#who can step in and do The Thing while you recuperate

[kimboo-york]

I've had three (3!!!) separate friends all ask me over the past week "What are you doing to nourish yourself?"

Because I'm obviously stressed out and ridden with anxiety, I guess.

I had no answers for them, because even "fun" things stress me out and/or exhaust me these days. My attention span is scatter shot. My ability to relax is not functioning. Working has become its own solace, in all the wrong ways.

Until I realized that what I need, and will never get, is a day off.

Not a day off from work, that's too easy. I mean a day off from life. A day off from adulting. A day where someone else takes care of me.

A day where I don't have to worry about walking or feeding the dog; or cooking myself food; or washing the resulting dishes; or checking the mail; or doing another load of laundry; or the cost of groceries; or how to beg a ride to go shopping (as I don't have a car).

But I don't have a spouse (or two) and I live alone. Normally I'm very happy this way but for right now, I just want want a goddamn break.

[akanemnon]

Last question before I once again leave you to rest and recuperate for the rest of the hiatus.

Do you know color theory by any chance?

(And if so, can you teach me some techniques…? /nf)

Your most recently posted piece is so amazing that I can’t even put it into words. It’s cool how you can switch between styles like that. However, I hope you’re taking of yourself in the process!

If there’s anything to learn from the anon attacks, it’s that even though some people unfortunately don’t see it, being an online influencer of any sort is more of a sacrifice than it looks, and it can the tiring to the creator when others don’t understand. Im not half as popular as you are and I too am starting to feel the effects of posting almost everyday for the sake of the fans.

You’re probably the first online artist I’ve been a BIG FAN of. Not just because of your AU, but because now I’m know I’m not the only easily anxious artist out there. You’ve really inspired me, and lots of other people too, but to keep up the good work, you have to make sure you’re also okay.

Take care!

- The Kogetai Kiddo.

I know some color theory in terms of creating designs. For painting, not so much. It's a pretty complicated subject to explain, so that might take quite a bit to get into...

And no worries, I am taking care of myself and take plenty of breaks in between when I'm getting too frustrated. As for the style thing; I like to try different things once in a while to prevent stagnation. I can switch between styles thanks to practice, but changing mediums does take some getting used to. Digital painting is not exactly something I'm that good at because I don't do it that often. It takes a lot of time and energy. But it's a good challenge.

Honestly, I don't want to be titled as an "influencer" or "content creator". I'm just some person who likes sharing their work and comics that people seem to like them a lot. I'm no authority figure and I don't like seeing myself as something greater than others just because of some numbers. Numbers don't mean anything. It's the person that matters. I just wanna make art, and if it happens to make people happy, I'm happy too. Still anxiety and internal pressure can make things hard. There IS that underlying feeling of having to perform and do well. Because those are your own standards. In the end, you are your own worst critic. Anxiety is the worst, and it's an endless struggle against it. But it's possible to live with it. At some point, taking a step back and realizing you need a break is the right call.

Hoping the best for you and all the other anxious artists out there!

And with that'll be off on my last few days of break. Asks are closed now. See you back on Sunday!

(Little teaser from the next page for good measure)

[gam3-b01]

winter

pairing(s): jeon wonwoo x reader

genre(s): angst

wc: ~1.3k

warnings: suggestive content (hankypanky related activities), just sad hours in general, minors dni just to be safe

(a/n: my first post on this blog, this was one of my earliest drafts and i needed to get it out of my system ahahsjdnd. the way some people might know who i am because i used the term hanky panky is concerning but also hilarious, if you see this i love you bro sorry for angst hours i stayed up too late to make sane decisions sorry i had to. song inspo for this fic is winter by two feet)

It's not a thing, right? This hasn't happened before.

But the familiarity with which you look up at him from under the covers slaps Wonwoo in the face before he has the time to process the content haziness clouding your eyes. His tense frame relaxes involuntarily, and he slips in beside you but not before checking your bare skin for any bruises he might have accidently left after almost soldering you to the mattress barely ten minutes ago. As he slips an arm around your middle and you tell him without any kindness whatsoever that his hands are way too cold for you (and that he should probably get checked for anaemia because, and he quotes, "even hell freezing over generates more fucking warmth than you do"), he realises he has to stop lying to himself and acknowledge the fact that realistically, this has actually definitely happened before.

