made with last year's harvest." Asato quickly explained as Kanra took the bag and looked at the contents inside. "There's jams and sweet rice cakes in this bag. The rice cakes I made might be a little messed up, but Yano's looks really good. And the other bag is just some cake I bought from home. It's… Really good, I think."

"Hey! I got here first, asshole!"

In a rather aggressive manner, the young farmer was unceremoniously shoved aside as the ex-gangster thrust the plastic bag into Kanra's face.

"Here, exclusive merch from the studio. Hasn't been released to the public yet so you get some bragging rights. Plus some old sketches and drawings from those shows. I'm not technically supposed to give inside stuff to other people but fuck them."

Asato, having recovered from being pushed around regained his composure and waved at Kanra politely. "Whatever. You have a good day, Kanra-san."

Immediately, Ryuko whips around. "Hey! You don't get to leave yet!"

"...Why?"

"We have some unfinished business, you and me. You aren't leaving my sight until I-"

Without acknowledging him any further, Asato turned back around and began walking away. Ryuko, now engulfed in fury almost barks at Asato's uncaring attitude.

"What the?! Hey, no! We're settling this now!" Very roughly, he ruffles Kanra's hair in what was supposed to be a friendly gesture but was a lot more aggressive than he would have probably liked. "Kid, you enjoy the rest of your day, I got my own shit to take care of okay?"

And with those words, Ryuko took off after the younger man, brandishing his microphone and screaming obscenities down the streets.

“Was that Asato and Ryuko?” Kaoru asked, a coffee mug in her hand as she approached Kanra. 

“Yep,” Kanra replied rummaging through the gifts both men had given her. The young girl grabbed a rice cake and stuffed it in her mouth. 

“Should we warn them that if they start a fight in front of our house that Yuriko will come out and beat their asses?”

“I guess we should.”

“Alright.”

 “OI! ASATO! RYUKO! YURIKO IS GONNA COME OUT AND BEAT YOUR ASSES IF YALL FIGHT IN FRONT OF HER HOUSE!”

That seemed to do the trick as Kaoru and Kanra watched as Ryuko froze in place before running like the devil itself was on his heels.  

“So what did those two knuckleheads get you?” Kaoru questioned looking at the gifts in Kanra’s hands. 

“Asato-san got me some food while Ryuko-san some unreleased merch and I think some sketches.”

“Sketches? Kanra...these are the animation sketches for some of the biggest animes out right now. Fans would pay a lot of money for just one let alone the several Ryuko just gave you.” 

“Really? I was just gonna hang them in my room.”

“Unbelievable.” Kaoru facepalmed at her little sister's words.

[alpacaparkaseok]

Dad of Destruction

requested by anon - thanks for the super fun request! I hope you enjoy :) (a picture of your request is at the bottom of the one shot)

Premise: You love Namjoon with all your heart, and you’re so happy that together, you get to raise this child. However, you also want that child to make it to adulthood in one piece, and Namjoon has a startling talent for breaking things. Mama bear mode = ON.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: none, but I���m so soft for this concept

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

You’d heard plenty of people joking about how much of a mama bear you’d be once the little one came along, you just never realized that they were right.

Sitting up in the hospital bed with the smallest, most beautiful bundle of joy wrapped up in your arms, you can almost feel this new side of you sliding into place. 

“I won’t let anything hurt you. Ever.” You mumble the words out with tired but glowing eyes. Namjoon grunts in agreement from where he stands beside the bed, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of his newborn daughter.

Giving him a soft smile, you can’t help but feel like you’re floating above the clouds with the way your daughter yawns in your arms, completely unaware of the world she’s just been born into. 

Namjoon brushes your hair back behind your ear. “You must be exhausted,” he observes. You make a noise that resembles a yes. “Here, let me take her. You rest.”

Suddenly you’re wide awake. “N-no, it’s fine, Joon. I’ll hold her. I’m not that tired.”

“You sure?” There’s a small flash of concern in Namjoon’s eyes, but he knows to just let you have your way for now. After all, you did just go through a grueling delivery. 

“Positive.”

~~~~

You can only get away with it for so long. 

You manage to stay another night at the hospital, with Namjoon only ever holding Lily - that’s what you and Namjoon decided to name her - when you are in the room.

Preferably within arm’s length. 

It’s not that you don’t trust Namjoon...

It’s just that you don’t overly trust him. Especially as you were reminded of his destruction abilities this morning when he very nearly broke the carseat as he attempted to get it set up in the back. With every crack and curse that he quietly spit out at the infernal device, you held Lily a little closer to your chest. 

Winking down at the newborn, you faked a confident smile. “Daddy’s got it, don’t worry. We’ll get you home in one piece.”

Of course, you drove home. Namjoon tried to protest (he’d gotten his driver’s license six months ago purely for the ability to be able to drive his child around) but one look from you had him chewing on his lip while sheepishly sliding into the passenger seat. 

The next few days comprised of a few small gatherings where the boys came bearing a ridiculous amount of gifts and even more ridiculous smiles once they spotted Lily. Everyone commented on her beautiful eyelashes, and argued over who she resembled more. 

You secretly hoped she’d take after Namjoon’s side. If you were being honest, she already had little dragon eyes that resembled her father. It made your heart melt. 

Your heart positively stopped beating altogether anytime Namjoon wanted to cradle Lily in his arms to show her to Jin or Tae. 

Everyone noticed, and laughed. Your tense shoulders and unblinking eyes as you tracked Namjoon’s every movement had the boys in tears as they guffawed over your actions. Namjoon blushed, settling Lily in Tae’s eager arms. 

It got worse once Namjoon realized that you relaxed once your daughter was in Tae’s arms. 

Or Jin’s.

Or even your nosy neighbor’s, who had come prying not long after the boys had left. 

It had been endearing to see you all protective before, but now it was offensive. Because you were trying to protect your daughter from him.

If Namjoon was being completely honest, he still didn’t quite trust himself to not mess anything up. But he’d at least like a vote of faith on your part. 

So a couple of weeks later as the two of you sat across from each other at the dinner table, he wasn’t quite sure how to bring it up with you.

Your shoulders were slumped, your eyes drifting shut as you picked at your food. Namjoon watched, waiting to see if you were about to pass out in your dinner. When you didn’t, he decided it’d probably be nice to make some small talk.

“I can’t believe I have to head back into work tomorrow,” he sighed. Bighit had given him two weeks off to spend with you and Lily, and it was safe to say that he’d loved every moment of it. But it was time for him to head back into work. 

You frowned at him over the table, and the part of him that was sad about having to return to work only doubled in size at the expression on your face.

“It’s gone by so fast,” you muttered. “Can’t we pull just one more week? I’m going to miss having you around all day.” A part of you also wondered what it would be like to feel like you could take a nap without keeping one eye open in case of an emergency. 

Lily could handle herself, it was Namjoon that always kept you in high alert. 

Not that you’d ever admit that to him.

Namjoon smiled softly, and you noticed just how exhausted he looked as well. Through and through, you two were equals. “I’m going to miss you guys.”

Plural. A thrill races through your body at the plural form of his words, reminding you that together, you’ve created a little family. 

Pushing back in his chair, Namjoon looks contemplative. “You know, I bet I could take Lily with me to work sometimes. On the days where I’m just working in the studio. She’s young enough that I could just set up the little newborn swing and let her nap while I work. The boys would love that, too. And you could...I don’t know, take a nap?” He laughs a little, oblivious to how pale your face has gone at the notion of him taking Lily alone to work. “We’d be fine, I think. I’d take the diaper bag, and there’s a bathroom just down the hallway-”

The images of everything that could possible go wrong - one of them being an entire speaker being knocked off the table by your clumsy husband only to land on your helpless daughter - is enough to have you shooting to your feet.

“No way,” you sputter. “That’s definitely not happening. Not for a long, long time, Namjoon.” Heart thundering against your chest, you hardly notice the crestfallen expression on Namjoon’s face. 

“It was just a thought-”

“And I’m putting a stop to that thought.”

“I just thought it might be nice for all of us-”

“Nice?” You must look like a gasping fish at this point. “Nice, Namjoon? No. I wouldn’t be able to rest without Lily here! You really think I could just leave her with you? What if something happened? What if you knocked something off your desk and hurt her? Spilled hot coffee on her? Forgot she was there? I...that would be a nightmare!”

Namjoon hardly has time to open his mouth to respond before you’re grabbing both of your dishes and rushing back into the kitchen to wash them. Chest rising and falling at a rapid rate, you hardly notice Namjoon’s presence at your elbow before he’s lightly nudging you to the side. 

“Let me,” he mumbles quietly enough that you hardly catch the words. “Go to bed. I’ll finish up.”

You pay him no mind, scrubbing at the dishes with reckless abandon. Namjoon breathes in deeply, struggling to steady himself. 

Tears are pooling in your vision now, and you can’t help but feel like you’ve lost all control over your emotions. 

Over your life. 

“I...” you sniffle in the direction of the sink, “I’m sorry, Joon. It’s just-”

“No, don’t apologize.” Namjoon nudges you again, pulling the sponge from your hands and setting to work on the dishes. “I know that everything is different and new, and you’re probably feeling out of balance. I should have thought about that. Lily is...your anchor right now. I was just upset, because that’s supposed to be my role.”

His words have your eyes widening as you realize that everything he said is correct. Namjoon doesn’t bother to look to see if his words rung true, opting to focus on the plate that has been clean for a while now but continuing to scrub at it. 

“Go to bed,” he orders lightly, still not looking at you. 

Mouth wide open, close it again. Then re-open it. “Namjoon, I swear, I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I’m just...freaked out.”

He nods curtly. “I know.”

~~~~

A part of you remembers feeling the bed dip not long after you’d collapsed upon it, letting you know that Namjoon was also settling down for the night. He’d gone completely still after sitting on the edge of the bed, looking over at you as though he might say something. 

Instead, he’d slid under the covers as smoothly as possible before turning the lamp off. 

It was one of the rare occasions that he’d managed to not tip anything over in his search for the lamp switch, but your exhausted brain hadn’t bothered to celebrate the occasion. 

You were exhausted. And you realized that it wasn’t so much physical exhaustion as it was emotional. 

Of course you didn’t want Namjoon to have to go back to work tomorrow, but you were also looking forward to a little sliver of peace knowing that you only had to worry about Lily. 

Starting tomorrow it was just going to be you and Lily. A little team of two against the world. 

Sleep completely overtook you, and Namjoon’s words managed to slither their way into your brain, following you into your dreams. 

