#some of that fake paper grass some presents have

[intotheelliwoods]

oh the urge to make and sell custom little 2al sticker sheets is so strong...

[deathbxnny]

Omg official first request I've made ever?

Okay so hear me out, Dragonkin Reader, Dragon of war at a point of time in the past who was best friends with Morax in ye olden days. Reader who use to drink Osmanthus wine with everyone and such, ended up in a marriage with the great Morax and over time things got shaky, when he faked his death and took the name Zhongli and decided that having a dragon partner with obvious features of Dragonkin isn't great for his whole Human(tm) brand he has going on so he just neglects the reader except for during meetings with Childe on occasion, and reader just so happens to befriend Childe who definitely has his eyes for the stunning dragonkin...and perhaps even challenges them to a spar in which Reader wins and he just falls over head in heels with them..and perhaps reader shows up soggy in the rain at the inn room he's in when Zhongli presented Divorce papers and essentially kicked them out 👀 or something of the sort. Extra angst extra forbidden(ish) romance 👀👀👀

-----

A/N: Why hello there! I am honoured to be the recepient of your request, dear definitely-a-stranger of mine! I love the idea, but have changed it maybe a little bit too much on accident, so I hope that you'll like it anyways!<33 Content: Mention of non-sexual nudity!!!, some light flirting, neglect, Zhongli being a bad husband (like in most of my writing for him-), some angst, emotional adultery???, hurt/kind of comfort, talks of divorce, Childe being a sly homewrecker, somewhat forbidden romance, romantic tension, characters might be ooc?? idk- Female reader, who has some dragon-like features! Word count: 2.2k ((Not proofread at all!!!))

-----

"Take a leap into the waters below with me, won't you?"

It was a cold and misty morning, when Ajax decided to take a nice swim in an uncharted lake he had found during his travels. It was close to the borders of Liyue city, hidden in a lush field of tall grass, and yet no map seemed to acknowledge it's existence. This intriuged him greatly, as not even locals seemed to be aware of it. And so, whenever the tempratures dropped, he ventured out for a quick dip in the cold water, a familiar tradition from back home. He trudged through the thick grass, his eyes narrowing against the mist. It was easy to miss the lake and so he was always very careful in looking for it, having even gone as far making a small pathway for himself.

A content smile pulled at his lips, when he finally saw the still surface of it in the distance, his steps speeding up, until he stood at the small part of the shoreline that wasn't covered in rocks. His boots came off first, then his shirt and jacket, then his pants. All unceremoniously thrown onto a nearby rock, right next to the foreign silken robes he hadn't seen in his eagerness to get in. Ignorant to what may linger below, he was quick to lower himself into the water, letting out a soft hiss at how cold it was.

Just like how it was back home.

He closed his eyes, muscles tensing and flexing, before they relaxed and his mind drifted into thoughtless dreams of work and his family. It was quiet and peaceful here... perhaps a little too unnaturally quiet. But his apparent fearlessness didn't allow him any doubt or worry. Every now and then, he'd hear the soft movement of the water in the subconsciousness of his mind, until it became a little too often and began near approaching him. He cracked a tired eye open, his arms crossed over his broad chest, as he tried seeing what the source of the sound was. was it a fish? Frog? ... A woman?

The young man gasped softly, his body straightening up in surprise, when he saw her carelessly step out of the water, goosebumps spreading across her body when the cold breeze hit her skin. He opened his mouth to perhaps apologise or question her... yet not a word was able to escape his lips. And she didn't seem to particularly acknowledge him either. Instead, she just now stood next to him, calmly looking off into the distance, before her head slowly turned to look down at him.

The silence was suffocating, but Ajax's mind was racing with millions of thoughts at once. He should be looking away from her nude form. He should get up and... No, he can't do that either, as he was in a similar state. Yet he seemed to have more shame than her. So instead, he could only blink in surprise, when he noticed the scales, horns and cat-like slitted, intense eyes. She was no human, he then determined. A siren maybe? Was she going to rip him apart with the sharp teeth he spied under her lips? Was she going to dig her sharp nails into his heart and take it for herself? Was she going to seduce him and drag him into the depths of the lake as punishment for being so careless? Ajax fidgeted nervously. At least she was beautiful, he supposed. Breathtaking, in a literal sense, if you will.

And yet, his creative imagination came to an end, when the woman finally spoke up, still so unbothered by it all. "It's been a while, since a human decided to lose it's way into my territory..." She hummed, before just stepping out of the water and collecting the robes the harbinger had ignored. "... Have any of them survived to tell the tale?" He asked, trying to retain some semblance of his composure, which seemed impossible in her presence. He heard a small huff, perhaps a chuckle. "Some, yes." She mused, but her voice was oddly devoid of any emotions. Or perhaps, human emotions.

Childe dared to look behind him then, his eyes catching as her bare shoulder disappeared under the silk. "I won't go down so easily, if you happen to be in a bad mood today then." The man near challenged, but he was only met with a slight turn of her head in his directon, as she halted her movements. "I doubt, that you'll ever be a match forme, even in a good mood." She replied, before slowly walking away, her hands gently brushing against the tall grass. But her words only ticked off Ajax's challenging nature, which made him swiftly stand and give her a slight grin. "Then fight me. I assume you are an ancient creature, one with great power. I'd appreciate the challenge-" "-Maybe next time." Was all she said, as her form merged with the mist and disappeared soundlessly. Childe stood in the still water for a while after, his breathing a little laboured from the excitement that had filled him from her words alone.

So much for relaxation...

--

He visited the lake often afterwards, in hopes of seeing the woman again. And every now and then, he'd be lucky enough to do so, even if she never agreed to a fight. Instead, he'd spend his time speaking to her, although that was a little difficult at first due to her reserved nature. Something that Ajax was eventually able to break through as well. He learned three things about her over the few weeks he had spent here. Her name was (Y/N), she was once an ancient, powerful dragon... and she is married, unfortunately. To who exactly however, she refused to say. Not that it mattered anyways, since childe's brewing, selfish jealousy only saw it as a challenge too, if anything. Especially when he learned that your dear husband wasn't very attentive to you in the first place.

"Say, wouldn't your husband get quite angry, if he saw his wife and a foreign man sitting in a lake together... naked?" He one day asked, loosely gesturing between the two of them lazily to empathise his point. But he had learned over time, that dragons didn't care about nudity all that much. They techincally usually didn't wear clothes anyways, right? (Y/N) seemed to have learned some human customs at least regarding that, but her lake, her rules, he supposed. "He forgets I'm there most of the time. I doubt he'll care now." She hummed, her body laying across the warm sand. It was a hot day, the sun shining down and reflecting against the lakes still surface. Ajax kept his eyes away from her, mainly out of odd embarrassment, that he usually couldn't care to feel. But she made him feel alot of similar emotions against his will anyways.

"How can he forget you? I certainly think about you all the time." "About me? Or the duel you are itching to have?" He simply grinned knowingly in response. It was both, ofcourse. "I guessed so... but I'll have to disappoint you once again, I'm afraid. There is a meeting I have to attend with my husband." She muttered, sighing as she sat up with a slight frown. Ajax raised a brow, a silent question she understood. "Appearances are important to him." "I see... but what about your...?" He trailed off, eyes daring steal a glance at her horns, that made her nod. "Yes, I hide them around him... or other people for that matter." "Ah, so, I'm special then?" He teased, making her huff and pull on her thin robe. "Perhaps in a way, you are... but then again, you are in my domain." She said, which made the man smirk a little. He'll take that for now.

She took her leave then, a small wave and bow of her head, before she disappeared in the tall grass. Ajax sighed to himself and sunk deeper into the water. He also had a meeting to get to... but for now, he'll stay in your domain to relax in your comfort, that even lingered in your absence.

--

"Perhaps I shouldn't have done that..." He cursed, when he was running late from falling asleep in the lake. He didn't know how it happened and was quite irritated at himself. This was a mess, but knowing him, he'd always find a way out of everything. So when he arrived at the restaurant, he put on his best, apologetic smile, as he went to greet the man. "Ahaha.... my apologies, Mr. Zhongli! Last minute work came up, that I had to take care of and..." His words trailed off, when his eyes found the familiar gaze of the dragonic woman. He gulped, when it all dawned on him... but then the confusion settled in. Why would such a powerful, ancient dragon be with a funeral consultant? Unless... he didn't know? Yes, that made alot of sense, especially when she looked so human-like now. Somehting that irked Ajax deep down, for some reason.

"That's alright, things happen." Zhongli hummed, ushering the man to take a seat, when he absently waved a hand into the direction of his near stoic wife. "I hope you don't mind my wife joining us for the evening?" He asked, making the harbinger clear his throat. "No, ofcourse not... it's an honour.." (Y/N) seemed less affected by the whole ordeal and so he decided to reel himself in as well and go ahead with the meeting. Every now and then, his eyes would find her calm form picking at her food or idly looking off at a nearby wall. He also quickly noticed how... indifferent Zhongli was to her.

His eyes never trailed to her breathtaking form in her fancy, silken robes. He never spoke a word to her, never asked for her opinion. It irritated Ajax. If she was his, he'd show her off, boast bout the strong, powerful wife he had at his side. He'd never allow her to hide her dragonic features either. She was to be worshipped, just like she told him she once was... but then again, Childe was selfish. He'd rather just worship her all on his own.

And by the end of the evening, it took all his strength to not rip her away from the other man's unworthy grasp. What did he have, that Ajax didn't? But all he could really do, was watch the two walk away, her eyes meeting his briefly, before she disappeared after her husband in the dense crowd.

--

"Even after a nice evening, you can't seem to acknowledge me, Morax." (Y/N) said, although she knew her word would just fall on deaf ears. Especially when she used his old name, actual name. "I don't expect much else from you however.... Would you like it, if I simply disappeared into the depths of my lake forever? Far away from any civilisation, forever alone?" More silence, as the man simply took off his coat and shoes. He only responded when she used that pathetic human name of his. But she'd be damned, before she allowed herself to sink that low. "I will warn you, that I will not be alone however. I have perhaps found someoneelse. Someone who appreciates the war and carnage of love much more than you ever could have."

Zhongli stopped in his tracks, his head tilting ever so slightly in her direction. He wouldn't even spare her a last glance it seemed. He had fully given up on his past and his wife of eons with it. "Then leave." "Very well, Morax." She saw his jaw clench, a last dig at revenge, the sound of a ring hitting the marble floor blending in with the door falling shut.

--

The moon was high up in the sky, by the time (Y/N) arrived at her lake. As expected, Ajax was already resting in it and for a while it seemed. "It's a little late for a swim, don't you think?" He asked, making the woman hum in response, as she shrugged her clothes off and walked past him into the lake, until it reached her hips. "Says who? I make the rules here." The man sat up, his head tilted back a little to laugh softly. "My, when did you get so sassy? Seems like I'm rubbing off on you." "Perhaps so... why are you here?" She finally asked the obvious question, that earned her a smirk. But it was a dangerous one. "It's not for a duel, for once." He mused, the message clear.

This type of burning love he felt was forbidden and perhaps for a good reason. A dragon and a human couldn't possibly be together, and then there was Zhongli, who he still assumed was just a mere human. People would call him a homewrecker, or maybe they'd dare to blame you. But alas... when was Childe ever the one to back down from anything? Especially when he wanted something? It was a risky, uncharted part of life for him... yet that alone seemed to have worked out for him before with this lake, right? "I see... then what is it?" She asked carefully, eyes narrowing a little, when he chuckled.

"I'd like to take a leap of faith." "A leap of faith?" "Yes." His answers were clear and confident, filled with an arrogance only he perhaps could have. But that intriuged the woman, who hummed and reluctantly held her hand out to him then; A final test.

"Then come... Take a leap into the waters below with me, won't you?"

"Challenge accepted."

-----

A/N: Alrighttt, my back hurts! And this took me about 3 hours to write... and I maybe went off the idea alot... BUT I know you'll appreciate it anyways. I hope everyone else enjoyed this too and thank you again for the request, dear!<33

[wooahaes]

the struggle of gift giving

pairing: non-idol!haruto x gn!reader

prompt: penguins

word count: 0.7k~

warnings: n/a just fluff tbh.

daisy’s notes: did you know i took a love language quiz and gift giving was 0% for me.

Haruto prided himself on not getting too invested in gifts. Except... this time, you’d wrapped his present in wrapping paper with penguins on it. And now he was dwelling on it more than he’d ever done in the past.

The thing about your friendship-turned-romance with Haruto was that he was used to your presents. Usually they were smaller things, due to being limited what was initially your allowance, but they were from the heart. With you attending university and having a part-time job, you’d been hinting that you’d save up to give him something more special now that you could afford to do so. He’d told you that you didn’t have to, but you’d merely smiled at him.

“You’re my boyfriend now, silly,” you’d said, “it’s law that I get you something extra nice.”

(You always knew how to make him smile with the cute way you said things. Or maybe it was just hearing you call him your boyfriend again.  Silly as it felt to say, he liked having that title.)

Just... why penguins? He’d watched you move about your kitchen, savoring a little time with you alone while your parents were at work (you’d tease him about the fact you had homework you needed to do, but he’d happily sit near you and watch you work if that was what you wanted--just being close to you was enough for him), and he tried to push his thoughts away from the present you’d gotten him.

Truthfully... he himself was cutting it pretty damn close. You hadn’t told him anything you wanted, and he’d been admittedly a little lost on what he could get you. The two of you had only started officially going out a few months ago, but this struggle had spanned your entire friendship, too.

“You’re quiet,” you mused aloud, still busy with making snacks for the two of you. “What’s wrong?”

He looked up. “Do you like penguins?”

That caught you off guard, and you turned to him. “What?” And then you shrugged, “I guess.”

“Oh.”

You continued with slicing fruit. “I just think they’re cute,” you said. “Like you.”

Despite what some people thought, Haruto would grow speechless easily when you dropped comments so casually into your conversations. Calling him handsome and cute and all the sweet things you saved for him... he’d always look away, face growing warmer at the way you treated it as fact. Like saying the sky was blue or that grass was traditionally green: Haruto was cute, handsome, etc... and that was just your truth.

“I’m not telling you what I got you,” you said. “You can wait.”

Haruto sighed. “Then tell me what you want.”

“I told you already,” you said, “I don’t need anything. I just like giving people things.”

“That isn’t fair,” he said. “What if I want to get you something nice?”

“I’ll be happy with anything you get me,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek as you came over with a plate of snacks. But you heard the way his phone chimed with a text from his mom, asking if he could bring something home to help with dinner. He watched the way you frowned, already knowing. “Are you leaving?”

He pulled you into his arms. “You can call me after I get home,” he said. Yet he stood there, just holding you in his arms an extra moment.

“Ah... You’re sappy sometimes,” you fake complained from his embrace, but he could feel the way you squeezed him extra tight. You quickly pressed a peck against his lips. “Tell your mom I said hi,” you giggled, and then pulled away from him.

He left your home soon enough, making his way down the street. He’d pick up eggs at a store closer to his house rather than risk breaking them on the journey home. In the meantime, he’d maybe take a little time to window shop. You always liked when the two of you could match in little ways, sure, and he’d been thinking about getting rings for the two of you since you expressed thinking that was cute...

Then he stopped, seeing two penguin-shaped water bottles within a store window. One was red and the other was black. Sure, they were small, but the two of you would be matching...

Haruto immediately head into the store to buy a pair, smiling to himself as the cashier bagged his purchase for him. Now he just needed to find his own penguin wrapping paper for the box... just to see your cute smile when you saw it.

taglist: @twancingyunhao​

[yuzuwakano]

Kiyora Jin didn't talk to people, it wasn't his forte. In his time in Blue Lock he hadn't managed to meet anyone he would really call a friend. There were a few that got close, but seeing them with their real friends, it was obvious he wasn't one of them. So now, standing at the bus stop at a random parking lot waiting for his parents to pick him up, he stood a safe distance away from the others. The sun was going down, and was starting to burn his eyes but still, with the crowd that was under the shaded area, Jin stayed standing. 

Some of the Blue Lockers had opted to walk to a local train station and others managed to be close enough to walk, but as time went on, one after another cars pulled up. Parents wrapped their kids in hugs and pulled their luggage into the trunk, some waited around, meeting some of their kids' friends and chatting with Anri and other parents. 

Suddenly, off in the distance he heard it. Alanis Morrisette’s Jagged Little Pill. His moms favorite album of all time. It was far, around the corner somewhere, but not once in his 17 years did he ever think he'd be grateful to hear the white woman's confusing lyrics being belted at the top of his mothers lungs. Looking around it looked like the others had heard it too, glancing in the direction and then back to their conversation when they didn't see anything. It took a moment but finally his family's van turned the corner, windows down, blaring the music that he had hated for the last 15 years of his life. Jin let out a sigh of relief upon seeing his parents' faces through the front window. 

Any relief he had though, vanished as soon as the car got closer and his older brother rolled down the backseat window, and started leaning out, hands gripping on the door. “WOAH! Jin I knew ‘ya were a queer, but a whole 3 months with nothin’ but men?! Was ‘ya all dudes school not enough?!” His brother let out a fit of laughs upon seeing his younger brother's embarrassed face, falling back in his seat as his mother scolded him. The car wrapped around the lot again before parking in front of him, why couldn't you do that the first time? The passenger's seat door flew open and his mother practically jumped out, dontdoitdontdoitdontdoit, “Jin-bear!” his mother pulled him into a hug squeezing him so tightly his arms hurt when she pulled away. He could feel the other Blue Lockers staring but he didn't dare look to see if it was them making fun of him or not. 

Anri swiftly got his mother away to sign some paper and tell her about when Jin would have to be back and Jin watched in horror as his older brother got out of the backseat. Mocking his mothers stance he stood arms open with a fake pout on his face, “Jin-bear!” As fast as it had come, the pout was replaced with a mischievous grin as he darted forward. Jin had attempted to run, successfully turning around but his brother had already wrapped an arm around him, locking him in a headlock and rubbing his knuckles into his hair. Suddenly his younger brother was in front of him punching into his stomach spewing some line from an anime he had been watching. He couldn't fight much against his older brother, but his younger brother was a piece of cake. 

“You little-” Jin's arms reached out in front of him grabbing his younger brother's head on both sides. “Air control! Engine down! Emergency landing!” He gave his brother just enough time to react, a confused “what?” before he started making airplane noises and forcing his brother's head to the side and eventually pushing him down and onto the grass. 

“Oh! Ho-ho-ho! Jin-bear got strong! What? Ya tired of the other kids ruffing ya up? Here” his older brother, Sakusa, let him go and presented himself in front of him. “Punch me in the stomach!” 

Smiling, Jin backed up then threw his fist into his brother's gut as hard as he could, praying that his time in Blue Lock had given him a noticeable difference, and it had. Sakusa yelled out in pain, folding forward holding his gut, “Ahh… Fuck… You…”  

Jin and Hiro, Jin's younger brother who was still laying in the grass, laughed at him. “That's what ya get for tearing my homework!” Hiro shouted, finally getting up. 

If they weren't before the other Blue Lockers were definitely staring now. What a sight, the one kid that hadn’t spoken more than 2 words for the whole program, hand smiled the whole time, and definitely hadn't laughed was roughhousing with his brothers and laughing his ass off while doing it. What a sight. 

Finally turning he heard his mother say something along the lines of “boys will be boys,” with Anri nodding along. Hearing the trunk close he realized his father had managed to put his bags in the trunk while he was beating up his brothers, “Boys! That's Enough! Get in!” 

Piling in, Jin didn't bother looking back at the group, at least not after seeing the bag of snacks waiting for him in the back seat. He didn't care about any of them really, not in the way he cared for the bag of gummy bears and grape lollipops that were waiting to be eaten. With his mother waving goodbye to Anri, they pulled into drive before jin had managed to put his seatbelt on, although with how tight he was squeezed between Sakusa and Hiros' carseat it didn't make much of a difference. 

“Jin, what do you want for dinner?” his father looked back at him in their rearview mirror. “Mcdonalds!” his older brother answered for him. “Jin,” his father repeated with more emphasis, “what do you want for dinner?” 

“Jin, say Mcdonalds.”

“Taco Bell.” 