This exact night, every single frame of it, happened last year. And the year before that. And the year before that one? No, the both of you were still together back then. Probably. What year was three years ago? Time was always a muddy, comically abstract concept when it came to each other for the both of you.

Maybe it would be easier for him to count the years winter to winter. Because when Wonwoo visits his hometown at the beginning of every December, a series of events occur. He sets his bags down at his place and spends the first week in radio silence recuperating with his family, ignoring the 20 odd messages he gets from Mingyu about his dog and updates (read: gossip) from their shared workplace. The next week usually is spent catching up with old friends mostly out of obligation, and the third week is occupied by Christmas. The fourth-ish week is when all of his friends asking about you begins to get to his head. By around the 28th of December, he's sick of lying awake in his childhood bed, staring at the ceiling as he tries to forget things that should never have happened in the first place. Eventually he sits up, runs a hand through his hair, puts on his glasses, and spritzes on something that you liked to call "sandalwood crack" before shrugging on his jacket and heading out.

Where to though? He pretends to think for a while before giving up. And when he steps into the bar after paying for his cab, he is never, ever surprised or secretly relieved when he spots you sitting in the stool furthest away from the air conditioning. You look wasted, but the soda cans strewn about you indicate otherwise. You've stopped drinking after the breakup. You're doing well with sobriety. He opens with that like the asshole he is, and you have the decency to cuss at him like a sailor and pass him a stool as you say something vaguely self-depreciating as a joke about the near-alcoholism you contracted back then. He opts for silence. And you ask him to take it easy despite him having opened the fire. Ever tolerant. Like the gentle undercurrents of a river (not like you didn't have a temper on you, you just tended to be nice when you saw him after long periods of time. Was it because you missed him? The mere thought had him shrivelling up a little inside). Wasn't he supposed to be the water sign between you both? He remembers the natal chart phase you had when you were nineteen, which reminds him you were his best friend of nine years before the both of you stopped talking. He expertly shoves that piece of information away before it tries to hurt him one more time.

(...What kind of best friend asks, no, begs him to leave and never contact them again? Maybe the kind whose best friend actually proceeded to do exactly that without ever putting up a fight? Fuck.)

Things somehow, without fail, end up leading you both to the nearest motel when one of you ends up saying something incredibly reckless and all the other person can do is gape hopelessly, words murdered in cold blood right when they were about to be bailed out from their throat. The rest of a night is a senseless, irresponsible blur, and then?

The rough part begins.

One of you is going to leave in the next thirty minutes if Wonwoo's doing his gut arithmetic right. He wished he sucked at math sometimes, he really did.

However, he blinks a bit. Something feels off, something feels different. You're not leaving (is it his turn this time..?). Instead, you're turning around, eyes vulnerable and still blown a little wide as you touch his hair with a flavour of fondness he could not imitate even if he tried his damndest to.

He freezes for only a second before his lips seek yours out of habit. He truly loathes the way he groans at how much it affects him, but what else is he supposed to do when he knows you're trying to hold back that little sound you make when you get desperate for him? He's almost willing to let you take the lead because he feels like his system is going into overdrive, willing to let you finally ruin whatever's left of him, but sanity prevails by a hanging thread as he takes back control from you with a firm hand on your jaw. His grip is gentle unlike earlier, and despite knowing you like it when he's mean to you, his eyes shine with something completely different when he breaks the kiss for a moment to take in everything he can about you right now and burn this anomaly into his memory.

(Because what else will he be ever be able to think of on every single cold, miserable night for many years to come after that look you gave him before he kissed you? That look that made it look like you still loved him, why did you have to do that?)

You're staring at him like you've been burned, and he's trying his absolute best not to flinch away when he sees raw, unabashed hurt begin to filter through your soft irises.

"Don't look at me like that." You start.

"Like what?"

"Like you-", you gulp nervously, eyes quickly losing the content sheen radiating off of you earlier.

"-like you actually want me or something."

Externally, the tenderness in his eyes is instantly replaced by whatever the fuck he usually looks like, but internally, he's trying his best not to scream. Your words are unfair, cruel even. How can the one person who knows him like the back of their hand not grasp the one fundamental truth that makes up his very core?