“She’s your...anchor. I was just upset, because that’s supposed to be my role.”

~~~~

You were so far gone into your dreamland that Lily’s cries took much longer to get to you that night. In fact, it was more the feeling of suddenly being alone in the bed that roused you from sleep than it was your daughter’s crying. 

Completely disoriented and still half in a dream that had to do with anchors and Namjoon’s studio, you sit up in bed and struggle to rub the sleep from your eyes. 

Another couple of minutes passed before you bolted out from under the covers, realizing that Lily had been��crying, Namjoon was gone, and now it was utterly silent.

“Oh no.”

Wrapping your robe around your frame, you padded down the hallway to Lily’s room. Her door was open, with the soft light from her nightlight spilling out into the hallway. You’d just made it to her door when you heard Namjoon.

“See? We’re doing alright, Lils.” 

Peering into the dimly lit room, your heart clenched and then completely melted at the sight before you.

Namjoon, clad in nothing but his basketball shorts and mussed hair, stared down at his daughter with a smile so soft that you were sure you’d never seen it before. His eyes, however tired, practically glowed with adoration. Ever so gently rocking back and forth in the rocking chair placed in the corner of the room, he only had eyes for his daughter.

Lily appeared to be utterly content in her father’s arms, already drifting back to sleep. The only sign that she was still somewhat awake was the little hand that reached up to grip Namjoon’s finger. 

Together, your entire world swayed back and forth in the rocking chair that had taken an entire afternoon to put together. Quietly, gently. 

And as Namjoon slightly adjusted his hold, he did so carefully. And that’s when you saw it. 

The flicker of worry in his eyes as he brought Lily closer to his chest. The way he held his breath until she settled back into her sleepy daze. How that little smile reappeared as her little exhales tickled his skin.

Namjoon was learning, and judging by the fresh diaper laying atop the wastebasket by the door, he was doing just fine. 

No thanks to you, of course. 

At the sound of your sniffle, Namjoon’s head shot up. He winced, glancing down to make sure Lily hadn’t been rudely awoken. 

His eyes found yours from across the room, and he immediately bit his bottom lip. He began to slow his rocking, preparing to let you take over. 

You held up a hand. “No, it’s fine. Keep going.”

Namjoon froze for a moment before remembering to continue rocking. “...what?”

Shrugging, you silently make your way into the room and take a seat on a footstool beside Namjoon. “Keep going.”

“Are you sure?”

You give him an apologetic smile. “Yes. I...truly, I’m sorry, Namjoon. You’re just trying your best, and I haven’t given you any credit for that. You...” Tears blur your vision. “You’re a great father. And we both love you.”

Namjoon stares at you for a moment longer, eyes wide with emotion before looking down at Lily’s sleeping form. “How did we make something so perfect? She’s absolutely perfect.”

You giggle quietly. “Are you doubting my abilities, Mr. Kim?”

That soft smile splits into a boyish grin, the same he sported on your second date all those years ago. 

“Of course not. Although it does make me wonder...”

Your eyebrows raise. “What?”

That grin doesn’t falter as Namjoon whispers, “What do think the chances are that the next one is just as perfect?”

Fighting the urge to punch his arm, you settle for rolling your eyes. “We are not even entertaining the idea of another kid right now, Joon. Our daughter just turned 2 weeks old. Give me a break.”

“I want to give you a break,” Namjoon presses, wiggling his eyebrows. “So how about you let me take her to work? That would be a great break for you. You wouldn’t have to worry about either one of us!”

“Nope.”

Namjoon frowns. “Still a no?”

You look at the small form in his arms, peacefully sleeping. “Absolutely not. Maybe when she’s 10.”

Gasping, Namjoon’s eyes twinkle with joy. “10?! I was thinking more like 3...”

“Nice try, loser.”

“4?”

You give him a long look, finally rising from where you sit. Pressing a kiss to Lily’s rosy cheeks before turning to brush your lips against Namjoon’s, you sigh.

“6. Final offer.”

Namjoon sighs, but appears to be content. “Have I ever told you how sexy you are when you negotiate?”

Heading toward the door, you stifle a laugh. “We are not having another kid right now, Joon.”

His sigh of disappointment has you grinning, feeling like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. 

Once you’re back into the hallway, you turn to get one last look at this moment. Namjoon has already focused on Lily again, oblivious to your actions. The moonlight trickles in through the curtains, and that’s when you take a mental picture of this moment. 

Of your love, your husband, your anchor. Holding your daughter in the soft moonlight.

masterlist

[galactic-magick]

As Long As I’m With You: Agnes/Agatha Harkness x Reader

Request: Hi, can you please do where Agnes (a villain) saves fem reader's life because she has feelings for her? In the end they end up together // also took some ideas from this request

Summary: You’re accused of witchcraft in your village, and a mysterious beautiful witch comes to your aid.

Words: 2200+

Warnings: fem reader, Agatha is low key evil so she hurts some people, a swear word, reader has an angsty past

Author’s Notes: This can be read as either a standalone fic or as a prequel to my other fic “Spell Practice.” I took quite a lot of creative liberty with this, hopefully that’s alright. Also disclaimer I am in no way a history expert so even though this is set in like the 1500s-1600s it’s probably very inaccurate, but it’s fanfic so anything goes right?

Taglist: @nyx-aira​ @midnight-lestrange​ @thestrangeundoing​ @thegayances @sleep-deprived-athlete @dr-robotnik-said-hella​ @fallingfor-fics @p-nymph​ @thelanawinterrs @sunproud​ (if your tag didn’t work it might be bc your blog isn’t searchable so make sure that’s on so you’re notified of future fics!)

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-

You had no idea how much your life would change when you left your house that day.

It started out with a simple run to the market and the garden to get what you needed for supper that night, a job that almost always falls to you. You don’t necessarily mind getting away from your family and talking to some people in town, but it’s clear that your family doesn’t want you in the house as much as possible either.

It’s gotten to the point where they’re just looking for a reason to get rid of you. You’re a disappointment, after all. You refuse to marry in order to help your family’s status, even though you’ve gotten a couple offers. You counter your parent’s rules and ideas every chance you get, no matter how much they tell you you’re crazy. They belittle you constantly, saying your dreams are worth nothing and you’ll have to be dependent on them forever if you never submit to the role in society you’re supposed to.

Obviously bullying you out of their lives wasn’t working, so they’ve moved on to spreading rumors about you and setting you up for crimes. None have worked yet, of course, but every day you fear they’ll get too close.

Until you get burned at the stake, though, they’ve given you basically every responsibility of the house. You do all the shopping, cooking, and farming, as well as taking care of your younger siblings. You wonder what they’d do without you, despite how much they seem to want you gone.

As you’re buying a few crops and eggs from your neighbors, you swear you see something move. You turn around and see a little boy floating in the air, screaming.

You drop everything in your arms and reach up to him, trying to grab him and help him down, but he keeps flailing, and his screams start to feel directed at you.

“Hey! It’s okay! Let me help you!” you hold your hand up, speaking as calmly as you can. “I’m not going to hurt you,”

“WITCH!” a man yells as he sees you. “SHE’S A WITCH!”

Everyone around turns and watches you.

“No! No! I’m not the one doing this! I’m trying to help!”

“Let him down and maybe we’ll wait to kill you til tomorrow!” someone else demands.

A couple people march towards you to grab you, and all you can think to do is start running.

You race out of the center of town into the trees, and about five men chase after you. You keep going until it feels like your legs are going to give out and you can barely breathe, but they keep coming.

“Please! Please stop! It wasn’t me I swear!” you cry. “I don’t know what was happening!”

“Shut up, girl,” one grunts. “Your father always said there was something wrong with you, makes sense that you’re a witch!”

“What’s so wrong about witches?” a female voice calls.

You and the men spin around, trying to figure out where it came from.

Before you can blink there’s purple smoke surrounding you, and the men are thrown against the trees. They’re knocked unconscious instantly, but you remain standing and untouched.

“Who are you?” you ask, your voice quivering.

“Don’t be afraid, my dear,” the smoke starts to fade and you can make out her silhouette, then eventually her face. “I’m here to help you,”

She’s beautiful. You’ve never seen someone that immediately feels so friendly, so different in all the best ways.

“It’s alright to stare, I know I’m quite a sight,” she laughs. “I’m Agatha,”

“I’m Y/N,”

“Ah, yes, I’m pretty sure I’ve heard of you,” she smiles. “Everyone in the village can barely stand you,”

“Thanks…?” you’re not sure how to respond, especially after all that just happened. “Wait, if you live in my village, why have I never seen you? And how come you’ve never gotten caught using magic?”

“Memory spells, of course,” she shrugs. “Now, let’s get you somewhere safe, alright?”

You nod, and she wraps an arm around you. She takes you deep into the forest until you reach a small house, the glimmer of the fire peering through the windows.

You settle down on a chair while she makes some tea and food. She offers you a blanket and hands you the cup and plate, sitting down across from you.

“So how long have you been practicing magic?” she asks.

“Oh…I…well actually I don’t know how to use any magic,”

“Really? Why were the witch hunters after you then?”

“I was set up, I think,” you say. “There was a little boy floating in the air, and since I was near him they thought it was me. But I wasn’t doing anything,”

“Well,” Agatha sips her tea. “Sometimes magic can manifest itself subconsciously. Maybe you were doing it but didn’t realize it. It’s quite common,”

“But…how would I have magical powers? I’ve never learned it from anywhere,”

“Some people are just born with the gift,” she grins.

You exhale, thinking over what she said. Could it be true? You’ve been a witch all your life without even knowing it?

 -

 That night, Agatha conjures another bed for you to sleep in. But even though she made it as comfortable as she possibly could, you can’t get a wink of sleep.

You lift off the blanket and wrap it tightly around you, getting up slowly and quietly. You walk outside and sit against a tree, looking up at the stars.

You’re sure your family has heard the news by now. Their disappointment of a daughter is finally gone, accused of witchcraft. It seems that the foreseeable future will be spent with Agatha, the only safe person you have.

You wonder just how much she already knows about you. She mentioned she’s heard people gossiping about you all the time in town, yet she still saved you after hearing all those negative things.

Why is that?

“Can’t sleep?”

You jump at her voice, and she chuckles a bit at your reaction.

“Sorry,” you sigh. “I just have a lot to think about from today, I guess,”

“No worries,” she sits down beside you. “So do I,”

“Agatha,” you say. “Why did you save me?”

“Us witches have to stick together. I saw you were in trouble, so I saved you,”

“But you knew, didn’t you? You’ve known I was a witch long before this, didn’t you?”

“I had my suspicions,” she agrees. “Whenever I heard people talk about you, I figured you weren’t like everyone else. But I didn’t know for sure until today,”

“I wish you had taken me before,” you huff, a few tears falling down your cheeks. “It’s been so bad, Agatha, feeling worthless just because you’re different, everyone hates you…”

She pulls you into her shoulder, letting you cry into it, “I know, dear, I know,”

 -

 It takes you a while to come to terms with your potential powers, but as soon as you’re ready Agatha begins to teach you how to use them. You spend your days studying her spell books and practicing simple spells, most of which you fail at.

She encourages you as much as possible, explaining to you that magic is not something you can learn overnight, sometimes not even over years. She tells you that she’s actually thousands of years old (a surprise to you due to her stunning looks) and she’s been practicing for much of that time, and there’s still some spells she hasn’t mastered.

Your impatience still gets the better of you most days, though. You can’t imagine waiting several centuries to get something to work, if you get it to work at all.

One day you’re sitting at the table, trying out a simple transfiguration spell. You wave your hand repeatedly at a potato, hoping to turn it into an apple. It doesn’t even wobble, not even a single spark, but you’ve been sitting here for hours and don’t want to give up just yet.

You nearly fall asleep from exhaustion when all of a sudden it happens. It works.

There’s an apple in front of you. Not a potato, an apple.

“Holy shit!” you scream. “Agatha! I did it!”

You run over to her and point at your small accomplishment.

“Look at you go, darling!” she smiles, hugging you. “At this rate you’ll be changing rocks into cats before you’re 200!”

You laugh, “Oh come on, this is literally just one of the beginner spells,”

“So what? That’s where everybody starts,”

You break out in giddy excitement again, jumping up and down a bit and looking back and forth just to make sure your creation is still there.

Without thinking, you kiss Agatha quickly on the lips.

She stares at you, mouth open.

Before you can apologize, she grabs your face and kisses you hard. She’s everything you’d imagined and more, soft and warm but with a spark you can’t ignore.

When you finally break apart, her hands linger, brushing across your features and in your hair, “I’ve been waiting to do that,”

 -

 Things change after that, but in only the best ways.

Agatha isn’t just your mentor anymore, the only friend who came to your aid.

She’s your everything now, a soulmate, your home.

You tell her all about your life, and she tells you all about hers. As she has significantly more stories to tell, you’ll fall asleep many nights to her whispering all the legends she lived through that no one else knows are true.

She makes you laugh every day, and makes sure you always know how much she cares about you. There’s only so much you can do in your hidden home in the woods, but with magic the possibilities are endless and she’s never short of romantic ideas.

Tonight you find yourself lying your head in her lap while she plays with your hair, close to the fire so you can watch the little shows she creates with the flames.

“What about love?” you ask.

“What about it?”

“Out of all the stories you’ve told me, you’ve never mentioned being in love before,”

“Well,” she sighs. “That’s because I haven’t been,”

“Why not?”

“It’s just never appealed to me,” she says. “Until I met you,”

“Oh,” you grin, looking up at her.

She leans down to kiss you, but you’re broken apart by a loud noise outside.

You shoot up, looking at Agatha in pure panic. Your heart races as the noise gets louder and louder, eventually leading to shouting and knocks at the door.

“WE FOUND YOU!” a booming voice yells.

“Aggie?” you whisper. Everything crumbles around you. Your perfect, happy life, now about to be stolen from you. You have no idea how they found you, if you are about to be dead, if you’ll be able to defend yourself at all.

She kisses you and stands up, “Stay here. I’ll take care of it,”

With a fling of her fingers the door flies open, and the torches the townspeople are holding are burnt out. She smirks, purple smoke covering the area as she goes through them one by one, some just throwing to the side and others suffering a painful death.

She turns their own weapons against them, their own people against them, and makes them regret everything they’ve ever done.

When she returns to you, you’re still in so much shock and panic you couldn’t tell exactly what she was doing.

“Did you…kill all of them?”

“They got what they deserved for threatening us,” she says nonchalantly. “But we’re not safe here anymore. It’s time to find somewhere new,”

“Okay,” you nod as she pulls you against her. “As long as I’m with you,”

“I’ll always protect you, even when you learn enough to protect yourself,” she kisses your forehead. “Always and forever,”

 APPROXIMATELY FOUR CENTURIES LATER

 “I’m back, darling!” Agatha calls, shutting the door behind her.

“How’d it go?” you run to her, grabbing her hands.

“Splendid, that poor Wanda already loves her new neighbor!”

“Wow,” you giggle. “You know I must say, this whole living in a sitcom thing isn’t that bad, you look gorgeous in that 50s dress,”

“Oh darling, somehow after all this time you still flatter me,” she pretends to fan herself. “I have to go back over real quick, alright? Gotta give her this spicy magazine,” she holds her hand up in the air and magically forms one in her grasp.

“Ah! Be sure to get some ideas to use on me when you get back,” she laugh.

“Oh I will honey,” she winks, kissing you before going out the door.

You settle on the couch, looking around at your home. Out of all the places you’ve moved to together, this was by far the weirdest. There’s no color, and everyone besides you and Agatha and Wanda are under some kind of mind control.

You never imagined that day all those years ago would bring you here, spending your life with a beautiful witch and being her partner in all things, even sinister ones. But you wouldn’t have it any other way, and you know this strange town will only bring you more opportunities to practice your magic and help Agatha with her plans.

[lin-nin]

Tribulation & Tenderness - Chapter 6

Ship: Main Technoblade x Reader, some Dream x Reader

Plot: You're a princess in a Kingdom suffering a years long famine. In a desperate attempt to help your people, you accept one simple offer: Marriage to the crown prince of a neighboring kingdom. Anything to help your people survive. Surely it can't be too bad, can it?

Chapter List: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 Disclaimer:   Cross-posted on Wattpad (discontinued) and Ao3. This is based off of everyone's CHARACTERS. I do not write fanfic based off the actual people.

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Chapter 6: Farewell Gifts

< | Previous Chapter

The morning sun had begun filling your room, sneaking through parted curtains to cover everything in a warm glow. You had been reluctant to stir, a sense of melancholy hanging around you. You knew exactly why that was. You would be leaving tomorrow morning. There was good and bad to it, you supposed. You were introduced to a taste of freedom and new possibilities that came with this marriage. Yet it still meant saying goodbye to everything you knew here.

You slowly turned over in your bed, moving out of it. Might as well start the day, though. Moping wouldn’t get too much accomplished. You padded over towards the window, peering out of it for a few moments. The sun covered the land beyond the castle in a pleasant glow. Nature carried on like nothing was going to happen, and you couldn’t help but huff. You needed to as well. Even as you looked to the horizon, wondering what it held for you. Hopefully a decent life.

You hardly thought too much as you grabbed a dress, sliding it over your body. You didn’t even know what today held for you, either. You would find out after breakfast, though. That’s usually how things went for you. Taking each day as it came. You slid on your shoes, fastening them tightly. Take today one step at a time. Tomorrow would come when it came. 

The door to your room creaked quietly as you opened it, being careful to shut it softly. It clicked as it slid into pace, and you rubbed your face. Food would undoubtedly help you get in a better mood. Having your mind busy while you were on an empty stomach was hardly a good idea.

“Good, you’re awake. We’ve got a busy day ahead of us,” A voice called out. You jumped, a startled yelp escaping your lips. You covered your mouth as you sought out the voice, glaring at the owner. Dream was lounging against a wall across from you, and you reached out to shove at him playfully.

“Are you trying to make my soul leave my body?!” A laugh escaped him, though it felt almost tense. Was he still bothered by dinner last night? You didn’t care to mess with it, though. He’d likely get over himself. He usually did.

“Maybe I am. Do I get to keep you here if I do?” He mused as they walked, heading towards the dining hall once again. Like it was a normal morning. You truly wished it was, honestly. Nonetheless, you sighed, head shaking.

“You know I can’t stay, Dream. As much as you want me to. This is a matter bigger than you or I. Besides! I think it’ll be good for me, don’t you think?” You beamed over at him. It seemed like it would do you good, truthfully. It was presenting you with at least one option you had never been offered here: Training. The opportunity to fight and defend yourself. You deserved that much at least, right?

“I think it’ll be dangerous. They’ve never had a good reputation, how do I know you’ll be safe?” He threw back in rebuttal, making you sigh heavily. Always fretted over your wellbeing.

“Techno said it’s not that bad, I have no reason to not believe him.” You settled into your normal spot at the table. Breakfast was much simpler than dinner. The food was already set out, waiting to be eaten. You didn’t waste time, reaching for a few various dishes to eat.

“I beg to differ,” Dream murmured as he also sat, grabbing stuff to eat as well. You rolled your eyes, not in the mood for whatever was with him. He just didn’t like Techno, for whatever reason. Always so protective of you. Though it was reassuring in a weird way.

“Whatever you say. What have you got planned for me today?” You queried instead, eager to change the subject away from your fiancé. You really didn’t want to deal with whatever problem there was with that subject.

“Going out to the markets in town. Make sure there isn’t anything that you need before leaving. Let the people in the capital see you one last time. It’ll probably eat most of your day, though,” He said. That was fine. It sounded like a good plan. You could do with a few things from the market. A few things to remind you of home.

You nodded for a couple of heartbeats, finishing the mouthful of food in your mouth before speaking. “That sounds fine to me. I wouldn’t mind picking up a couple of things to bring along. Oh! Techno! Good morning.” The pink-haired prince had walked into the dining hall when you were speaking to Dream. He settled across from you, glancing briefly to Dream before you.

“Good morning,” he finally returned, causing you to smile. Dream practically brooded beside you as your attention shifted away from him. You just elected to ignore it for the time being. He’d probably be just fine once the both of you were in the market. You were allowed to exchange some words with Techno before heading out for the day, at least.

“Did you sleep well?” You asked, reaching for your cup with a contented hum. He nodded in response, gaze moving to Dream. You warily eyed the pair of them, trying to read whatever silent stand off they seemed to be having. Was it over the whole training thing? Either way, it was ridiculous and you did not want to deal with whatever tension was between them.

Clearing your throat, you attempted conversation once more with a soft, “Did you finish your books?” Techno’s gaze quickly pivoted back to you, seeming to forget about Dream for a few minutes. Good. 

“Most of them. I couldn’t finish the last one before I needed to sleep,” He replied. You nodded in acknowledgment. That was impressive, though. It did make you wonder how much he slept. Not like you could tell. Not with that mask on his face.

“Well, you can finish that one today. Dream and I are going out to the market to pick up some things before I leave. I’ll probably spend time with my family after dinner,” You explained. You wiped at your hands, turning to look at Dream and offering him a smile. 

“We’ll have plenty of time to talk starting tomorrow,” Techno mused. There was something almost smug in his voice, and you could hear Dream huff beside you. What the hell had happened with them? You weren’t given much time to ponder, as Dream stood up and held a hand towards you.

“Ready?” He asked, and you nodded slightly. You eyed his hand for a few moments, debating on if you should take it. You ultimately did, allowing him to pull you up. You waved towards Techno, offering him a smile. Even as you were nearly hauled away by Dream, you could hear that huff of his that signified laughter. He met your wave with a shake of his head, returning the action all the same.

You were content, despite how quickly Dream was walking. The interactions with Techno were pleasant, and increasingly less awkward. You caught up with Dream, letting go of his hand as you did. “Alright, do you have any specific plans on where to visit?” You questioned, forcing him to slow down.

“Not exactly. I figure we can just walk through the market, see what catches your eye,” He mumbled. You nodded along, finding it fair enough. You didn’t entirely know what you were looking for. So, for that reason, browsing around didn't seem too bad of an idea.

The walk wasn't too long. Slowly the calm path towards the castle morphed into busy streets, teeming with life. The heart of the capital was alive with noise, vendors in their stalls calling to people in the streets. The smell of various foods wafted in the air around you as you walked, a certain type of happiness settling in your chest. It was easy to forget the melancholy that hung around the castle while you were here.

It wasn't too long of wandering before you were noticed. Vendors would excitedly call to you, trying to get you to buy some of their wares. You did always look, complimenting whatever they were selling half the time. From one stand, you purchased a trinket box, the metal heavy in your hands. The sun caught onto the ornate lid, causing the jewels set into it to sparkle. The sides were less flashy, but still well made, with roses carved into the side. It spoke to you, practically, reminding you warmly of the kingdom you were going to leave.

As you continued your trek, an older voice called to you with urgency, a soft, "Princess! Come, come!" An older man beckoned to you, age wearing down his face and hands. You didn't even need to think twice, walking towards him with Dream in tow. The man behind you was busying himself with a stuffed bun he had bought, seemingly content to just follow you. The old man smiled as you walked over, looking down to his wares.

Knives and daggers covered the majority of the surface, though there was an occasional sword or bundle of arrows. The handles had intricate designs carved into the leather, though the blades were no less sharp or decorated. "I hear you're going on a dangerous journey soon," The man's voice interrupted you. You moved your attention to his face, meeting his gaze calmly.