“You are not being serious.” 

“Taco Bell it is!” 

“You are not being serious! Last time I got Taco Bell I barfed!” 

Jin smiled and popped a gummy bear into his mouth, “lick it up,” earning a “you disgust me” from Sakusa. 

As the drive went on Jin found himself happy that he was home, not physically, of course but with his family. The only people he let in. As he lied to Hiro about how they taze you if you made a mistake and kill you if you lost a memory popped into his head. All the times Sakusa lied to him as a kid, telling him about his grandparents house being haunted and the school having a secret floor, and all the times Sakusa didn't lie, like telling him what ���a big farm far away” really meant for their dog. And the one time Sakusa had a heart to heart with him before he left for College, half apologizing as he sat on Jin's bed, but following it up with “it's what brothers do.” 

thank you for reading! :D i hope you enjoyed!

[inbabylontheywept]

My Bishop called me to be a teacher when I was 19, knowing I didn’t believe Joseph Smith was a prophet. He said he was trusting me not to betray the trust of my student's parents by directly teaching anything they’d disagree with. When I asked what to do if I strongly disagreed with the lesson, he said I had permission to replace it with a different one.

(He got called to be a mission President a year after that - when he got home it was the first time I'd attended church in since he left. I still call him my Bishop. He was, and remains, a great man.)

Anyway, it was the BoM year, so the number of lessons I skipped was non-trivial. I think I repeated the 3rd Nephi, Chapter 17 lesson alone at least six times to avoid some of the dumber ones. Sometimes the kids just wanted to play outside so we’d sneak some of the teaching aids out of the library (mostly fake crowns and other costume gear) and go to the grass. I’d tell them we were reenacting BoM scenes, but it was always just silliness. The boys loved it when I joined their stick battles and they could all gang up on me and chase me around the lawn, and the girls liked when I joined their dramas. Especially murder mysteries. They’d present me with some sort of weird 8 year old parking lot jungle juice in a paper cup, and I’d take a small sip and then spend a minute or two “dying” from poison. Sometimes I barely had to fake it. I'm pretty sure they gave me straight gasoline once.

There was a set of fraternal twins in that group, a brother and a sister, and one day the boy asked why I wasn't on a mission yet. I told him I didn't know how to answer that, and he apologized, and I told him you have nothing to apologize for. His sister looked appalled as soon as he brought it up (mission stuff is a huge Mormon taboo) but when the day was ending, she stayed behind to help me fold chairs. And when that was done she asked if she'd see me in heaven.

And it struck me how much it must have been worrying her, for her to stay late and to overcome the taboo of asking. So I told her I would do my best, and she said that had to be enough, and I gave her a hug and walked her to parents, then got behind the wheel of my ridiculous half-spackle car and bawled like a little kid. I cried so hard my shoulders hurt. Then I went to the gas station and got a hotdog.

The people making these policies aren't afraid that the kids are going to be confused. They're afraid that they won't be. That they'll look up at you, and love you, and tell you that whatever you're doing has to be enough. They're afraid that if you helped their kids be happy and live a good life, those kids would love you, and then they would have to love you too. And so to keep their hatred safe, they throw you and what you could offer their kids away. It is cowardly, and selfish, and so sickening that it is hard to look at.

And in the end, all I could do was stop looking.

I am so sorry.

“Well, it would confuse the kids if trans people were teachers.”

You know what else is confusing? Being told my entire life that I would be exclusively attracted to men when in fact I am a raging queer. And you’re not giving kids enough credit, if they can handle topics like ‘you have a set of earthly parents and a set of Heavenly Parents and both are real parents to you’ then they should understand the concept of being trans.

Also, I’m not sure if they’ll care. God knows me and my friends were only in primary for the songs and the fruit snacks.

[21burritoseavey]

heaven on earth - harry styles imagine

a/n: I hope you enjoy this little imagine:)

summary: you and harry have some icecream at the park. 

In the shade of a large, blooming tree, you lay on the grass, legs draped lazily on the picnic blanket and hands resting under your head as you waited for Harry to come back with your ice cream. The distant melody of the icecream truck floated in the fresh air as gusts of wind stirred around you. 

“I’m back,” you saw him walking back towards your spot out of the corner of your eye, and pushed yourself up to sit, smoothing the messy tendrils on the top of your head. “I didn’t know which flavour you wanted so I got a couple different ones, and we can share.” he smiled, regarding the two paper ice cream cups held in both hands. He let out a gentle sigh as he sat back down on the picnic blanket. 

“Thanks, m’love,” You took the small ice cream cup from him, cradling your hands around it so the icy temperature could cool your hands in the hot summer atmosphere. Harry kissed you once in reply before tucking himself back in your arms again, lolling his head back against your chest and flicking down the bridge of his sunglasses. 

The spirit of summer was ever-present during the day and spending your time at the park was a common occurrence; an easy sliver of serenity amidst everything else you had to deal with in life. 

“Wanna try some of my cookie dough,” You felt Harry nod underneath you, and scooped a spoonful for him, watching his mouth twist and eyes close as he hummed in content.

“This is heaven on earth,” you commented quietly, dipping your plastic spoon for a taste of vanilla with your gaze onward. 

“Is it ‘cause I’m here” Harry retorted calmly, earning himself a confused pair of furrowed eyebrows staring down at him. Harry caught your glare over the frame of his glasses and continued, giggling, “I’m an angel,” 

You scoffed in fake offence, then allowed a smirk to pull up one side of your mouth. “I’m the angel, thank you very much,” you said, emphasising the last word before plopping a spoonful of ice cream into your mouth. 

Harry only silently admired you while he leaned against your chest, ankles crossed lavishly upon the warm chequered blanket and skin sun kissed from above.

Harry lifted his hand up to your face, and before you could swat it away, thinking he was trying to snatch your spoon for more of your icecream, he caressed your warm cheek, speaking softly, “You’re my angel,” 

taglist: @nichmeddar​ @unitersmoonshine​ @one-sweet-gubler​​  @tenaciousperfectionunknown​​ @kaitieskidmore1​​ @wylan-sunshine-fahey

join my taglist!

[subwaysurf45]

Winter Makes Ice (Ep.5)

Summary:  you’re captured after a brawl at the Avengers building, Bucky and others must save you before Hydra makes a new Winter Soldier out of you, Bucky has given up that title.

Words: 4344

Episode: five

Warning: violence, nudity, needles, descriptions of injury

Masterlist! Winter Makes Ice Episode: Four

Time: unknown

Date: unknown

You knew they had full control over you. There was nothing you could do even though you were conscious all the time, your body did what they wanted but your brain screamed against it. There were times where they’d ask you to do the impossible, they’d make you climb the tallest tree in the forest that surrounded the building and then make you jump down without anything to catch you, you’d land and your ankle would break; the worst was when they told you to break it back in place. 

It was like you were sat in a large chair as you watched your life unfold in the cell, your wrists were strapped to this imaginary chair so you couldn’t reach out to block the punch, ankles were clasped so you couldn’t run away. You never became lucid, it was always you watching through the shell of your body. Crying yourself to sleep wasn’t an option, you weren’t allowed to cry, or laugh, or scream, or smile; you were dead on the outside. The feeling of control was so close but yet so far away. 

There was a moment, just a moment. More I.C.E. had just been injected as you hung from the cuff restraints, you swung lightly as you dangled there. The cell door closed and the silence you were left with was getting louder by the second, your brain starting to pound like it always did and right at the back of your head near the bottom began to pulse, like you were being stabbed. The pain, hunger, exhaustion built up until that one moment, your eyes were slowly closing but as they closed you could see something right in front of you, something was moving. You couldn’t reach out to touch it because you were chained but as you crossed your eyes all you saw was a little black thing slightly swinging with you. 

It was the tip of your nose. 

Your fingers had also begun to blacken, it was about to hit your first knuckle. 

That was when you let the control fully go to the I.C.E. flowing in your veins, the power to keep yourself above water was only getting more and more tiring. No one had tried to save you so they probably were never going to come. Part of you thought Bucky would be there in less than a day, he’d break walls and towers for you, but it might have just been words to make you think he loved you, just sounds put together as a fake. 

Time: 6:10am

Date: October 3rd 2024

“Darling, It’s me, It’s Bucky, you’re safe now.” Bucky spoke softly, he flickered between your eyes and nose. You didn’t say anything, just looked right through him. “I will not fight you, but we need to get out of here, we have to go.” He urged, right when he finished talking you stepped forward, he was shocked to see you move, it was rigid and robotic. “Baby, explain what’s going on, please baby?” Bucky stepped forward and reached out, his hand lightly touched your shoulder but he studied your face as he did so. Your nose would have scrunched up but with the lack of that it was just your eyebrows that pulled together. Bucky looked around the room to try and find any sign of how to get you out of your trance; the papers he flicked through were now getting thoroughly read through. All you did was stare at him, waiting for a command. 

“Bucky, it’s all clear down here, some got away though,” Steve breathed heavily as he spoke through the coms. “There's this guy who looked to be the head and he got away, didn’t get a good look at him.” 

Bucky turned to you, “who’s the leader here?”

“No one gave their name.” You answer quickly. 

“What did he look like?” Bucky left the papers and walked to you, he grabbed a lab coat on the way to cover your scared and naked body. 

“Slick black hair. Black eyes. Heart shaped face. No facial hair. Slit through his left eyebrow. Hydra ring on his finger.” Your eyes closed as you computed the man who poured the ice water on you multiple times. “Height: six foot. Weight: around one eighty. Scars, markings, tattoos: none.” Bucky watched you in shock, “any other specifics, James?” 

“N-no, well done.” He nodded and threw the coat around you, “we’re going to leave now, okay?” Bucky took your hand and led you toward the door. 

Your feet tread silently while Bucky’s combat boots echoed three times down the grey hallway, it scared you every time he’d step. With every loud sound came a hard punch, it was a way for you to brace yourself when they’d catch you talking about your past life. As you walked closer to the doors your fingers found their way to the walls, still grey like the floor but clean, the floor was covered in dead bodies and blood from the invasion. 

The doctors and agents you knew were slumped over against the wall or splayed out in the middle of the hallways, some people’s blood had congealed while others still created a larger pool around the Hydra operatives. The smell of death didn’t read on your face but it did on Bucky’s, the smell of the inside of your cell just carried out here it seemed like. You were unaware of your smell, part of you thought it was the lack of nose but the other knew it was the lack of fresh air and being surrounded by copious amounts of blood. 

“Where to, Sergeant Barnes?” the feeling of someone holding your hand was foreign, his thumb kept swiping back and forth.

“Call me Bucky,” he looked back with sorrow in his eyes. You stopped walking and lowered your head, “what are you doing?” he asked. 

“Waiting for punishment,” you spoke softly, knowing they went easier on you if you knew you messed up. There’d be times where you’d push your luck and stare them down but once you grew tired of being tough you head would bow and you waited for the strike, it was now a reaction to any type of dissatisfactory.

“No, no punishment anymore,” his eyes filled with tears and he brought you under his arms, his lips kissed the crown of your head as he opened the doors. He kept you under his arm as he opened them, metal arm gripping right on your forearm. 

The sun was barely meeting the surface and yet you had to squint to adjust, everything had a hue of red. The grass felt foreign under your bare feet as you stepped off the tiles and into nature, your toes gripped the leaves and grass as they walked. Your lungs felt like they were about to explode with the intake of fresh air, your nose could still work but it was slightly harder to breathe, the cool wind blew into your mouth and gripped the back of your throat which made you double over to the cough. Your knee popped out of the front slit on the closed lab coat, you were used to feeling naked and vulnerable; Bucky was the one to close it again. 

Steve, Wanda, and Nat all stood by the jet.

Wanda screamed your name and ran up to you, her arms pulled you into a tight hug but you curled in and waited for the strike. She pulled away and the feeling of rigidness, “y/n?” She questioned, her hand coming to cup your cheek but you stepped back and held your hand up for protection. Wanda brought her hands into her chest, she looked between Bucky and you but Bucky just shook his head with a few tear tracks present on his face; Wanda was beginning to develop her own after she looked back at you before turning away. 

You didn’t really know why everyone was crying, “Scarlet Witch, Wanda Maximof.” your head slightly bowed, you looked over her to see the others behind her shoulder, “Captain Steve Rogers and Natasha Rominoff, a pleasure.” Their faces seemed worried and Nat looked disgusted, she brought her hand to cover her mouth as she walked up the steps to the jet. 

Wanda got your attention again, “hello, we’re going to take you home, alright?” Wanda took your hand, “do you remember me?” 

“From?” was all you said as you made it into the jet. Wanda covered sob with her hand as she turned away from you to sit beside Nat, she was also crying.

Steve didn’t even look at you, he walked straight to Bucky. Steve caught him right as Bucky’s knees were buckling, Bucky caught onto Steve and they both slowly made it to the ground. It seemed like they guided each other, both holding onto one another for dear life. It was a common understanding, grief was written on both of them. 

“She’s fucking gone, Steve!” Bucky cried into Steve’s uniform, the blue turning navy with the tears. “She called me James! She doesn’t know who I am, I can't- I don know- what did they-”

“Bucky, it’s alright,” Steve calmed him as Bucky began to hyperventilate, “we’re going to get her back, I promise.” Steve gripped onto Bucky’s shoulders and they both stood, a little wobbly but both were extremely tired and light headed. “I’ll handle everything,” they walked to the jet, “just be there for her and I figure everything else out, alright?” Steve made Bucky look at him. 

“Sure…” was all Bucky could muster. 

They all made it to the jet, you were placed in a room off to the right. Bucky went right in there to see you curled on the ground when there was an examination table in the middle of the room, he kneeled beside you and ghosted a hand down your shin to try and get your attention. 

“It’s Bucky, let’s sit up on the table, okay?” Bucky eased but you didn’t move, his eyes closed as he fought with himself. He didn’t want to abuse your injected substance, but he really needed you on the exam table to check your wounds. “On the exam table.” he didn’t speak harshly or yell, it was just Bucky’s normal tone. 

You shot up instantly and sat on the edge of the table, your legs hung off it and the lab coat was forgotten, it was still around you but it seemed you were told to be naked so often it became second nature. Bucky turned toward you and stood between your legs so he could get a good look at you, he could tell you were staring deep into his eyes, he didn’t want to look in yours yet, he wanted to look you deep in the eyes and have you pull him in for a kiss, maybe it was selfish but he needed it. 

“I’m going to do something called a head-to-toe check,” he informed but he knew you knew what this was. He slipped on the disposable gloves, “I know you have cuts and scars but I need to find active bleeding first, alright?” Bucky held up his hands to show nothing was on the gloves. “Tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable.”

“Nothing is-”

“That’s an order.” Bucky added, “I’m commanding you to tell me if you don’t want me touching somewhere,” he knew he had checked you, there might be a way you could find a loophole in his command and get him further from a checkmate but he was making progress. 

His hands gently tapped all around you, he was asking questions as he did so but you didn’t answer any of them. You were now looking straight forward, when Bucky looked to your face for any sign of his girl you’d give no hints or answer. His hands worked down to your chest, he hesitated over your breasts but you gave no indication that you were uncomfortable, when he looked for bumps, bruises, or blood he didn’t find much, just scratch marks that looked old. He did the same when he hit your waist, not a lot of touching but looking, it wasn’t thorough but he knew you wouldn’t say anything and he might trigger you again. 

His gloves weren’t picking up much, most cuts were partly healed and the bruises were very noticeable. Part of a head-to-toe check is seeing how the victim reacts to the pressure, if you tap their stomach and they flinch it could be internal bleeding or a broken rib, but you weren’t giving any sign of hurt. He knew you could feel the broken bones and the bruises but you would never tell him in the mindset you’re in. he watched for little twitches in the eye or some type of pull away from him wherever he touched, Bucky wanted to reach in and find your brain so that you could tell him what hurts; he wanted to help you so bad. 

“Do you know how long you’ve been gone?” Bucky asked as he picked up your left leg, turning and examining it. He found a deep red mark on the edge of a purple bruise on your ankle, there was the exact same one on the other and on your wrists. He pushed away your hair and moved the lab coat back to find a massive bruise with cuts all around your neck, it was impeccable your vocal chords weren’t fried after being put in that cuff contraption. 

“Gone from where?” you asked robotically, you didn’t even look at him. 

Bucky was taken back by your answer, he stumbled with his hands as he switched legs. “F-from home, y/n. Shield, home?” 

“Hydra is my home, it was where I was created.” your head turned to allow your eyes to lock with Bucky’s. 

Part of him wanted to scream and shake your head so hard it might knock a memory back in place, he wanted to tell you of your story and how you both grew. Bucky wanted to tell you about the drawings you do with Steve or the boxing in the early mornings, he wanted to overflow you with emotions but he knew they’d hit a brick wall. 

Bucky finished his exam but he needed to keep you for himself for a little longer, he pretended to check your pupils and pulse three more times but all he wanted was to feel the warmth of your skin. His eyes would catch the tip of your nose swinging as he moved you slightly, he had an entire set of questions just for that. But he just kept looking at you for no reason. He’d ask if you’re cold and you’d say no, he’d ask if you were hungry and you’d say no. he’d ask if you were thirsty, you’d say no. 

So he stopped asking, “drink this water.” He pulled the little water bottle from the back of his belt loop, the little tear drop shaped bottle fit perfectly in her hands. 

You grasped the frosted bottle, it seemed familiar to you. You never got water in your cell, you’d have to suck on the floor after the doctor left; they’d always wake you up by dumping ice water on your head. Calloused fingers gripped and felt the bottle, something was happening in your brain that you couldn't quite understand, you were feeling something deep within you. 

“Drink.” Bucky said again. 

“Wait,” you whispered, all you saw was black form shutting your eyes so tight. You didn’t see Bucky’s face as he waited to see if this water bottle would trigger something from right before you were taken, this was the water bottle you had introduced to the group. 

A picture was unfolding in your head, it was a big room with people all around. There was a couch that some were sitting on while one stood in front of them, the one standing was smiling. The people on the couch were leaned in to listen, some held their chin in their hand as they too, were also smiling. The little bottle of water you were holding was also in this picture, the one standing seemed to be presenting it like a game show host, showing it off as if it was new. The picture began to move and the people standing took a seat next to another person, they cuddled close and began whispering to each other with iggles in between. A pen made its way across the couch and ended up at the two who looked like a couple, one wrote a heart next to their name while the other did it normally. 

Your eyes shot open at the sound of the pop, you were squeezing the bottle so hard it exploded. Your eyes frantically searched around and when they landed on the other set of eyes in the room you lunged for a hug. 

“Bucky!” you screamed, “thank you!” You wrapped your arms around him so tight. Bucky hesitated before clinging to you like a life source, “I thought it would’ve taken you longer,” you sighed into his touch. 

“We left you there for too long,” Bucky whispered, his face his deep in your neck.

You pulled away with tears in your eyes, you looked to him but he kept looking down, “is there something on my nose?” you asked, Bucky was looking between your eyes and nose. Your finger went to touch but pulled away at the feeling of something dangling, “what is that?” you screamed and felt it again. 

“It’s the injection side effect, I think.” Bucky added he felt around your face to try and see if you were actually real or if this was some sick joke Wanda was playing on him. 

“What injection? They just took my blood once so far,” you shrugged and felt the back on your head, “there was a scab there before, it hurts like crazy, like a pulsing thing.'' You brought your other hand back to try and find that scab you felt what seemed like hours ago. Your hair felt dirtier than the last time you remembered, it was one big clump when you moved it.

“Sit down.” Bucky said, you moved back on the seat without a second thought.

With wide eyes you looked up to Bucky, “I didn’t want to sit...Bucky what did you do?” you asked, it looked like you were glued there as you tried to get off. 

“What day is it?” Bucky asked cautiously, his hands coming back to cup your face. 

“September twenty third, I didn’t hit my head it’s not a con-”

“It's October third.” Bucky breathed out, “oh my god…” he whispered and pulled you into another hug, he gently rubbed your back as you stayed rigid in his hold. 