The alarm system inside his head built just for you tells him you feel sick, just like he does. He knows you've gleaned that much as well, and makes no effort to stop you as you slip out of the bed with the sheets hugging your chest in one fluid motion.

"I feel so sick, Wonwoo."

"I know."

Your heart is as tangled up as his is, and no matter how many times the both of you manage to land into each other's arms, neither of you seem to be capable of unravelling the other without tearing everything apart.

He watches you collect yourself before turning to him, face stone cold, with eyes that now look foreign to him as you deliver the parthian shot.

"I think that I should go."

[watatsumiis]

When You Can't Get Out of Bed (Genshin x Reader Drabbles)

Some days, it’s nigh on impossible to drag yourself out of bed, let alone get up and leave the house. What is meant to be a safe haven instead becomes a prison - albeit a comfortable one. Sometimes, all you need is somebody to take care of and comfort you until you’re ready to face the world once again. 

Content: Various characters x a gender neutral reader (who is implied to be struggling with depression/going through a hard time).

Characters: Albedo, Ayato, Capitano, Neuvillette, Thoma, Yae Miko.

Albedo doesn’t really understand what’s wrong, or why you’re acting the way you are. It’s just not something he can empathise with in the slightest. He may come off a little snippy or abrupt when he first finds you lying about in bed, but it’s more because he’s worried about you being unwell than anything else. He may leave you be for a bit while he does some reading up on the subject, but once he’s gathered enough information, he’s really good with you. He’s so patient and sweet and kind, and will sit in your room to keep you company while he does theory work if that’s something you’d benefit from. He encourages you to try grounding techniques and will bring you nice hearty meals to keep you going. He’s gentle and patient and will let you take things at your own speed without a single complaint.

Ayato has little to no idea about what to do. One of his parents would get like this occasionally when he was young, but he would usually just step up and take over their responsibilities without a word. When it’s you, however, he’s just not sure at all. He doesn’t want to leave you alone when you’re like this, nor does he want to smother you. He just wants you to know that you’re loved and cherished and that the Yashiro Commissioner has your back no matter what’s going on. If work calls for him, his final solution, as it often is, is Thoma, who he will have check up on you often, bringing in your favourite treats and other little gifts that Ayato has organised for you. You’ll likely end up with a bed covered in new trinkets, hand-written letters from Ayato’s desk and items of interest, as well as comfortable new blankets and pillows (and plushies, if that’s your thing) to keep you company while you recuperate. 

Capitano gets it. He’s been there. He’s a busy man, but if it seems like you’re in dire need of company, he’ll find a way to shirk his duties so that he can stay with you for as long as you need. He doesn’t really have many words of affirmation to give to you, but his actions more than make up for it. He’ll sit by your bedside and read to you (or tell you stories), make you all your favourite comfort meals, and just altogether be great company. He’s quiet, but his presence is soothing enough to make up for it. He’ll offer support in any way that he can, while also slowly encouraging you to get up and about in a way that’s so subtle that it ends up feeling like your own idea. He won’t force you or anything, but just offer little suggestions, or place things just a little out of your reach to encourage you to get up. He’s so so patient and sweet that you can’t even be cross with him for being so sneaky.

Neuvillette frets. He’s an extremely busy man, and he’s got no idea in the slightest about what to do when you suddenly become listless and not willing to leave your bed. This kind of behaviour simply isn’t in his wheelhouse at all. He’ll quickly start to prattle on about bringing doctors over and trying to help you in the most immediate way possible because he thinks you’ve contracted some illness or other. It takes someone else pointing out that you’re just sad or overwhelmed with life as a whole for it to finally click for Neuvillette. Sadness is absolutely in his wheelhouse, that’s just about where he lives at this point. Once he’s come to that realisation, he’s kind and sweet and patient, and will do his very best to try and cheer you up. He brings you bouquets of flowers and soft, pretty trinkets to brighten up your room a little more so that it doesn’t feel so lonely when he’s gone, and will tentatively try to coax you into leaving the house with various kinds of bribes. The Melusine will also quickly catch on to his preoccupation, and then by extension, you soon have an army of ocean-dwelling critters at your beck and call, trying their very best to help in any and every way that they can.