"It's really not as dangerous as everyone is making it seem," You explained, offering a smile. The man just laughed, shaking his head at you.

"Off, alone, with a man too afraid to show his face and hides behind the face of a beast. If he is comfortable wearing the face of a beast, surely he is one himself." There was an edge to his voice and you could only sigh. Gossip from servants traveled fast, and it seemed stories of Techno's appearance had already reached the capital. You didn't care too much, though his words were minutely unsettling.

"You need to protect yourself from him. I have the perfect thing for you- free of charge. We can't have you getting hurt in enemy territory." He explained, rustling around to pick up one of the daggers. You were tempted to protest the price, surely not wanting to take from him. It wasn't right. Even if he did offer. Yet you could tell he wouldn't accept a single coin you gave him.

He presented the dagger to you for inspection, which you did humor. It was a pretty dagger, a dark leather grip with flowers sitting amongst vines of thorns. The cross guard was simple, curved, with a flower sitting in the middle of either side. The pommel similarly matched, while the thorned vines crawled down onto the design in the metal. It felt perfect in your hands, and you could have sworn the man had made it just for you.

You looked up to him, his dark eyes twinkling with something you couldn't place. "It's beautiful, thank you," You murmured your thanks. Any thought of rejecting it had left you the moment the leather fell to your hand. He seemed delighted by this, reaching to take it back to put it in a sheath. The sheath was put into a belt before being handed off to you.

"Keep yourself safe, little one," he told you. You nodded, fingers running along the leathed of the belt. You didn't really wear belts, so it felt almost foreign in your grip.

"Here," Dream interrupted, picking up the belt. He didn't waste time in fastening it around your waist, the dagger comfortably sitting against your hip. It was positioned so that your dominant hand could grab the dagger easily, should you need it.

"I thought you didn't want me to have weapons," You grumbled. Dream was silent as he resumed his earlier position, walking with you once more. With each step, the dagger hit your hip. It was a foreign feeling, but not an unwelcome one. 

"I don't, but I don't trust Technoblade. A dagger is straightforward enough to use. Even you can't fuck it up." He sounded bitter at the mention of Techno, but seemed to divert it to light hearted teasing. You huffed, rolling your eyes.

"Maybe I'll try it on you first." You shoved him with your shoulder, unable to hide your laugh at his affronted gasp.

"You wouldn’t!" His exclamation was followed by a laugh, and you couldn’t help but smile. He was one of the things you would miss.

The sun climbed even higher into the sky as the pair of you walked, with you buying a few trinkets. You bought a few pieces of jewelry from various vendors, too fond of their work to part with it. Who knew when you would be given the chance to visit this market again. You and Dream had stopped by a small bakery to eat lunch, listening to the tales around you and watching the streets.

It was only when the sun was falling, and the daytime vendors began to pack up, that you started your way back. Dinner time would be soon. As the streets emptied, the activity dwindling down, you felt the melancholy creep back over you once more.

"I got you something," Dream finally interrupted, causing you to look up at him. Your eyebrows knitted for a moment, trying to remember when he had snuck off to get it. Or maybe he had brought it with him.

"You did?" You asked, pausing in the street.

"I got it earlier this week, but today seemed a good time to give it to you," He explained, rustling around for a few moments. He grasped a small bag, pulling it out and untying it. He didn't look directly at you as he pulled out the piece inside, instead focused solely on it.

It was a necklace- a very extravagant one at that. You don't think you'd ever had one like it. Multiple strands of beads connected three large jewels together, with charms comprised of smaller jewels in the shape of roses dangling from it intermittently. The light caught the yellow jewels, though red tinged the outside of them. It was always roses, wasn't it? It always had been.

In the very middle sat a metal plate, carved with the image of a picked rose with its thorns clipped. It was pretty. You couldn’t even imagine how much it cost. "Thank you, Dream. You didn’t have to get me something like this," You had started. He huffed in response, moving behind you to drape it around your neck.

"I know, but I wanted to. I hope whenever you wear it you think of me," he mumbled as he fastened it, the comfortable weight settling against your neck. You touched it, smiling softly.

"I will, Dream. Don't make me cry, though. There's too much left to do today." You knew you would be a mess by the end of the night. After all, this was your family you were leaving. It was going to sting just a little.

The walk back to the castle was relatively silent. Dream was thinking about something, but you didn't press. You weren't sure you could handle it right now. Once you had returned and eaten dinner, it was time to spend time with your family. Which, truthfully, you were glad to. Dream didn't protest on going home, though he did send a final accusatory glance at Techno as he left.

The prince didn't linger after dinner, simply bidding you a good night as he went to retire to his own rooms. You were fine with that, though. It let you put your whole concentration on your family as the four of you sat in one of the rooms. You all spoke fondly of everything you could think of. All of you were almost reluctant to say goodnight.

"I can't believe my baby is leaving tomorrow," Your mom finally broached the topic. You offered a sad smile, moving to hug her.

"I'll always write to you," you whispered, face nestled into her neck. She didn't say anything for a long while, just holding you there. You didn't complain, letting her do so. As she pulled back after she seemed ready, she reached for the blanket that had been sat in her lap.

"This was my great grandmother's, and has been passed down to the eldest daughter of everyone in our family. It's your turn to take it," She murmured, handing it to you. The weave was heavy, the red fabric carefully twined with golden accents. You could tell it was old, but you were extremely glad to have it.

"Thank you, I'll cherish it. Should I have any daughters, I'll give it to them as well." It was unknown if you would have children. It depended on how the marriage required itself to be upheld. Your gaze turned to your dad next.

"You always were getting into trouble and going on adventures. Don't get into too much trouble over there, okay?" He murmured affectionately, offering you a hug. This one wasn't nearly as long as your mother's, but that was fine. He wasn't as attached as your mother, nor as affectionate, so the hug meant the world to you.

You had nodded, not trusting your words right now. This was the worst part. Leaving. The goodbyes. Even harder was turning to George, who stared at you with an almost sad smile. "I'm going to miss you. Who else am I going to walk through the gardens with now?" He asked, causing you to give a watery laugh. You imagined he would make do.

"You always did love the gardens, so here's a piece of home. Only some light reading." He extended a hand, holding a thick book out to you. The leather cover was embossed with various flowers, and you smiled. It was a flower guide. Flowers were important to your kingdom, and though you were fond of them you never bothered to learn them. Now it was time, you supposed.

"I'll miss you, George. Try not to have too much fun without me," Your voice cracked as you spoke. He nodded, arms curling tightly around you within seconds. You sniffled, hiding against his shoulder and clinging to him. His hugs were always the best, not having them readily available to you would hurt. You didn't like it.

"Just promise me you'll write and take care of yourself." You could only nod as his voice reverberated through you. You didn't want to let go, but the seconds bled into minutes and sleep was calling you. Even as reluctant as you were, you did let go.

"I'll write to everyone. As often as I can," You said. You choked a little, refusing to say goodbye. Even as you walked with George to your room, you couldn't bring yourself to say the word. Maybe tomorrow would be better. Next Chapter | >

[marshmallowprotection]

Willow

Pairing: Ray/Reader

Description:  You came to the countryside thinking that you would be able to get away from everything that had been bothering you lately, and while you had more time to yourself to explore your passions and hobbies; It seemed as though something was strange about this little cottage. Some of your things have been disappearing without a trace or an answer, and you want to get to the bottom of it. But, are you ready for what you'll find at the end of the secrets?

Pocket Ray! Based on a drawing posted to @dailysaeran.

Pocket Ray x Reader

Word Count: 10308

[Read On AO3]

It started as rather odd. That is to say, when you moved into this old house that belonged to your grandmother, you never thought that this place would feel like it could ever be your home. 

It wasn't like the house in the city that you had grown accustomed to over your entire life. It was so different from the city lights and the hustle and bustle of everyday life. 

It was a lot quieter in the countryside. 

There weren't a lot of neighbors around. 

There weren't a lot of people to speak of, but there were a lot of animals and a lot of nature to speak of. It was quiet but in a comfortable way that made you feel strangely welcomed. It may not have been what you were used to but that didn't mean that you were averse to it. It was a new opportunity and you wanted to try to make good on it.

You'd been down on your luck over the last couple of years. It had been hard scraping by trying to do your job and trying to make ends meet to keep your apartment.

You were from humble beginnings and you were determined to try to work your way to the top as you could do. 

It wasn't always easy but you weren't upset that there were a few extra steps along the way. Hard work wasn't a bad thing. To be able to prove with your own hands that you had done something all by yourself was kind of an amazing feat. Your parents always said that hard work was worth the trouble in the end.

You didn't have anything against that. It was true for people that were just trying to make do with their life with what they had. Life did not seem to have the same plans in store for you that it had for your parents. That was almost a given over the last couple of years of your life. 

It all just changed when you got sick. 

Things that used to be easy for you just weren't anymore. That old saying was, you don't know what you had until you lost it, was ultimately a true saying for you. You didn't realize how many things that you had taken for granted until it was already too far gone from your reach. 

Things that used to be easy for you just weren't as easy to do anymore. It made you feel like you had hit a wall and you couldn't get up again. 

Grief and mourning were something that you had to come to know very well. Acceptance was still something that you were working on, though, your therapist had said that it was normal to have bouts of anger and frustration and all kinds of feelings about what you were dealing with. 

Life tended to be messy and there was no denying that you were learning how to deal with that.

They say that Rome wasn't built in a day. You tried to take that to heart as you were trying to make sense of what you had lost and what you could do to help better cope with the changes that had come in your life as well as everything else in between and beyond that. 

A part of that change was getting a change of scenery. Your grandmother had offered to let you come and stay with her in the countryside for the time being so you could work on finding yourself again. You could take time off of work and you wouldn't have to worry about trying to keep a roof over your head while dealing with your health. 

The fresh air was supposed to do you some good and give you peace of mind about everything that was going on and you were determined to try and make the best of this situation. Though, you hadn't spent much time with your grandmother before so you had your work cut out for you. 

It was simply because you lived in two different places for such a long time that travel was kind of hard. It wasn't that you didn't want to see her or that she didn't want to see you.

It was just that circumstances had never worked out the way that they needed to in life. So it was an adjustment period, doing your best to learn what was okay with her and what wasn't. Her kindness and empathy were something that your parents had often said that you had gained from her without even really knowing it. 

You would often hear them say that you were so much like her but you never knew how to respond to that.

She was a modest woman with modest means. Her house was a cottage in the middle of absolute nowhere, but she took great care in everything that she touched. 

Her garden was her haven, and it was the first thing that you can see when you drove up from the old road. Not only were her flowers carefully tended to and mended to every single day, but she made sure that her vegetable garden was also flourishing. She had everything that she could ever want without having to travel far to a store.

She was very self-sustainable and you respected the heck out of that. You want it to be more like that. It was just hard to get the time to do that sort of thing when you were always working. Now it's a very least you didn't have an excuse to get out of that. You could try out things that you always wanted to. Your grandmother was very supportive of that.

So, not only did she get to help you take a break, she got some help in her garden and her kitchen. 

Your grandfather had passed quite a few years ago so she didn't have many people to consider company apart from her few neighbors and the people that she knew in her town play dropped by now and again. You imagine that even if you liked being alone, it could be pretty lonely if you didn't see people now and again. 

So, being here now all you could think about was how nice it felt to not be around people for once. You were used to being crowded and surrounded.

If there was one thing that you had always wished for in the city, it was being able to spend more time in the park. That was the only place that you ever got to get away from the asphalt and cement that surrounded your life. Now that you were here, you felt more at ease with yourself. The fresh air did feel good, and just being in a place where you can hear yourself think was nice. 

For now, you could see yourself staying here for quite a while. 

It was nice to have that peace. You were settling into this space as best you could, and each day was more curious than the last as there was a lot to explore. This house had seen better days but it was sturdy and well-built together. The worn wood and aged paint were charming as the ornate knick-knacks decorated her household. 

Sometimes, it reminded you of a little dollhouse. 

Homey, charming, and almost like a fantasy. 

It was quaint. You liked it, but your parents thought that it was too old-fashioned. When you were growing up, you always had modern things in your household. Technology was the way of the world and accepting change was important as the world developed and shifted from the way that it once was. 

However, there was no denying that there was a charm and a need for things of the past as well. That is to say, just because something can be created a different way doesn’t mean that it’s better than the way that worked for centuries. One thing that you knew that you preferred to do by your hand instead of by machine was sewing. 

You liked being able to work with your hands, knitting, curling, sewing, everything of that variety was something that kept you busy and able to focus on something that wasn’t the ache in your body. It was a hobby that you had taken up as a child but had lost the time to do it as much as you enjoyed as you finished schooling and headed to work. 

Now that you had more free time than you knew what to do with, you went back to working on small crafts. You started with mending your grandmother’s worn and frayed clothes that needed some care. It shifted into a lot more than that as you offered to take care of things that her friends needed some help with. 

It was busywork, for sure, but you liked being able to do it for others. Sitting out on the porch by the flowers as you mended rips and tears with little patches and flowers on the clothing. Some of the neighbors had children and a lot of them appreciated that you could add cute touches to their things. Some of them offered to pay you for your time, but you shrugged that off. 

It was just something that you liked doing. You weren’t doing it to make cash and you didn’t need anyone to pay you back for that sort of thing when it was just a friendly gift to others. 

The Kim family and the Kang family were ones that you often worked with to do all sorts of things for. Yoosung was visiting from college and he had plenty of clothes to mend that he hadn’t even considered could be spliced back together. Then there was Jaehee who ran the local cafe, who loved when you added little decals to her sleeves. 

You had your work cut out for you, to be honest. 

Being able to do these things helped you get your mind off of everything. 

You were grateful for a chance. This was kind of a luxury. You knew that many people wouldn’t be able to have something as simple as this. It wasn’t fair, but you were taking what you could get at this point. Being worried about others when you were meant to be taking care of yourself sounded a lot like you. Being too selfless until it ran you into the ground. 

At least, this time, your grandmother clapped you on the shoulder before you got too deeply involved in something that was over your head. If you couldn’t be firm, at least she could be blunt when she needed to be. You imagined that came with age and with time. 

Though, you were fairly sure that you weren’t going to figure how to do that yourself any time soon. As long as she was around, you weren’t too worried about that sort of thing. 

You just let yourself settle into your routine as it started to become something daily. You would wake up and tend to the garden before your grandmother woke up, just starting the water system and tending to anything that needed help.  

By that point, she’d be awake in the kitchen making breakfast and you’d join her afterward. A nice meal, and then you two broke into whatever you needed to do that day. For her, that was a lot of crafting or tending to other matters, and for you, that was working with your hands or just resting when you felt the need to lay down. 

Lunch and dinner would be sprinkled in there at some point, then you’d take a long shower and go to bed. Rinse, dress, and repeat. Not too complicated, not too simple, and just the right time to do everything. Though, as of late, you had started to notice little things that didn’t quite make a lot to sense to you. It was nothing… 

Well, you wanted to think that it was nothing, but as the little incidents became more and more apparent to you, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was something that had happened before you came here, or if it had started after you’d arrived. 

The thing was when you were cleaning or looking around for supplies anywhere in the house, be it for sewing, or cooking, or what have you, one or two little items would always… 

Go missing. 

At first, you thought that maybe you misplaced a few things, it wasn’t out of the ordinary for you to misplace something. 

Though, you would always find it placed somewhere that you’d been last without a lot of trouble. It was just that you couldn’t find any of the missing at all. It didn’t seem like your grandmother noticed, either. She didn’t seem any the wiser that things were being put in a different place. 

She never said anything about it. 

So, you didn’t want to bring it up if it was nothing at all. It was likely nothing but it kept happening and it kept nipping at your heels every ofter day that you checked with your things now and again. Which lead to you thinking that you were losing your mind. It just didn’t make sense. 

It was little things. Things that you wouldn’t miss or even notice if you hadn’t been working with them often. 

If you had been back at home, going to work often, and not checking with every little detail of the house, you wouldn’t have noticed a missing thimble or a few spare pins disappearing. You would always pause when it was a few old scraps of fabric, as well, but it could’ve been just that you tossed it and forget. 

It could’ve been waved away like that since it was always older pieces in your supplies that went missing. But, it just seemed odd that this was happening now of all times. These were items that you were working with on the regular, though, so you did notice when something wasn’t quite where you left it the last time that you used it. 

You tried not to make a big deal of it because well, you might have been tired lately because of how easily you were worn out with your health… it wasn’t impossible that you just forgot where you placed something. You just had a lot of free time on your hands and maybe you were making something out of nothing. 

“It’s probably nothing,” you muttered underneath your breath. “You’re just getting overwhelmed from having nothing to do for once.” 

So, for the time being, you decided not to make a fuss about it. It wasn’t like it was stopping you from doing what you were doing. It didn’t keep you from continuing your work. It didn’t stop the process. It was just a few missing things that didn’t mean much in the scheme of things but it irked you just a little bit whether you wanted to admit it or not.

Apart from that little situation, things were peaceful here. 

You liked it, by all accounts, and whenever your parents asked how you were feeling, you could honestly say that you were as good as you could feel, circumstances allowing. It could be hit or miss sometimes, but it was better. The fresh air was doing you good and so was the chance to just be yourself. 

Unfortunately, the last couple of days had been harder for you and rather trying at times. It had been difficult to get out of bed and get around due to the pain. Sometimes you just felt too tired and lethargic to do the things that helped placate some of your nerves. 

It didn’t keep you from being able to certain things, but not having the energy made it difficult to even try. So, you didn’t bother to try to start anything that you would be too tired to work on if it got to be too much at some point during the day. As frustrating as that was, you were doing what you could, as best you could. 

So, you wound up playing some music on your phone and laying back, listening to the sounds of your favorite playlist while the rain fell in the background, tapping against the roof in a lull that you got used to until it became a part of the background noise. 

It had been stormy and that certainly had played a bit into how much energy you felt had been taken from you. That was one of those things that you always heard your Grandmother mention once or twice. As silly as that sounded, you huffed, grumbling about how “you weren’t old even enough to feel the weather shift with your joints yet.” 

After two days of being trapped in the bed, you were happy to spend your evening outside in the garden. Your grandmother was spending her evening at the local café, so you decided to tend to some of the flowers. A few weeds had sprung up that needed to be taken care of as well as trying to mend the fence that kept some of the wild animals from sneaking into the garden for a snack or two. 

It took your mind off of everything, and you almost forgot about the missing items as you were working outside underneath the sunshine and clouds. A forgotten memory just meant to slide away just like something that happened once or twice that never happened again. This time, you knew that you were losing your mind about what you’d lost. 

Because it wasn’t something old that went missing this time. 

One of the neighborhood girls had asked you if you would make an outfit or two for one of her toys and you decided to take her up on the request. It didn’t take a lot of fabric and it didn’t take too terribly long to piece things together. Frankly, it took thirty minutes tops if you wanted to nit-pick the details. 

It was easy… and it wasn’t hard to make another outfit, but it was the principal of the thing. You knew that you set it down on the floor because you had been working on the carpet earlier during the day. You could have sworn that you left it right there with your supplies, but it wasn’t there at all. It was like it never existed. 

You were certain now. 

There was something or someone moving things in this household that you couldn’t see. Your gut assumption was that there was a spirit in the household that wanted to play pranks on you or something, but your grandmother was the one that built the house in the first place so that didn't seem very likely. So you had to get rid of that ridiculous possibility. 

It was your only working theory.

It wasn't like you were sleepwalking in the middle of the night and moving everything. It certainly wasn't your grandmother playing a harmless little joke on you. At least, if it was a joke, she would have already told you or at the very least made it more obvious that it was a prank.

It was just a pink little sweater. How could a pink sweater have gotten that far away from you? 

Now, this was just getting ridiculously silly. It didn't make any sense whatsoever! You pursed your lips, trying to make sense of the muddled thoughts that were running through your brain trying to give you some kind of answer. Nothing was coming to mind. It seemed like it should still be there. 

You tried to look around the room but to no avail could you manage to find what you were looking for. It seemed as though it had just vanished out of thin air. Which, it shouldn’t have. You knew where you left there and you knew that you weren't losing your mind. It certainly wasn't you misplacing your memory either. So, what was it? 

Or rather, who was it?

By the time your grandmother returned home, you asked, “Hey, you didn’t happen to move one of my sewing projects, did you? I remember putting it down before I went to take care of some of the chores, but it wasn’t where I left it.”

“Hm. I tend to leave your things where you left them since you have a system that doesn’t make much sense to me. I’m afraid I didn’t touch anything today, dear,” she explained, looking just as puzzled as you were about the matter. “Perhaps, you placed it down when you left to go and see how things were doing outside after I called you. It couldn’t have gotten very far.” 

It wasn’t a prank, then. 

She didn’t have any explanation, either. 