The plane began to drop and Bucky knew it was just landing but with everything rushing against you like a title wave it felt like the plane was crashing. Bucky held you tight as you slashed around in his grip, pleads to any higher power you could think of to keep you alive didn’t seem to work. The plane froze and you stayed gripped to Bucky, he brought you out of the medical room. The three others just looked at you, not wanting to get their hopes up. But when you ran over to them and asked what day it was they seemed to be more disappointed, they just pulled you in for a hug and tried to calm you down like Bucky did. 

All at once medical staff open the jet doors, people rushing to you and you. Bucky was trying to cut through the crowd to get to you but medical staff were getting in the way and holding him back, he could see your frantic search for him. 

“You’re gonna trigger her, s-stop, this isn’t-”

A medical staff member flew back and knocked a few others over, everyone began to calm down and slow their moments. You were right over the person you pushed trying to help them up, apologizing profusely, they kept moving back and away from you. 

“Y-you were holding a needle, I’m sorry.” you eased. 

“Sedate her!” another yelled. 

You ran down and out of the jet to try and get away from the many needles that, what seemed like, every medical member was holding. There was just noise surrounding you, vision began to tunnel right when the pounding in your ears began, at the back of your head there seemed to be a knife stabbing you. 

“Get a gurney!” the voice cut through the shouts and chasing. 

Everything stopped and you froze from your worried state to complete your mission, someone ordered you to find a gurney, you must complete it. There was one waiting outside, you walked over with your back straight and your chin up. There was no need to look behind you shoulder but you did so anyway to make sure no threats were also in need of the gurney, everyone behind you was just still and watched you. This must be a test, after that realization you did everything quickly and efficiently to avoid punishment. 

When you brought the gurney to the voice who shouted it they told you to get on as well, Bucky was by your side and offering an arm to help get on but you didn’t take it. People were shouting orders to one another and you kept trying to get up to fulfill the command but Bucky kept holding you down. Some medical staff were trying to shove him away but he stood his ground and kept a hand holding you.

“Why do I keep wanting to do all these things?” you frantically aske as you tried to stand again.

“I’ll explain later, don’t worry,” he squeezed your hand as you made it into your exam room. Hands felt all around you, the lab coat was long forgotten so you sat on the table naked. Bucky was right against the wall and kept an eye on you, though your brain was next to scrambled eggs he could still read you like a book.

“We need to take some blood, might also need to give something to sedate her.” it was, what looked like, the head of this team that spoke.

Another picture flashed before your eyes. The needles and this blue liquid that went into you. Bucky had told you something called ‘ice’ but you didn’t know what that meant. Blood would be taken from you then without you looking, they would stick whatever serum Bucky was talking about in your arm. Voices and sounds rushed into your head as these pictures moved and changed to show that you weren’t there for as long as you thought you were, in your mind a different doctor repeated the same motions over and over and over again. You were covered in water and somebody was talking over you from inside of the cell, their voice seemed as though they too were underwater so you couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but one part stood out. They were saying how they did this all without you noticing, how you were too confident, how you were strong and yet you’d look away from the needles when they were stuck into your arm. 

All of these people who you failed to remember that were surrounding you now, all had needles and some had already taken your blood, but you were going to be cautious now, you were going to be aware because you didn’t want to forget everything again. Before anyone could stick anything else in you, your arms flew out to the side and gripped as many syringes as you could, they were smashed to the ground and the clear liquid spilled and dripped on the floor. People were beginning to hold you down but you broke free from their dead grass pushing away the velcro straps that were about to go around your ankles and wrists.

Someone managed to get a strap on your left ankle without you noticing, that sensation of being cuffed made another picture float in your mind. It was a large metal contraption with silver Cuban links and five cuffs, two around your wrists, two around your ankles, and the final one went around your neck. Once they were all attached to you, you were suspended in the air as your entire body weight was being held up by your limbs and neck, even though only one bound was attached to you now, you could still feel the weight of all of it crashing back onto you. 

With one large tug the Velcro cuff snapped, you tried to get up and off the table to run to Bucky, he was the only one left in the room that you knew and trusted. He was also trying to make his way to you simultaneously, reading the fear etched deep into your eyes. No medical staff was trying to hold him back so he ripped through all of them and got to you quickly, you couldn’t really hear what he was saying because the pounding in your head that was pinpointed right at the back of your neck was starting to pound into your ears. But you could make out his lips that were moving, you can remember faintly kissing them, the feeling was on the tip of your tongue but you couldn’t quite make out what it really felt like. He was telling you it was going to be okay, at one point he said that you could sleep now and that he’d be there when you wake up, you really didn’t want to trust him but you were so tired and your head hurt so bad.

You didn’t even see or feel the syringe plunge deep into the crook of your neck as he held your face and made your eyes look right into his.

Winter Makes Ice tag list: @small-death-and-codeine​ @commonintrest​ @buckyys-doll​  @lil-baby-nor 

let me know if you want a tag!!!

[luminois]

— 𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧;

𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝐰: 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐲, 𝐧𝐨𝐧-𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠.

𝟏𝟕𝟖𝟓 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬, 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

looking down through the hole in the clouds, your wings fluttered in excitement and trepidation. the white feathers caressed your arms as they closed in on themselves, hugging your figure reassuringly.

you could see the whole world from above, magnificent and so far away. you hadn’t been an angel for long, and the memories of your past life were still present in your mind. they were nothing more than specks of light, little presents from the past that made you smile. someone laughing, a farm, the taste of freshly picked grapes, naked feet running on the grass. you had lived surrounded by animals and wheat fields, simple tasks filling up sunny days. you’d been happy, that’s what the memories suggested, and you were happy now. you didn’t know what you’d done to earn eternity, but you knew you wanted to help others reach it too.

an archangel, in his luminescent beauty, was calling the names of the angels huddled around the cavity. every time one of them got closer to the archangel, the world became bigger and bigger until only one, specific place on earth was visible. that was where the angel was being sent to, where a great amount of humans had lost themselves to sin and were in need of an angel to bring them back to the right path. you had waited for decades to be sent on earth, and now the moment had finally arrived.

the archangel called your name and you went, light on your feet, the golden path cold under them. everything in paradise was chilly, made of glass and crystal and precious metals, breathtakingly perfect. you’d always found it somewhat unsettling, how everything seemed so easy to break and nobody ever tried to. would a swift move of your hand or just a little more pressure shatter what had been there forever? you were convinced the answer was yes, and the idea of being the first was fascinating, even if you’d never act upon it. you wondered.

the place you were going to was nothing more than a town. it had been the perfect place to live until the residents had started to be uncaring of the things around them, and now it had become dirty and unpleasant. litter filled the streets, graffiti ruined every wall and many shops had closed down, now only displaying shattered windows.

“the devil has found his way to these poor souls’ hearts,” the archangel said. his voice sounded like it didn’t come from him, like it was resonating in your own head. “they’ve lost their path. the greatest of gifts is a lighthouse in the dark, tumultuous sea. go and be their light, and they will be grateful for eternity.”

the archangel leaned down to kiss your hair, and when you opened your eyes again your wings were gone, and you weren’t cold anymore.

“i can’t thank you enough, sweetie. you’re an angel.”

you smiled as you handed the paper bag filled with freshly made bread over the bakery’s counter. the elderly man with teary eyes was a regular, and one of your favorite people in town. the darkness hadn’t reached his soul directly, he was too good hearted, but he’d been greatly affected by everyone’s wrongdoings. his share of bread was always on the house.

“i’m really not, sir,” you said, “knowing i’m being of help is a pleasure.”

the man showed his almost toothless smile and left, leaving you alone to rest against the counter, taking a breath before going to check the pastries cooking in the oven. being a human was exhausting, even if it was just play-pretend. you now had to sleep and eat and you were often tired, concepts unknown to otherworldly creatures.

it had been a little over the human equivalent of a month since you’d reached earth. you didn’t know how much had passed in paradise, years maybe, the working of time wasn’t a topic you were interested in. your time was infinite, the one thing you didn’t have to worry about.

you’d had to make up a story, explaining who you were and why you’d suddenly appeared out of thin air. like almost every other shop in town, the bakery had been abandoned when you first arrived, so you fixed it up and became a young girl starting a small business in a lovely town. or the remnants of it, that is.

behind the facade of the bakery, your true job was to make things better, and you could confidently say it was going well. the mayor was a corrupt, money-hungry woman who had left her town to care for itself. but since she didn’t care about what her citizens did, you hadn’t found any resistance upon asking permission to start your own public initiatives. it had been hard to convince people to work for anything other than personal gain, but you’d discovered that kindness was the best remedy.

yours was the only bakery in town, and everyone had visited it sooner or later. watching people go from being nothing but rude to reserving their best smile for every time they opened your door was priceless. now the streets weren’t as dirty thanks to the people who had volunteered to help you clean them, and you were planning on removing the graffiti next. you didn’t have much power over unemployment and poverty, but you were sure everything would fix itself once everyone would have found the right path again.

you took out the pastries from the oven before sighing in satisfaction and walking to the door, turning the open sign. you murmured to yourself the list of things you had to do now that the bakery was closed as you walked to the back, entering the room you called home. you’d promised to help the woman who lived down the street bake a cake for her son’s birthday and plant some daisies in her garden. only days prior you’d helped her paint over the worn-out outside of her house, and it was really starting to look like a lovely place.

you took off your apron before facing the mirror next to the door. you knew your wings weren’t there, but seeing yourself without them was a surprise every time. you turned as much as you could to look at your back, moving your hair to the side as they covered the space between your shoulder blades. how could something that was a part of yourself just disappear like that? what was even more surreal was that you didn’t particularly miss the expanse of white feathers. you were just unused to their absence, but you were capable of doing everything without them just fine. the only thing left to show your angelic nature were your brightly golden eyes, staring back at you before you looked away.

you should’ve been afraid of walking by yourself in the seemingly deserted street, but you knew you weren’t alone. you could feel eyes boring into your skin as you walked, following you like a predator and its prey. that’s why you didn’t scream when someone grabbed your arm and your back hit the brick wall of a narrow alley, but a hand was still pressed over your mouth.

you always felt warm on earth, not missing the freezing air of paradise at all. right now, through, you felt more than warm. your skin was burning, like the fire in the stranger’s red irises.

he was beautiful, more than any of the angels you’d met, more than the archangels and more than what you’d imagined the highest would look like. strands of long hair touched his cheeks and the corners of his smirking lips, pitch black like the tattoos on his arms and the sleeveless shirt he was wearing. his eyes were filled with amusement and something dark that came from within. a demon. you gulped, and he noticed.

“oh little angel, am i scaring you?”

your wide eyes looked up at him, and he cooed. he was tall, hovering over you with his wide shoulders, the heat radiating from him making your cheeks bloom with crimson. his tone had been sweet, but there was sarcasm and bite behind his words.

“what have you been doing, uh? going around and ruining all the work i’ve done before you came. that’s a mean thing to do, angel. why are you being so mean to me?”

the big hand covering your mouth moved to loosely wrap around your neck. you gulped again, unable to look away from him or say a word, and his eyes flickered down as your neck moved. the demon could feel your heartbeat under his hand, rushed as your heart tripped over itself, and he bit down his lips as his smirk got bigger.

“i asked you a question, angel. it’s rude to ignore people like that,” he said, raising his eyebrows at you, waiting for your answer.

you opened your mouth a couple times before any sound got past your lips, the demon’s fingers holding your neck a little tighter. “i’m making things better because you ruined them.”

he gasped, but so exaggeratedly it sounded fake. you knew it was, and it made you blush more.

“you’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” he said, his sugary tone mocking you. “you say you’re making things better, but i think you’re ruining them, we’re not going to get along like this. what should we do?”

“you should stop,” you said, your voice a little more sure as the fear started to wear out.

he was bigger and stronger, but you were both humans right now. he had no more power than the sheer strength in his hands, and even if that was enough to kill you it wouldn’t have. the highest wouldn’t have let one of his angels die on earth like that. or that’s what you hoped.

“you know i can’t, this is what i do,” the demon said. the hold on your neck disappeared, but he got closer, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “hyunjin. learn my name, angel, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together. whenever you ruin something i’ll fix it, mmh? would you like that?”

both of hyunjin’s inked arms were resting on the side of your head now, his bicep right in front of your eyes. he wouldn’t have had problems with shattering the entirety of paradise with his fists, and he wouldn’t have hesitated either. your words were caught up in the knot stuck in your throat, keeping you from answering. but if you hadn’t been petrified by his presence and the boiling blood running through your veins, what would you have said?

you wondered.

do you want to read more?

banner by @blueprint-han

taglist: @sleepylixie @bobateastay @meiiyue @aliceu @softieyn @riel-precious @witchylixie @tulipsandfire @sparklemin @anskiie @tpwkjerii @blackkacchan @fournia @parachuuuus @inlovewithasa @skzshortcake

[or0ch1maru]

Part Thirteen: Vulnerable

***

I wake a few hours later. Feeling groggy but also well rested, forgetting about my earlier troubles. I turn to my side, the clock saying seven. I also notice a piece of paper, a note.

Orochimaru wants me to meet with me.

I force myself out of bed, and head to the living area. Empty. The kitchen is also empty so I try knocking on his door, nothing. Last place is the lab, which in all honesty should of been where I checked first but since their hideout is pretty big, you never know where’d you’d find someone. I knock.

“Yes?”

Says a voice. I open the door a crack, just enough to poke my head in. Remembering what I was told. “Don’t go in there unless either myself or Kabuto requests it.”

“Orochimaru wanted to see me.”

I say, speaking to Kabuto’s back. He turns in his swivel chair, opening a drawer and grabbing a ring with multiple keys on it.

“Follow me.”

He says as he stands, now walking towards me. I hold the door open for him, letting him pass through. We walk down the corridor all the way to the end, making a right instead of a left. At the end of this hallway sits a ladder. Kabuto begins to climb and I follow in pursuit. We climb for no more than a minute, coming to a halt as Kabuto starts fiddling with the keys. Sunlight comes bursting through the hatch the moment he opened it. Blinding me momentarily as my eyes adjust. I give Kabuto a minute to climb about before continuing upwards. A hand is presented to me as I reach the top. I grab on and Kabuto helps me out. Once we’re standing I take a look around us. Nothing but forest. The view is beautiful. Kabuto snaps the hatch shut. A fake bush is attached to the metal cover, perfectly concealing it away. He starts walking. We walk until I see Orochimaru sitting close to the edge of a cliff. He seems to be meditating.

“That will be all. Thank you Kabuto.”

He says. His right hand turns back the way we came and disappeared into the brush that we just emerged from.

“Come to me.”

Speaks Orochimaru.

I do as I’m told and slowly make my way to him, coming to a stop a few feet away.

“Please sit.”

He says. I sit cross legged on the grass patch. I watch curiously for a minute before he opens his eyes. The muscles in his arms tighten as he leans back, resting on his palms.

“It’s beautiful here, don’t you think?”

He asks, still staring off into the distance in front of us.

“Quite.”

I reply taking the view all in. I can tell that there’s a large lake at the bottom of the cliff, seeing a bit of it from where I sit now.

“This is why I chose this location. It’s far enough away that I have peace, but not too far if I need to get into town in a hurry. The view is what truly got me to stay.”

He continues.

“You have good taste.”

I tell him. The silence fills the air around us, making the evening call and peaceful. Being in his presence always relaxes me.

“But this isn’t why I called you to me this evening.”

Oh no, did I do or say something wrong? I ask myself.

“Y/n..”

He begins. My heart stuttering nervously. I feel myself freeze when he turns his head to look at me.

“I hope you know that you can come to me. No matter what the reason is. If your bored or simply wanting some company, I’d be more than happy to oblige.”

Orochimaru continues, his eyes never leaving my face.

“This is your home now. For as long as you need it to be. Even after you leave, you’re always welcome here.”

I listen intently as he talks to me. His manner is relaxed, seemingly stress free. This brings me back to the first time meeting him. At the restaurant, as he sat beside me. He was worried. I could see that his muscles were tense. The complete opposite of how he is now.

“The reason I wanted to speak with you privately was because I happened to hear something that made me worry for you. Now please, don’t think I’m being nosey or imposing myself into your life or the way you feel. But, I’m pretty sure that with my abilities you realized what other things I can do. My hearing happens to be much more evolved than most.”

Orochimaru looks away for the first time in a while, facing the water and opposite cliff side now.

“I know about your scars y/n and I just want you to know that if you ever feel like you want to do that to yourself again, please come to me. I will not judge, I may seem scary or cruel but I am very understanding. When I first realized, my heart broke. It still aches. Whoever or whatever made you feel this way will pay. You never deserved any of it and I hope you know that it wasn’t your fault.”

Orochimaru stops, watching me from the corner of his eye. I fight my tears back with everything in me. I know he can see how glossy my eyes have become. I look away from him, staring out into the distance to compose myself before speaking.

“You can be vulnerable with me y/n. Don’t hide your true self.”

He says, catching onto me.

“Thank you.”

I say in a whisper. Whenever I cry, talking almost becomes impossible, without making me want to cry harder. A tear slides down my cheek. Before I’m able to catch and wipe it away, I feel Orochimaru’s thumb graze my cheek, removing the tear for me. I avert my attention from the view and back to him. He’s been staring at me for a while, watching me become a mess right before his eyes.

With one slick quick movement, he’s on his knees in front of me. His hand moved from my cheek and into my hair. My eyes close as his fingers massage a spot behind my ear on my scalp.

“You’re safe with me, just know that y/n.”

My eyes snap open at the sudden closeness of him. A small gasp escapes my lips when I see and feel how close he is from my face. At this moment, I feel an overwhelming urge to turn my head towards him, wanting our lips to be closer. I’ve never craved someone the way I do for him.

***

My body felt electric. The way she’s looking into my eyes is making me weak. The small gasp she let out made me almost lean forward and kiss her. In this moment I feel the way her mind and body crave me, but will she ever admit it? Maybe.

I lean forward, resting my forehead on hers for a brief moment before standing up. I hide my laugh with a cough when she becomes confused at my quickness. I hold my hand out to her, helping her up.

That night, after dinner, y/n retired to her room for the night, while Kabuto and I worked in the lab. Hour by hour we worked. Most of the time in silence apart from papers rustling to clicks in the keyboard as we typed. I start reading over some old notes from last months experiments, wanting to change the outline for next time.

“I need Orochimaru…”

I hear coming from the direction of the door, I was so engulfed in my work that I didn’t even hear y/n Knock on the door.

“My lord.”

Begins Kabuto.

By now I’m already on my feet and making my way over to her.

“I got it. Thank you Kabuto.”

I say, slipping into the hallway. I watch as he nods and closes the door behind us.

There she is, standing in her pajamas, looking straight ahead at my torso.

“Y/-.”

I begin. She wraps her arms around my back, burying her face into my chest as she holds me. This surprised me at first, causing me to hold my arms out awkwardly in the air. I allow the shock to subside, slowly moving down to pick her up. She doesn’t fight it, and she doesn’t tell me no. My hands Find themselves sitting on the back of her thighs as I carry her back to her room. I kick the door closed behind me as we enter. Her bed is a mess, two pillows are on the floor, as well as a sheet. The comforter is bundled up at the end of the bed. It seems that she’s had a difficult night. I sit down on the bed, with her still wrapped around me.

“What’s going on? Hm?”

I ask her, cooing into her ear. My hands now holding her neck and part of her jaw, making her look at me. I thumb her hair away from her eyes. Her eyes swelling up with tears. I’m becoming more concerned because this isn’t my y/n, at least not a side of her that I’ve seen yet. The tears flowed, spilling over onto her cheeks. She tries pushing her head down, trying to hide herself.

“Y/n, it’s alright. Talk to me.”

I say gently.

“I cant take this anymore Orochimaru.”

She sobs out. Her breath hitching.

“What do you mean?”

I ask.

“I’m tired of hiding my feelings. I did it out of fear but I cant take it.”

She says looking down.

I give her room to breathe, not wanting to push and pry. I want her to tell me on her terms.

She lifts her head up after a moment, finding my confused and worried eyes. My body falls back a little at the pressure and intensity of her action. She planted her lips to mine, almost frantic, acting like it’s my last time seeing her. A small groan escapes from my lips as I feel her hands intertwining in my hair, tugging on it slightly. My hands have moved to her hips, holding her rooted to the spot.

“Y/n I-.”

I muster out between a kiss.