Thoma, bless his heart, tries his very best. It’s not something he can empathise with very much, but he quickly settles into the same routine that he does when you’re unwell, showering you in love and praise and various foodstuffs that he knows you like. He spoils you absolutely rotten, making sure there’s next to nothing that you have to do for yourself if he’s able to do it for you. He’ll chatter away to you as he mills about your room in his downtime, trying to boost your mood by recalling good times you’ve had together, or funny stories about things that have happened to him. He’s just a huge sweetheart overall and works so hard to make sure you’re comfortable and content, even if you’re not happy for whatever reason. He kind of gets stuck in his own head worrying about what (if anything) made you feel so down, but he won’t let it show in front of you, barring the few times when he might just directly ask you if there’s something going on that he doesn’t know about, if there’s anything at all he can help you with. He’s pretty heavy on the encouragement for you to get out of bed, insisting that being outside will help, but he won’t force you into it if you push back at all.

Yae Miko sort of teases at first in her signature, light-hearted way. She’ll poke and prod and try to rile you up by saying things that are not exactly kind to and about you, but it doesn’t take her long to realise that there’s something actually amiss. Once it finally clicks, she’ll go quiet and just ponder things for a bit before sighing dramatically and saying that she ‘supposes she could help’. Despite the teasing tone she puts on, she’s a very soothing presence to be around. She’ll move her editing setup to your room to keep you company, and have various subordinates bring you both plenty of delicious snacks to eat. Though she tries to mask it, it’s pretty obvious that she’s acting a little bit softer at this point in time, just to help keep you comfortable and happy. If you catch her at a particularly tender moment, she may just allow you to pet her ears or even her tails as she reads out the newest manuscript she’s received and asks for your opinions. She’s not exactly putting you to work, per se, but while you’re not predisposed, she will take advantage of your presence to help critique the various pieces of writing that come across her desk.

Please don't repost, steal, copy or otherwise plagiarise my writing! I do not consent for my works to be translated and posted elsewhere, or copy - pasted into bot or AI technology.

[bunnyreaper]

wc - 4.6k

warnings - 18+/nsfw (eventually), age gap (older male younger female), bodyguard!au, threat of violence.

notes - another visit to dilfville, a new series, because that's all we need, right? lol. hope you enjoy ♥

Friday nights meant one thing: unwinding after a long week of working in your home office, braving the outside world, and heading to the comfy flat belonging to your friend Jules.

While visiting her place was always a blast, Friday nights were for DnD. Leaving behind Earth for its fantasy counterpart and getting lost in the adventures of your group's merry band of do-gooders. 

Saturdays are usually spent drinking coffee, frequenting markets, and then rounding the night off with cocktails and dancing. (And Sunday's recuperating from being up on your feet all night, spending the day in bed reading whatever trashy romance novel is next on your reading list.) 

Your weekends are your sanctuary—your freedom from routine and work is your refuge. 

You dance around your bedroom, rocking your hips to the music as you pull on your clothes—a white blouse and black bustier to channel the vibes of your character Elora. 

When the doorbell rings, it's entirely unexpected. Anyone close to you knows you're just a few minutes away from heading out for the night—maybe it's a neighbour, you suppose to yourself as you head to the door. 

On the other side of your flat's door is an incredibly handsome man. Broad framed, ruggedly good-looking yet with a finely pressed white shirt and dress trousers. His features are striking, strong eyes and a brow slashed with a scar, stubble all over, and a neatly trimmed mohawk that strangely suits him. All in all, a sight for fucking sore eyes, standing so confidently and casually in your doorway like he belongs.

You hate how your eyes linger on his form far longer than they probably should, but the handsome stranger is just so enthralling.

"Hello?" You mumble, a little absent-mindedly, as you try to gather thoughts that aren't just lewd and dirty.

His stormy blue eyes meet yours, his cheek tugs into a half-smile that definitely doesn't meet his eyes, the faintest dimple appearing on his left cheek. "John MacTavish, ye maw sent me." 

"Oh, the bodyguard." You reply dumbly. Fuck. If you were opposed to the idea before, you certainly were now... or maybe you're not.

On one hand, you have to have a handsome stranger watching over you—on the other, you have to have a handsome stranger watching over you, while you act normal about the entire thing. 

You realise that you're acting completely the fool, so you snap out of your thoughts and step aside to allow the older man inside. "She didn't tell me to expect you... probably thought I'd run. Uh, come in." 