You didn’t want to worry her or overwhelm her with something this small, and she was right. It was probably nothing. It was more likely that you had just moved it and forgot about it. But, you felt like you had set that thing down and left it right where you could return to it. There had to be something about all of this that just wasn’t adding up. 

The last thing you wanted was for her to think that you were having trouble with your memory, too. So you just waved it off and decided to investigate this matter on your own. You pondered if there were mice around that could’ve taken a hold of your things. It wasn’t a stretch for animals to take things and move them somewhere that you wouldn’t be able to find them unless you spent a day undigging everything. 

“Yeah, you’re right. I guess I’m just out of sorts, lately. I feel like I’ve been misplacing stuff but you know me. I used to get lost trying to find my bedroom as a kid,” you cracked a joke and tried to wave off any of her worries. It was a mystery, but, it was a shame that you would have to start over on what you did. 

That fabric that you used had been nice, too. Soft fleece, but you’d added some flower embroidery to the collar and sleeves just to spice it up and make it look like it was a bit more sophisticated. Probably a bit more effort than the printed looks that people would make for a lot of toys, but you liked making things seem more mystical than cheap.

Sighing, you spent the rest of the evening creating another top, and this time, you made sure that it was back in your bag so you could run it over in the morning. Not sitting on the floor, and not out in the open in case something else happened to sneak away with it before you could see what it was. 

It wasn’t that much trouble. 

This was something that you were good at and it was easy to make another, but again, the sheer principle of the thing was the point!

It just irked you because you put a lot of care into everything you made, and you wanted it to be going to the right people that deserved it. You were the kind of person that wanted to make good on your promises to people, even if it was a gift. It was better to do the right thing than it was just to ignore it. So, you sighed. 

Whoever had gotten their hands on it, you hoped that they needed it. Otherwise, you were going to slap your wrists and scold yourself for making an anthill out of nothing. You went to bed later than usual because you were still riled up about this. Seeing as there wasn’t a lot else for you to deal with or think about, it was easy to fixate on that one little thing. 

You tossed and turned for a while in the sheets, eventually deciding that you would try to make the best of the night and get something to drink to soothe your exhaustion. Your grandmother always kept the set out for tea in case she wanted to grab a drink and not worry about grabbing the things from the cabinets and wasting more of her time whenever she wanted a pick-me-up. 

Not bothering to turn the lights on, you set the pot on the burner and flicked the gas on so it could start warming up things for you. You glanced out of the window and noticed that it was a dark night. It wasn’t rainy or anything of the sort, it was just cloudy and most of the moon was out of view, which meant that the room was barely illuminated by the fire. 

Not that you minded, you knew the room by heart already so you didn’t trick or bump into things. 

Curiously, though, you heard the sound of something… skittering across the wood. That drew your attention away from the pot as you looked over your shoulder and tried to see what had made that sound. It was faint, almost so quiet that you barely would have noticed it if it hadn’t been for the stillness of the night. 

“...?” 

As far as you could see, there was nothing in the room with you. You glanced down the hall and noted that your grandmother’s room was closed. It wasn’t her doing things at this hour, and not you making sound, either. Pausing, you ran your hand against the wall until it brushed against the light switch and illuminated the room once again. 

The kitchen was empty. There was nobody there that you could see with the naked eye. That sound had come from somewhere behind you when you were working and had been soft enough that you could’ve assumed that it was just a branch tapping against the household, or maybe one of the local animals that stopped by for a snack or two. 

Nothing. 

It was supposed to be nothing. 

This was the point that you were starting to think that you were losing it. 

You could understand a few missing things here or there, and even misplacing your projects because you weren’t used to having all this time to do things, but hearing bumps and noises in the night and there being not a thing to explain it? You were going to lose your mind if you didn't figure this out! But, how could you find something that you hadn't seen before? 

You sat down at the table in front of your cup and paused. Now, there was something very curious about this scene. 

There were two very small pieces of chocolate by the cup that you knew that you hadn't placed there. Even more puzzling, you squinted at the cup, thinking that it had been placed upside down instead of upright. That was different. 

You leaned over a bit more and jolted back against your seat almost instantly. There was something in the teacup. 

It wasn't empty! 

"Um," you found yourself speaking aloud to the air, pondering if an animal had decided to make a house out of a cup. It wouldn't be the oddest thing that you had seen. "...?" 

You brushed your finger against the edge of the rim as not to frighten whatever was hiding. It could have been a little mouse or something. They could be kind of skittish of humans, right?

"It's okay," you coaxed. It felt a little silly to be speaking like that… but, it hadn't exactly been normal lately. You might as well try to embrace that. "C'mon, little guy, I won't hurt you. A teacup isn't exactly a safe spot for you."

Just for good measure, you removed your hand from the cup and made sure that it sat in your lap so whatever it was wouldn't be scared if they were anxious about something much bigger than they were. Much to your surprise, something did seem to respond to your request. 

You weren't sure how to describe what you saw. A little face peered over the edge of the teacup, trembling like a leaf in the wind as he made eye contact with you. The surprise was very well written all over your face. That wasn't a mouse at all! That was a… well, it was a tiny person. 

He seemed scared. You imagined that you would be scared if you were staring at this person that was hundreds of times your size by all accounts. You rubbed at your eyes to check to see if you were seeing something, but as it turned out, you weren't. 

"You're…" 

"I'm sorry, please don't kill me!" was the sound of his voice as he sputtered and tried to stay right where he was. He seemed scared out of his mind. His tiny digits clung to the glass. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken your things in the first place. I was trying to bring you a gift to say sorry!" 

He seemed to think you were going to cause him harm. You may have been surprised by him but you certainly weren't going to hurt this little person. You shook your head, "I… wait, wait, slow down. I'm not going to hurt you. I just met you. I have no reason to do anything of the sort." 

That surprised him. He hurriedly rubbed at his own eyes to wipe away some of the tears that escaped him. "My brother said that all the beans are dangerous. But, he's been gone for a long time and I… um… I'm sorry, bean. I'm sorry." 

You cocked your head, "...Bean?" 

"Um, bean, like… a human bean. You're a human bean," he seemed to be calming down but you made no move to get closer to him or make him uneasy. "Is that… is that not what you call yourself?" 

You blinked, "Oh! You mean human beings, not human beans. That's what we call our race of people but not all of us share the same kind of name. My name is [Y/N]. I'm sure you have a name, too. I don't suppose they would call you… I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't know what I would call you." 

He eyed you for the longest time as he thought that over and then suddenly sat back down in the teacup. He seemed to be shaking his head back and forth, muttering to himself about something. Maybe he wasn't supposed to tell you these things? 

He mentioned a brother, though. 

Did that mean there were more beings like him around the house? 

It was at that point that you made the connection of his words. Why he seemed very apologetic… Why he had mentioned that he was sorry about taking something of yours. You peered over once again and got a good look at the little shirt that he was wearing just so happened to be the one that had gone missing earlier. 

"That looks rather dashing on you," you commented. "I see why you were apologizing to me, now. Please, don't feel like you need to apologize for taking something of mine if you are putting it to good use. I was making a few of those little shirts for someone, but if you need them, I'd rather you put them to use. But thank you for apologizing. I was worried I was losing my mind. I'm glad to know that my things are being used." 

"You're not mad?" He asked, surprised. 

Why would you be mad? 

Sure, you had been irked that it had gone missing, but you could always make another for the little girl. It was just for a toy. This was a person… er, he had human proportions but he was just rather small. He looked just big enough to fit in your hand. You weren't going to test that, though. 

It would be rude! 

"Nope! It doesn’t bother me. I would appreciate it if you ask me next time you would like a shirt or something, though. You see, I'm an amateur seamstress and I can make all kinds of things without a lot of trouble. You can just ask if you want something. I imagine it must be hard finding things in your size." 

It would be a fun challenge. You liked having a challenge. It was always interesting to try new things. Though, that was up to him if he wanted it. He must have had a good reason for taking something of yours in the first place and you weren't going to force him to tell you or give it back if he needed it. 

"It's alright," you added. "I promise. I'm kind of relieved that I found you. It's nice to know that I was able to make something that can be useful to you." 

"I'm a borrower, not a thief," he said, quietly. He leaned up and helped himself out of the teacup as he slid down against the table. "I am only supposed to take things that won't be missed. It was still very wrong of me to take something new. My brother said that we have to be respectful to the beans, even if they can hurt us, too." 

Where had you heard that word before? 

It sounded like something that you knew about… something deeply rooted in your memories of childhood. Like a story, you once heard. Was there some kind of story that your mother used to speak of when it came to something like this? You couldn't put it to memory but it felt like there was something on the tip of your tongue when it came to that word. 

Why did it sound familiar? 

"You borrow things?" 

"Just little things… things that you wouldn't think too much about. Sugar… small bits of food, this and that, and fabric sometimes… I promise that it's nothing bad. My brother is gonna be so mad at me! I'm not supposed to be talking to you," he glanced around the kitchen with a nervous look in his eyes. He seemed to be searching for someone to scold him for speaking to a human. 

"Because you can be in danger if the wrong people see you?" 

He nodded. 

"Well, it's just me and my grandmother in this house right now. I don't think she would hurt you, either. If that's something you're worried about." 

He looked down. 

There was a lot more going on in this house than you were aware of. A lot more than you knew that your grandmother was aware of, too. You hadn't seen your night turning out this way but you were far too awake now to think about going back to sleep. You weren't sure that you would be able to trust someone if you were in his position. 

Still… 

"Thank you for the gift," you bowed your head to him. At the very least, you were going to make sure that he didn't feel bad about this sort of thing. "I do appreciate it. Feel free to keep what you took. I sincerely don't mind." 

He hesitated for a moment as he glanced between you and the other side of the room. 

He had to be in a hurry, then. He seemed to want to leave sooner rather than later. Maybe he had somewhere to be or he was just antsy that someone else might find him. His voice was soft as he said, "...Thank you." 

You hesitated, if only briefly. You wanted to see if you could have one thing to ensure that this was real. You had given him your name, and you would hate to just call him after his race as he had thought you to be a bean. "Can I have your name, too? If that's alright. I won’t tell anyone, I promise. " 

He hurried to the end of the table and paused before he looked at the ground, and then he looked back at you. 

"My name is Ray," he said as the hum of your kettle began to hiss and cry out on the other side of the room. That meant you needed to grab it before it woke up the rest of the household. You rose from your chair and hurried to turn down the heat but by the time you turned around, Ray was gone. 

Just as quickly as he had been standing. 

Just as fast as he had appeared to you. 

The only proof that he had been there was the tiny chocolates that he had brought to say he was sorry. 

As you poured your tea into the cup second by second, you lifted one of the chocolates and tested to confirm that this was something that you had genuinely and not just a dreamy present that would go away if you blinked or were to turn your head. 

It tasted really sweet and unlike any of the candies that you knew your grandmother had in the household. It certainly hadn't been borrowed from her things. Just another sign that maybe just maybe, Ray had been real. You spent another hour or so just sitting in the kitchen to ruminate over your encounter with the borrower who went by the name of Ray. 

It felt like a dream. 

And, when you woke up the next day, you simply knew that you had to check to see if you had the other piece of candy. You did. It was there. It hadn’t been a dream. Though, you didn’t know if you were going to see Ray again. No amount of searching and looking for things on the web gave you any answers to what he was. 

You didn’t see anything online, but then again, it was kind of silly to be searching for stories about tiny people living in the walls of houses. At least, that’s where you thought that Ray was living. He had to be somewhere in the house. If he borrowed things, and it had happened a few times since you had been here, it meant that he had to be in this house. 

If he wasn’t in the house, then at least, he had to be on the property close enough to stay safe. All the wild animals meant… that he couldn’t stray very far. That would be too dangerous for him to survive. You couldn’t imagine what that would feel like… you could kind of relate in a way that meant the feeling of knowing what it felt like to be… 

Trapped. 

To be bound between walls that you knew but didn’t know, as the factors around you began to spiral out of control day by day. You weren’t sure if you would ever get the chance to see Ray face to face again, but you did know that you were very mindful of the fact that you knew that he was there. 

You wanted to make sure that he knew that you would keep that promise. This promise not to hurt him or make him scared of a human bean. He mentioned a brother that wasn’t around in the midst of what he had told you that night, and you were worried about that. Someone who could be so small and so vulnerable could’ve gotten hurt if they weren’t careful. 

You had a countless amount of worst-case scenario thoughts for someone like Ray. You could only imagine what it was like for him. Even though you couldn’t quite come to his level. That experience was his and his alone. Even if you didn’t see him, you spent some time playing with your sewing kit to make some more outfits for him. 

He had taken that sweater because he needed it. It could be chilly sometimes in this area, even with the sunshine. Being able to wear something that kept you warm was kind of a big deal for a lot of people. So, you set out trying to make him little sweaters and coats. You will say with honesty that you went a little overboard with some of it. 

You had a lot of fabric prints and things that you wanted to try out. You would wave it off as you explore different ideas and styles, but it was the least you could do for your little borrower in this household. Who knew how long he had been there and how hard it was for him to borrow what he needed to get by! 

So, what you did was wrap up the little outfits in tissue paper and put his name on them. 

You weren’t sure if he could read your language, but it was small enough that he should know that it was a gift for him. You made sure to place it near spots that had little nooks and crannies in the walls that seemed like openings, but you weren’t going to try to pry something open and be the one to make your grandmother suspicious. 

After you left them there for a few days, you noticed that the little gifts did go missing. Which meant that he had received them. You weren’t sure if he liked it, but if he took it, it meant that it would be going to good use. That’s all you wanted. Even if you didn’t know him very well, you wanted to make sure that he knew that his secret was safe with you. 

You wouldn’t let him get hurt by anyone if you could help it. 

It was quiet for a little while until it wasn’t. 

One afternoon, you found yourself sitting in front of the open window as the breeze rolled into the house. It was a nice sunny day, and you liked those. It wasn’t always easy to stay outdoors for long with how easily exhausted you could get, but you could sit there by a window and watch the world pass you by. 

As long as you could feel the warmth of the sun’s rays on your cheeks, you were happy to do whatever you wanted. Resting your face against your forearms, you stayed like that for quite a while until you felt the smallest nudge of pressure against your arm. You glanced to your right and realized that it was Ray. 

He had found his way to the window’s edge that you were sitting right by. 

“Ray?” you asked, quietly, as not to arouse your grandmother’s suspicion since she was in the other room. Certainly, it was Ray. He was wearing one of the outfits that you’d made for him with some of the floral prints. It was a cute little peasant top with sleeves that were loose by the wrists. “You’re wearing one of the shirts I made.” 

His cheeks had the smallest hint of red to them. You almost didn’t see them with how tiny he was, but you noticed the way that he looked away from you, out towards the garden. He was looking at the same spot you had been. The little patch of flowers that rested underneath the old willow tree that your grandfather had planted decades ago.

Ray kept his face focused on the flowers instead of looking back over at you, “Is that okay with you?”  

“Of course! I made those for you. I’m glad that you like them,” you smiled. You really did. It warmed your heart to know that you had managed to make something for him that he liked. “I wasn’t sure that they would fit but I modified some of the measures from what I saw with the first sweater and tried some new things. I think I got close without measuring your actual size, hahaha.”

“Thank you,” he bowed his head. His response was very polite.  “I’ve never had new clothes before. My brother and I would stitch fabric together with what we learned when we were young, that’s why I borrowed some of your older things so I could make and mend some of my clothes, but it wasn’t working out very well on my own and…. I…” 

“I am sorry about taking your things without asking, [Y/N]. Thank you for keeping my secret and for these… gifts… I really shouldn’t accept them but you made them for me. I’ve never received a gift before like this so I don’t know how to pay you back… I’m afraid that was the only treat that I had left…. the um, chocolates, I mean.” 

You understood, now. 

He must have had a lot of trouble trying to do that on his own. None of the needles that you had were made for someone his size. It must have taken forever to try and stitch together things with such a long point. You had to commend him, though. That hard work was a lot. 

If all of the other borrowers were just as crafty as that, you were amazed at everything they were capable of in this world that was far too large for them. You had an idea, though. Just a little one that could let you assure Ray that he didn’t have to pay you back with gifts or anything. Sitting back, you let your hands rest against the worn wood. 

“I didn’t eat one of them, actually,” you told him as the wind nudged its way into the room one by one. “I felt bad that you carried that much for someone like me. I was saving it so we could share it. It’s a lot nicer to be able to share sweets with friends. At least, I’d like to say that I think we could be friends, if that’s okay with you, Ray.”

This time Ray looked back at you, his hands folded in front of himself politely as he decided to think that thought over a few times. He knew that you wouldn’t hurt him, now, which was a good thing, but you weren’t sure if he was willing to hang around with you like an actual friend. He may have a lot to do or take care of. 

“...Do you have friends, Ray?”

“I… I’m the only borrower in this house.” 

“Oh.” 

“My brother… My brother left a few months ago with another borrower we know because he wanted to find where our friend went… because he went missing one day and we got really… worried. But, he’s not back yet so… it’s just me here. I don’t have anyone. I try not to be much of a bother to the other bean if I can help it, but… when you came here, that meant that I have some new things to borrow to fix what’s breaking down without my brother here.” 

“You’re taking care of everything on your own?” 

“Yeah. It’s hard but nothing I can’t handle, nothing I don’t deserve for being this small and insignificant. It’s just the life of a borrower. It’s hard work and we have to do what we have to do to get by. I’m trying my best to make my brother proud since he left me here to handle things on my own for once.” 

“Wow, Ray. You shouldn’t diminish your work. I don’t… I mean, I don’t know what you do around here,” you shook your head. “But, if you’re taking care of yourself and getting around this place on all your own, that’s amazing. Just because you’re small doesn’t mean that the things that you do are meaningless.”

You couldn’t imagine what he was doing as he lived in the walls and kept working with things in the house. 

Did he mend things to pay back your grandmother for having the house that he lived in the first place? It was a possibility. But, trying to make sure that you had things to eat every single day and clothes to wear meant that he had to spend a while trying to crawl around the house to get what he wants. 

“I’m so sure about that, [Y/N],” Ray said, gently. You were both staring at each other now with a quiet fever washing over the two of you. It seemed as the wind wasn’t loud enough to drown out a simple noise that existed between you. “But, that’s very kind of you to say to me. I appreciate what you have done for me. I would hate to burden you with my problems. But… I’m sure if I could be a good friend.” 

“How do you know if you’ve never tried?” you countered. 

Ray thought about that. 

“I guess… I guess you’re right about that,” he finally said. He seemed to be searching your face for answers to this. “I just don’t know how to be a friend to a human bean. It’s not something that happens. I’ve only heard stories about beans hurting my people or animals getting to us if we got too close to others. So I'm afraid that I'm not sure how I could be a good friend with you." 

"Well, for starters, friends to do activities together. You go and do things that the both of you may enjoy. I'm sure that there's something that you've always wanted to do but you haven't been able to do, for example, so we could start with something like that. I have been able to do all sorts of things but, I'm sure that you weren't able to have the same opportunity, so, you could pick anything you want," you explained. 

You weren't sure if you had ever been able to go outside before. If he did, then he might have been caught up with trying to make sure that nothing attacked him or got close to him that didn't need to be. There were a lot of things that you had been able to do in your life. So, if you were going to be friends with Ray, you would want to do things that he would want to do. 

It would give you something to do with your time instead of just focusing all of your efforts on doing for others without doing for yourself. And, it may give Ray something to do so he wasn’t fixated on worrying about his brother. A little helping hand and distraction was better to 

You had to admit you needed a break sometimes, much more than you wanted to admit, "We could share that chocolate together anywhere that you want to go if that's something you want to do, you know? I would be happy to take you somewhere in the house that you haven't had the chance to go to before." 

"Anywhere?" 

"Anywhere!" 

Ray took another pause to think about where he wanted to go. But, after a few seconds of debating what he wanted, he decidedly pointed outside at the same time willow tree that you had been staring at for some time now and told you that he always wanted to go into the garden but it was always too dangerous for him because of the rabbits and other stray animals that would get into the garden.

He didn't want to put himself in a position where he could get killed or hurt. The last thing he would want to do is worry his brother if he ever returned home from his journey to find that there was nobody around anymore. 

It was a simple request to be able to go outside but to him, it seems like a massive opportunity. It wasn't every day that he could travel a few feet in a matter of seconds instead of hours.

Although, he was going to have to stay out of sight if you were going to sneak past your grandmother to be able to go out the back door into the garden. 

So, you tentatively offered him your hand and he climbed into your palm. He seemed a little shaky at first but you made sure to place your other hand underneath the one that he was standing on. You thought about the best place that you could hide him only momentarily so he wouldn't have to worry about anything, but all you can think of was the breast pocket on your sweater.

"I'll be quick," you told him. “Sorry if it’s a bumpy ride.”

“I’ll be okay!” He slowly eased his way down into the little pocket, making sure that his hands were resting against the Hem at the top so he could peek over the edge and watch as you were walking. 

It was a quick walk back to your room to grab where you had wrapped up the candy and then you headed towards the kitchen to try and head out the back door before your grandmother could stop you. 

You glanced down at Ray now and again as you made your way through the house, just making sure that he was okay and that he wasn't too jostled by being there. Though, he wasn't looking at you the entire time so you aren't sure if he was okay. 

You were sure that he would speak up if it was uncomfortable. He seemed to be just watching how easy it was for you to move from room to room. 