She stops instantly. Trying to move away from my grip.

“I’m so sorry.”

She says.

“For what?”

I ask her, raising an eyebrow.

“Did you think I didn’t enjoy that? That I haven’t thought about doing it myself?”

I tease. I watch as her eyes light up at the realization I feel the same way about her that she feels about me.

“You-?”

She stutters out.

“Haven’t you noticed? The way I act around you, the way I look at you.”

I whisper, grabbing a tighter hold on her waist, flipping us both over so that she’s below me. Something about the way she looks up at me makes me want to combust.

“You’re a part of my life now y/n and to be quite honest with you, I don’t think I want to let go.”

I say, leaning down so that my lips graze her ear. I can feel the goosebumps that are spreading over her body. The way her body is reacting to the way I taunt and tease her is something I truly didn’t anticipate.

“Now rest. I have guests coming tomorrow.”

I tell her as I push myself up and away from her. Her eyes travel from my arms and back up to my face.

“Orochimaru.”

She says my name in that gentle voice I heard her use with Kakashi back at the craft store. I catch myself before I drop to my knees for her.

“Hm?”

I reply back.

She stands, walking to fill the short distance between us. I look down at her through my hair as I feel her hand trace up my chest, wrapping around the back of my neck. She uses a light pressure to tug my head down.I bend, leaving my ear close to her lips so she can tell me whatever she wants.

“Two can play this game.”

She lets go instantly, leaving me shocked. Y/n backed away, now leaning up against the side of the mattress. The corner of her lips turning upward, smirking at me.

“Mm.”

I let out, watching her. Smirking back at her the same way she is to me. She truly doesn’t know what she does to me.

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

Pet Owners Part 1

Owning pets is rare for nations because a true nation’s pet has a bond with their owners as much as they do the land. Many of their pets don’t really have something they represent inexactness, it's just they were there when the nation was born, and they bonded. No one can really explain how they come to find their owners, both parties just know.

Some nations don’t have the nation pet, but instead either found a mythical creature or own regular pets that will eventually die.

America – A big black shaggy dog. Allen has owned Makwa since he was a small child. No matter where he went Makwa would follow. This mini mammoth is very protective of Allen and has bitten Oliver many times. This dog has even followed Allen into war zones. Their bond is as deep as man and dog can go.

He is Allen’s best friend and more often than not the wall he bounces off of. Whether he is venting, planning, or just sleepy mumbling, Allen takes the time to talk to Makwa.

England – Flying Chocolate Bunny (FCB) and Flying Strawberry Bunny (FSB). These mythical evil bunnies are downright monsters. Unlike his 1p that has only one, Oliver has two. Both nations discovered their bunny allies together, but instead of taking just one. Oliver decided to take two. They were found when the nations were about 150 yrs old.

Since mythical creatures have longer lifespans, they aren’t nation pets and die much later than an average pet.

FCB has red beady eyes and is the color of dark chocolate. His wings are shaped more like raptor’s wings and have a white chocolate underside to his wings. FCB often twitches and drools and looks like he is about to eat the nearest piece of flesh. He is known for being wilder and more chaotic, he does some of the dirty work for Oliver by getting physically involved. Scratching and biting Oliver’s victims, slowly driving them mad by wounds made from an unseen force.

FSB on the other hand is much sweeter. She is a light red with small yellow spots. Her wings look like a swan's, and have a light green underwing. Her eyes are small beady and green. FSB looks like a toy rabbit, small and fluffy. She is Oliver’s eyes and ears. She spies on whomever Oliver asks her to and takes the time to ensure that Oliver has whatever information that he needs. When Oliver had many colonies she was the one sent to spy on them. She is quick and knows how to use magic to shorten her fly time.

Oliver loves his bunnies and feeds them a lot of cupcakes and meat. He spoils them with fancy beds and toys. Though he does expect them to earn their keep with various tasks given by him.

Canada – A big white polar bear. Kuma is Canada’s oldest frenemy, over the years they have traded blows and saved each other. The amount of trust these two have is unrivaled by any other nation and their pets. Kuma has been with Canada since he was about a week old. Kuma is a typical adult polar bear with a scar across his left shoulder and it splits his fur.

Canada’s scars on his chest come from Kuma. They got really intense in a fight one day and came at each other for blood. That same fight gave Kuma his scar. Both winded up extremely wounded and ignored each other for a week before making up.

Over the years Kuma mostly follows Matt’s orders. But occasionally Kuma acts like a brat and ignores Canada. Kuma has his own little house outside that Canada built, but he also has a huge mat on the floor inside Matt’s cabin.

Japan – Koi. Like it’s been said before, Japan likes koi. They are beautiful and he owns many. He has been keeping them since he was physically about 12 years old. He has a pond that connects to a tank within his home. It is a huge tank that has all the proper fixings that allow for a comfortable space for his fish.

He invests heavily in the industry and always checks the farms himself when he has the time. Many family farms know of Kurai, at least a fake name he puts out, and newer farms hope to receive his blessings. His name carries a lot of respect and honor for the koi industry and those that don’t meet his standards close shop quickly.

Every so often he will enter his koi in contests. He loves to know that his are the best and has many ribbons from the past ones he has either won or come close to winning.

Germany – A small brown tabby. Luther loves his tiny kitty and spends many a nap with this little baby on his lap. His little tabby is called Winzig and her name is literally her size. Winzig was found by Luther one night after making his way home after a night of drinking about a year ago. She was small and hiding under a box by his apartment. In his drunken stupor, he picked up the kitten without thinking and brought her home. She is actually his third cat.

There were two others he had owned in the past. His first was a calico that was named Schnurrhaare (Whisker). She was very aloof, but they too napped together often. She sadly died in the year 1901. His second cat Axel came to him about 1950 and was a gift from his boss. Axel was a big Mainecoon that looked like a burnt cookie. He acted more like a dog than a cat and Luther loved him. They played fetch together.

None of Luther’s cats have been a true nation pet. So, each one has passed, Winzig is still young and very lively so she has a while still with Luther. Though the other two, Luther has kept their collars and buried them behind his father’s house. He leaves little bits of string on their graves for them.

Rome – This old man had a lion. Not just any lion, the extinct European lion. Mars was the name of this old boy and Rome had him from the time he was a child. At first, Mars was unsure about Rome and chased him. Over time the two became close. Mars didn’t have a huge mane it was more of a gentle fluff around his head and down his chest. His body and head were covered in scars. Mars was known to have a light pale coated rather than the deep dusty color of many of his brethren. He had a regal air about him and Rome cherished his lion a lot.

When Rome passed Mars lived on, but not much longer than Rome. He lived about 5 years while being taken care of by Luciano. Mars being old then, didn’t do much and seemed to enjoy the calm final years that Luciano offered him. He got a bigger and cooler grave than his master did.

Prussia – Alvin is an old destrier and looks like a Percheron. Lightly colored with dark grey boots and muzzle. Alvin has been with Wil since he was born, this stocky little foal just showed up outside and has been with him ever since. Alvin has been Wil’s first pick of steed into every battle that used horses and Alvin like his owner is brave and loyal.

Both master and pet love spending nights together riding through the woods. Prussia gives Alvin lots of training and treats. They are so close that more often than not spend many afternoons together. Alvin is also trained for various horse competitions.

Spain – So we all know this man owns a bull. Idiota is special to Armando even though he won't admit it. When Armando is tending to his fields Idiota is there giving a presentation of an old friend. Many believe that Idiota is a nation pet because of how long he has lived and Spain agrees. As much as he gets angry at his bull being stupid he could never bring himself to part with the bull.

The centuries of being petty with each other make it interesting to both parties. Though in times of danger both have each other's backs. Once during a siege when Spain was young, Idiota was all that stood between him and Rome. Though despite losing, it took Rome impaling the bull and beheading it to keep it from defending a young Spaniard.

Netherland – He has a snake. It’s a simple grass snake that often hangs out with him at home. He loves his little snake and named him Hazel. He says his snake looks like a Hazel. Baas and Hazel go on many adventures when the weather is ok for Hazel. He takes him to the store, to meetings with his boss, and other places. They spend lots of time gathering info on people and just pulling pranks. Baas believes that Hazel enjoys it as much as his master.

 Hazel has a huge terrarium with plenty of space, heating lights, and pools of water. It takes up a whole wall in Baas’ home. It also contains fish and other small creatures that make the tank self-sustaining. 

Baas relates to his danger noodle; in that, he sees himself almost the same as his snake. Both are hidden predators that take care of nasty rats. Which happens to relate to his favorite thing to do with Hazel, feed him.

Austria – A Greater Mouse-Eared Bat, I mean what could be better for him. Austria found Krampus around Christmas time when he heard some noises coming from his attic. Krampus had found his way into the attic and freaked out trying to get out. This caused a tear in his wing, and Austria being surprised by this tiny nightmare.

Austria feeling the spirit of Christmas was compassionate and took care of the bat. First, he forced his way into a vet clinic and had his little Krampus looked at. Krampus's huge tear would heal, but it makes it difficult for him to fly again. That was the vet’s opinion and then went off to call a sanctuary to come and collect the bat. Well, Jon didn’t like that and ran off with Krampus.

Since then Jon has done a lot to ensure his little friend was becoming better. Eventually, the wing healed, but not well enough for flying. So Jon has a little bat that can glide short distances and has a little cave in his home. Krampus gets all the proper nutrition and cleanings.

Though shortly after bringing Krampus home, Jon did call Matt. Matt had some words for Jon when he found out what he did.

Switzerland – This man loves goat cheese, so obviously he wanted goats. He and his 1p own a small herd together that they both manage. Vash does most of the physical labor while Hans makes them look good for competition and takes care of their papers. 

They are all Swiss breeds and earn their keep by giving milk. They have a great life with all the latest things for goat care. Hans even personally watches the new items get installed to ensure that it is done right and that his goats are given something nice. 

Hans pets them often and coos to them as he does. He keeps plenty of treats on hand, to the point all the herd runs toward him wanting treats.

Iceland – Mr. Puffin or Puff as Iceland calls him. This is puffin is nothing like his gangster 1p. He wears a small top hat and monocle. He is much more gentlemanly and often speaks about how Iceland could be better behaved. He often says things like stand straight, address the lady with respect, and so on. Unlike most nations and their pets growing up at the same rate, Puff was an adult when he met baby Iceland. Which concerned 2p Norway, because he could have been some kind of monster trying to destroy his new colony. One of the few times Norway showed concern for Iceland.

Though being the typical expectation for nation pets, Iceland loves Puff. They spend time together going about and causing havoc and attempting to win Norway’s attention. Though Puff still tells Iceland that there are better things to do than pursue Norway, but Iceland wants his brother’s love and acceptance.

Puff does his best to keep Iceland under control and professional, but he fails often. Though he refuses to give up and rather would keep on taking care of his young ward.

[decoolz]

A Piece of my WIP

This is part of my Work in Progress The John Laurens Alexander Hamilton Kissing book--working title (TJLAHKB) I am extremely nervous about sharing this, but I would like to see what people think about it. This is just under 3000 works so most of it will be under the cut. A new beginning. The mistakes of London and teenage fantasy were gone now, he was sure of it. All he had to do was take this meeting and the next few years of his life would be set. John stepped out of the coach and smoothed out his waistcoat. If he did this right, he’d be able to recover his reputation. No one would be talking about the rumors if he achieved glory on the battlefield. All he had to do was find General Washington’s command tent.

The camp smelled like twelve thousand people had been camping here for weeks. The sweet stench of rotting food nearly overpowered the unwashed smell of thousands of people gathered in quarters much too small. John searched the faces of passersby for someone to help, but not a single soul gave him a glance. No wonder the British had the upper hand. This was the encampment housing the head of the whole continental army and not a single person gave John a once over. He could be a spy wandering about. All this was going in his first letter to his father when he got situated.

“Excuse me!” John shouted at a boy who couldn’t possibly be old enough to enlist yet was running around the place as if he knew every inch of it. “I’m looking for General Washington’s tent. I have an appointment.”

“Good luck with that,” the boy chuckled. He turned and pointed toward the middle of camp. “See the big round one. That’s where you’ll wanna go. Hope you really got that appointment.”

“I’m Henry Laurens son. I don’t need an appointment,” John clarified rolling his eyes. “My father arranged for introductions.”

“Good on you,” the boy nodded, then ran off the way he was heading.

John continued to drag his footlocker across the dirt and dying grass up the path to the “big round tent,” silently judging every single one of the people who walked by him without offering to help or ask what he was doing wandering around this camp. From the looks of everyone’s dirty and mismatched attire, this wasn’t the kind of place where people took much care to observe anything.

He entered Washington’s tent without once being stopped. Setting his footlocker out of the way, he straightened his waistcoat again before approaching the desk in the middle of the space. The man bent over the desk didn’t bother to acknowledge him when he entered. John cleared his throat thrice before the young redheaded man looked up for his work.

“How may I be of assistance?” he asked with an unrecognizable accent. “I’m assuming you’re not the Frenchman. Are you one of his staff?”

“I am French but I’m from South Carolina,” John replied. He pulled his letter of introduction from his inside pocket as he stepped closer to the desk. The man behind it appeared altogether uninterested. “I’m Henry Laurens’s son, I’m here to have a meeting with General Washington to join this regiment.”

“He’s not taking meetings today,” the clerk replied. “I can schedule you for later this week if you’d like. What is your business with the General?” He licked the end of his quill and met John’s eyes.

“No, you misunderstand me,” John said, shaking his head. “Henry Laurens is my father. He wrote to General Washington and told him to expect me this week. I don’t need an appointment, he’s expecting me.”

The clerk clicked his tongue. “Right. You still need an appointment. The General is a busy man. He isn’t going to stop running the army because some self-important rich man’s son is going to show up at some point this week. I can write you in for an appointment tomorrow if you like. Should I write in Henry’s son or do you have a name of your own I can use?”

“No,” John shook his head. “I should be able to see him today. He’s expecting me. He told my father he’s looking for a French translator to help with correspondence and the like. He made it pretty clear the post had to be filled post haste.”

“Right … but you see, that’s not how it works,” the clerk explained, speaking slowly as if John was a simpleton. “In order to get into see General Washington, you need an appointment. I make the appointments. I would highly recommend you stop being a jackass and give me your Christian name so I can put it in the ledger for tomorrow.”

John took a deep breath. Clearly, this man didn’t understand who he was speaking to or he wouldn’t continue to be so obstructive. He’d be sure to put this in his letter to his father as well, he’ll have this scrawny boy’s job by the end of the week.

“Listen, Mister…”

“Lieutenant Colonel,” the redhead gentleman corrected.

“Fine then,” John scoffed. “Lieutenant Colonel, I don’t think you understand what’s happening here. I have a letter of introduction from my father with the understanding that I am to meet with his excellency when I arrive at camp. I am here. So, if you please, announce my arrival.”

“You seem to have poor comprehension skills, which honestly looks bad if you’re trying to get a job as a translator. There must be a meeting set up and penciled into this ledger before you can see him.” He held up the ledger for John to look at. “As you see here, today he is booked solid since he’s in the city meeting with a Frenchman who will be joining the ranks. So even if I wanted to let you in to see him—which don’t misunderstand I do not—I can’t because he’s not even in there. But if you give me your name, and not refer to yourself as your father’s son, I can write you in for tomorrow.”

“But I have a letter of introduction,” John extended his hand with the papers toward the boy.

“Go for you,” the Lieutenant Colonel nodded. “What is your name? I can set up an appointment for tomorrow at one in the afternoon right after luncheon.”

“My father said--”

“Listen,” the other man pulled a hand down his face and sighed loudly. “We seem to be at an impasse here. You need an appointment. I honestly don’t give a shit what your father said, because he’s not here. I am. I control the ledger book with the appointments. I already informed you against my better judgment that General Washington isn’t even in camp at present. I’m not sure what it is you think you’re going to accomplish by arguing with me about it. Give me your name I’ll write you in for tomorrow right after luncheon and you can go relax at the inn up the road for the rest of the day and stop bothering me.”

“This won’t do,” John shook his head. “I was promised a meeting when I arrived.”

The other man blinked slowly, shook his head, picked up his quill, and continued whatever it was he was working in when John walked in. After several tense moments of silence, John cleared his throat again for attention.

“Oh, you’re still here. Again, your meeting is tomorrow at one. I wrote down ‘Henry’s son’ so they’ll be no confusion as to how important you are. If you insist on staying in my office to wait for your scheduled time, you are more than welcome to sit in one of the terribly uncomfortable wooden chairs on the side there. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

John sunk his teeth into his bottom lip to keep from yelling and let several short quick breaths out through his nose.

“What is your name?” John demanded. “I would like to make sure Congress knows exactly the kind of riff-raff General Washington has in his employment.”

“And yet here you are trying to join our ranks,” the redheaded man met John’s gaze with a sickeningly sweet fake smile.

“Hamilton!” A head poked around the entrance of the tent. An older man with the same green pin on his hat as the clerk. “Are you set to take a break for luncheon or is Lucy bringing you a tray?”

“No, I’ll come with you,” the redheaded man, Hamilton evidently, said. He straightened his desk and stood. “It’s Wednesday.”

As he came around the desk, John got his first good look at this Hamilton. He couldn’t be taller than five and a half feet. John could probably put his hands around the man’s waist and his fingers would touch. He looked far more like a boy than someone in charge of something as important as General Washington’s ledger.

“Are you going to invite your friend?” the other man asked, gesturing to John.

“Not my friend,” Hamilton grumbled. “You can join us for a meal if you want. Or wait until we leave and look to see that no one is in Washington’s office and pout about it. Just don’t touch my desk.” He didn’t bother turning toward John as he said it.

“Will my footlocker be safe here?” John asked, stepping toward the other men.

“Sure,” Hamilton shrugged. He pushed passed the other man out into the sweltering camp.

“Is he always so delightful?” John asked.

“You must have got him on a good day,” the other man joked. “He’s usually much worse. Richard Meade, Virginia.” He extended his hand to John.

This was more of the kind of welcome he was expecting. “John Laurens, South Carolina.”

“Son of the senator,” Meade smiled. “Rumor has it he’s a lock for the presidency when Hancock retires.”

“That’s what he tells me,” John nodded.

Hamilton waited; arms crossed over his chest for the others then led the way to the mess tent walking a quick clip about twenty paces ahead of them.

“Personally, I think it’ll be great for the union to finally have some southern influence at the helm of Congress. I think we’ve heard enough from Boston and New York for a bit.”

“Those men are the catalyst for the revolution,” John countered. “However, I do agree, if we are to be our own country it makes sense to listen to men from all parts of it.”

John let Meade lead him through the buffet line and tried not to gawk as Hamilton shamelessly flirted with a young brunette woman serving the warm rolls until she slipped an extra one to him.

“Is that the reason he was so eager to come to luncheon on Wednesday?”

“No,” Meade replied as they walked toward their table. “That would be Lucy. She’s around here somewhere. On Wednesdays, she helps with the dishes.”

“Hamilton is that man then?” John sighed, taking a seat across the table from Meade. Hamilton sat a little way down the table, toward the end on Meade’s side. John knew plenty of men just like that back in London. Men who shamelessly debased themselves in front of women for tiniest scrap of attention. Hamilton didn’t quite fit the usual formula for such a man, but John had to admit there was something about him that made it hard to pull his eyes away from the scrawny redhead.

Across the table, Meade rested his hat on the bench beside him. He was slightly older than John, maybe about thirty. This was the type of man John expected to find working for General Washington, a learned Southern Gentleman from a prominent family who knew the order of things. If Meade had been behind the desk when John walked in, everything would be taken care of by now.

“Forgive me for prying,” John said between bites of a watery but rather flavorful stew. “But since I will be joining this merry group of soldiers, may I ask about the dynamic of the inner circle?”

Meade laughed, his green eyes brightening as a crooked smile crossed his face. “I take it your father arranged for you to be the French interpreter we’re looking for. If that’s the case you’ll be working closely with your new best friend, Mister Hamilton. He handles most of the correspondence and does quite a bit of the planning and strategy for small missions. He’s the brains of it.”