You didn't pause in the kitchen but your grandmother called over to you as you were just about to step outside and said, "[Y/N], dear, could you put away these dishes for me before you step out?" 

You could have said no, but she would have been curious why you did. You always tried to help clean up. You glanced down but Ray seemed to get the hint. He let go of the fabric and slid down deeper into the pocket, out of sight and out of mind. You quietly said an apology to him for making him wait and did your best to help her put things back where they were meant to be. 

It took a few minutes, nothing too serious, but it left you a little winded. You took in a deep breath and did your best to ignore it and the way your body urged you to sit down and rest for a moment. It wasn't going to hurt if you pushed it a little… Besides, it was just a short walk out to the willow tree. 

By the time you got outside, you rested your back against the tree and slid down so you were propped up against the wood and your lungs could catch up with you. You hadn't felt this tired in ages, but you were okay. After all, adjusting to these varying energy levels was just a part of living with a chronic illness, as it was. 

You gave a small tap on your pocket and helped Ray free himself from the fabric. He seemed to be looking at you with concern on his face. "Are you okay? Your heart started beating really fast…" 

"I'm okay," you said, though you knew that you should wait to respond to him. You took in a breath and leaned your head back. There was a nice breeze today. "I get worn out fast sometimes is all. I came to live here because I'm sick and my parents and I thought the fresh air would help."

"I'm not going to die or anything. I'm just still getting used to my condition and everything, Ray. Sometimes I have really good days and other times I have really bad days. I don't have any control over what's a good day and what's a bad day. But, I don't think today is a bad day. I'm glad that I get to spend some time with a new friend. Thank you for being patient back there. Sorry that it took a few extra minutes." 

Your reassurance seemed to make him feel a little better about his concerns for your safety. Now, that was something that you were used to when you were talking to people about your health. It didn't matter whether they were 6 feet tall or 3 inches tall, concern and compassion were very similar things. It made you feel warm inside.

"Oh… it's okay! I'm happy that you're okay," he said. Though he still seemed curious about the whole thing. "But… you didn't have to rush for me. I was okay waiting. It was actually kind of nice in the pocket. It was warm and I could hear your heartbeat. It was like getting a really big hug."

You wouldn't know it at the time, but Ray's face was illuminated in a dusting of red as he admitted that. He seemed to like this. It was a dangerous game to be getting close to someone so much bigger than him. But he seemed to be opening up to you and trusting you. You didn't want to take that fact for granted. 

This was the most that you had talked to anyone at length in a long time. 

That wasn't to say that you weren't talking to people in town and working with them. It was just that you were always trying to avoid your problems and you were just trying to find an excuse to talk about anything else. Oftentimes, it would be draining to talk to people about certain things that bummed you out. You didn't feel like you were trying to hide as you spoke to Ray.

He was ultimately very thoughtful. All of the things that he said to you were said with a gentle touch. You let Ray free from your hands as he got himself comfortable. He took a spot on your shoulder and he looked at the garden around you. He had never gotten a few like this before and it was increasingly obvious it made him very happy. 

There were the small sounds of gasp and awes. Even over the sound of your heartbeat and the lull of the window. You can hear the way that he described what he was seeing to himself. It reminded you of the first time that you got to go outside yourself that you could remember. 

Seeing all the flowers and seeing all of the green was very mystifying in person and there was no denying that there was wonder about the world. 

He wanted to know about all kinds of flowers and if you knew the names of them. You didn't know all of them but you did tell him some of the ones that you did know, and that you were sure that there was a book somewhere in the house that you could try to read to him if he was curious about the flowers. 

It seemed to perk his interest in a way you hadn’t expected. You were happy to see that he wasn't so skittish around you now. His inquisitive nature was something that you hadn't expected but you found it rather endearing. There wasn't a lot that you knew about certain things but you felt like describing what you could to him made him happy. 

The two of you shared some of the chocolate. You snipped it in half and offered him the half that was easier to manage. Ray was happy at that. He mentioned that the last time that he’d been able to do this, it had been with his brother. But, they’d never been able to travel this far out of the house together because there was always something wandering the garden. 

It tasted even sweeter knowing that you had been able to do something nice for Ray. 

His life was vastly different than yours, but you felt a sense of kinship with him. You never thought that you’d find a peculiar friend when you came here to stay but now you couldn’t imagine not being able to interact with Ray. His kindness and thoughtful attitude warmed your heart to pieces. 

Once your heart settled, you offered to help Ray explore some of the gardens as he wished. In comparison to the flowers, he was rather small. A flower was more like a tree to him. It hung high over his head and when he looked up, all he could see were the color tips hanging around him. He was awed and mystified. 

It was like when you put a kid in a candy store. 

“You’re having fun, right?” 

“Yeah! I’ve never been this close, before. Thank you, [Y/N], thank you!” 

“Hahaha… it was nothing, Ray. Friends do nice things for each other whenever we get the chance.” 

“So, next time you’ll pick something that we can do together?” 

“If that’s alright with you.” 

Ray lingered for a time. His fingers brushing against the petal of a flower that you’d pointed out to him with a smile. This was the brightest that he’d seemed in a long time. “I think… I think I’d like that. There’s a lot of things that I want to try… I wish my brother was here to do them, though, but… he would tell me to do what I wanted, so I… I want to do things with you.” 

You smiled, extending your hand to Ray as he rested his hand against yours. The size difference didn’t fail on you. The fact that he was meeting your touch and trusting you, did. 

As silly as it’d sounded, you were happy to have a friend with Ray. It seemed like he felt the same way about the matter. You wanted to see where this friendship would take you. Where that strange fluttering feeling in your chest would take you if you followed the winding red strands that teased you to follow them down a hollowed path that you weren’t sure of. 

You would find out. 

And Ray seemed willing to venture down that road with you to find his answers. 

“I’d like that a lot, Ray.” 

[silvermoonflowers]

Swan Act I

Bucky x reader

Summary: Visiting her cousin's mansion for the summer, Y/N hopes for some peace and relaxation. Instead she discovers a secret...

Inspired by Swan Lake 

Warnings: some angst

Y/N let out a dreamy sigh as she stared out at the beautiful scenery that stood before her. A lake flowing with crystal clear water, the occasional birds hanging around and surrounded by tall trees that covered her from the dreadful sun.

This was certainly more relaxing here than the  bustling city life she was so used to.

With a giggle, Y/N settled onto the blanket that she had spread out under the giant weeping willow tree and picked up her book. But before she could start reading, she heard someone approaching her. But she already knew who the person was as she looked up and smiled at him.

“Hi Siegfried.”

“Hey cousin,” Siegfried said as he grinned back at her. “It's great that you and your family are staying here with us for the summer. It can get a bit boring in these areas, you know. It’s like nothing interesting really happens here! Where’s the adventure when you want it, huh?”

Y/N scoffed as she set the book on her lap. “‘Boring’”, huh? Then you should try living in the city. It's certainly more adventurous and hectic there. However, there isn't a lot of pretty scenery unlike here and sometimes, just living in the city can be pretty stressful.”

Siegfried put a hand to his chin as he gave thought into what Y/N had just said. She watched as various expressions formed on Siegfried’s face and she let out a giggle.

“Actually, you’re right,” Siegfried said once she put a hand to her mouth. “From what you said, I think I prefer ‘boring’ life here than city life.”

”Y/N rolled her eyes at him as he gave her a goofy grin. Then she looked at the lake. She watched as a couple of ducks flew down and landed in the water.

“But...I wish I was here instead of in the city…”

Her cousin knelt beside her and laid a hand on her shoulder. “If you want to, my parents have an extra house for you guys to stay in.”

Y/N flushed and waved a wand at her cousin. “Oh Siegfried. You’re so nice, but I couldn’t possibly do that…”

“Hey, we’re family, alright?” He said gently. “I’ll try my best to help you.”

“...Thank you so much Siegfried...I’ll think about it,” Y/N said as she smiled hesitantly at him. Siegfried patted her shoulder before he stood up and stretched his legs.

“Well, I’m off to go with my friend Benno for some archery lessons. Are you sure you don’t wanna come with us, Y/N?”

She glanced back at the shimmering lake again. Although Y/N had plenty of time to do fun things, she wanted to stay at this place for a while. It was just so peaceful to be here and she wanted to cherish this place in her heart forever.

“Nah, maybe some other time. But thanks!”

“Alright, have fun then cousin. And you remember the way back, right? This place is not that far from the mansion.”

“Of course. Have fun with Benno now!”

Y/N watched as her cousin gave her a thumbs up before disappearing into the trees. Then she flipped open her book and began to read. She soon found herself lost in a thrilling adventure of finding a secret kingdom.

                                                                      *~*~*

But her adventure was cut short when she felt like was being watched. At first, Y/N just thought it was her imagination, but the feeling didn’t go away. She frowned. Other than Benno, who was Siegfried’s neighbor, the place where they were was pretty much isolated from people. And all three of their parents were currently at a market. Thinking it was either one of them playing a prank on her, she looked up. However, she let out a gasp.

There, standing in front of her was a large white swan.

Y/N froze as she continued to stare at the swan in shock. She remembered her father showing her a painting of a swan from before. Her grandfather was the one who painted the picture and had given it to his son as a birthday gift.

“Y/N, did you know that swans symbolise beauty and elegance?”

After her father said that to her, Y/N decided to read several books about swans. She even asked the stars to grant her wish of seeing a swan someday.

And now it appeared that her wish finally came true.

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat as the swan approached her. From the size alone, the swan appeared male. He stopped before her and looked at her rather curiously. Then, he came closer to her and did the unexpected; the swan laid his head on her shoulder. Warmth seeped onto her skin, causing her to drop her book. The thumping noise of the dropped book didn’t seem to bother the swan as he continued to lay there, as if basking in the comfort of her.

With a shaking hand, Y/N reached up and gently laid her hand on the crown of the swan’s head. The feathers were incredibly soft to the touch. She let out a hum and began to run her hand down the swan’s neck.

 Although Y/N knew the swan wouldn't understand her, she couldn’t help but say, “Hello.”

The swan looked up at her and then tilted his head in response. Y/N didn’t think it was impossible, but the gesture almost made the swan appear...human.

She quickly shook her head at that thought. No...it had to be the book getting to her head. She was reading a pretty magical adventure after all. There was no way the swan could be hiding a mystical secret. It just wasn’t possible.

A gentle nudge on her hand interrupted her thoughts. It was the swan again. She smiled at him and rubbed his head affectionately. However, she stopped when she noticed something.

The swan’s left wing appeared to be crumpled. Whether it was an accident or intentional, Y/N wasn’t sure, but when she tried to reach for the wing, the swan shied away, as if he was trying to hide his broken wing from her. Y/N felt saddened. But she wasn’t upset that the swan was backing away from her. She was upset at the fact that the swan got hurt. 

“You poor thing…”

As if understanding her words, the swan began to walk to her again. But before he got any closer, a rustling sound could be heard.

“Hey cousin, I’m back with Benno. I forgot to ask you something - “

“Whoa, is that a swan?! Y/N get outta there!”

“Benno, what are you doing!? Stop!”

Y/N turned around just in time to see Benno with his arrow aimed right at the swan. Without hesitation, she quickly stood up and jumped in front of the swan.

“W-what are you doing!” she said out as she held out her arms, making Benno nearly loosen his grip.

Siegfried snatched the arrow out of Benno’s and glared angrily at him. “Benno, what the hell was that all about?! You scared Y/N!”

His friend looked at him with shame. “I-I’m sorry. I thought the swan was going to attack her…”

Siegfried’s expression softened when he realized how harsh he was to him. He ran a hand through his hair before turning to his cousin.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

Y/N didn’t answer him at first. Instead she looked back to see if the swan was alright. But when she turned around, the swan wasn’t there anymore. She looked at the lake, but all she saw was a pair of ducks swimming around.

It was as if the swan had vanished into thin air.

With a heavy sigh, she answered, “...I’m fine, Siegfried.”

“Are you...sure? You seem…”

“...Let’s just go home,” was all she said as she picked up her book and bunched the blanket into a bundle. As she did this, she never once looked at Siegfried or Benno.

“Nice going, Benno,” Y/N heard Siegfried mutter to his friend. “Now you made her upset.”

“Siegfried,” She said calmly. 

“Y-Yes?”

“Please don’t blame Benno. He didn’t do anything wrong, alright? Let’s go, now.”

Siegfried raised an eyebrow at the unusual calm tone that Y/N was taking but he answered “Yes” before he and Benno followed her home.

                                                                        *~*~*

That night Y/N dreamed of walking at the lake again. But there was no swan waiting for her. Instead she saw a man appear from behind the weeping willow tree. A tall, handsome man with long dark hair and beautiful blue eyes. He wore elegant clothes that seemed a little too tight for him. This thought alone made heat rush to Y/N’s cheeks.  But the closer Y/N got to him, the more she noticed something about him.

His expression told nothing but sadness. That wasn’t the only thing Y/N had noticed.

His left sleeve was limp, which meant he was missing an arm, much to Y/N’s horror. What could’ve happened to him?

As if in distress, the man suddenly reached out to her. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He tried again. Still nothing. The man’s expression now turned into that frustration. 

Soon the world around them began to blur. The man himself was beginning to disappear also. He looked at Y/N with pleading eyes. The sight of such an expression broke Y/N’s heart. She tried to run to him, but he was fading too quickly. But before he vanished completely, he mouthed two words to her. 

Help me.

[buglife]

Quirrel finally snaps. Royalty au. (He deserves it)

In Which Quirrel Has Enough :O

The morning started off just like any other. Waking up next to Ghost was always wonderful for Quirrel, especially in the big comfy nest gifted from Deepnest. It was like sinking into softness itself, something he and his spouse both appreciated, and there was plenty of room for cuddles. He yawned, stretching a little and turning to nuzzle his spouse to wake them.

“Morning, love.” He whispered, trying to gently wake them.

Usually they would be awake instantly and nuzzling back. Quirrel wasn’t sure if they actually slept now, having taken over the aspect of dreams. Even if they didn’t, they still made sure to be in bed every night to be with Quirrel, and stayed there until morning.

But today...they blearily blinked awake and didn’t nuzzle back right away. He instantly knew something was the matter.

“Dear, what is the matter? Are you alright?” He touched the side of their head and rubbed it in an effort to comfort them.

“Tired….” Came the soft quiet voice in the back of his head. Ghost had a measure of telepathy, but it was something they only did with friends and family. They tended to use sign language everywhere else, afraid of frightening their subjects. The Pale King had it as well, but used his to intimidate and issue orders. Ghost was doing everything in their power to be the complete opposite of their sire, even if it meant limiting their communication. Quirrel was trying his best to convince them otherwise, that their subjects loved them, but it’s taking a while to actually make Ghost believe it.

“You look tired. What where you doing last night?”

Ghost’s mental voice dissolved into a murmur of numbers and figures and laws hundreds of years old. The feeling Quirrel got along with it was an even measure of frustration, bafflement, and an extreme sense of mind numbing exhaustion.  

“You were trying to rewrite the tax code last night, weren’t you?”

Ghost sank further into the pillows with a wheeze.

“You know I could have helped you, you silly thing.”

They sank further and didn’t look him in the eyes. He sighed and patted them gently, thinking about the situation to himself. For a long time, Ghost pretty much did everything, leaving Quirrel with the task of planning the rebuilding efforts once they took the throne officially. Ghost was the sole ruler, and the weight and pressure of that all had started to weigh down on them. Sure, they had their friends and allies to help them, but some things you just have to do yourself. Now that he was a king himself (something he still had trouble believing some days until he looks at the ring on his finger), he felt like he needed to do more to help his partner.

“Today, you are going to take the day off.”

They turned their head to look at Quirrel, a look of mild panic on their blank mask. Before they could ‘say’ anything, Quirrel beat them to the punch.

“Look at yourself dear. You are beyond exhausted. You haven’t had anytime for yourself in so long, you need a break. I’m your spouse, your equal now, let me help you take some of the load off yourself, please?”

“But...court? The new code…” They were too tired to properly argue, but Quirrel could feel their worry leak through their words.

“I can do them for once. It can’t be harder than what I usually do.” He thought of his duties, how much traveling he does to other parts of the kingdom to keep up good relations with their neighbors. Some ambassadors were pricks, to be frank. They seemed to enjoy trying to get a rise out of the Scholar King, but Quirrel used his wit to go toe to toe with them. It was fencing, but with words, a subtle dance where each tried to pick out weaknesses and use them to their advantage. Talking to the actual rulers though, was a lot more pleasant. In fact, he’s due to have a meeting with Herrah soon. Hornet would demand he spar with her, but she at least was completely honest with her desires. He thinks Herrah gets a kick out of watching her daughter beat the hell out of a King. She was at least kind enough afterwards to patch up his wounds.

Surely, sitting in a building and talking to the public won’t be that harder than having to actually fight someone every-time he needs to do his job.

Ghost gave them an incredulous look, and then sighed and nodded.

“Excellent, shall I make a pillow fort for you?”

They nodded excitedly, and Quirrel took all the extra pillows from the cabinets to add to the pile. After some time stacking and slinging blankets around, he had made a pillow fort that passed his personal inspection. Ghost retreated inside, and then promptly fell asleep, which vindicated his feeling that Ghost was too damn tired to do anything today. He made sure to put a note on the door for people not to disturb them and made his way through the palace.

It was not the White Palace, that one never came back from the realm of dreams. Ghost had told him that it was for the best, as no sane ruler would have that many buzzsaws. Quirrel inclined to believe them and not ask further questions. Instead, a new one was built, and it couldn’t quite consider it a ‘palace’. It was more of a government building and a place to house the knights of the kingdom. It was a hell of a lot more modest than the White Palace, but it was still nice. The citizens insisted after all and Ghost did not say no to them.

Quirrel would have to admit that the top floor where they both lived was really nice. Their friends and family had gotten their own rooms too, for them to live in or just stay in when visiting. Once Ghost had gotten their deserved family, they refused to be apart from them and was more than happy to have visitors around.

Quirrel made his way down to the ground floor, where court was held. It was just a simple room, decorated in shell wood and tapestries to give it a more calm feeling. A part of the room was dedicated to chairs and benches where petitioners could sit and wait their turn. There was a section where the workers would sit, such as the recorder and paperwork keeper, and next to that, was the thrones, sitting a bit higher than everyone else. Quirrel wasn’t too sure if it was required or not to have the thrones elevated, but just shrugged and went along with it.

Usually Ghost held court with at least two of the new knights of Hallownest keeping guard. In reality, Ghost really didn’t need guarding, but they appreciated some wranglers to deal with the public and the emotional support. It seemed today it was Tiso and Cloth.

“Heya Quirrel.” Tiso gave Quirrel a funny look. “Where’s the Squib?”

“I made them take a day off. They are in their pillow fort at the moment, resting.” He internally snickered. Tiso never stopped calling Ghost ‘Squib’, which would cause nobles to have a conniption whenever they heard it. If they complained, Tiso invoked ‘big brother rights’ and that was that.

“Good, they work too hard.” Cloth adjusted her club over her shoulder. “So you’re holding court today? By yourself?”

Quirrel nodded. “It shouldn’t be too hard. I mean, I will have to do it sooner or later. Why not now?”

Tiso and Cloth shared a look. They looked...apprehensive.

“Just be prepared, you get a mixed bag of people. Some are rather um…”

“Super fucking stupid. And spoiled.” Tiso finished for Cloth, gesturing to the still closed doors.

“They can’t be that stupid!” Quirrel took his seat on his throne (which is still completely unbelievable to him). There were two, the other was for Ghost, built side by side. There used to be just one, but well, now there was a need for two. At least they were comfy. For a moment he did want Ghost to be here by his side, but he was firm in the believe that his poor spouse was in dire need of a break. So, he will endure.

“They can and they are. Don’t get me wrong, most folks that come in are really nice, but you get a few every-time that cause trouble. We’ll be here to help you out, no worry.” Cloth gently patted Quirrel on the head. Cloth the Strong was the title given to her after she was knighted, and he was glad to have her here.

“Yeah if you want us to throw them out the windows, just say so.” Tiso of course, didn’t give too fucks. They couldn’t call him Tiso the Ant Who Doesn’t Give Two Fucks, so instead he became Tiso the Daring.

“Thanks guys.” Quirrel felt a little emboldened by the support of his friends. “Go ahead and open the doors, we’ll get set up and I think we can start court for the day.” Tiso flashed a thumbs up, opening the doors to let the various workers of the court come in to take their positions. Once settled, he nodded, and the first petitioner was called in. Quirrel sat up straight, making himself as approachable as he possibly could. He was a pillbug after all, they are usually considered cute, so it wasn’t like he had to try hard.

He smiled at the beetle who walked in and stood before him.

“Hello there, my friend, what can the court do for you today?”

The beetle took a breath before speaking. “I’m petitioning the court to ban nails entirely.”

Quirrel boggled as his brain ground to a halt, did he really hear what he just heard? It took him a moment for him to be able to speak properly.

“Ma’am, we use nails to protect the people and for individuals to defend themselves. Why in the world do you want to ban nails?”

She tutted “Well my little Perler keeps trying to pick up other people’s nails and he could get hurt! It’s dangerous to have those around anyone, let alone children!”

“Well then, if we do ban nails, how else would you expect the royal guard to defend you from threats? How do you expect travelers to protect themselves when alone? How do you expect the average citizen to defend themselves should they be attacked?” Quirrel tried to use logic, but to no avail.

She looked Quirrel straight in the eyes. “That’s for you to figure out, right?”

Quirrel sighed.

---

It was official, he wanted to be anywhere but here. He kept glancing at the ornamental hourglass in the hall, watching the grains of sand fall one single piece at a time. It was like the sand wasn’t draining at all, that he was trapped in this one moment forever. This was officially torture.

Sure, a few legitimate bugs came in with reasonable requests. Asking for information to form a legal town militia? Sure go down the hall and to the left and there’s a bug to help you with that. Asking for funds to renovate an empty building for printmaking? That’s reasonable, we need all the books we can get. Asking for a possible sliding scale tax model for citizens based on income? Thank you for that idea, we will look into it when we can. Hell, some little kid somehow managed to make their way inside and asked Quirrel if he could make it illegal to deny dessert. He said he’d discuss it with his spouse but most likely they’d agree to make it a law. The kid left, skipping in glee and Quirrel felt himself smiling. He mused a bit of a possible ‘kids only’ court session just so they all can hear whatever these kids could come up with. It would be a welcome break, maybe a holiday? He’ll talk to Ghost later about it.

However, for every reasonable bug, came three that was dumber than a bag of hammers.

“I propose a tax cut for my business because making gold plated luxury monocles are essential to society.”