“French interpreter was the plan, yeah, apparently a letter of introduction and a promise from my father isn’t enough to have an audience with His Excellency. I also need an arbitrary appointment and to dance for a five-foot-tall boy who thinks too much of himself.”

“Hamilton will be the first to tell you, he’s five foot seven,” Meade smiled. “General Washington is in Philadelphia today meeting with a French General who’s come to help us. He’ll be back tomorrow.”

This was supposed to be the easy part. The last couple of years had been an awful pile of hardship and stupid mistakes. Joining the army was supposed to be the first step in the right direction. All he had to do was show up and the rest would take care of itself. He wouldn’t have to deal with people looking at him sideways or whispers behind hands at society events. As he learned more about camp John did his best to remember that he wasn’t another setback, but a pause. Tomorrow would be different.

He turned toward the end of the table where Hamilton was batting his eyes at an enraptured blonde woman in a light blue gown. Something familiar started to bubble inside John, somewhere between jealousy and contempt. When the woman was called away, Hamilton slid over to join John and Meade for the rest of the meal.

“What do you think, Ricky? Will this son of Henry will fit in our merry band of aides-de-camp?”

Meade nodded as he wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “It’ll be fine Hamilton. The two of you should figure out how to get along. If Mister Laurens will be working French translations, you’ll most likely be sharing a desk.”

Hamilton groaned, and let his head fall back, just as enthused about the prospect as John was.

“You’re at least learned in French though?” Hamilton asked. “Fluent? We have a remarkable number of Frenchmen coming to take up this cause”

John nodded. He’d been taught by his mother as a boy and then in some of the finest schools he could be sent to in Europe. Hamilton continued to eye him suspiciously.

“I gotta head back,” Hamilton wiped his mouth his sleeve and stood quickly walking off with his dishes, handing them to the servant whose job it was to clear plates from the tables when they were finished eating. John’s eyes never left him as he smiled and laughed his way into taking an extra pear from the young woman who gave him the extra bread.

 “An acquired taste, but I assure you he’d a good egg,” Meade said, pulling John’s attention back to the last of his meal. “He’s probably the smartest person in the army, including General Washington.”

 John caught Hamilton walking backward out of the mess tent with a wink to the women at the serving stations and doubted very much that a man like that could surprise him.

“Come on, I’ll walk you out to the inn, make sure you’re settled.” Meade stood and placed his hat atop his head. “It’s decent accommodation over there. Savor it, my friend, you’ll be living on a straw mattress on the bottom bunk until we move for winter camp.”

Once settled in the single room of the inn, John dug through his belongings for his stationary to write the promised letter to his father. So far, this journey wasn’t what he was hoping for, but tomorrow looked promising with the appointment scheduled to accept him into service. He was sure his education and experience would be just what General Washington needed. If he did end up working alongside that Hamilton fellow as Meade said, he’d be able to teach that man a little bit of tack. Show him how a man from Southern Society—like General Washington himself—should act.

[theweasleysredhair]

When Sparks Fly [F.W.]

Character: Fred Weasley

Word Count: 1891

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: “You’re scared of fireworks?” “Scared is an understatement.” In which Fred plans a birthday surprise for his girlfriend without the crucial knowledge that she is terrified of fireworks.

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: I bloody loved this request

also to the requester: I hope I got this right bc I actually adore fireworks so I had to get myself into the mind-frame of being scared of them to write this so fingers crossed I did an okay job. enjoy my love!

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

+ + + + +

“What are you talking about now?” Ron asked the twins as they were chatting about something loudly.

“It’s my Y/n‘s birthday next week,” Fred announced. “And we’ve got something spectacular planned,” George grinned, folding his arms over his chest.

You smiled at them and shook your head with a laugh, “I’m kinda worried what the two of you are working on to be honest. You’ve both been awfully mysterious about it all.”

“Oh don’t you worry about a thing, love! Things are gonna take off,” Fred replied with a smirk, “Gonna have a cracking-”

“-Absolutely sparkling-“ George added.

“Time,” they finished the sentence simultaneously.

You smiled at them, hearing a few chuckles from the others as they wandered away, heads bowed together as they conspired about something or other.

“Shit,” you said as soon as they were out of ear shot.

“What’s wrong?” Ron asked as he grabbed a bar of Honeydukes chocolate he’d left on a nearby table.

You sighed, “Their plan involves fireworks.” “Don’t all their plans involve fireworks?” Hermione asked with a small smile.

“Well yes but... this plan is for me. And from the hints they’ve been dropping, fireworks are a big part of the plan,” you chewed on your lip in thought and nervously clasped and unclasped your hands together.

Harry cleaned his glasses with the bottom of his jumper before returning them to his face, “Is that such a bad thing?”

“Well... usually no. But in this case... I thought I’d be able to go a bit longer without saying anything but... I don’t like fireworks. And by ‘don’t like’ I mean I am curling-into-a-ball-and-freaking-out petrified of them,” you admitted, looking down at your hands and sighing again.

“You’re scared of fireworks?”

“Scared is an understatement. Some people are scared of spiders - Ron - some of snakes, of clowns, of werewolves. My thing is fireworks.”

“But your boyfriend is Fred Weasley,” Ron said incredulously through a mouthful of chocolate.

“Oh yeah, cheers for that, Ron, I had almost forgotten,” you replied sarcastically.

Ron smiled before shaking his head, “No, I know, I just mean... well, how have you gone this long without telling him?”

You shifted in your seat, and avoided looking at any of them, “I just... haven’t. He loves them, doesn’t he? I can’t just tell him to stop using them just for my benefit.”

And that was the truth, really. You would never ask him to stop something he loved, and him and George used fireworks a lot in their pranks and such. It wouldn’t be fair to turn around and ask him to stop.

“Well... how badly are you afraid of them?” Hermione asked, tapping her chin in thought.

“I am more afraid of fireworks than Snape is of shampoo,” you joked, “No but seriously, I’ve had quite a few panic attacks over them - bad ones. I just... I can’t help it. I wish I liked them but I’m just terrified. And now Fred is planning something for my birthday and it’s very obvious that it involves fireworks. I don’t have the heart to tell him but... my heart’s thumping just from thinking about them.”

Hermione reached over to squeeze your hand reassuringly, “I’d speak to him beforehand, I’m sure he’d hate it more to do something that scares you.”

You smiled thankfully at her, “Yeah I’ll um... I’ll try and speak to him.”

***

Your birthday arrived much quicker than you’d hoped, and you’d woken up with an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach. You hadn’t gotten the heart or courage to confront Fred about his plans for your birthday - he seemed much too excited any time you saw him - and by any means you didn’t want him to feel as though he had to change everything he’d been working on. You appreciated the effort and adored the lengths he went to to show you how much he cared and didn’t ever want him to know you weren’t as excited as him for what was to happen.

Your day went by quite normally, your friends and other students passing by to wish you a happy birthday. The only oddity was you hadn’t seen the twins all day, and it was nearing evening. The thought put you on edge, as you assumed they were working on whatever it was they’d been planning. Despite this, you couldn’t help but miss them - particularly your boyfriend - and hoped they’d make an appearance soon.

You’d just finished your evening meal when your eyes flickered to the ginger boy entering the Great Hall, a carbon copy of your doting boyfriend however completely different in your eyes.

“Happy Birthday, Y/n!” George grinned as he sat beside you on the bench and gave you a side hug, “Sorry we haven’t seen you all day, must’ve been rubbish without us, eh?” You smiled back, “Thank you Georgie! Yes I suppose it has - potions was definitely more boring than usual. You um... haven’t seen your dear twin at all, have you?”

“Ah, you wouldn’t happen to be referring to Freddie boy there, would you? I have indeed seen him and the main reason I am here is to escort you to him,” George stood you and held his hand out. You shook your head fondly and took it, allowing him to pull you up and out of the hall.

He led you down the main hallway and towards the doors of the castle, then out onto the Hogwarts grounds.

“Where are we going?” You asked as you followed the younger twin across the grass.

“You’ll see! You’re gonna love this, Y/n! Fred has been planning this for ages - with my help, of course,” George boasted as he shot a grin over his shoulder at you.

You faked a smile, hoping it was believable enough to look like excitement as you tried to hide that your heart was trying to escape your chest and you could hear blood rushing in your ears.

“George..?” You began.

“Yeah?”

Taking a deep breath, you continued on as you glanced down at your feet, “It’s probably much too late to say anything now but I really don’t like-“

“Happy birthday, darlin’!” A familiar voice interrupted you, halting your sentence in the middle. Your eyes flickered up to rest on the welcome sight of your boyfriend and you couldn’t help but smile when you saw his messy ginger hair and cheeky grin.

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a warm hug, one you accepted instantly and happily as you hadn’t seen him all day.

George made himself sparse, leaving you alone with your boyfriend who pressed his lips to yours in a sweet kiss, making up for the fact he’d been gone all day.

As you pulled away, he immediately moved back in to kiss you again, mumbling how much he’d missed you (even though it had only been a day), before finally placing a last chaste kiss to your swollen lips. He then grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the Forbidden Forest, where you noticed lights twinkling in a nearby clearing.

He led you over, his fingers locked around yours as he bit his lip and looked at you, “Surprise, love!”

Your eyes locked on the scene, a blanket laid out with your favourite foods on top, bags of Honeydukes items sitting beside it and a pile of presents - wrapped messily in brown paper and tied with wonky bows - scattered across the grass next to the blanket. Small, glittering lights hung from the tree branches around the clearing, casting a light glow and illuminating both the food and the dozens of pillows that you noticed were also piled around.

“Thought we could spend some time together without anyone interrupting us or anything. Also got some new things we’ve been working on that I want to show you before we show anyone else,” Fred explained, nodding over to a stack of what you assumed were Wizard Wheezes products.

“Oh Merlin... this is beautiful... it’s amazing,” you murmured.

And it was. It was so lovely and thoughtful. You adored it.

Yet, as you were staring at the scene, in awe at how beautiful the fairy lights were, you couldn’t help the voice in the back of your mind reminding you about the fireworks, not knowing when they were going to go off but sure it would be soon.

Suddenly, you heard Fred chuckling beside you and you frowned as you looked over at him. “What’s so funny?” You asked nervously.

“There are no fireworks, love,” he said simply, shoving his hands into his pockets, the hint of a smile resting on his lips.

Your jaw dropped almost comically, “What? What do you- How did you- How could you possibly know I was thinking about them?”

“You keep looking around as if you’re waiting for something. Just letting you know there are no fireworks so you can relax, babe. I know you’re terrified of them so they were never part of the plan. You really think I don’t know you well enough to know that?” He mocked with a playful grin.

Your mouth opened and closed as you stuttered out, “I-I never told you-“

“Didn’t have to, I saw your reaction to the small sparklers me and Georgie made to throw around and realised then. I notice everything about you, love,” he said sincerely.

You turned to him with shock on your features, jabbing him lightly in the chest as you scolded him, “Then why in the name of Merlin’s saggy left ballsack would you make me believe your plan relied on fireworks?!”

“Just like to mess with you, love,” he gave you a cheeky grin, and you wanted to be mad but looking at him, you couldn’t bring yourself to be. Still, you tried to be as you gave him a fake glare, “Fred! I’ve been working myself up over this for days! You’re a right prat!”

However, you couldn’t help the relieved giggle that left your lips as you rested your forehead against his chest and sighed contently now you were back at ease.

“I’m your prat though.”

“Hmm, I suppose so,” you mumbled into his jumper as his hands rested on your waist, him leaning his chin on the top of your head. You stayed stood up, in his arms, for a while before you decided to speak again, “Doesn’t it bother you that you’ll probably never be able to use fireworks in my vicinity?”

Fred pulled away for a moment to look down at you, his features softening as he took in the sight of your nervous demeanour, “Honestly? I’d give up fireworks forever if it meant you’d stick around.”

You smiled wide, blushing as you hid your face again in his chest, “Don’t get too sappy on me, Weasley.”

“Me? Sappy? Never.”

“Hmm..” You hummed, unconvinced. “Just want you to know I love you more than anything, and that includes fireworks,” he said earnestly, the corner of his mouth flicking up into a small smile.

“Stop being so cute,” you grumbled.

“No can do, love, I’m the cutest!” He announced, laughing as you pulled him down by his collar. You smiled and shook your head just as your lips grazed his,

“Well I guess I can’t argue with that.”

[writeblrfantasy]

here it is!

my pride and joy, the piece that has completely hijacked my brain and my life for the past 24 hours. this is the prologue, some might say, to TDOSA, featuring the vibes of an endless, sunny summer, the sense of floating through time and space, and a lot of lesbian yearning and projection, i present: the summer of seret ashling.

cw implied sex, blood

word count around 6300

one time tags of interest @ashen-crest @ettawritesnstudies

tdosa taglist (lmk to be added/removed) magic-is-something-we-create @hysteriwah @imjustalonesomewriteblr @a-forgotten-dusk @bronwennjames @metanoiamorii

Lysandra Fleming’s summer begins like this: a lonely night in Briar Bar, sipping a warm mug of cherry syrup. Not because she is cold—the heat in Vashiri Valley does not begin with summer, nor does it end there. Cherry syrup is vile and bitter and sweet at the same time, made worse warm, but the smooth way it goes down reminds her of childhood, the strange days when she actually liked this stuff.

Not home. She has not had a home since she was a child, when the supposed charm of the palace still worked on her. What were once silky ribbons in her hair became the invisible chains and rules of her parents, tying her down.

Lysandra, you can’t do this, it will reflect badly on us, or Lysandra, you can’t speak to that person, can’t smile at them, can’t see them, don’t you know what they did ten years ago? Don’t you know who their parents are? Vashiri Valley is struggling for power enough without you mucking it up.

Lysandra stopped smiling altogether.

Now, she comes to Briar Bar to be left alone with her cherry syrup, to melt into the crowd, to be normal, for once. Instead, others smile at her the way her parents always encouraged she smile, fake, polite enough, with an ulterior gleam in their eye. So many eyes watch her in want, but she does not feel seen at all by any of them.

The room’s quiet conversation dims and dissolves into whispers, prompting Lysandra to glance over at the reason. The reason is facing away from Lysandra, wearing a tall black hat and a black suit that nearly blends into the darkness of the walls, if not for the white shirt the woman is wearing underneath.

Lysandra didn’t see her come in, and all eyes turn to the tall, dark stranger, wondering the same thing. Her companions across the room point her in Lysandra’s direction, who braces for another meaningless smile, another delighted to meet you, Highness.

The woman turns, and Lysandra sees brown skin, black hair falling in long, loose curls, a subtle, close mouthed smile that draws her attention instantly. Brown eyes meet Lysandra’s green.

“Seret Ashling, my princess.” Seret Ashling leans down, never breaking eye contact, and kisses the top of Lysandra’s hand, holding her fingers delicately, but not like she’s glass. She treats Lysandra like she knows, instantly, her boundaries, how far she can safely push, what Lysandra can take—which is a lot more than most people guess.

Already, Lysandra likes her.

Lysandra is not her princess. She knows the name of every person in this valley, and she knows she’s never even seen Seret before. Even the name is foreign to her. Seh-reht.

That makes it all the better.

She moves her stool a little farther from the empty one beside her, raising an eyebrow in an invitation Seret accepts, removing her hat and tucking it under her arm to smoothly mount the stool. Seret sits with a straight back but ankles curled around the legs of the stool, adding enough humanity to her presence to make Lysandra smile.

She does not prop her elbow on the table, she does not order anything, but she does stare at Lysandra like she’s the most interesting person in the room. Lysandra can tell, somehow, that this gaze is genuine, not hastily crafted and practiced to impress her.

She offers to buy Lysandra another mug of cherry syrup, and Lysandra lets her.

***

Everywhere Lysandra goes, Seret seems to find her. She’s the talk of the valley, enrapturing them with her tall, dark, handsome aura, her small smile, the way the sun shines off her hair.

Finally Seret takes the leap and asks her out to places in Vashiri City Lysandra has been a thousand times, but somehow Seret’s presence paints color to her world again instead of the dull greens and golds the valley has become.

Their connection is instant, from Briar Bar to the lane of potion shops to the muffled awe in Seret’s face when she sees the Academy. At some point, Seret takes Lysandra’s hand, and they stroll through the town like they are not a princess and the new obsession of Vashiri Valley.

Everyone has been asking Seret about herself, where she’s from, what family she has, but she slips out of answering like a snake from a trap. Her smile is quite persuasive. Lysandra doesn’t even try to pry the answer out of her, though she might be the one person to succeed. Seret still looks at her every time like she’s the sun and the moon and the stars.

Lysandra’s heart thrums with nerves every hour before their dates, afraid of messing things up and driving Seret away, but the moment Seret enters the room, her heart calms. Seret gives her a warm hug that envelopes her whole soul, tells her she missed her dearly, and Lysandra wonders why she was ever worried. Seret seems impossible to offend.

“I am going to buy you a gift,” Seret announces on one of their dates in town, in a tone which makes it clear this is non-negotiable. Lysandra only nods. Seret pauses between two shops, one being the most popular jewelry store in the city with a line out the door, the one across the street being an adorable but little known competitor.

Lysandra waits for Seret to get in line for the popular jewelry store, but instead the woman lingers in front of the door of the other shop before opening it. “Don’t peek,” she says with a little smile, shutting the door and triggering the little bell. Lysandra stands there gawking like a fool until Seret emerges ten minutes later holding a little square box.

When Lysandra opens it with trembling hands, she finds a little heart shaped necklace, gold with a silver center on a golden chain. The gold probably isn’t real, probably just paint, but the pink paper wrapping the necklace and the little thank you card inside the box make her smile when the shop across the street wouldn’t.

The plain red and blue shelves in the windows of the other shop, where her family’s jeweler gets his jewels, have nothing on the soft pinks, greens, and browns of the cheap shop owned by twins. They keep flowers in their windows, pink carnations, and prices written in loopy court script.

“Do you like it?” Seret asks nervously, and Lysandra realizes she hasn’t said a word.

“I love it. Thank you.” She offers it up to Seret to clasp around her neck. Seret’s warm fingertips brush the back of her neck, and shivers run down Lysandra’s spine. This is special, her heart keeps telling her, like she doesn’t already know. This is different.

“How did you know?” Lysandra asks.

“Know what?”

“That I’d like this better than the shop across the street.”

“You’re a princess, you’re used to expensive jewelry, and you’ve publicly and loudly denounced royal life. Also, I’d rather give my money to them, seems like they actually need it. Don’t you agree?”

Lysandra has to take a deep breath to keep from blurting out something stupid. “Yes. I agree.”

Their first kiss a day later is a ray of light and a shadow of darkness, colliding and exploding in a glorious show of white and black, settling as ashes and debris into serene, calm gray. They are not the sun and moon. Lysandra is too sharp to be the sun, Seret too dim to be the moon.

It is the death of something. The birth. Lysandra can’t define what.

***

When Lysandra asks, Seret says she came to Vashiri Valley to visit and experience its delights, after which she meets Lysandra’s eyes and kisses her hands.

Lysandra hangs around the city apartment Seret rents. It’s close to Wynn’s cabin where she sleeps. She hasn’t slept in the palace in months. The layers of security and scrutiny she has to pass to enter are not worth the temporary comfort of a soft bed and her favorite meals.

She’s sleeping beside Seret before long, unable to bear being apart from her for that long, wondering how she behaves during such a precious time. Seret’s arms are even warmer around her under cool sheets, and in the morning, Seret brings her coffee before disappearing behind a white door.

She reappears in a cloud of steam, smelling like sweet flowers and honeysuckle. Lysandra gets to kiss her good morning and wonder how she got so lucky.

They’re invited to plays, the nights at the bars for amateur bards, the travelling witches who perform at the amphitheater. Lysandra has been to every event in this valley at least once, usually at the request of her family, but Seret loves going. Like the city and the shops and the Academy, experiencing Seret’s joy secondhand is intoxicating.

Everywhere they go, every table they sit at, whether it’s the theater or the bar or a café for a simple breakfast, people are fawning over Seret. The entire valley is enamored with Lysandra’s new lover.

Seret seems to find it amusing, the way they pat her arm and show a comical amount of interest in everything she has to say, just waiting for an opportunity to ask questions that they must know will go unanswered.