“Those Deepnest beast-folk are poisoning our society and corrupting our children! I request that they be deported entirely!”

“I’d like to propose a debate on lowering the age of consent.” (Quirrel had that one hauled off by the guard for questioning).

“I want this book banned because the author argued against the noble class and it hurt my feelings.”

On and on, it steadily got worse as the more opulent members of society came out to air their ‘concerns’. He had started to just dismiss them when they came at him with ridiculous requests, only prompting them to start whining. And boy, could they whine. He could feel his antenna vibrate under his hood with the shrill pitch of entitlement. He did his best to be polite, to gently let these people down. But they just kept coming, and coming.

When the next noble asked for him to tear down the local children’s playground because he wanted to build a second business there, Quirrel snapped.

“ENOUGH!”

He stood up from his throne, staring down at the weevil before him.

“No, I will not tear down a source of enrichment and enjoyment for our citizen’s children to satisfy your selfish desires!”  Quirrel’s words were tense as he hissed them through clenched mandibles.

The weevil, that before was so bold, now cowered. Quirrel was someone who was rare to anger, that had a sense of calm and warmth that made most folks comfortable. But here, he had a dangerous aura about him, eyes glinting with chaos and the sense that he probably caused some destruction on purpose before. Here was a scientist, raised by Monomon the Teacher, a being known for her inability to take shit and being able to dish it back twice as bad. That was a terrible mix indeed.

Tiso and Cloth looked at each other, and then stepped back. Quirrel will let them know if he needs them, and they want to see what goes down.

“I want everyone, who’s court petition would only benefit themselves, to leave. This is not a place to fulfill your want for power and riches. This is a place to hear the concerns to the citizen and to help them with said concerns. This is a place for anyone, rich or poor, big or small, to bring awareness to how we, the court, can care for them.”

He glanced down at the weevil who was still cowering, and narrowed his eyes.

The weevil, had a smidgen of bravery to comment. “Okay, my liege, we can just come back later and ask Sov-”

“You will NOT, bother my spouse with your wretched and idiotic statements!” Oh, he was angry now. Children being told no asks another parent for a different answer, but not an adult. He could scarcely believe it. He has seen selfishness before, but not to this degree. “ESPECIALLY since you think you are above the happiness and joy of all the children in the city! And let me tell you, if you asked my spouse that question, you’d earn yourself a stint in the dungeon to rethink your priorities. They love children a hell of a lot more than arrogant pricks like you. Now get the hell out of my sight!”

The weevil booked it, a sizable portion of nobles scurrying after. It didn’t take long for the room to nearly clear out completely, leaving only a handful of bugs. As Quirrel took a deep breath to calm down, a spike of fear shot through his heart. He had lost his cool, here, in front of his subjects. Were they going to be afraid of him? Would they be afraid to come to court now and bring up legitimate problems?

He took a second look to see that most of them were in various fits of laughter.

He sighed in relief and slumped back in his throne.

Tiso leaned down to whisper “Nice one, nerd, I think you scared them off for a while.”

“Here’s hoping.” Quirrel sighed in return and rubbed his eyes. Once composed, he sat up again, and called the next petitioner to him with a smile.

“How can I help you, my friend?”

“Yeah um.” The ladybug looked back at the door where the group of nobles had fled. He recognized her to actually be one of the nobles that had stayed. “I propose a request to strip nobles of their titles should they prove that they do not have the best interests of the citizens in mind.”

Quirrel grinned. “You know what, that is a fine idea!”

---

Being a king was exhausting. Quirrel barely dragged himself up to his bedroom, the day had turned to night and finally, all the work was done. All he wanted to do was not have to think at all for the rest of the night. How the hell did Ghost manage this every day? Especially before when it was just them doing most of everything? Quirrel now had a better appreciation for what his spouse does, and is still determined to lighten their load and share the burden equally.

He barely made it in the room before he was snatched up by Ghost, who was instantly purring and nuzzling his face. “Ah! Ghost!” He couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a little better as the love of his spouse seeped into him. It was wonderful. “Hello to you too, my darling.”

Ghost chuffed and gave one last head bonk, and carried him to the still stable pillow fort. They crawled inside, dragging them within where a few lumaflies fluttered about to provide light. It was warm and cozy, and Quirrel sank into their arms with a sigh. Ghost snuggled up, making them comfortable in their little nest. “Today was...interesting.”

Ghost touched their mask to his and felt the quiet voice in the back of his head. “Yes. Tiso told me when his shift ended.”

Quirrel groaned. “Did he now?”

Ghost nuzzled him affectionately. “He told me you handled court splendidly.”

“I don’t know, I lost my cool. I should have been able to deal with it all like an adult, not by loosing my temper like a child.”

“Sometimes you have to fight fire with fire.” Ghost leaned back, pulling Quirrel down with them so they can sink into the various pillows. “I am also sure you have just endeared yourself to our subjects doing that.”

“Are they always that bad?” He asked, sighing. He snuggled up to Ghost, who rested their head on his. “The nobles?”

“Yes. But that just gives us some...amusement.”

“Amusement? I felt like someone was digging into my brain with a pickaxe!”

“Think about it. The opportunity for pranks. Like how father and your mother took them out during the coronation ball. It was splendid.” They chirped softly in laughter. Quirrel couldn't help but smile at that. Indeed, that was absolutely hilarious. Especially when Oro punted those stuck nobles out of the door and sent them flying. He could deal with a bit of a headache here and there to see that sort of thing again.

“You know what?” He said, grabbing a blanket and pulling it up around the both of them. Ghost sighed sleepily and Quirrel knew he won’t be far behind.

“What?”

“I could get used to this.”

Ghost was both delighted, and terrified.

[justarandomsideblog]

This is thrown together on the page with zero editing so there's probably many glaring mistakes but I wanted to get it out there so here ya go

oOo

Fundy falls in love with the piano when he is very young and L’Manburg is nothing more than a van, and it’s just a small keyboard he can play with on the floor while his father makes war plans but it’s how it begins. He plays it in the months it takes him to grow up, maturing faster than it takes for Tommy and Tubbo to reach adulthood.

He plays it until he’s old enough for his father to replace the keyboard in his hands with a sword.

He’s seven months yet thirteen years old when he’s allowed into the war room, fidgeting hands folded tightly in his lap. There is no time to play keyboard anymore, and it’s left forgotten in his nest of blankets and pillows when the whole thing goes up in a devastating blast.

The war ends and he plays again on a makeshift piano, given to him by his uncles who teach him to play more complex melodies in the quiet moments when they’re not working. Yet those moments become few and far between in the months it takes Fundy to age to sixteen, the same age his young uncles had turned before Fundy was even born barely ten months before.

He cherishes the moments before everything falls apart once more. Yet another war begins and he sets aside the keyboard again to fight. His fingers are calloused in ways soft paw pads like his should never be, raw and bleeding from the sword he holds the second time he watches his home go up in smoke.

Eret gifts him a piano one year after he was born, when he turns seventeen and his aging has finally begun to slow. They help him set it up in his home, way too large for the orphaned teenage hybrid, and it gleams beautifully in the flickering torchlight. His passion, lost with his father, flares up once more and he plays for Eret and Phil, a moment of peace. Finally peace. Finally, he thinks, the swords will be hung up on the wall and peace will reign at last- swords have no place in peace, as art has no place in war.

The moment shatters; Eret, having never received Fundy’s message, doesn’t make it to the adoption, and Phil leaves- the Butcher Army, Fundy and Tubbo’s subsequent disownment and Tommy’s exile leaving the angel nothing to stay in L’Manburg for. So now he plays for the silence, not even the music filling the emptiness he has always relied on, and there he realizes the truth that will always weigh heavily in his gut.

There will always be another war.

Doomsday carries with it the weight of this realization, and he grins painfully through the tears pouring down his face as his house is blown away, piano keys withering into nothingness, and he says to no one in particular, “There’s no place for art in war.”

And so, even though L’Manburg is gone, even though everything is over and done with, Fundy knows it’s not. He knows the next war is waiting around the corner, and so he quietly stays prepared- his sword always on his hip, a bow strapped to his back, armour settled into his holding bag ready to be pulled on at a moment’s notice.

He doesn’t own a piano anymore.

Phil doesn’t speak to him for a long time, except when Fundy forces him to. He forgives Tubbo- tentatively so, with a lack of trust- long before he’s even willing to acknowledge him and Fundy are related, and even when they’re speaking again- awkward, stilted, not natural like before- Phil doesn’t ask about the scars on Fundy’s hands. He doesn’t ask if Fundy is eighteen or twenty now, though Fundy no longer knows himself.

His grandfather asks only once if Fundy has learned any new songs.

“I don’t play the piano anymore,” Fundy answers, short and more broken than he sounds. Phil doesn’t press for more, and Fundy goes home to silence once more.

Then the nightmares start, and the silence is even worse than before- because now he wakes up and never knows if he’s awake, the song in his soul having died out long ago. He remembers bits and pieces, forgets others, and he tries to run away. He pulls the TNT he has ready for the next inevitable war and rigs his home- big and empty and echoing loneliness- with as much as he can fit up the stairs, in the walls, on and under the floor. He takes only what he needs most and puts it into a wagon, pulls out an arrow and sets it alight-

His grandfather messages him. Wants to meet up. Fundy is in no state to walk on eggshells but he goes anyway, because he wants his family back, and learns his father is alive. They search for him but by the end Fundy is ready to give everything up. He leaves Phil, mind made up, and waits until he knows Phil is through the portal.

This time when he watches his home go up, it’s by his own hand.

He leaves and speaks to no one for months, but the nightmares stay. He finds a kit. He takes the kit in, considering briefly calling Phil to let him know he’s now a great grandfather, but he decides not to- Phil hasn’t reached out at all, no one has, even though his home is no more than a crater in the ground... again.

So he says nothing and focuses on being a father, now. His kit doesn’t like being indoors, running out to play in the woods whenever he wants, and Fundy learns to keep up and keep him safe. He builds a nest on the porch, under the awning, a nice, dry and warm place where his kit likes to curl up and sleep at night, white fur standing out against the reds and oranges of Fundy’s once-favourite blankets.

He names the kit Yogurt, after arguing with the foxes that like to hang around.

Between the nightmares and the crippling loneliness, with no one but a child too young to understand speech and a rowdy skulk of foxes who come and go as they please, Fundy finds himself.

He doesn’t remember much of the nightmares but he does remember one big, important thing.

Quackity can’t be trusted.

Quackity appears to him just as he had in the nightmare, and Fundy already knows their conversation as it happens. Knows every little thing as they walk across the remains of L’Manburg. He knows what the next war will be.

This time, Fundy decides, he will pull the strings. Early the next day, while his skulk is out who knows where and Yogurt is bundled up, safe at home, Fundy dons his armour and grabs his sword and axe, and he makes his way to the place he knows Las Nevadas to be.

He arrives and stands on the hill overlooking the beautiful, daunting city, and he watches Quackity disappear into the casino while below him a totem god looks around.

In those few seconds, when Fundy sees the harsh gleam in Foolish’s eyes, a new plan forms.

They speak briefly, over the dune and out of sight of the casino, and they come to an agreement. With no witnesses, they shake hands and Fundy goes back home, and Foolish does not tell Quackity of his visit.

Later, when Fundy finally joins Las Nevadas with his skulk a few steps behind, he mixes truth in with the lies and hopes the skulk will not out him.

To gain the trust of one who doesn’t trust, it takes someone who also doesn’t trust.

Yet Fundy, who at his heart and soul is a fox- a trickster- a spy- knows how to play the part of one who does. One who doesn’t know that he will always be left alone.

When Quackity asks him about his war experience, he answers truthfully- “I have been in every army and every war.”

He is a soldier to Quackity, first and foremost, and so when Quackity presents to him the piano inside the casino polished to perfection, he looks on it with silent discontent.

“I don’t play piano anymore.”

There is no place for art in war.

-

“Your hands are made to create, not destroy.”

Fundy looks up from the dagger he is playing with, seeing Foolish standing in front of him. Purpled is off to the side, on guard for Quackity and pretending he isn’t listening.

It isn’t the first time they’re meeting like this and it won’t be the last. Plans have to be made. Escape routes planned. Snowchester and Las Nevadas will tear each other- and themselves- apart long before Fundy and Foolish could ever put their plan into action. Playing nice and trying to keep everything from blowing up too early is getting exhausting, but it has to be done. After all, Fundy’s family is in the crossfire now- he silently curses Tubbo and Ranboo for building the mountain outpost, and he outwardly curses Tommy and Wilbur for making their ‘country’ right across the river.

“A lot of things are made to do what they’re not supposed to,” Fundy says to the god, putting the knife down. Tonight he has messaged Phil, pleading with him to stay away from Las Nevadas- but it has remained unread, and similar messages sent to Niki and Tommy and Ranboo are all the same. “What are you even talking about, anyway?”

“Tubbo said you used to play piano,” Foolish says, gaze drifting past Fundy to the piano left, abandoned, against the wall. “He asked me to put one in the mansion big enough so you guys could play together.”

“I haven’t played piano in a long fucking time,” Fundy scoffs, drumming his fingers anxiously against his legs. As much as he wants to... “But I guess Tubbo wouldn’t know that. We haven’t had a proper conversation since L’Manburg.”

Tubbo isn’t much like his uncle anymore. Tommy, neither. They don’t come around or check on him, they haven’t since long before L’Manburg fell. Tubbo feels more like... that neighbor kid you play with because there’s no other neighbor kids your age. They mess around and talk and joke when Quackity sends Fundy to investigate the outpost but it’s only because they don’t want to fight anymore. They don’t want to be on opposite sides, anymore.

Fundy can’t even tell him that they aren’t on opposite sides.

Ranboo says to choose people, and they all play the part easily enough, him and Tubbo and Fundy, but Fundy has always chosen people. He chose his family in the past, every time, regardless of what side they were on, until suddenly the family was split. What did sides matter, when it came to love, to friends, to family, to acceptance? How do you choose between the uncle who raised you and the grandfather who was there when you needed him?

Well, it no longer really matters.

This time he chooses Foolish and Purpled, the two who care about and accept him without question, whether he needs them or not.

Purpled, who respects that he doesn’t want salmon to be eaten even when he isn’t here. Purpled, who knows how it feels to be forgotten, who knows how it feels to have nothing to his name.

Foolish, who understands his need for symmetry. Foolish, who knows how it feels to want to leave the past behind, who knows how hard it is to feel worthy of forgiveness and redemption.

No, Fundy still loves his legal-and-blood family very much, but he supposes Foolish and Purpled have become the family he had always wanted to have.

Laughing and talking with them never feels forced, or awkward, or like walking on eggshells. He never feels like he is one misstep from being banished.

It’s nice.

“There’s no place for art in war,” Fundy finally says, filling the space growing between the trio they’ve formed.

They fall into silence, none of them trying to protest- none of them saying what they are in now is not a war. Maybe in another life this beautiful city that they’ve poured themselves into building up in order to build trust with the president could have been home, but in this life it was one thing alone-

The way to end the war, to stop Quackity in his tracks.

“After the war is over, will you play for us?” Purpled asks now.

And he will, though Fundy doesn’t know it yet. Once the war is over and the nuke has been dismantled, torn to pieces by its own creator’s hands, and Quackity and Fundy have both been reduced to one last life each, Fundy will sit at a piano at Foolish’s Summer Home, with the friends and family he has left- with Foolish and Purpled, Tubbo and Tommy and even Wilbur, with Techno and Phil and Niki and Ranboo, with Slime and Yogurt, every person he has ever loved and cared about and will one day save- and he will play a melody Tubbo taught him when he was a kit, still playing on a clumsy piano thrown together from scrapwood and busted strings in the living room of a house long since rotted and burned away.

For now, though, not knowing what the future has in store, Fundy only smiles and says, “There will always be another war.”

[the-writing-mill]

Fantasy au arranged marriage, pairing of choice involving Obi-Wan?

Is this... is this about the arranged marriage fantasy AU I abandoned for homework on the discord yesterday? Is that what’s going on here, anon? Are you on the discord server or does everyone just have this sort of thing on the brain recently?

In either case though I shan’t rehash that but do something else lol

Obi-Wan is born as the third royal prince in a mountainous, vaguely European country. The world is about at renaissance level technology, with a few bonuses due to the presence of magic (and magical creatures)

His majesty, King Qui-Gon Jinn, is a moral, stubborn ruler who is thought of fondly by the commoners but who is also quite unthinking at times, a bit neglectful and letting the nannies and governesses raise his children

His royal highness, crown prince Freemor is studious and quiet, and frequently works in the gardens. People are tentatively approving of him as crown prince, since he should be able to handle managing the kingdom’s graneries and other food resources well, but are worried about what will happen during foreign affairs, especially if they go to war.

His royal highness, second prince Xanatos, is... certainly aggressive and ambitious like is needed for foreign affairs, but there are too many rumors of underhandedness and selfishness for him to drum up support, especially by the public

Obi-Wan Kenobi, the third prince, grows up feeling the need to rise to his title. His brothers are already well-versed in their studies and have their own strengths physically. Further, Obi-Wan was told by a nanny when he was young that a true prince has a duty to help their citizens as much as they can and he’s never let that go

Obi-Wan, like all members of the royal family, also has the ability to use magic. And so he is sent off for a few years of his childhood to the academy run the druids/[insert magic pseudo-priest group here]. There he makes good friends with Quinlan Vos, a count’s son whose family is well known as sword mages

When Obi-Wan learns the basics of magic enough from the academy, he’s sent back to the royal family, where he proceeds to take a bre- proceeds to start studying even harder. (Obi-Wan has no chill)

Obi-Wan doesn’t take a break from studying combat, magic, politics, diplomacy, etc. (and becoming a pretty good dragon rider) until basically a few years later when Quinlan graduates from the academy’s full program and shows up to get Obi-Wan drunk. Obi-Wan’s servants quickly pull every favor they have in the palace to get Quinlan hired as Obi-Wan’s aide

Obi-Wan convinces Quinlan that he needs more experience in the real world, and that he needs to prove himself capable by his own abilities, not just the royal name. Quinlan agrees to help Obi get the experience so long as Quinlan comes along

Thus they begin their careers as errant knights

They gain a reputation for bad luck/chaos, and so eventually are only hired/requested when everyone’s sure some mission will go to hell anyways, in which case they’re very good at getting out of things in the best case scenario

During this time they also meet a certain disguised person from a certain royal family in a tavern and Obi-Wan of course flirts and tries to drink the man under the table

After a few years of this, with a few scattered months of being recalled home to the palace or sent to help protect a border from his father, Obi-Wan is called back to the palace again

It’s now that Obi-Wan finds out he has been promised to a neighboring kingdom’s crown prince to diffuse tensions, as there were two neighboring kingdoms seeming to be preparing to make a move. Obi-Wan getting married off to one prevents that kingdom from being able to attack and gets their support to help make the third kingdom back off

Obi-Wan is back for less than a week before he’s being sent off to his new life, which isn’t actually enough time to come to terms with his life getting completely uprooted and him apparently no longer being allowed to serve his kingdom how he planned to/was tying most of his identity to

Obi-Wan arrives at his new home the day before the wedding, and does not see his husband until part way through the wedding ceremony where they both take off their ceremonial veil/headpieces that covered their faces, revealing the man from the tavern

Crown prince Cody does not insist on having sex, although the are required to share a bed, and thus begins Obi-Wan’s somewhat awkward attempts to adjust to his new life

Obi-Wan attempts to be a perfect husband/married in royal, polite, keeping quiet, not causing trouble

He thinks that things are going well, and that he’ll be able to have a perfectly proper, tolerable life until he overhears his husband and a few of his brothers complaining about how distant and cold Obi-Wan apparently is, and how it seems like Obi-Wan’s birth kingdom didn’t really want the marriage

Obi-Wan runs away to the stable where his dragon is being kept, and stays with her for a while, cuddling up against he warm belly

He stays like that until he hears someone enter the stables and reflexively hides. Cody comes over to Obi-Wan’s dragon and takes care of her for a bit, checking her over and petting her and giving her a snack. Obi-Wan’s dragon clearly likes Cody (yes the dragon is Obi-Wan’s lightsaber, why do you ask?) and given the kind way Cody treats her, Obi-Wan can’t really blame her

Obi-Wan, after a night or two to settle himself down, decides to make a concerted effort to actually being a good husband by his new family’s standards

He invites Cody to tea, which is awkward until Obi-Wan switches the subject from personal matters to the latest political/governance problem. He shows up at the training arena more, until he runs into a few of the other princes and gets to spar with them a few times. He shows off a few magic tricks to the curious youngest prince Boba, when the boy finds him in the library

The princes seem to respond in kind, inviting Obi-Wan to things and being very friendly and affectionate, especially physically, which Obi-Wan’s not used to

The day Obi-Wan sasses something at Fives that leaves the man sputtering is Cody’s “oh no” moment, not that Obi-Wan realizes that the funny look Cody’s giving him is his husband trying to refrain from kissing him

Cody starts actually trying to court Obi-Wan after that, not that Obi-Wan does more but obliviously accept the attention, not even suspecting that Cody’s feeling more than a slight increase in respect and friendship for a few months

And then Obi-Wan gets word that King Qui-Gon Jinn has died

Obi-Wan is able to convince his new family to let him go back for the funeral with a well-guarded but small (and therefore fast) retinue, which includes Rex and Wolffe (? Probably? Another brother who is very competent and is not Cody, because crown prince)

The funeral is somber and formal and very much unlike Qui-Gon Jinn, and Freemor’s coronation is smooth and as simple as a royal coronation can be. Obi-Wan gives Freemor a thoughtful coronation gift and leaves. Rex and Wolffe have also come to understand what made Obi-Wan who he is much better and are very much planning on telling Cody and their brothers

A few months go by in which Obi-Wan finds himself falling for Cody more and more, and feeling guilty because he’s decided that Cody is only looking at him as a good friend now. Cody meanwhile is a bit frustrated by his new and improved seduction strategy both clearly working and not being enough to get Obi-Wan to make a move

Before Cody can act on a decision to just kiss Obi-Wan himself, Obi-Wan gets word that Freemor has died in an “accident”

This time, the kingdom is getting ready for harvest, so they can’t afford to let Obi-Wan go back. Obi-Wan sends a letter of condolences and sends an equally appropriate but far less thoughtful gift to Xanatos for his coronation

A year and a half later, after getting the kingdom through two winters very successfully, Obi-Wan finally confesses to Cody that he’s fallen in love with Cody, even though they had agreed to be political partners at the beginning. Cody (who had backed off on the seduction after Freemor’s death) responds enthusiastically

As they’re settling into their new relationship and dealing with much teasing, Quinlan Vos breaks into the palace (much to the chagrin of prince Fox, captain of the royal guard) and informs Obi-Wan that Xanatos has quickly proved to be a tyrant who can’t handle/care about running the country well enough to keep people from starving, putting most of the budget towards himself and the army