Lysandra sits quietly, burning from the way Seret entertains them, smiles at them in her private way. She wants Seret all to herself. She’s used to sharing things with the public, she’s had to share herself her whole life, but Seret is different. Lysandra doesn’t care if it’s selfish, Seret is hers.

When everyone finally seems like they’ve gotten their fill of Vashiri’s new inhabitant, Lysandra takes her to the edge of the forest and the dead tall grass fields beside it. She gets to watch the exact moment Seret falls in love.

Seret has never grinned, never raised her voice louder than a murmur, but her hitch of breath and the way she reaches for Lysandra’s hand is all she needs. Pride blooms in Lysandra’s chest at the realization she’s learned Seret’s little tells like that.

“It’s just a field,” she laughs. She’s laughing more, now, thanks to Seret. Stoic, cynical, unpleasant Princess Lysandra, laughing. This is why she hasn’t let Arlin near Seret yet, she’d never hear the end of it.

“No, it’s not,” Seret breathes, radiating darkness and mystery in a way that is curious, enticing, instead of harmful. Lysandra just wants to follow her into the shadows where no others can see them, hurt them, touch them. “Can’t you see?”

Lysandra strains her neck, but it’s not the fact that Seret is taller than her that’s the problem. “No.”

Seret pulls her along and begins running instead of answering. Lysandra yelps in surprise and stumbles along, staring enviously at Seret’s long legs—long legs, long arms, long face, long fingers, everything about Seret is long. She sweeps Lysandra up in her arms and spins her around, feet in the air, Seret’s strong arms keeping her up.

Seret is grinning for the first time, showing perfect white teeth, her joy the only reason Lysandra doesn’t scream in shock. She trusts Seret utterly, she realizes in a paralyzing moment of clarity, the sun warming her back, the wind blowing through her hair. Seret has never given her a reason not to.

“What’s the matter with you?” Lysandra asks, though she can’t keep the joy out of her own voice. Seret is infectious. Anything she feels reflects on Lysandra.

“We had fields exactly like this in the city where I grew up. I can’t believe I haven’t seen these yet.” She finally sets Lysandra down and immediately kisses her, as has become a habit the last week. Lysandra gives in, gives over entirely.

She has twisted and forced a key into the lock of her heart, but now, she hands the broken key to Seret and wishes her lucky trying to fit it in the rusty, damaged old lock. Lysandra knows she’ll unlock it fast, her eyebrows pinched and frowning in concentration, long fingers working quickly.

She doesn’t tell her that, of course.

Even then, Lysandra knew.

***

They find a cabin at the edge of the fields and the forest which they quickly move into, abandoning Arlin and the boys and Lysandra's family and Vashiri Valley for themselves. Lysandra has no remorse.

Seret shows her how to live in darkness, in quiet, in peace. They prepare coffee in the mornings before the sun floods the fields with light, arms brushing and using only using their sleepy voices when they need to, not wanting to disturb the holy peace of the morning.

They bathe in the evenings indoors where the fading sun doesn’t reach, sitting close in a tub of river water that Lysandra heats.

They spend all day laying on their backs in the fields, one of them lying on the other while someone’s hair is stroked and someone speaks over the wind.

When the afternoon heat turns the sunlight from pleasantly warm to scorching, they move to the shade of the big oak tree near their cabin to eat.

The shadows are their friends in this haven, where no one and nothing else exists but them. Seret trusts them like they trust each other, content to close her eyes and lay her head back against the trunk when she’s done eating.

Lysandra loves the warmth of the sun, but she hates the harsh white spotlight of her family, the prickly rules tying her down, the sense that she can’t ever escape their restraining eyes. She can hide in the darkness from Seret. They’ll never catch her.

Lysandra has never been so invincible, light enough to be picked up on a cloud every time the wind blows. Seret is the only magical thing she’s met that doesn’t have a drop of magic within her.

Seret is ineffable. Unknowable. Larger than life. Lysandra can never hope to understand her fully, but she can try, she can watch and observe, attempt to learn the inner workings of Seret’s mind.

“Seret?” Lysandra asks one afternoon just like every other, where the peace and warmth of their retreat cannot be broken. “Where are you from?”

It is the first time she has asked. She holds her breath, waiting for Seret’s answer, which takes a long time to come. Seret chews on her lip, her expression as guarded as always, until she finally smiles. “Wherever you want me to be from. North, south, east, west, I’ve visited them all. Pick one and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Lysandra’s chest opens to swallow an ache of emptiness. “Maybe later.” It’s not what she wanted, and they both know it. Lysandra inches mere breaths away from Seret’s side, but it won’t go unnoticed. She thought Seret might actually tell her. She rubs the small gold heart between her fingers and sighs.

“Hey,” Seret says, turning Lysandra’s chin towards her. “It’s not because I don’t trust you, because I do. I trust you more than I’ve trusted anyone, more than you know.”

“Then why won’t you tell me?” Need, embarrassing and whiny, sneaks into Lysandra’s voice, but she ignores it. She’s entitled to this answer, at least.

“I don’t want to shatter your world.” Seret sighs and shifts to take Lysandra’s hands in both of hers. “I am from the south. I ran away from home at a young age to travel because my upbringing was hell, and I’ve never stopped since.”

Lysandra breathes out.

“None of that changes how I feel about you,” Seret continues, pleading, the most passionate Lysandra has ever heard her. “I have never met anyone like you, even with everywhere I’ve been. I do not want anyone but you.”

No one has ever said anything like that to Lysandra, and hearing it now gives her pause. The way Seret’s eyes burn on her skin with their dark intensity is exquisite. Lysandra will never get used to it. She does not want to.

“I would not want this with anyone else.” It does not mean the same thing, but Seret smiles, close mouthed, anyway. At times like this, Seret’s secretive nature makes Lysandra’s blood boil, unvoiced screams rise in her throat. She has given so much of herself already, why can Lysandra not know of her past, her family, her ugliest emotions?

She never wants Seret to treat her like glass. The first day they met, Seret got it right. Lysandra can’t bear the thought that Seret is any less perfect than she thinks, that would shatter her, not knowledge of the world beyond the valley.

Lysandra has gotten all she will today. She is content to sigh deeply and lay her head on Seret’s arm. Seret will stroke Lysandra’s hair, and the wind will ruffle her own, and Lysandra’s urge to push it back will fight the warmth settling into her bones. They are fine. They will be fine. Nothing more.

***

On lucky occasions, Seret shares stories of her travels from who knows when, who knows where. She has been everywhere, she said, and Lysandra believes her. She asks about the north, the far east, the west, and Seret’s homeland, the south.

The south could mean any number of things. Lysandra has never been out of Vashiri Valley, and her family have always been vague about what lies beyond their mountains, but Seret describes an actual ocean, the cold water wrapping around her ankles, the hot sand burning her feet.

She takes Lysandra to a desert in her mind, great, sprawling cities, icy lakes and snowy mountains to the north. To the east, she says, more ocean with great brown ships. Lysandra doesn’t care if she’s lying.

She lays in the grass on her side and lets the wind blow her skirts while she travels the world in her mind. Seret closes her eyes and traces mountains, rivers, canyons on her spine, unconsciously pointing in those directions. Lysandra’s breath catches in her throat.

Seret opens her eyes briefly to ask, “Am I boring you?”

Never. You couldn’t if you tried.

Lysandra shakes her head. Seret’s slow, easy smile returns, and the warm fingers on the skin revealed by her backless dress whisk her away to a thousand new worlds so big she can’t even imagine them.

***

“Does it ever bother you that I’m a princess?”

Seret smiles. “That isn’t something that would bother most people in my position.”

“I’d disagree. As the lover of a princess, you have no privacy, there’s expectations, rules you have to follow, harassment…I suppose a better word would be faze. You met and introduced yourself and spoke to me as if I were normal.”

“I called you my princess. the day we met.”

At Lysandra’s withering look, Seret chuckles. “Who said you aren’t normal? You didn’t have any control over what family you were born into. I would still feel the same if you hadn’t rejected your family and your role, if you were princess first and person second. It would be a bit harder to get to you, though, in that stronghold. To me, in that bar, you were just the prettiest girl in the nicest dress with the most captivating eyes. They told me you were a princess—so what? I love you anyway.”

Lysandra’s cheeks burn hot, and she chokes on saliva. The wind picks up, and she feels like she’s falling. How can Seret just say things like that and expect Lysandra not to explode and melt into the sun? “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

Seret smiles again. “I’m not looking to get anywhere. I’m not like those people at the bar when we met. I’m not trying to be like anyone. I’m not not trying to be like anyone. I’m not looking to impress you, honestly. I’m just being honest.”

Lysandra’s breath catches in her throat like a branch stuck in a river, unfazed by the powerful oncoming waves.

Seret is clearly not looking to hear it back, but Lysandra gathers all her courage and quietly says, “I love you, too. I--”

She shies away from Seret’s intense gaze, burning on the back of her neck. “I’m not good at, uh. Saying things like this. Like you. But I want you to know that you’ve changed my life. I don’t know how to thank you for all that you’ve done for me, given me. This place is nothing short of perfect. Every minute we’ve spent together has been nothing short of perfect. I’m sorry I haven’t given you anything back.”

“My dear, you are quite mistaken. You’ve given me the ultimate gift: yourself. The opportunity to know your heart, your mind. You’ve let me in when I can tell you have trouble doing so.”

She kisses the back of Lysandra’s hand, looking up at her through her eyelashes, as she often does. It still makes Lysandra’s entire being heat like the sun itself came down to lay its rays gently onto her, powerful but careful with her.

“You are my entire world,” says Seret, the sun. “The most precious creature in all the places I’ve visited, all the creatures in this valley alone.”

Lysandra smiles. “You haven’t met Wynn Scylla’s dragonlings.”

Deflect. Defend. Dismiss. Seret sees through it.

Lysandra lays their lips together, hoping to convey without the painful process of words said aloud just how much Seret makes her hurt. Seret makes her burn and ache in the best of ways, like a satisfying stretch after waking up from a stiff nap.

Seret challenges her to face things she loves shying away from, things like the swelling of her heart which she hasn’t felt in years. Seret is terrifying, all consuming, but Lysandra can’t imagine a world without her. Much of her allure comes from her mystery, however infuriating her secrecy is.

Hours later, when they’re full and sated from dinner, after they wash the dishes side by side at the river and after they’ve bathed in the tub in the house, Lysandra hears a faint hum, high and low, continuous, lulling and soft. She turns her head and discovers it’s Seret, humming to herself as she drapes the wet towels out to dry. “What’s that you’re humming?”

Seret pauses her sweet melody. “Hm? Oh, just some music from the east. If I had the proper instruments, I would play the tune.”

Lysandra chokes on air. “You can play music, too?”

Seret smiles. “I can do many things.”

“Oh?” Lysandra doesn’t know where her sudden burst of courage comes from. Perhaps she’s the one looking to get somewhere. She raises an eyebrow and crooks a finger, hoping a low tone will convey her point. “Come here and show me.”

Seret is quiet, face blank. Lysandra wonders, belatedly, if she does in fact have unknown boundaries.

When Seret desperately searches her eyes for consent, Lysandra realizes it was shock and not disgust that rendered her speechless. “You mean—” Seret asks, hoarse, never breaking eye contact. Lysandra shivers. She had that effect on her?

“Yes.”

They stare at each other for a long, silent moment, Seret’s hungry gaze fixed on Lysandra’s pale shoulders, the towel wrapped around her middle. Then they’re both moving at once, mouths moving in the same pattern of Seret’s melody, a symphony of hearts beating in time.

If Lysandra is Seret’s world, Seret is the center of Lysandra’s.

***

At long last, Lysandra’s family gets wind of Seret. Lysandra doesn’t want to know how. Maybe Wynn and Petrus spread it around by accident—she loves those boys, but they couldn’t keep a secret if they tried. Maybe it was Arlin, who Lysandra finally let meet Seret.

All she does know is that her family is demanding to meet their middle princess’s lover, which means they’ll clarify if they’re allowed to be together or not.

“I’m sorry,” Lysandra whimpers, on the edge of tears in Seret’s arms. “I don’t want them to touch us with a ten foot stick, but if we don’t go, they’ll send someone out here to find us and disrupt our world. I’m so sorry.” Something about her family interfering in her and Seret’s affairs makes Lysandra boil like nothing else.

“It’s okay, my princess,” Seret murmurs into her hair, cupping the back of her head, rocking them back and forth. “We’ll go, I’ll tell them what they want to know, we’ll come right back here. It will only be a few hours. Their opinion won’t change how I feel about you, but I’ll do whatever you feel is best.” The sorrow in Seret’s tone implies too much.

Lysandra pulls back. “Don’t you ever think I’d leave you for my family. Right now, I’m thinking much the opposite.”

Seret purses her lips. “What objection would they have to me? The whole valley seems to like me, why wouldn’t they?”

“You’re not a noble, you don’t have a title, you have nothing to offer them, you won’t even tell anyone where you’re from, and you’re the lover of their middle child.”

Her voice is bitter, matching her heart. Seret’s arms tighten protectively around her. Lysandra switches from bitterness to anger to guilt in a second. How dare her family do this to them? What makes them think they have this right?

They control Vashiri Valley, but Lysandra can’t remember the last time they appeared in public, and their power is distant at best.

They control Vashiri Valley, but they can’t control her.

“No matter what they say,” Lysandra says into Seret’s chest, “I am never leaving you. You’ll have to pry me away. Whatever polite, diplomatic accusations or insults they throw at you, ignore them. You don’t have to tell anyone, especially them, about yourself. You’re with me because I love you, and that’s all we care about. Okay?”

“I’m not sure I’m the one who needs reassuring, Lysandra.”

“Shut up. I’ll be fine.” She pulls back from warmth to wipe her eyes, hot shame from crying coating her face, but Seret pulls her back in.

“There’s no shame here,” she whispers, kissing Lysandra’s temple. “Comforting you is my pleasure, though I wish you didn’t have a reason to cry. Everything’s going to be okay, my princess.”

Lysandra breathes.

She wears the gown she wore when she and Seret met, soft pink with a low neckline, tiered ruffles reaching down to her ankles, frilly short sleeves. Maybe familiarity will give her some comfort, whether that’s Seret’s hand on her thigh or this dress pinching her arm.

Seret wears the same black slacks, white shirt, and black jacket she always wears, thoroughly combs her hair, but leaves the hat at home.

At the dinner, she is perfect. she speaks only when spoken to, sits with that straight, enviable posture, praises the food like it’s the substance of heaven itself, the best she’s ever had.

She’s gracious, thankful, answers every question they ask. If she had a title, Lysandra knows her family would be simply begging them to marry.

Things start out pleasant, her family treating Seret with the polite, arm’s length attitude Lysandra expected. Finally, the dreaded question comes.

“So, Seret,” Lysandra’s mother asks, folding her hands, “where are you from?”

Lysandra clutches her necklace, the one Seret gave her, and prays. Please don’t let them be the first ones you tell. They don’t deserve that.

Seret smiles. “This soup is delicious, Your Majesty.”

“Yes, thank you, you’ve said so already.” Her mother is reaching the end of her patience—Lysandra has been on the other end of that short patience dozens of times. Her blue feathered hat and perfect red lips cover up a much nastier woman. “Please tell us about where you live.”

“Well, Lysandra and I have been living next to the forest all summer. The fields there are positively peaceful, you should visit them sometime.” She pauses to let horror sink into the hearts of luxury groomed royals. Lysandra bites down on a smile. “But I am technically still renting an apartment in the city.”

“Where you came from,” Lysandra’s father adds, sharp, on the end of his patience as well. Lysandra wonders how much Seret prepared for this. Seret is smart, she must’ve known she couldn’t wiggle her way out of the question with her usual tricks. “Maybe who your parents are.”

Seret appears to consider the question. “I’d rather not say,” she says, stirring her drink with her spoon. Silence falls onto the room. Lysandra holds her breath.

Her mother nods her head tightly. “Very well. In that case, we’re going to have to insist you stop seeing our daughter.”

Seret bows her head in humble acceptance, but Lysandra stands up, every fiber of her being filling with inexplicable rage. She told herself she wouldn’t display a reaction, she would just accept the denial and then ignore it, like Seret will, but hearing it so frankly from her mother’s lips is different from imagining it.

“You don’t have the right to tell me who I can and can’t see just because you feel like it,” she spits. “I’m an adult. I haven’t lived here full time or done the duties you ask of me for years. You should disown me. Save yourselves the trouble of dealing with me any longer.”

Seret’s hand lands firmly on her knee as if to say no, don’t. Lysandra captures her hand and holds it above the table for the whole family to see.

“You’re the one who chose to come here,” Lysandra’s mother says.

“Yes, because I knew you’d hound us if we didn’t.” Lysandra can feel her chest being ripped open from the top down. Seret’s fingers squeezing hers is the only thing tethering her to herself. She pulls tightly on Seret’s fingers, who takes the hint and stands. They walk out without another word, without a glance back.

When they get back to the cabin, Lysandra sinks onto the couch in their living room face first, and immediately begins to cry. The seconds it takes for the door to click and Seret’s boots to march across the wood are far too long, until warm arms wrap around Lysandra’s back and Seret buries her nose in the back of her hair. “I’m so sorry,” she murmurs, which only makes Lysandra sob harder.

“I don’t know why it still matters. I knew this was exactly what they’d say. I didn’t want it to affect me. I want to move on from them.”

Seret stays quiet, just letting Lysandra exist and holding her through it. They don’t speak about it again.

Things are different after that. The fields and the cabin have been tainted with mere mention of the royal family’s presence. The spell has been broken.

The wind comes less, the sun seems to burn in a way it didn’t before. Lysandra doesn’t treasure dawn and dusk the way she used to, and baths are just baths. The only thing that hasn’t lost its magic is Seret, as kind and loving as always.

A week later, Seret begins taking trips into the city to gather everything from her apartment and bring it to the cabin, everything of Lysandra’s from Wynn’s cottage.

No matter how many times Lysandra offers to help, Seret insists she’s fine, she doesn’t want Lysandra to come into the city and get hounded and harassed by the usual people dying to meet the princess.

Arlin and the others come to visit a few times to keep her company while Seret’s gone, to speak about the upcoming Academy year, their last year, to learn the place Lysandra disappeared to the entire summer.

She’s happy to see them, happy for the company, but her heart never stops aching for Seret, wondering what she’s doing. Arlin and the boys stay for dinner well after Seret’s back, so she’s never given a moment alone to think.

This continues for a month.

Arlin and the boys become as intimately familiar with the cabin, the fields, the river, and the forest as Lysandra was with Wynn’s cottage on the forest’s other side.

Lysandra flies toward the end of summer in a haze, perpetually afraid to break the peace, shatter the dream, feel the cold seep into her bones once more. She has grown so used to the wind in her hair, the sun on her skin, the safety of Seret’s arms and her soothing voice.

Seret is never too loud, never jarring. Seret seems to float on the wind; sometimes her mind is lost to Lysandra as she stares into the sky at nothing.

Seret is—

Seret is many things. Nothing at all. Everything all at once.

Ineffable.

On what Seret says will be her last day of moving, she kisses Lysandra’s cheek and says, “I’ll be back,” like always. Lysandra thinks that’s rather silly—of course she’ll be back, that’s a given—but it’s sweet.

Arlin and the boys won’t be over since they have to collect their books for school in two weeks and otherwise prepare. Lysandra spends the day in the river, letting the water suck all the thoughts from her head.

By the evening, as Lysandra waits on the porch with dinner ready, Seret is still not back.

She probably got held up with the loading carts she’s been using, Lysandra tells herself as she gathers her shawl, puts on a dress fit for the town’s eyes, and begins the long walk there. She stopped to have dinner, or something. Maybe she met Wynn’s dragonlings at last.

Seret would’ve run back here herself to tell Lysandra she wouldn’t be back until later because of the dragonlings, or she would’ve sent a magical letter, or something. Seret has told her over and over how much she hates to see Lysandra in pain, and how she’ll never, ever be the cause of even the slightest worry.

Dread sits heavily in Lysandra’s chest.

The area near the school is in chaos, looking for her. No one she meets will tell her what’s going on, why they refuse to meet her eyes, why they offer faint smiles in place of explanations.

When Lysandra is shown the rooms in the Academy Seret broke into, the bizarre circles drawn on the floor in chalk, the thick books lying open, the blood splattered all over the floor, and finally, Seret’s body lying on the floor with her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes closed, Lysandra falls to her knees and doesn’t get up.

Her entire being is shattered with a force she didn’t know existed, with waves of invisible pain too strong for this realm. Everything feels empty and quiet, but not quiet in the serene way of Seret’s.

She screams, and it rips her open. It rips every part of good out of her and replaces her with numb, muffled, faint feeling. Later the waves of pain will come back, the longing for Seret’s warm arms to wrap around her and make everything all better, but now, she’s able to look at the body with only thin trails of tears streaming down her face.

Seret’s white shirt is soaked through with a circle of bright red blood. The whole scene is almost unreal. If not for the blood and the cold feel of her hand, Lysandra’s Seret Ashling looks the same. Her hair is neatly arranged, her face free of the splattered blood.

Death is too simple a word for what happens to Seret.

She is gone, says a voice, Seret’s voice, her smiling face haunting Lysandra behind her closed eyes. The ghost of Seret’s fingers cup her jaw, stroke her cheekbones, brush soft lips over her forehead, push her spectacles up.

I love you, my princess, Lysandra hears when she touches her ear to the floor, soaking the front of her dress with her blood, such a cruel reminder of Seret’s humanity. She was brutally, unfortunately, unbelievably human. She may have reached beyond this realm to grab a fist of love for Lysandra, a greater capacity than any human could hold, but that couldn’t save her from her own humanity.

I’ll be back. Seret’s last words to her.

She wasn’t just going into town to move.

Lysandra clutches the necklace Seret gave her and squeezes until it hurts. It fits easily in her palm, hangs right over her heart. The death of Seret Ashling is going to hit Vashiri Valley like the rare storms, unforgiving and violent, bringing destruction that takes years to recover from.

Lysandra squeezes the necklace, closes her eyes, and breathes slowly, steadily. The storm will wipe her out faster and harder than anyone else, but she’s the one who has to control it singlehandedly, and that will be about as easy as trying to capture an actual storm from the ground.

She won’t survive this, but she’s known for months that if anything ever happened to Seret, she never would. She can only submit to the darkness—the bad kind, this time—awaiting her, return to reality behind this door.

[elliots-stuff]

up and coming aesthetics quiz all quiz results

*I didn’t write a ton for most of these because I didn’t want to go on and on, but I hold them all near to my heart. if for whatever reason you want to come and chat with me/hear more about one/all of them feel free to of course lol 

tamboracore

it's true, you really were born in the wrong era. I know the time period calling to you: 1816, the year without a summer (following the mount tambora volcanic eruption). tamboracore is about becoming at home in the physical and metaphorical darkness and cold, making them into pleasant things, with a beautiful vintage touch. advice: write a love letter or a poem from the depths of your soul. lucky number: 16 baby!

10th grade english class core

why bother with drugs when you already got yourself hopelessly addicted to getting "nice work! very insightful!" comments on your papers. it's alright, it happens to the best of us. anyway, the aesthetic is about crafting your life to be like a movie or a book. tidy pacing and chapters, common themes and motifs, high-interest peaks of drama. etc. you're the protagonist, my friend. what message does your story carry? advice: get some of those round wire frame glasses (real or fake). lucky number: 12

jellyfishcore

stewards of the ocean; to be beautiful, to be ancient. jellyfish have seen it all, and day to day (or century to century) problems do not perturb them. many jellyfishcore practitioners enjoy a timeless aesthetic, blending fashion and decor from all eras, while others choose a particular era (often nineteenth century or before) to favor. jellyfish-esque fashion also encouraged. advice: watch an informational video about the ocean. lucky numbers: 999 and 0

mainecore

incredible beauty, with classic darkness lurking below the surface. a common trope in mainecore media will be people disappearing after a day of summer revelry, speculated to be swallowed up by the ocean or by the forest. advice: snatch up lighthouse related usernames while you can. also, take a cool picture of a tree or the sky. lucky number: 4

candlecore

candlecore is a sweet, dreamy aesthetic with gentle surreal motifs. aroma is a large part of executing the aesthetic, as well as comfortable, pastel clothing. aside from comfort and coziness, a major theme is yearning for something just beyond the real world. lucid dreaming is a popular part of the aesthetic. advice: change into your favorite sleepwear and make your bed nicely before bed tonight. lucky number: 13

daisycore

at its essence, daisycore is about being lighter than air. it is about enjoying simple, beautiful things, especially spring and summer nature elements, and going through life gently. daisycore often presents itself with vintage elements from the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. advice: drink a light tea or juice and/or sit outside on the grass. lucky number: 60

lettucecore

fresh, crisp, hip, and happening. lettucecore is about being bright and cool; it's about setting trends and the avante garde. it's about not only tolerating but loving standing out in any room. you're going places, my friend. I envision rooms with lots of windows in your future. advice: try a lettuce wrap. additionally, try some bright fashion. lucky number: 79

pillowfortcore

not to capture youth, but to live it, forever, as something you do, not something you have or are. no ghosts and no guarantees of tomorrow; the present is always prioritized over the past or the future. to love adventure, but more importantly, to find adventure in everything. friendship above all else. advice: watch the sun rise. lucky number: 77

traincore

the focus of traincore is in appreciating being between places and outside of them; in living in the outskirts and the liminal space. a secondary element of traincore is appreciating older, simpler structures and designs. popular traincore media will have nomadic themes of finding home in people and not places. advice: go on a walk down a boring street. lucky number: 17

[themanicmagician]

Shipwrecked [1/4]

[AO3]

Summary: When Redd's boat crashes upon the shore of Bastion Island, Tom reluctantly takes him in while he recovers. Tom despises Redd for his past deceit, but when he has no choice but to spend time with him, Tom is reminded why he fell in love with the wily fox in the first place.

The wind blew fiercely enough to rattle the windows. The rainstorm, which had begun as an insignificant drizzle that afternoon, had since evolved into a deluge.

“Oh goodness!” Isabelle’s exclamation was punctuated by a jingling of the bells in her hair. She was peering out the dark window. “Alex is outside in this awful weather!”

Tom followed Isabelle’s gaze. Bastion Island’s resident representative, Alex, tromped across the muddy grass. She wore a raincoat, boots, and hat, and clasped a fishing pole in one hand. She was evidently unbothered by the downpour.

“Oh, we should do something, shouldn’t we? She’ll get awful sick, won’t she?” Isabelle fretted, wringing her paws.

“She’ll be alright.” Tom assured her. Humans were remarkably hardy compared to animals. Even if something did happen, the Cranny was well-stocked with medicine.

Alex soon disappeared from their view. Isabelle returned with reluctance to her desk.

Tom found himself wrapped back up in work in short order. He was overlooking expense reports that’d been submitted to him by Timmy and Tommy. The twins were doing remarkably well handling the shop on their own. His oversight was minimal, and more a formality than anything. But the Nooklings wouldn’t have him out of the loop, and Tom had to confess to himself he didn’t want to give up this last tie to the Cranny. Owning a shop had been a dream of his for so long, it had never truly left him.

A jangling noise broke the peaceful quiet of the office. Isabelle fished out her phone from her pocket. A delighted grin lit up her face.

“Digby!” She flashed a look to Tom. “Do you mind if I…?”

Tom gestured wordlessly for her to go ahead.

Isabelle accepted the call, and spoke rapid-fire back and forth with her brother. Digby had recently switched professions from gatekeeper to a member of the renowned Happy Home Academy, and was evidently eager to apprise his sister of further details.

He watched out of his peripheral vision as Isabelle chatted merrily away, and felt a pang of loneliness. Everyone, it seemed, had someone. Isabelle had Digby. Timmy and Tommy were inseparable. Sabel still had Mabel, even if Label had left to strike out on her own. Tom was an only child, and then an orphan. There had been another, once. Someone he’d thought he could trust, could open his heart to. It hadn’t ended well.

Tom dove back into his paperwork to chase away the melancholia. He was writing a series of calculations in the margins of the Nooklings’ report when the doors to Resident Services banged open.

Tom startled and drew a line through his work. Isabelle yipped, and hurriedly said her goodbyes and hung up on Digby.

Alex and Del were carrying an animal between them. It was a fox, with bedraggled, matted fur, Alex’s jacket thrown over his small shoulders.

“I found him by the dock. His ship was all smashed up on the rocks, I had Del help me get him out.” Alex explained. “I think he’s hurt!”

“Lay him on the table,” Tom ordered. He shoved papers and pen cups off the surface to clear room, uncaring where they landed.

Alex and Del placed him carefully on the table. The fox groaned feebly, but didn’t stir. Up close, there was no mistaking the newcomer: it was Redd. What on earth was he doing here, on a near-deserted island of all places? There was no time at present to think it over.

Tom checked Redd over. The fox was miraculously unhurt, save for his left arm. The limb was twisted at an odd angle.

“Del, get medicine from the Cranny. Alex, we’ll need straight sticks and cloth to set his arm.”

The two darted out to fetch what Tom asked. Isabelle found a towel from somewhere and started drying Redd’s sodden frame.

Tom bent over Redd’s face. He tapped his cheek, trying to rouse him. There was a tight ball of anxiety in Tom’s chest, that wouldn’t abate until Redd stirred to crack some dumb joke.

“Mr. Nook, is this who I think it is?”

“It’s Redd, yes.”

Isabelle’s knowledge of him was scarce. She knew him only as the sketchy merchant who set up a tent on occasion in the plaza of their old town. Tom had not divulged any of their past history to her, in spite of their friendship. Indeed, Sable was the only one of his acquaintance who had full knowledge of the situation, in part because she had witnessed the sad finale. Tom had watched Redd erect his tent in the plaza, peddle his often-fake wares, and scurry off before villagers could come after him with their complaints. At the time Tom had considered intervening, of forcing Redd out of town, but he hadn’t been able to confront the fox directly. Instead, he posted a missive on the town bulletin board, warning villagers not to buy from him. If they chose to be taken in by Redd’s wiles after the fact, that was on them.

“But what could Redd be doing all the way out here?” Isabelle echoed Tom’s earlier thoughts.

“What indeed.” Tom could only imagine. Doubtless some new elaborate scheme of his to swindle more animals out of their hard-earned bells.

“I’m back!” Alex declared, arms full of supplies.

“Excellent.”

Tom aligned the sticks in the proper position, then requested Isabelle and Alex hold the branches still as Tom wound the cloth around them to secure the splint. Redd shifted and whimpered as his broken arm was inevitably jostled, and Tom was glad now that Redd hadn’t awoken earlier.

As they finished splinting Redd’s arm, Del arrived with what looked like eight or nine bags of medicine, all slightly damp from the rain.

“I wasn’t sure how many he’d need.” Del said, dumping the pile out onto the table.

Tom opened up one of the paper bags. Inside was a flask of medicine, stoppered with a cork. Tom tipped Redd’s head up slightly, and trickled the vial down his throat. The fox swallowed reflexively. When Redd drained the flask, Tom set it aside. A stray drop of medicine had landed on Redd’s muzzle. Tom thumbed it away unthinkingly.

“I can take him back to my house,” Alex offered. Tom started, his paw quickly dropped away from Redd’s face. “I have the room.”

“No, thank you. That won’t be necessary. Redd and I are...old acquaintances. I’ll look after him, if you’d help me get him home.”

Alex was a touch bemused, evidently wanting to ask more about their connection, but merely agreed.

“Oh, just a moment!” Isabelle scurried back to her desk. She rooted around the drawers until she produced a folded, unused rain poncho. “So he doesn’t get a chill on top of everything else.”

The poncho was a pink plastic, with daisies printed on it. Redd would absolutely hate it, so Tom took some satisfaction in dressing him in the thing.

Moving Redd was a joint effort. Tom and Alex carried Redd, the latter being careful not to jostle the fox’s bad arm. Isabelle held her green gingham umbrella over them, shielding Redd from the worst of the rain. And Del hurried alongside them with the excess parcels of medicine.

The group made their way to the Cranny. The first floor was where the Nooklings served customers, and they and Tom all lived upstairs on the second level.

Tommy was just locking up the shop as they approached, smothering a yawn with one paw. His eyes widened at the sight of them.

“We’re taking him upstairs.” Tom said.

Tommy nodded and scampered to the side door that led to the second floor. He held the door open, and they carried Redd inside.

The Nook family lived modestly here. They had a quaint living room, connected to a kitchenette. There was a single bathroom, and two bedrooms. One for Tom, and one for the boys. (They shared a bunk bed. Tom frequently heard them through the wall at night, bickering good-naturedly about who got to sleep on the top bunk that evening.)

They deposited Redd on Tom’s bed. As Tom tucked the covers around him, he was struck by how small Redd was. Redd had always been the more angular one of the pair of them, but when they’d first met, Tom had been much younger, and still growing. He’d been a head shorter than the fox, whereas now he was a head taller. Redd hadn’t changed at all. He looked so small and pitiful in Tom’s bed, that an instinctive urge to protect him welled up within Tom. He squashed it.

Del left the medicine piled on the nightstand. After assuring them all he could take it from here—yes, Isabelle, he would call if he needed something, yes, he promised—the villagers left.

“What’s going on?” A small voice piped up. Timmy emerged from the bathroom, dressed in his pajamas, complete with a nightcap that had a dangling pom-pom on the end. He was holding his toothbrush.

“Redd is going to be staying with us for...a little while.” This was absolutely not a long term plan. Tom would shelter and feed Redd while he recovered, because it was the right thing to do. But once Redd was well again, he was being sent back to the mainland—whether he liked it or not.

Tommy went to his usual place at Timmy’s side, and the duo turned their inquisitive eyes upon Tom.

“So is Redd your friend?”

“...friend?”

“No.” Tom denied, a touch more curt than he’d intended. Softer, he explained, “We tried to go into business together, once, when I was very young. It didn’t work out. Our philosophies differed too much.”

Tom had hoped his explanation would curtail any further comments, but, on the contrary, the Nooklings were now nearly vibrating in place with curiosity.

“It’s late. You should both get ready for bed.” Tom said, before they could pepper him with additional questions.

Once Timmy and Tommy were settled in for the night, Tom returned to check on Redd. He had moved some in his sleep, now curled on his uninjured side. He was panting lightly. Tom pressed the back of his paw to Redd’s forehead. He was a little warm, but not alarmingly so.

Tom left him then, assured he’d be alright throughout the night. He stretched out on the living room couch and resigned himself to a bad back the next morning.

~*~

The city was bigger than Tom had dreamed. Buildings towered overhead. Tom craned his neck and still couldn’t see the tops of the skyscrapers. He paused a moment, just to drink it all in.

An eagle bumped into him. The bird squawked, dropping her coffee on the crosswalk.

“What are you doing?” She griped. “You can’t just stop in the middle of the road!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Tom rested his suitcase on the ground and hastily opened it. “I have some bells—I’ll pay you back for it—crap!”

Tom yelped as his business proposal notes were lifted up by the wind, and scattered out of his suitcase. Tom scrambled to snatch them up before they could blow too far away. None of the passersby noticed, or cared. They just kept walking. One deer even left a hoofprint stamped on one of the sheets.

“Ugh, I don’t have time for this!” The eagle complained, and stomped off without her coffee or refund.

“Wait, just a moment—!”

She had already vanished into the throng.

Tom sighed. He stuffed his papers back in his briefcase and pressed on. All he owned was collected in the small case. Two spare sets of clothes, some pencils, his business proposal he’d printed off in the town library, and a sack of 10,500 bells he’d painstakingly scraped together running various errands for his neighbors. He didn’t have much, but he clung to confidence. He had a knack for business, his school teacher had been adamant about it. Tom  would  make it. Even though the city seemed a bit more...unfriendly...than he’d hoped it would be. He was intelligent, he had good, fresh ideas. He just needed to get himself in front of the right animals to pitch his proposal.

Tom’s stomach growled. First, he needed food. And a place to stay.

The convenience store food was more expensive than he’d anticipated—no  way a sandwich would cost 500 bells back home!—so he purchased a peeled orange from a girl selling them outside the store for 15 bells.

Tom polished off the last wedge as he entered the Hollyhock Hotel. A chestnut mare in a dapper suit stood behind the front counter.

“Hi there!” She beamed. Hers was the first friendly face he’d encountered. He wondered if he could count a smile that was paid for. “Welcome to Hollyhock Hotel, sir. How can I help you today?”

“I’d like a room, please.”

“Of course!” Her hooves clacked on the keyboard. “And how many nights will you be staying with us?”

“I’m not sure yet. Could I just go night to night for now?”

“Sure. Let’s see now...I can put you in the Greene Suite, that’s 5,000 bells a night.”

“5,000 bells?!” Tom squeaked. He’d be broke within three days! “D-Do you have anything more affordable?”

Further keyboard clattering. She grimaced. “The best we could do is the Acorn Suite, that’s 3,500 a night, but it’s rather cramped.”

Tom gulped. He thought he’d stay in a hotel as he got acquainted with the city, and then in time find an apartment to move into. Now the first step of his journey seemed impossible.

The horse eyed him. “New in town, are you?”

Tom flushed. Was he so obvious? His jacket sleeves were short, stopping two whole inches above his wrists; he hadn’t had the opportunity to buy new clothes in some time, and he’d been too proud to ask Sable to sew scraps onto the ends of the sleeves. He tugged the hem of his sleeve down self-consciously.

She sighed. “Look. Things are pretty pricey here. You’d have better luck further downtown. Past 10th, I’d say.”

“Thank you,” He said politely, and turned to leave.

“Wait!” She called. He turned back. “Just...be careful, alright? That area can be a little rough. They’ll be able to tell you’re an out-of-towner with one look. Don’t go trusting any suspicious characters, alright?”

Tom nodded, and left.

He was on 50th street now. He wasn’t sure if he could afford a cab, or even the proper method of hiring one, so he walked.

It took ages. The streetlights were never in his favor. He’d cross one block and get held up at the next, over and over and over.

An hour later, the sun was starting to set, turning the skyline orange and pink. His feet and legs were stiff, and his arm ached from carrying his briefcase for so long. But, at long last, he had made it down to 10th street. The differences to uptown were stark. The crush of animals had thinned out to near nothing. The pavement was cracked and potholed. More stores were boarded up than open for business. Disheveled-looking animals slept on top of heating vents.

Tom squared his shoulders, and continued on. It wasn’t until 6th street that he caught sight of a potential lead: a motel. The ‘t’ was burnt out on the sign, but the vacancy marker beneath it was lit.

The front door was half off its hinge, the window cracked. Tom eased it open dubiously. Inside he spotted a sallow-looking pig, bickering with a fox. The fox looked out of place here. His red fur was neat and shiny, and he wore a freshly-pressed black blazer. He was slouched over the counter with an easy confidence.

“No, no, no. It’s a good way to get me in trouble.”

“You’re overthinking it. It’s simple, Cobb, really. All you’ve got to do is bet on the other fellow. We split the profits 30/70. It’s easy money, cousin.”

The pig—Cobb, evidently—caught sight of Tom.

“You checking in?” He bellowed, leaning to look past the fox.

The fox turned to face him, and Tom saw then that the fox wasn’t wearing a shirt underneath his blazer. It was half-buttoned from the bottom, the top gaping open to reveal the fox’s chest.

The fox saw him looking. Tom went scarlet.

He smirked. “What’s your name, pretty?”

“I-It’s Thomas. Nook.”

“What are you doing here, Tom?” The fox purred, slinking closer. “This dinky den doesn’t seem your style.”

“I’m looking for a room to stay in while I look for an apartment.”

Cobb opened his mouth to talk, but the fox was faster.

“Why not come stay with me for a while, instead? Just until you get on your feet. I won’t charge a single bell.”

Tom shot him a look of heavy skepticism.

“What, I’m supposed to believe you’d help me, a complete stranger, out of the goodness of your heart?”

Cobb snorted. “Goodness, now that’s a joke…” He muttered.

The fox’s grin widened; evidently, he liked being challenged.