Obi-Wan… can’t exactly depose Xanatos. Even though he was third in line, he gave up those rights when he married the crown prince of another country. And the more distant relatives, while not as cruel as Xanatos, are in no way good candidates for the throne

The obvious solution, the Fetts decide, is to invade the country and take it over. Obi-Wan can’t really find a good argument since all the planning involves trying to keep civilians out of the line of fire

Usually, taking over a mountain region is very difficult, especially if you’re from a coastal trading kingdom. But they have Obi-Wan there to give them all the information they need

They spend the winter planning and begin to prepare, get everything ready after winter, and march in mid-spring

By the end of the summer, most of Xanatos’s army is defeated, or defected once they realized their royal prince/Ben the errant knight is trying to save the country with his new people

There’s some cool epic battle where Obi-Wan breaks the siege at the capital where Xanatos is holed up by flying him and Cody and a few others on dragons straight into the throne room/castle

Obi-Wan fights Xanatos as two sword mages, but Cody gets in the killing blow, despite being injured/knocked out earlier in the fight

Xanatos is given the proper funeral for a disgraced noble, and the people in the capital throw a party (technically it’s a belated coronation celebration for their new King Jango Fett)

Cody and Obi slip away from the festivities to watch from afar, and start talking about plans on how to actually rule the new territory and help it out after all the damage Xanatos did to it

The conversation ends with Obi-Wan expressing that he’s looking forward to going home (which is the first time Obi-Wan’s called the Fetts’ kingdom home) and Cody takes a moment to get over his shock before kissing Obi-Wan as the fireworks start going off overhead

Have I ever told y’all that I write really long outlines, btw?

(Also, side note: King Jango has a somewhat strained relationship with most of his sons. He raised them with very high expectations and little praise, and would not give them any responsibilities he didn’t think they were ready for. This led to, among other things, an almost co-dependent kind of closeness between the brothers. Jango, however, is more of a jerk than a bastard in this AU, so when his younger brother Alpha came back from abroad he was able to beat some sense into Jango, literally and figuratively. Boba is significantly younger than the rest of them and is being raised much more properly, but Jango is still in the process of mending his relationships with his other sons)

[julemmaes]

We Have To

Nesta Archeron x Cassian modern au

A/N: I’M SO SORRY THIS IS SOME WEEKS LATE, BUT I MADE IT, I DID IT!!!!

@darkshadowqueensrule ELLA THIS IS FOR YOU. I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS FLUFFY;) THING AS MUCH I DID PLANNING AND WRITING IT AND I HOPE IT BRINGS YOU JOY

Word count: 3,098

Cassian had so much to do that day that he cursed himself for not thinking of everything sooner. He had already bought the flowers for Nesta, who lay in the seat next to him, and the smell of the food and spices their neighbor had given him was already intoxicating him. He just hoped it wouldn't get too cold by the time they got to Azriel and Emerie's house. They were all going to be there, as they did every year, to celebrate Nesta's birthday in company, but before joining their family, Cassian had to pick up each of his four children from school.

He arrived almost immediately at the school of the youngest, Alesia and Becan, and smiled when he saw them on the edge of the sidewalk, waiting for the line of cars to flow by until theirs would appear in the parking lot.

They were only a year apart, but Alesia was the oldest, and in the last year she had grown so much that Cassian's heart ached every time he looked at her. She was starting to look like Nesta and he couldn't have been happier, even though she was losing the light blonde hair that was being replaced by the classic light brown color of the Archeron sisters.

Becan, on the other hand, looked exactly like Leka, his oldest son, and both were the exact copy of Cassian, it was as if they weren't even Nesta's children. Both of his little men looked older than they were, and they never failed to have that silly, cocky grin on their faces - as Nesta used to point out.

When the two children saw the familiar car they lit up, pointing him out to the teacher and starting to run towards him. Alesia was the first to catch up and got in right away, pulling up Becan's backpack, which at times seemed to tower over him as big as it was.

"Hello gorgeous." said Cassian turning to his children.

"Hi daddy!" they both yelled.

He reached out a hand to his daughter's head, fixing her hair behind her ear and then turned to his son, "What did you guys do today?"

Becan was arranging his backpack next to him with a frown on his face, "I had English and we got to plurals and the teacher said we're great, but I didn't understand why I can't say foots." concluded the youngest looking directly at him. Alesia beside him giggled, turning to face her father as well.

Cassian's eyes went wide with amusement, restraining himself from laughing, "What do you mean?"

"Why do I have to say feet?" the boy asked, arching an eyebrow, "Why can't I just say foots, or mouses?" then he shrugged, curling the corner of his mouth, "We'll never know."

"It's the irregulars," Alesia beat him to the punch, still looking at him for approval. Cassian smiled at her and nodded slightly, "There are no real rules, you just have to read a lot of texts."

A car in line behind them honked and Cassian huffed, turning back to the steering wheel, "Seatbelts please." he waited to hear the click of both children before driving off towards Xhuli's school, his first daughter. He turned on the radio, keeping the volume low enough to hear what his children were telling him.

He was more relaxed than in years past, oddly enough. He was always so fidgety during this time of year, and when Nesta's birthday came around, he couldn't help but remember all the times they had been young and celebrated for days on the beaches of Adriata, waiting for the sun to go down and rise the next day from over the mountains. He couldn't help but think of all the little gifts he gave her - the shells, the stones, the flowers - that Nesta had kept throughout the years to come and that still sat on the middle shelf of the bookcase in their room.

He thought about how the light from the coastal region was a gift from the gods, the way it had lit up Nesta's clear eyes every holy time, making them shine just for him.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, focusing on his daughter's words.

"Then during the break Ella gave me a piece of her snack and I gave her a piece of mine," Alesia yawned, then nodded thoughtfully, "She's nice."

"And did you manage to do the geography test or was it too hard?" he asked her, turning into the street of Xhuli's school.

"It went well, I think," she murmured, "although I couldn't remember the name of the mountains in Illyria, what are they called?" she asked curiously, leaning forward. Cassian restrained himself from telling her to sit down in the seat, as an unnatural fear welled up inside him.

He cast a glance at Becan as well, to make sure he was buckled in properly as well.

"Myrmidons." sighed Cassian, returning his eyes to the road as his heart sped up in his chest.

"Yeah!" shouted Alesia, grunting, "The Myrmidons." then slammed a hand on her forehead dramatically.

"Are we going to Uncle Az's?" asked Becan suddenly.

Cassian parked the car under the big oak tree where he always waited for Xhuli to get out of school and unbuckled his belt, turning to face his kids, "We have to pick up Leka first, then we'll stop by mom's and then we'll all go to Az's together, yeah." he replied, reminding them that they wouldn't be eating at home today and they wouldn't have to wait for the oldest to come back with the bus. Becan nodded, yawning as well, and Alesia laughed, reaching over to stick a finger in his mouth until he had it wide open.

Cassian laughed when Becan closed his teeth on her finger and Alesia wailed, retracting her hand instantly afterwards.

The little boy unbuckled his belt, "Can I show you what I made for mommy?" he asked his dad. Cassian nodded excitedly, smiling at him, but feeling his heart tighten in his chest, "It's not beautiful, but the teacher said it's the thought that counts."

At that he snorted, because it sounded like something Teacher Aelin might have said, but the laugh was short-lived, because Becan showed him a drawing of them. It wasn't a masterpiece, as the child had already anticipated, but you could see how much effort he had put into coloring inside the lines, going over the edges with markers. He and Nesta were in the middle of the paper and holding hands, lying on what Cassian imagined were beach towels on the sand, while their four children were all in the water and playing catch.

"It's Adriata." he whispered, swallowing noisily and handing the drawing back to his son, "It's really beautiful, you've improved so much since last year."

Becan beamed all over, thanking him and settling back in his seat, bringing the drawing to his lap. Cassian turned around when he heard his new teenager's voice ring out not far from them and smiled, seeing that she was running to the car, waving her hand at him. He raised his own, waving back.

"And I made this card," the little girl said, pushing something shiny between the two front seats. Cassian wanted to laugh at the amount of pink and gold glitters on that thing. "But I don't know if mom will like this cause it's very sparkly."

"I'm sure she'll love it." he said, smiling reassuringly at his daughter through the rearview mirror. "What did you write inside?"

"That I love her and that I-" she couldn't finish the sentence, because Xhuli had flung the door wide open.

"Hello everyone!" she squealed, picking up the flowers and putting them on her legs, getting into the car. She turned to Cassian, leaving a quick kiss on his cheek and turning to her siblings right after, "Are you ready to play ride or die all afternoon?" she cheered them on with a bright smile on her face.

Alesia and Becan shrieked in delight, jerking their hands in the air and Cassian shook his head, his eyes wide, "Why do you always have to instigate them to play that awful game?" he asked her as he settled into his seat, "Someone always ends up getting hurt and crying."

Xhuli chuckled, shrugging, "It's always Tedian or Daorsa anyway."

Cassian looked at her open-mouthed, "Xhuli."

"What?" she asked equally dumbfounded, then huffed, looking ahead, "Even Uncle Rhys always says they're whiners and should learn to take jokes," she told him with a pointed look, "And he's their father."

He shook his head, running his hand over his face, "If your mother were here-"

"She'd tell me to make them cry harder probably," Xhuli chuckled again, "Come on you go, I can't wait to eat Aunt Emerie's meat pie."

"Belts." laughed Cassian, not leaving until he was sure everyone was buckled in.

The drive to Leka's high school was longer, considering he was studying downtown, but Cassian relaxed a bit as Xhuli distracted the little ones, focusing on the road.

"I got a nine in literature today," the oldest daughter said, catching his attention. Shifting his gaze to her for a moment he noticed that she was torturing her hands, playing with one of the rings Nesta left her.

He gave her a warm smile, "It's a really good grade, I'm proud of you."

"And I finished the correction before the others, so I did something for mom," she said in a more uncertain voice, starting to rummage through her backpack. He couldn't see her face, but he knew her cheeks were red. "It's crap."

Cassian really didn't understand where all the low self-esteem that seemed to be in each of his children that day was coming from. He guessed that the idea of doing something that Nesta might not like scared them as much as it had scared him in the early days of dating.

They stopped at a red light and Xhuli held out the small blue piece of paper toward him.

He opened his eyes wide again, admiring the way she'd folded each corner, where she'd decorated the still visible parts of the paper, until it was a beautiful heron in flight.

"Baby," he breathed, "I know I'm supposed to scold you for doing this at school, but-" he chuckled, shaking his head, "it's beautiful." and a relieved, very short laugh escaped her lips.

"Thanks, dad."

They arrived shortly thereafter at Leka's school, who was standing on the sidewalk and looking annoyed. When the car stopped just ahead of where he was, Becan unbuckled his seatbelt, shifting into the middle seat, but his older brother opened the passenger door, nodding to Xhuli, "Get in the back."

"Excuse me?" his sister asked, genuinely shocked.

Leka clenched his jaw and looked at her with dark eyes. Cassian knew immediately that something was wrong.

The son huffed, "I said go to the back."

"No," Xhuli shook her head, "I got here first and you're always in the front."

"Stop that right now," his father scolded them both. Then he crossed Leka's gaze and his son looked over the car, across the road.

Xhuli had a deep frown on her face, "He started it."

Cassian sighed, looking at the girl, "Could you please get in the back?" when she gaped, he clasped his hands around the steering wheel, "I know, you're already sitting in the front and it would be so much easier and faster if he just got in the back, but it's a hard day for him and-"

"It's not hard just for him," she retorted, in a tone of voice Cassian had never heard her use. She sounded like Nesta at that moment, authoritative rather than condescending.

"Please," he whispered, looking into her eyes.

Xhuli must have seen something in his gaze, because she huffed and gathered up her stuff, before walking out and giving her brother a shove. Leka didn't even seem to mind and dropped into the seat next to Cassian, quickly buckling himself in and resting his hood-covered head against the window.

"Leka-"

"Just drive, please," he murmured, not even looking at his father.

The relatively cheerful air that had been there up until that point had disappeared completely, and even when Becan had tried to get his older brother's attention, he hadn't paid any attention to him at all. Xhuli had tried to point out to him that he was being an asshole, but Cassian had snapped at her, and told her to apologize straight away.

They'd started talking about who would give their mom the gift first, and Cassian had more felt than seen, Leka tense up at his siblings' words. He had taken deep, shuddering breaths and it had taken all his strength for the man not to stop and hug his son in the middle of the road.

The second they pulled up in front of the particularly green and overgrown lawn, the three little ones hopped out of the car without even waiting for their father's permission and started running towards what they knew was their mother's gravestone.

Leka looked away from his siblings, shifting his gaze to his father and then his eyes filled with tears, but nothing fell down his cheeks, "I want to leave."

Cassian felt his heart in his throat, his hands trembling around the steering wheel.

"I want to go home, I don't want to go to the uncles," Leka continued, shaking his head, "I want to get out of here."

"Leka..." he tried again, reaching out a hand toward him. His son smacked his arm, pushing him away. Cassian closed his eyes.

"No!" he shrieked into the silence of the cockpit. His eyes were wide and he was struggling to breathe, "Why do we have to do this every year? It's sick." he spat at him.

Cassian shifted his gaze to his children, the ones who were now kneeling in front of his wife's grave. In front of the grave he took such good care of as he had taken care of Nesta while she was alive. Alesia was opening the card she had drawn at school and he saw a pool of glitter fall on the grass in front of them.

He turned to Leka, feeling his eyes water, "We need-"

"We don't need anything." he interjected again, more angrily, "You, you need this thing, because you can't seem to get away from mom."

Cassian jerked back at those words, opening his eyes even wider.

Leka seemed satisfied with that reaction because he continued, "She died five fucking years ago," he spoke through his teeth, "and you still bring me here and make me stand in front of her grave for an hour like it's going to do me any good, like talking to a fucking stone is going to help me." his son's voice cracked at the end of the sentence and tears slid down his skin. Cassian let go of a breath as his heart tightened in his chest more with every word Leka said.

"Stop it, you don't mean that," Cassian murmured, turning toward the gravestone-covered lawns, catching sight of some other relative who had come to visit a lost loved one.

"Yes, dad, I do," Leka shouted, "and being here so long, it hurts me! Just being here makes me so sick I can't breathe, and it makes me miss mom so much I can't think." a sob broke Cassian's breath, and he forced himself to look at his son. Leka was in no better condition than he was. "We come here and I can't think," he sobbed.

His face flushed, his breathing short, tears now falling without concern. He was opening and closing the fingers of his hands, looking for something to distract him from the pain so deep and inescapable that was grief.

Nesta Archeron, mother of four beautiful children and wife of the luckiest man in the world, had died in a car accident just a week after turning thirty-five. It didn't take long to realize that the news had shattered not only the family, but the entire neighborhood.

Cassian didn't remember much about the first few months after Nesta's death, always in a delirious state between anger and despair, but when it had taken shape in his head, when his body and mind had finally been ready to accept that this was now his new reality, another kind of grief, completely different from what he had experienced up until that moment, had taken over.

His children had needed him. And he hadn't been there for them.

Nesta would have been ashamed of him.

That had made him wake up somehow.

The idea of Nesta watching him, from wherever she was at that moment, and judging him for the way he had abandoned everything - for the way he had abandoned their children - had revived him and made him find his place in the lives of his daughters and sons.

And now, as he looked into his son's pitch-brown eyes, he couldn't speak, just as he had years before.

"Dad." Leka begged him in a broken voice, "Please let's go home."

Cassian shook his head, closing his eyes, "I can't."

Leka burst into tears, bringing both hands to his face to cover the grimace of pain and suffering as his body was shaken by loud sobs. Cassian placed a hand on his back, crying silently in turn, and Leka didn't take half a second before he pushed himself to him and let his father cradle him in his arms.

"I miss her so much." whispered Cassian as he wrapped his son up, "Every day."

Leka made a sound much like an animal that had just been shot before he resumed crying more loudly, "I miss mom."

His heart clenched so tightly in his chest that Cassian thought he was going to die, "I know."

"I miss mom." repeated Leka, pressing his face against his chest.

"We'll make it through, for her." murmured Cassian, clasping his hands around his jacket and bringing him as close to him as he could. He could feel Leka shaking, and he just wanted Nesta to be there with them, to help him fix the mess that was their lives. Watching Becan as he picked up the paper bird and flew it high above them, he thought he could never make it without the love of his life, but he still said, "We have to."

A/N: There’s one thing I always tell my readers, be aware of the winky faces;) I leave them anywhere I plan on destroying people’s hearts, so yeah, you’ve kinda been warned about the fact that this was NOT going to be fluff, I hope you liked it anyway, goodnight guys:)

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[s-creations]

Oh, That Imagination

Kids will always have active imaginations. But how the adult handles it depends on what the child is afraid of.

Fandom: DuckTales 2017 / The Three Caballeros         Rating: General Audience         Relationships/Pairings:  José  Carioca/Donald Duck/Panchito Pistoles Additional Tags: Growing up, Uncles with their Nephews, Facing Fears, Worries, hunting a creature, Krampus (character), giving a speech, watching a scary movie, protecting the boys, the passing of time, names OCs.

Part of a Series Called: We’re the Three- Sorry, Six Caballeros!

Author Note: I finished Student Teaching and passed my Content Test, so I’m getting back into writing! I do have a new job lined up for the school year. We’ll see how consistent I stay with uploading. XD

“Unca Donald, Unca Donald, Unca Donald!”

 Even with the loud warning call, Donald still staggers when something blue collides against his leg. “Dishes! I’m doing dishes. Go and sit on the counter please.”

 6-year-old Dewey gave a quick nod before clamoring up. The older duck impressed by how quickly the duckling could climb. 

 “Now, what can I help you with?”

 “Benny said there’s a-a monster living in the sewage of Duckberg! I wanna go catch it!”

 Donald let out a low hum as he washed the soap from the glass. This was twice in two weeks that neighbor Benny had told some story about some ‘creature’ they had seen. Dewey, always on the lookout for new adventures, ate each story up with determination and gusto.

 “I see, very interesting. What does this monster look like?”

 “Like...Like an alligator. Only bigger!”

 “Ooooh, that sounds scary. And you’re going to catch them all by yourself?”

 “Yep!”

 “Well, aren’t you brave. Are you going to bring them back to be studied for science?”

 “I’m gonna do it to rub it in Huey’s face. Cuz he says the creature isn’t real. But I’m gonna prove him wrong!” 

 “It sounds like your afternoon is full.”

 “It sure is! Oh, wait, I wanted to ask you if we have a large net that I could use?”

 “I don’t think we have a ‘large’ net. You’ll have your bug catching net.”

 Dewey let out a contemplative hum. Hand resting on his cheek while his pointer finger tapped out some unknown tempo. A habit he picked up from José. “That’s not great. But I suppose it’ll have to do.”

 “Look at you compromising. What are you going to use as bait?”

 “Do we have any old lunch meat?”

 “No and you’re not using what we have in the fridge.”

 “You’re ruining the search Unca Donald! I need bait.”

 “How about you take Tio Panchito with you? He had to help his grandpa search for farm animals when they got out of their pens. Didn’t have to use bait to get those animals back.”

 “Tio worked on a farm?” Dewey’s eyes lit up hearing this new piece of information.

 “Spent a few childhood Summers there.”

 “What did he do?”

 “Why don’t you go and ask him? I’m sure he would be more than happy to share stories with you and your brothers.”

 “Okay, bye Unca Donald! I’m gonna learn about cows!”

 Donald silently laughed as Dewey raced out of the kitchen. Childhood stories continued during dinner and only ended when the triplets were put to bed. 

 “So...should I question why Dewey furiously ran at me this afternoon? All while screaming his demands for me to tell stories?” The rooster asked as Donald joined him and José on the living room couch. 

 “Apparently, Benny had seen some ‘creature’ in the sewer system. Dewey determined that he was going to hunt said being down. I told him you would help in the search because you’ve helped with finding lost farm animals. That caught his attention and now you know the outcome.” Donald sighed as he leaned against the other, relaxing. 

 “Do you think the thrill of the hunt will call out to Dewey tomorrow?”

 “We’ll see.” Donald replied back simply.

 The hunt did not call out the next day. Dewey focused on creating a backyard zoo, he didn’t have time to worry about some creature. A few days later, a pet iguana was rescued from the neighborhood sewers. It appears Benny had actually seen something. It just wasn’t the towering creature he’d claimed before.

 ________________

 The holidays were busy for all the adults in the household. Donald focused on getting the shopping done and holding down the fort while the ducklings raced around during their school break. Gleefully talking about Santa and what present they’re excited most about. José would be gone for weeks on end leading up to December 25, helping with numerous flights to make sure he had that day off. Starting from October through December, this time saw Panchito with booked weekends of different performances to help get other families into the festive feeling. 

 Even with having busy and exhausting schedules, they made sure to make time for the triplets. Baking, decorating the house, helping them pick out gifts for the other family members. Every year it was the goal to keep the ducklings as happy as possible.

 Which is why Panchito became worried when 7-year-old Louie started acting...strange. Almost what the rooster would call ‘stressed’.

 The duckling had started being overly helpful around the house. Doing more tasks than what would be required. Going out of his way to ask if he could help. And, most worriedly, he’d become quiet. Not in his normal way of just relaxing in front of the television. But almost fearful that he was being listened to by some unseen stranger. Eyes even darting around as he moved through the apartment. 

 Unfortunately, Panchito wasn’t able to approach this possible problem until a weekend late into the duckling’s break. 

 The rooster let out a sigh as he collapsed onto the couch. Thankful that he was done until the New Year’s celebrations he had the coming weekend. But he was able to relax for the rest of the week to celebrate Christmas. Cautious footsteps drawing closer caused Panchito to open his eyes. Finding Louis standing nervously in the middle of the room.

 “Hola Louie, what can I do for you?”

 “Um, do you need me to get you anything?”

 Panchito raised a brow. “No, I’m fine. Why don’t you join me until dinner’s ready?”

 “Oh, um, that’s okay. Maybe I should see if Uncle Donald needs any help.”

 “You’re on break. Why don’t you just sit for a while?” The duckling frowned, eyes darting around before settling onto the couch. Still tense. “So, how has school been? I haven’t heard you and your brothers talk about it for a while.” 

 “Uh...good.”

 “Just good? ...Try out any new schemes lately? I know Uncle Donald isn’t so thrilled when you do that. But you always have such clever ideas, makes me laugh.”

 “Nope, I’ve been good! No crazy plans from me!” 

 Panchito sat up a little more when Louie started shouting at the ceiling. “Okay Louie, what’s going on. Are you feeling okay? Did something happen at school?”

 The duckling dressed in green wrung his hands as he peered around. 

 “...Abby told me about the Krampus…” Louie eventually whispered.

 “The who?” 

 “The Krampus! He’s the opposite of Santa Claus! A big creature with long horns and wears a cloak! And he comes after bad boys and girls! He takes them away in his large, greasy bag and they’re never seen again and-” 

 “Okay, Louie, come here. You’re getting yourself worked up.” Panchito easily and quickly moved the duckling onto his lap. Wrapping arms around the smaller form to help keep Louie grounded. “Breath with me. We’re going to take a few deep breaths, okay?”