“I wouldn’t extend such a generous offer to any old stranger, no. But I can tell who you are with one look. You’re fresh in town, flat broke, and clueless about how the city runs. But you’ve got ambition, I can smell it. I was like you once. I want to help you, to, what’s the expression? Pay it forward. Plus, Cobb doesn’t even have hot water.”

“Oi!” Cobb protested.

“So, what do you say?” The fox extended his paw.

After a moment of deliberation, Tom reached out and shook it.

“Right, we’re off then! Think about what I said, Cobb.” The fox held fast to Tom’s hand, and tugged him back out onto the city streets.

“Wait,” Tom was tripping to keep pace with the fox’s longer strides. “I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Redd. Just Redd.”

~*~

Tom awoke to the jangle of his phone ringtone. He blearily crammed his paws between the couch cushions, searching for the infernal device. It must’ve fallen out of his pocket during the night.

He found it, and squinted at the screen, which was overbright in the darkness. It was 5:52 a.m., and Blathers was calling.

“Yes?” Tom answered him, tiredly.

“Tom, you simply will not believe the evening I have had—in Bastion, of all places! Who would have thought it! I am ever so grateful you coaxed me out here, old friend, I simply must—”

“Blathers.”

“Right! Right. Alex stopped by last evening, told me all about our new guest. She wrangled some of the villagers together afterwards to search the boat wreckage. There was—Tom, you simply must see it all, you must! You need to resist that unceasing urge to work and spend a visit. There was a veritable treasure trove inside the ship. Priceless artwork. The majority of the paintings, unfortunately, were water-damaged. I am doing my utmost to repair them—I don’t think I’ll even catch a wink of sleep today, hoo-hoo! But the statues, they fared much better. They’re in near-perfect condition, all of them! I wonder if our guest may be persuaded to part with them. For the museum, of course! Though I would like nothing less than to add these pieces to my personal collection...”

Tom mentally sifted through the dump of information Blathers had bestowed upon him. Blathers was a smart owl, with a ludicrous amount of degrees. If he was coveting the art, it couldn’t be fake.

“You’re saying all the art is authentic?”

“The statues are, most assuredly. Indeed, I wonder how our guest managed to obtain them all. They must have cost a fortune. Alas, the paintings have been marred. It’s impossible for me to say with one hundred percent certainty, but to my eye the paintings appear to be authentic as well.”

This was rather unusual for Redd. Not the art and artifact scheme, he’d been pulling that for years. But almost always he sold animals nothing but forgeries and fakes. On the very rare occasion he sold a genuine piece, inevitably within months the true owner came to town to reclaim their stolen artwork. It was baffling, but Tom pushed down his curiosity. It didn’t matter to him what new scheme Redd had devised. Tom was not going to get involved in any capacity.

Tom thanked Blathers for his information, and said his goodbyes before Blathers could keep him on the line for an hour. He sat up, and winced. His back was definitely sore from a night on the couch. Isabelle had gotten him into yoga lately, so he stood to perform a few basic stretches. His routine was interrupted by a thud from his bedroom: Redd.

Tom hurried into the room. Redd had fallen from the bed in a tangle of sheets. Had he tried to get out of bed on his own?

“Owch,” He grumbled, rubbing the back of his head with his good arm. He looked up, and spotted Tom. Redd’s mouth curved into a too-familiar smirk. “Just couldn’t wait to get me in your bed, eh Tom?”

[trashyswitch]

Easter In The Sanders House

Thomas gets to celebrate Easter weekend with the sides! Patton plans a full day of Easter fun, which gets a little out of hand quickly thanks to Remus...But a dose of innocence should do him some good! (or 50 doses)

Some dirty talk and swearing because...Remus. Also, I have personally ruined my own childhood with this fanfic. -_- But I'll be okay. I promise! Happy Easter everyone!

Easter was usually a house favorite in the mind palace. Though it was a little different this year thanks to COVID, Thomas and the sides could still celebrate it together. They all lived in the same household, which helped a lot. And some of them were capable of conjuring up anything! So the sides could make just about anything if they put their minds to it.

The sides started off with decorating the house with easter stuff. Bits of it were homemade, some of it was conjured up, and a few of the decorations were bought. Example: the huge stuffed bunny. Thomas had bought a medium-sized bunny from Wal-mart, and Patton took it upon himself to make it even bigger! And…

...It ended up being 7 feet tall…

But Patton was LOVING it! He would cuddle it non-stop, ‘feed’ it stuffy carrots, and even brush its belly fur with an old hairbrush. It was quite endearing to watch, as well as a little strange. The father figure would even give it blankets and make it look like a jedi knight. It was actually quite hilarious to see the gigantic bunny looking like the Jawa without the double sash or the gun. Everyone both loved it, and hated it at the same time. Virgil even went as far as to say ‘That’s cursed’! And...he has a point.

The rest of the decorations were banners with hanging eggs, baskets filled with fake grass and plastic eggs, bouquets of real and fake flowers all over the place, and mini egg bowls around the house. There were even little bunnies popping out of mugs placed onto the dining table for decoration! That was Roman’s favorite decoration.

Just like he usually did, Patton set up a little Easter egg hunt of plastic eggs filled wih treats and other little things. This year however, Patton wanted to improvise with extra little items…

Thomas and all 6 of the sides were all ready with their own baskets. The sides’ baskets matched their clothes, while Thomas had a pink basket. Logan was the first to critique Patton’s childish games. “Patton...A little reminder that we’re all in our 30’s. We’re getting a little too old for-”

Patton looked at Logan with a ‘seriously?’ look and squeezed his side. “Hush your piehole. Santa may not exist but no one lets that stop us from celebrating Christmas.” Patton warned casually.

Logan jumped and moved a step away from Pat. “Fine. Touché.” Logan responded.

Roman and Remus both snapped their neck towards Patton. “SANTA DOESN’T EXIST?!”

Logan facepalmed and shook his head while Patton giggled into his hand. “On your mark silly geese!” Patton called. Everyone got into their push position to start running at the ready. “Get set...GO!”

Everyone started running around the house while Logan and Patton just walked. Patton was watching the six boys run around the house with their baskets. There were eggs literally everywhere! And some of them had chocolate, others had origami creations, A few had glitter, a few had cute quotes written in slips of papers like an easter fortune cookie, and other had…

“...An acorn?” Janus asked.

Logan looked over and widened his eyes. “That’s a chestnut oak acorn. They’re an oval-sized breed of acorn.” Logan told him. “They’re usually in more eastern states though. So how did you get it here?” Logan asked.

“I conjured it!” Patton replied. “Good thing you know your trees. You’re gonna enjoy the other eggs near there…” Patton hinted.

Logan looked around for the eggs, opened them up and gasped as he very gently removed it. “A butterfly wing!” Logan very delicately held it in his hand. “It’s...beautiful!” Logan admitted with a smile. Patton smiled happily upon seeing his reaction.

Virgil moved to his bedroom and noticed that there were eggs hidden in there. Virgil opened up, and laughed as he removed them from the plastic egg: They were pins! There was a pin with a salt shaker that said ‘Salty’ on it, a pin of a black cat standing on a skull, a pin of a black rose and a pin with a black cat holding a fish. They were so small and yet, so up his alley. There would end up being more pins, being enamel and backpack versions. It was nice and thoughtful. Sometimes there were dark parts about spring that Virgil enjoyed. And he was thankful that Patton advocated for him.

Logan was having a wonderful time looking at all the spring items hidden in the eggs. There were Chinese Lanterns, walnuts, strawberry seeds, and more! There were even tiny squares that when unravelled, revealed recipe’s that involved Crofter’s Jam! And he even managed to fit Crofters store coupons into the plastic eggs! Logan was smiling and hugging Patton. “Thank you very much Patton. I appreciate the many kind gestures. And I apologize for the insensitive words I said earlier. You can still find ways for 30 year old men to enjoy Easter.” Logan told him.

Patton giggled and hugged him back. “Oh! And one more thing:” Patton conjured up a bunny ear headband. Logan’s smile dropped and he hung his head. “Really? Bunny ears?” Logan asked with a small smile.

Patton giggled. “Do you not remember our promise? You promised during March break that you were gonna wear bunny ears!” Patton reminded him.

“I am aware of my promise, but I’m starting to regret making such a promise.” Logan admitted.

Patton rolled his eyes and put it onto his head. “Perfect! See? It’s not that bad.” Patton told him.

Logan looked up. “Fine. But would you potentially consider making the ears look more realistic?” Logan offered a compromise.

Patton nodded and touched the bunny ears. They turned into brown and white bunny ears, with a very light pink skin all over the inner ear flap. Logan conjured up a mirror, and smiled. “Thank you.” Logan replied.

Remus was running around, acting like a raccoon. “Look at me! I’m RJ! I eat garbage, steal from Karens and ruin people’s lives!” Remus declared.

Roman chuckled and fluffed Remus’s hair. “I feel like you’d be more of a Hammy.” Roman admitted.

Remus gasped and clapped his hands. “YES! I COULD STOP TIME WITH THE POWER OF CAFFEINE! AND THEN BURN PEOPLE TO SHREDS WITH ILLEGAL LASERS AND CAGES!” Remus shouted.

Roman snapped his fingers and ran to Patton’s basket. “We got you something!” Roman told him.

Patton turned around and squealed upon the present! There was a chocolate chick, a DVD copy of ‘Over the Hedge’, and a DVD copy of It’s ‘The Easter Beagle, Charlie Brown!’. Patton happily took the DVD’s and the chocolate chick. “THANK YOU! YOU ARE ALL AMAZING!” Patton hugged as many people in one hug as his arms could. If his arms were stretchy like Elasticgirl’s, then maybe he could!

Later on, the family had a lovely Easter dinner. Cooked carrots, roast beef, baked potatoes and packaged gravy for it all. Patton and Thomas all worked together to make their supper, while Logan took some time to make a Crofter’s recipe he was given during the plastic egg hunt. With some time, Logan had whipped together what he called: Loganberry Crumble Squares. A simple recipe of rolled, layered oat crumble with Loganberry Crofter’s put into the middle of them! It tasted amazing! The recipe called for Gluten-free oats, but Logan just picked up regular oats for the recipe. No one was allergic to wheat. So, why worry?

After supper, the family gathered together to watch the Charlie Brown Easter Special. They enjoyed Marcie’s cute little ‘boiling eggs’ gags, and loved seeing Sally Brown and Snoopy playing with the hats! Patton died of cuteness overload at Snoopy and the bunnies dancing, and Janus admitted he felt bad that Snoopy didn’t have an egg for Charlie Brown.

Virgil looked at Janus. “Charlie rarely gets things. He has a best friend and a crush, but that’s about it. Lucy’s probably the reason he doesn’t have anything.” Virgil admitted.

“That’s true. But you gotta admit: Lucy and Shroeder are kinda cute together.” Roman added.

Thomas laughed. “That all depends on Schroeder falling for her as well.” Thomas added.

Logan sighed. “Poor Schroeder...she never leaves him alone. A life of Beethoven and piano playing is much better than a childish relationship with a girl like her.” Logan added.

Janus smirked. “Right! A relationship with Lucy will NEVER work. It’s not like she actually softens up to Charlie Brown near the end or anything...” Janus hinted.

Roman widened his eyes. “Wait, really?!”

Logan turned to him. “That’s true. I also realize she later develops a crush on Charlie near the end of the comic strips.” Logan added.

“So...So Schroeder and Lucy-”

Remus made a downward whistling sound while he lowered his finger and made an ‘explosion’ sound effect while expanding his hands. “But Charlie and Lucy:” Remus did a wolf-whistle before wrapping his own arms around himself and ‘making out’ with himself. “Oh Charlie! CHARLie! YeS!”

Roman gasped in horror while Thomas widened his eyes. “EW! You’re so disgusting! They’re 8!” Thomas yelled.

Roman had thrown Remus off the couch, leaving Remus rolling around on the floor in a fit of hysterics. Janus was snickering into his hand while Logan facepalmed himself. “THEHEY DIDN’T EVEN GEHEHET TO THE BEST PAHART!” Remus laughed.

Virgil groaned. “They don’t need to. This is why they need more than just teachers and shop owners in their community.” Virgil reacted.

Remus stopped laughing. “Why? Because Sally and Linus could be having fun at the back of the school yard?” Remus asked. “Virgil! You naughty, naughty man~”

Patton dropped his jaw and fixed his glasses with a frown. “That’s it! You need a big dose of innocence!” Patton declared, picking him up and dropping him onto the couch. He climbed onto him. “Starting with your hips!” Patton started digging his thumbs into his hips.

Remus’s naughty comeback was quickly overruled by his very own scream of surprise! “FAAAHAHAHACK!”

Patton smirked. “Language! Looks like I’m gonna need to up the ante!” Patton moved his hands to his lower, inner thighs and started squeezing and skittering.

“OHSHIT- GAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Remus completely lost it and just about kneed Patton in the face a few times! “STAAHAHAHAP! TOHOHOHO MUHUHUCH IHINNOCEHEHENCE!” Remus yelled.

Logan couldn’t help but smile at Patton’s way of handling him. He soon started smirking with Patton as well. “I’d almost say you should up this dose to lethal.” Logan offered.

Patton gasped and turned his head to look at Logan with an excited face. “You’re a genius!” Patton declared.

“And a change of lifestyle may even lessen the indecent behaviour. For example: consumptions of veggies and fruits…” Logan hinted.

Patton’s smirk grew so wide almost all his teeth were visible. “Oh! Fruits are a good one!”

Remus yelped in horror. “OHOHO NOHOHO, YOHOHOU’RE NOHOHOT FILLIHIHING MEHEHE WITH SWEETNEHEHESS!” Remus warned.

Patton looked at Remus with a confident facial expression. “Are you suggesting something more sour? Like...raspberries?” Patton asked.

Remus squealed! And he only heard the word! “NOHOHOHO! NORASPBERRIHIES! BEHEHEGOHOHONE!” Remus ordered. “IHIHI OHOHORDER YOHOU TO-”

Patton took in a deep breath and blew a big raspberry onto Remus’s inner thigh.

Remus squealed and screamed like a bat in severe distress! “AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! FAAAAHAHAHAHAHA! AAHAHAHA PAHAHAHAHAHA!” Remus screamed.

“My goodness Remus! You sound like you’re dying! What could possibly be so funny?!” Patton asked.

Janus smirked. “It couldn’t possibly be the thought of playboy magazines or babies making love.” Janus teased, just riling up Patton even more.

Patton clicked his tongue in disappointment. “My my my...I suppose even the smaller doses won’t stop you from your addictive thoughts...Perhaps you really DO need a lethal dose of innocence!” Patton admitted.

Remus was struggling. “WAHAHAIT NO! IHIHI DOHOHON’T! THISIS BAHAHAD EHEHENOHOHOUGH!”

Patton hummed. “Well, guess there’s only one way to test if it’s working!” Patton decided. Patton removed his fingers and let Remus have a break. Remus let in heavy breaths at first, to conquer his loss of oxygen. But within two minutes…

“Hehey, hey Janus:” Remus asked.

Janus looked over. “Yes?”

“Imagine Marcie being spicy for Peppermint Patty~” Remus made a sexy roaring sound.

Patton was immediately at him again. “Time for the second lethal dose, you stubborn pickle!” Patton declared quickly.

Thomas wheezed and hung his head. “Did you just call him a pickle?” Thomas asked, laughing.

“Yes I did! Because he’s being a green, sour dick!” Patton declared. While Thomas questioned his ears and sanity, Patton started blowing raspberry after raspberry on Remus’s thigh.

Remus was absolutely losing it! “AHAHAHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAN’T! AAAAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHO *snort* DAHAHAHAMMIHIHIHIHIT!”

Thomas quickly whipped his head around to see where the unusual sound came from.

Patton had widened his eyes and covered his mouth. “You SNORT?!” he asked, stopping his tickling momentarily.

Remus took a quick moment to breathe and nodded his head. “Ihihi- Ialways hahahave.”

Patton looked at Roman. Roman nodded and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s true. He snorted when he was little too.” Roman admitted.

Patton looked at Roman curiously. “What about you?” Patton asked.

Roman hummed and tilted his head. “Me?”

Patton started staring at Roman with suspicious eyes. “......Logan, get him.” Patton told him.

Logan wrapped his arms around Roman and immediately went for the belly. “Way ahead of you.”

Roman squealed and threw his head back with bubbly giggles coming out. Despite Remus’s laugh sounding more witch-like, The twins’ laughter sounded fairly similar to each other. So now both twins were being tickled for separate reasons; Remus’s being ‘constant potty mouth’ while Roman’s being ‘kept secrets’.

“LOHOHohohoho! Meheheheheaniihihie! Lehehehet mehehehe gohohohoho!”

“PAHAHAT! *snort* IHIHIHI’M GOHOHONNA *snort* KIHIHILL YOHOHOHOU!”

Patton gasped at Remus’s words. “Threatening me as well!? My goodness...You really don’t learn, do you?” he teased. Patton blew one raspberry on his left thigh, and two raspberries on his right thigh.

“AAAAAHAHAHAHAAA-” With one last snort, Remus finally went silent. He couldn’t really breathe very well at this point and was growing very red. So Patton gave him a break and got off him. Remus took some time getting his oxygen back. It felt great to be able to breathe again. He tried to breathe fairly heavily to get oxygen in faster. With due time, he slowly lost his tomato face and started turning more peach-colored again. With a bottle of water from Patton, Remus was pretty much okay. He was smiling and still slightly giggling after he finished the bottle.

“Are you done with your silly jokes yet?” Patton asked.

Remus lifted his head up, took one look at him and let his head fall back down. “M...Maybe for a bit.” Remus replied.

Patton smiled. “Good.”

Remus laid there for a few more minutes while he took in the sound of Roman’s giggly laughter. Logan was STILL tickling him but this time, he was pinning one arm up and tickling his armpit. To make things even better, Roman was starting to snort as well. And Patton was living for it!

“It’s truly fascinating how both twins have developed a snorty laugh.” Logan added.

“Shuhuhuhut uhuhuhup! *snort* Ehehehevihihihil fiehehehend!” Roman yelled to him.

Logan raised his eyebrows. “Evil? You think I’m being evil?” Logan asked.

“Yehehehehessss! Ehehehevihihil Ihihihi- *snort* Ihihi sahahahayhy!” Roman shot back.

Logan chuckled at that. “I am being much more merciful and gentle to you, compared to how Patton was treating Remus.” Logan explained.

“Yohohohou’re tihihicklihihing mehehehe *snort* fohohor noho reheheasohohon!” Roman protested.

Logan rolled his eyes. “Actually, we did have a reason to tickle you. We just didn’t tell you what it was.” Logan added.

“We wanted to see if you snorted too!” Patton declared.

Logan looked at Patton. “Hey! I was gonna tell him when he stopped insulting me with his childish names.” Logan reacted.

Patton snickered. “He was gonna find out anyway. Minus well do it now!” Patton declared, closing his eyes with a proud smile.

Logan sighed. “You’re no fun.” Logan whined.

Patton opened his eyes and opened his mouth in surprise. What did he just say?! “I...After all I planned for easter-”

Thomas quickly put his hands on Patton’s shoulders. “Patton, don’t listen to Logan. You are tons of fun! You planned all this for us, and for that we’re so grateful.” Thomas told him.

Janus, Remus, Virgil, Roman and even Logan nodded. Logan paused the tickling for a moment while Roman sat up.

“Thank you Patton!” All six of them said happily at the same time!

Patton smiled and couldn’t stop himself from tearing up. “You’re welcome guys.” Patton hugged Thomas. Virgil joined the hug as well, followed by Remus.

With that out of the way and Patton cheered up again, Logan resumed tickling Roman for a little longer before letting the prince breathe. Roman’s loss of oxygen was much more minor compared to Remus. But that was only because Remus wouldn’t stop doing the one thing that granted him tickles. Maybe it was because Remus wanted tickles? Or maybe it was because Remus has a legitimate addiction to it.

Whatever the reason, Remus was quick to start up his grotesque headcanons about the Peanuts Characters. This would further ruin Patton’s childhood and cause Remus further fits of ticklish laughter. Perhaps they could consider a new, more effective treatment for dirty language?

Or...maybe not. Remus seems to like it. And no one would wanna ruin his fun! Happy Easter indeed.