 Louie gave two quick nods. They remained this way for a few minutes, Panchito holding the duckling close and controlling his breathing for Louie to follow. The rooster only pulled away when Louie had calmed down enough to talk. “Okay, so, you were told a scary story. Why are you worried?”

 “Because he goes after bad kids and I know I’m...not good.”

 “Why would you say that? You’re a wonderful kid!”

 “But I get the most detentions and I’m lazy and I know I don’t do my homework when I need to and-”

 ‘Louie… Yes, we would like you to work a little harder than what you do now.  But you’re not bad. You...take risks. You have a point of view that I’ve never seen before. You’re a clever kid. And, well, between you and me.”

 Panchito leaned closer. Louie’s eyes widened with curiosity. “You fight the system and you don’t let them beat you down.” 

 “...Does that mean I don’t have to wash the dishes?”

 “Don’t push your luck. What I’m trying to say is that you’re not bad. You just think differently than others. Plus, if you’re this worried, this might be a sign you should help out more. But I doubt any Krampus will come after you.”

 “Really?”

 “Really… Also, you know your uncles and I would beat up any creature who dares try to hurt you.” 

 Louie laughed. Beaming and squirming as Panchito placed a kiss on his cheek. Christmas Day arrived with no mysterious creatures knocking in their front door. Louie was still safely tucked away in his bed. Joining his brothers with running out to the living room and unwrapping presents. Curling next to Panchito as all enjoyed the afternoon glow while watching a marathon of movies.

 ________________

 Huey took to the Junior Woodchucks like a duck to water.

 From day one it became a large part of his identity. He carried his handbook around with him everywhere. Writing his own notes and entries to add to the already thick volume. Gleefully patting his knees as he patiently waited for whatever uncle was going to take him to the weekly meetings. Even learning how to iron his uniform to keep it in tip top shape. 

 Dewey may complain that the eagerness was annoying. But nothing seemed to damper Huey’s spirit.

 Until Huey was tasked to write a speech. As he was top ranked among the troop, he was given the honor of addressing the new member that would be joining that year. A banquet being held with the duckling presenting a speech of his own at the beginning of the event. The duckling was absolutely thrilled at first. Telling everyone he could about the great honor bestowed onto him. 

 All in the family thought he would triumph over this just like many other things in his life. 

 José was humming softly one evening, making his way to the kitchen when he heard sniffing coming from the bathroom. The door opened a crack and, taking a risk, José peered in. He found 8-year-old Huey, curled up by the tub and far away from the door. A stack of paper was at the duckling’s feet. Red rimmed eyes glaring at said stack. 

 “Huey?”

 Said duckling’s head snapped up hearing José. Wiping his eyes frantically. “T-Tio José…”

 “Criança doce, what is wrong?” José  entered, leaving the door open in case Huey wanted out.

 The duckling sniffed weakly. “...I’m scared.”

 “Of what?”

 “My speech…”

 José frowned, knowing how excited Huey had been only a few days ago. “Can you tell me what you are scared about?”

 Huey let out another sniff. His hand starting to hit the side of the tub as time went on. Which José put a stop to by reaching out to take the duckling’s hand. “I’m scared...that people are going to laugh at me. I keep practicing my speech to make it perfect and I read a bunch of tips but… All I can think about is messing up and people mocking me. Then my scout leader will see me as a failure and strip me of my badges and-”

 The parrot pulled the duckling closer, humming a lullaby softly. Huey instantly clung to José, burying himself away in his guardian’s chest. It took a few minutes before the duckling finally relaxed, slumped against the older, hand still keeping a good grip on José's shirt. 

 “Huey, I would like for you to listen to me. Can you do that for me?” José received a nod, “I will help you with your speech. But you have nothing to worry about. Your scout leader seems to be nothing of the kind who would take away what you’ve achieved. And no one will laugh. We all know you will be doing your best.”

 “...But what if my best isn’t enough?”

 “It always will be Huey. Never doubt that.” José peered up hearing the floorboards creek. Finding Donald standing in the doorway wearing a look of worry. The parrot gave a quick shake of his head. A silent message that he had a handle on the situation. Donald gave a nod of his own before sneaking off. “Feeling better?”

 “...A little. I’m still scared.” 

 “That is fine. How about we make some cookies? I think I saw your Uncle Donald heading that way before. And while we are doing that, you can show me your speech.” 

 Huey sniffed weakly. Pulling back slightly to look up at José. “Chocolate chip?”

 “Of course.”

 The duckling smiled weakly and nodded. Donald greeted the two with wide arms and a smile when they walked in. Huey beamed as he was picked up and given a sturdy hug from his other uncle as José started the process. But uncles gave Huey their undivided attention when he gave his speech. The other members of the family joined them as the cookies started to bake. Dewey and Louie keeping their ‘helpful’ comments to themselves and clapping along when Huey finished. 

 At the night of the banquet, Huey beamed as he gave a flawless speech. His family cheered the loudest.

 ________________

 “This is such a bad idea.” 

 9-year-old Louie huffed, rolling his eyes as Huey bemoaned at his flawless plan. “If you’re going to be a stick in the mud, then don’t watch.”

 “But I want to see it.”

 “Then what’s the issue?”

 “The movie is PG-13! We need parental guidance to watch.”

 “You know they won’t let us watch.” Dewey added.

 “But-”

 “You get two options here Hubert,” Louie interrupted. One hand holding up a finger to keep Huey quiet. The other holding the latest zombie movie that had just recently been release to DVD, “You either watch with your mouth shut. Or you leave and keep your mouth shut in the bed while you listen to the amazingness that is this movie from the closed doors. What’s it going to be?”

 Huey frowned. But he ‘zipped’ his bill closed and crossed his arms. Which the green-hoodied triplet took as keeping his mouth shut. With a nod, Louie popped the movie in and sat next to his brothers. All three were huddled together in the closet. Eyes glued to the small t.v. screen that was crammed in with them as well. The movie menu soon appeared and Dewey pressed play.

  Donald let out a content sigh as he relaxed further between his partners. Panchito clinging to him as Donald’s head was tucked under the rooster’s chin. While José was curled up at Donald’s side, using the duck’s chest as a pillow. That night was quiet and calm. There was a weekend ahead of them that was just filled with nothing. A relaxing time with his partners and kids. It was going to be great…

 A chorus of screams sounded from the triplet’s room. All adults were up and racing out in only a few seconds. Even hard to wake José was on full alert. Donald reached the door first, flinging it open. Fully expecting to see an intruder standing in the middle of the bedroom. Only to find Huey and Louie, sobbing as they clung to each other on the younger triplet’s bed. Dewey was waving his plastic sword  at the open closet. His entire being was shaking as wide, fearful eyes were on the open space. 

 “What is going on here?” Donald called out over the noise. 

 “There’s a zombie in the closet!” Louis answered.

 “It touched me!” Huey added.

 “I’m fighting it off!” Dewey finished. 

 “What- okay- Dewey stop swinging that around!” Panchito walked over and pulled the sword from the duckling. Collecting the blue cladded triplet as he continued to shake.

 Donald gathers the other two. Both of them desperately slings to the protection that was their uncle. José took to the closet, making sure it was empty. The parrot raised a brow, finding the t.v. that was still on and playing a movie. 

 He reached in to eject the movie and brought it out for the other two to see. “Donald.”

 The duck looked it over. Frowning, seeing the topic, letting out a slow breath. It was clear the triplets were in no condition to have a stern talking to. Plus, he was honestly too tired to worry about it at the moment. “Okay...let’s go back to our room.”

 The other two adults nodded. José turned off the lights as he was the last to leave the boy’s room. Donald rested himself back into the middle of the bed, only with more bodies pressed around him. Panchito cleverly left the bedside light on before he laid down on the bed, Dewey resting on his chest. The triplets flinched when José walked in.

 “It is just me.” The parrot assured. 

 Donald let out a sigh as he gently preened the top of each head. “You’re safe here. Nothing’s going to get you.”

 The bed was pressed further down as José laid down. Huey clamoring over into the parrot’s hold. Donald was free to wrap both arms around Louie. Three voices began to hum a familiar lullaby in hope of calming the triplets further. Even with their comforting presence, it took awhile for the three to fall asleep. It was not the way Donald wanted to start his weekend. But he should have known nothing he plans ever goes his way. Even with this hiccup, he was happy to have his family close. Falling asleep with a smile on his face.

 Donald was able to take his pent up frustration on the idiot who had allowed children to rent a horror movie. Panchito coming as back up to make sure the duck didn’t kill anyone.  

[what-big-teeth]

Moving In

And done! The winner of the 500 raffle, @a-third-attempt​, requested a story featuring a clumsy male arachnid with a gender neutral reader. As I’m mainly familiar with driders, I decided to create a tarantula drider for this story. I hope you all enjoy! Gender Neutral Reader (POV) x Male Monster You tread the beaten path before you with steady steps, letting it lead you deeper into the forest. Your legs are grateful for the chance to stretch and the low-impact of the flat ground beneath your feet. The scent of faint petrichor and deep earthiness fills your nose with a long inhale. It’s calming, overall, more so thanks to the cool spring air. And best of all, your planned venture is taking you to one of your favorite places. The Selenite Hollows showcase an amazing array of different gypsum crystals. You learned from your many visits that they can be bent into different shapes with one’s bare hands. This method is how you received the white, corded pendant hanging against your chest. All thanks to your boyfriend, Tarren. 

You couldn’t have predicted his creative side when you two first met him four months ago while hiking. That presumption was thanks to how he accidentally tripped over his eight legs while coming closer to introduce himself. But you found his clumsiness charming along with the fuzzy, tarantula legs he supports himself on. The fact that Tarren’s white hair contrasts beautifully with his gray upper body and pitch black bottom also helped immensely. You’ve spent numerous weekends visiting Tarren at his abode. And you’ve treasured the time you two spend together, exploring uninhabited parts of the Hollows and greeting his nonhuman neighbors. It’s a shame you won’t be able to visit the caves again. 

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip at the fact. Thanks to the growing instability working its way around the Hollows, it’s been deemed unlivable by the City. And as such, its residents have been given ample time to collect their belongings and move. Tarren included. You blurted a solution once he shared the news: moving in with you. Unsurprisingly, he sputtered at your suggestion, his eight black eyes widening then flitting to the ground. While you both have visited each other countless times, you’ve never stayed overnight. But after weighing the positives against the drawbacks together, he agreed to a temporary stay. Which left you both happy and apprehensive. You had prior significant others before him, but you’ve never felt as at home with them like Tarren. A small yet growing part of you worries about him seeing your habits. You consider yourself pretty normal. Sure, there may be a few odd food combinations you love that others have turned their noses up at. And your exes have complained about your snoring and starfishing habits. But you both care deeply for each other and such small things would never change that. Right? As you approach the Hollows’ entrance, your stomach begins to make itself known. A frisson of fear churns inside you, unwilling to be ignored. You’re forced to pause to steel yourself by taking a deep breath. Think of Tarren; what you’re going through is meager compared to his sudden displacement. There’s no use in adding more stress to an already taxing situation. So you plaster a smile onto your lips and cross the threshold. “Incoming!” You swiftly step to the side, avoiding the resident chiropteran children who almost barrel into you. The older two of the group dart past you with a brief “sorry!” after a quick use of chirps and clicks. The youngest trails behind them, flapping their large bat wings in order to gain ground. But the two dive down a pathway out of reach, leaving the little one to squeak in frustration. You huff out a laugh and call out to them, reminding them to be careful. You wouldn’t be surprised if they managed to finagle their way out of helping their parents pack. You walk past the home of the young naga couple who are tending to their son, offering a kind hello, one they return with smiles. Their neighbors, a multi-generational family of mothpeople, chitter happily when glimpsing you. The matriarch offers you some homemade, sweet nectar cookies, for you and Tarren when you both have a moment. You pause to thank her for her kindness before promising to return. You continue onward, greeting the other dwellers until you reach the final “house”. Inside, Tarren carefully gathers some of his belongings and tucks them into an antique trunk you gifted him on his birthday. When not afflicted with his endearing clumsiness, he moves with a slow sleekness that hints to his true strength and dexterity. You can’t help but admire the sight and lean against his home’s entrance to admire him. He begins turning towards his books, but his dark eyes notice your movements and flit towards you. “Hey there, handsome,” you say with a grin. Tarren beams, revealing the ends of his prominent black fangs. His hands skim one of the book’s spine as he hurries toward you. He leans down to embrace you, and you revel in the way his claws graze against your nape. “Lovebug! I’m glad you’re here.” His hold tightens to a comfortable snugness, one interspersed with trembling. “So very glad.” You thread a hand through his thin, short locks and nuzzle against his cool cheek. From what Tarren told you about his childhood, he’d been something of a loner. And not by his own choice. Concerning his particular species, once self-sufficient, they were expected to leave the nest to fend for themselves. So the fact that he found a welcoming community to live in was a godsend. Having to lose that sense of belonging and familiarity in one fell swoop... Hopefully, with a bit of luck, he’ll come to see your cabin as a new home. Tarren presses his lips against your temple, his palps caressing your skin. You tilt your head back and gently kiss him, long and slow. Being careful of his fangs, he deepens the gesture, coaxing a sigh from your lips. Needing air, you pull away and hear him whine in reply. “There’ll be more where that came from when we get home,” you say around a chuckle. His smile falters, but he quickly turns away towards his bookshelf. As if to keep you from seeing. “Of course,” he says. “I just have a few other things to pack.” Ignoring the growing uncertainty in your chest, you force a smile. “How can I help?” With Tarren’s instruction, you’re both able to finish loading his belongings into his trunk in a timely manner. This gives you both time to say your goodbyes to his neighbors. After providing your contact information and collecting your promised sweet nectar cookies, the families promise to reach out to you both once settled. The hike back towards the outskirts of town is quiet, interspersed with soft chewing. The cookies are delicious as always, but their sweetness does nothing for the awkwardness between you two. Tarren is more focused on keeping his trunk balanced on top of his abdomen and taking in the passing sights of the forest. “Everything okay?” you gently hedge. Tarren startles somewhat, but his attention turns to you. He smiles, but it’s lacking in sincerity. “I’ll be alright. It’ll just...take some time, is all.” You hum, unsure of what else to say. So you stay silent, turning phrases and topics in your head to pass the time. And hopefully to make Tarren feel more at ease. You both come to the crest of a hill with a large tree at the top, the last landmark before glimpsing your cabin. The outside is rustic, as many are and neatly surrounded by growing foliage. That took some time to do as did tidying up the inside as you took into account Tarren’s larger size and gait. But the completed preparations don’t deter the nerves quivering in your stomach. Still, you do your best to present your home with a flourish of your hand. “And we’re here!” Tarren takes in the two-story structure with a soft smile. “It’s very charming,” he says. “Just like you.” A sudden heat fills your cheeks as you wet your dried lips. If he’s able to flirt, then maybe he’s starting to feel a little bit better. You vow then and there to do all you can to alleviate his discomfort and make him feel at home. “Right back at you, handsome. Come on, I’ll show you where you can put your trunk.” You both descend the hillside. Tarren slips a little on the way down, but recovers with your help.  Due to the size of the cabin’s entrance, he switches to carrying his trunk and squeezes through the door. In anticipation of his arrival, you’ve shifted the layout of the living room’s recliners and table, ensuring a clear path for him. You hadn’t touched the kitchen as of yet, wanting to hear his opinion. “You mentioned having an attic, right?” That question throws off your train of thought. “Oh, um, yes. It’s somewhat dusty since I haven’t had time to clean it yet…” “That’s fine,” he says. “Do you mind if I stay there?” Your eyes widen. You’re tempted to object since the attic is no place for anyone to sleep. But Tarren simply caresses your cheek and gives you a soft smile. It’s what he’s always done to reassure you. “I’ll be fine. I can even tidy it up for you. It’ll give me something to do after unpacking.” You shake your head, trying to speak. But Tarren doesn’t give you the chance. “I’ll come down later once I’m finished. Get some rest, alright?” He turns away, slowly carrying his trunk up the stairs. The doubts that began rooting themselves in your minds plunge deeper. You can only watch as he walks out of sight, listening as the attic’s hatch opens and closes. Part of you wants to follow after him and reach out. But the delicacy of the whole situation weighs heavily on you. Even as your stomach churns at the decision, you turn towards the kitchen to make lunch. Turning on the slow cooker and pouring in last night’s venison stew doesn’t require much effort. But it does give you more time with your thoughts, which slowly but surely, are veering towards the negative. A high-pitched beep from the pot’s timer refocuses your attention. “Is that lunch?” You jolt, nearly dropping the used ladle into the sink. Tarren shrinks away, looking at you with guilt-filled eyes. “S-sorry. I’m still unpacking, so I was hoping to take it upstairs.” You don’t want to exacerbate his remorse, so you quickly agree and provide him a spoon and a paper towel. He softly thanks you and retreats back upstairs, the sight leaving you unsettled. Little did you know this would be the norm for the next few days. You’d wish Tarren a good morning and a good night from the second floor when the time came. Then, you’d go about your daily tasks, including working from home on your laptop. The only time you’d see Tarren was when hunger or the need to bathe forced him from the attic. He’d always take his meal upstairs and go further up the pathway towards a nearby river to wash himself. Even then, sometimes you’d never catch him when he returned from outside. It’s no surprise that sleep became elusive during this time. You lie in bed on your back after a bout of tossing and turning. But it wasn’t due to any myriad of invasive sounds. No, it’s the discomfiting silence from the attic. The not-knowing; the growing distance between you and Tarren. Restlessness pulls at your limbs and you give into it, climbing to your feet. Your dry mouth could use some water anyway. You quietly take the stairs, being cautious of the areas prone to squeaking. It made witnessing the sight before the kitchen sink that much easier. Tarren sits facing the basin, his legs bent and his lower half flush against the wooden floor. The moonlight from outside reveals his claws carefully tugging at pieces of his loose exoskeleton. He hisses, his fangs becoming prominent as he lifts away the rigid covering. You only notice the lack of distance between you two once your hand touches his shoulder. Tarren startles, his wide eyes flitting up to you. They widen more as your vision blurs and waters. “Lovebug?” You slowly kneel by his side, taking in his presence but resisting the urge to embrace him. “You’re hurt,” you croak out. “No, no, dearest. I’m not hurt. Just uncomfortable. I’m....well…” He turns away from you to stare down at the leg he was tending to. “I-It’s time for my molting. It isn’t the most pleasant thing to see and I didn’t want to worry you…” You silently repeat the last few words of his explanation and suddenly, things click into place. Why he kept to himself mostly and didn’t appear before you except to tend to his most basic needs. Frustration and guilt grip at your chest but you realize you’re partially at fault for simply not talking. As Tarren keeps explaining himself, fear lacing into his expression, you wrap your arms around him and lean into his chest. He stutters out your name, tensing, but you hold tight and refuse to stay silent. “I didn’t want to force you to do anything because I thought it’d make you uncomfortable. But part of me also didn’t want you to see my bad habits, either. To regret...wanting to date me.” Tarren relaxes in your arms, releasing a long breath. His arms wind around you, drawing you closer. “I guess we both wanted to show each other our best sides,” he murmured. “But we ended up hurting each other, instead.” You sniff, feeling a few errant tears roll down your cheek. You look up at Tarren and he wipes at the growing wetness with the pad of his clawed thumb. “We did,” you say, “but we can fix that. Starting now and from now on, if you’ll let me.” A long pause. As his claws skim against the nape of your neck, making you shudder, Tarren nods. It takes three hours for you both to finish coaxing along the molting process. Once done, you both pack the old exoskeleton away in a large trash bag. Immediately after, you notice Tarren’s movements becoming sluggish with him barely able to keep his eyes open. Cupping his cheek, you murmur that you’ll be right back before bounding up the stairs and into the attic. True to his word, Tarren had cleaned up, leaving no traces of dust behind. You’ll have to thank him once he’s fully recovered. But for now, it’s important to tend to him. You grab the extra blankets and pillows kept in storage and toss them through the hatch before climbing down. With some maneuvering, you’re able to carry the pile down to the living room and set up a makeshift bed. It takes patience and shared leverage, but you both make it towards the bed and snuggle into the soft, plush pile. Tarren gathers the majority of the pillows to support his upper half while his lower rests flush against the ground. “Comfy?” you ask. “Yes, very.” His half lidded eyes take you in while his hand finds yours to intertwine your fingers with his. “I’m sorry for not explaining myself these past few days. I just...wanted you to still look at me like you are now.” “I am, too. Just know that I love you, Tarren and I want this to last. As long as you feel the same way.” “Oh Lovebug, how could I not?” The sleepy way his mouth slots against yours and his palps caress your skin tell you more than words could ever say. But the way he breathes “I love you, too” against your lips isn’t unwelcome. As sleep slowly claims you, you inch closer to your boyfriend as he nuzzles your hair. Tomorrow will bring a new day, the first of many that you know you will use to strengthen your relationship. Together. 

[tiredafmomwithnocoffee]

The writing is mine but the GIF is NOT!!! It was the inspiration for this little snippet.

The village elder had done his best to teach us the kind ways. The ways that would see peace rather than bloodshed. When we were ready he gave us a gift and we left our homes. We were never allowed to know what the gift was until it was our time to leave though. When my time finally came I walked in silence to the cave just outside the village. No one came with me, no one acknowledged that I was even in the street unless I approached them. They would move away ever so slightly but I took no heed. I did not understand the warning that they gave in their actions alone. I was to anxious about what gift the elder was going to give me. No one looked, no one spoke, no one moved as I entered the dwelling. Inside was well lit and the elder smiled in his usual grandfather like manner. He spoke with some sort of deep sorrow in his throat as if he were trying to hide it but could not. He then picked up a sword and handed it to me. To this day his voice still echoes in my memory, "it is dangerous to go alone. Take this. Though it is not a gift, but a curse, for there is no safety in a sword. I pray one day you will be able to forgive me young one."

I took the sword from him and in my hands I felt the weight of the metal but in my heart I felt the weight of one in mourning. I took my curse and I left home like so many before me.

It was many years before I returned to my birth place. I was no longer the child that went so foolishly into the world hoping for peace. I was a seasoned fighter that has bathed in the blood of my enemies, a fighter who has shed too many tears for lost innocence. I had learned to hate the curse given to me by my elder and yet as I grew closer to my village a sort of peace settled in my heart. I was not angry at my elder, for he had warned me of the deeds that might befall my path. I was angry that such actions had been needed more often than not. There was peace in the world and yet there was none. I walked up through the village and saw the aged faces of people I had once loved and loved still as friends, neighbors and family. I walked until my feet stopped at the door of the elders house. Before I had the chance to knock the door opened and the somber face of the elder came to greet me not as a member of the village but as a stranger. I looked at my sword and then him repeating the words that had stayed with me for so long, "it is dangerous to go alone."

His eyes were grave and he looked as if he expected me to strike him down. Instead I bowed my head to him in respect,

"I forgive you."