"Thanks." He nods as he steps through the threshold, ducking slightly as he does. 

Once inside, his eyes scan over the open-plan space of your living area, seemingly taking in every little detail. 

You watch him, sensing that his training and experience make him focus on the minute particulars of a room that others would completely skip over. 

Your mother had already clued you into the fact there might need to be security enhancements to the flat itself, and you assume those requests came at the behest of the man himself. He seems to be lost in evaluating what these might be. 

"So, what can I do for you?" You ask, filling the air with some sort of conversation starter. You have no idea what you're doing in this situation on the whole, but especially not when it comes to hiring, negotiating with, and retaining a bodyguard.

"It's what I can do fer you." He turns, taking you in now, and you start to feel self-conscious about having too many buttons undone, too much chest on show. 

Something tells you that MacTavish's gaze would make you squirm regardless—his eyes carrying a heaviness to them that seem like a fantastic attribute in a protector. Surely anyone who would even think about coming close to cause you harm would reconsider under his harsh look.

You start to wrack your brains for what he can actually do for you. Again, you have no familiarity in having personal protection, beyond what you've seen your mother undergo. Your work is fairly stable, you keep the same routine, and the biggest threat you ever seem to face is the creeps in the club. 

Well, apart from the online threats, but something about the anonymous, cowardly messages doesn't frighten you. 

"If I'm being honest,I don't exactly want a bodyguard. I don't see much of a point?" You admit, voice a little quiet. After all, you don't mean to upset or offend the man, but you're not sure he isn't just wasting his time with this job.

He squints, considering for a moment before he answers. "Yer maw sees things differently." 

She does, and that's probably the only reason you agreed to go through with this in the first place. You don't want to worry her, especially since her own security has had to be tightened due to said threats. 

"Yeah, she's really worried." 

John's brows furrow, a small frown appearing on his lips. "Aye, rightly so, considering everything." 

He seems serious and said severity gives you pause for thought. His job is to assess and protect against threats, so surely he wouldn't be here, acting the way he is were there not a valid reason for concern. The thought makes a lump form in your throat, makes your stomach twist in a way you'd rather not acknowledge. 

You try to cope with it the best way you know how—humour. 

"Eh, online threats are nothing new for a girl my age, you know? And it's not like I'm anyone important." You shrug it off, hoping that if you say the words aloud, they'll just come true. As you speak, your phone chimes with a notification from your group chat, reminding you of your upcoming plans—and the fact you're going to have to abandon this little meeting. "Uh, I'd offer you a cuppa, but I'm leaving soon." 

"Don't drink it anyway, but thanks." The man smiles slightly, before turning away once more and scanning the room. He cranes his neck to get a look down the hallway, leading to your bedroom and bathroom. "There's a difference between lads online, an' the kinda people that make up extremist groups like those targeting your maw and her party." 

"Really?" You laugh, a short, sharp sound that betrays your discomfort. You grab your jacket and keys by the door, desperate for something to fiddle with. "Thought they were all just sad loners, desperately searching for something to make them feel better." 

"Except some of them have connections, dangerous connections." 

There are a million and one reasons you don't want to go through with this, and very few urging you to. Though, removing a major worry from your mother's life is a big one—John MacTavish's gorgeous blues are another. The possible invasion of privacy lingers in your head, the worry that your father might be using this as an opportunity to have the inside track on your life, on all the things you don't tell your parents. Your mind also revolts at the idea of unnecessary restrictions to your plans, your friends being held under a magnifying glass. 

The thought of the threats being real is the only thing more startling. You sigh, resigning yourself to your fate. "If this is what will help her feel better, then I guess I better find a way to make this work." 

He nods firmly, joining you at where you hover nervously at the door. "I'd agree." 

"Unfortunately, you arrived at the worst possible time, because like I said, I'm just headed out. Can't miss the tube." You force a tight-lipped smile, making your excuse to leave—the thought of being late makes you jittery, the thought of being late continuing this difficult conversation makes you feel worse. 

"Where ye going?" He asks, head tilted. 

You know it's the first question of many. Where are you going? Who are you going with? The atmosphere already feels a little stifling, the relationship a little strained. You and John aren't friends, never will be friends. He's here to do a job, watch over you, and take your security very, very seriously. 

"This is how it's always going to be?" You ask, the question coming out a little snappier than you intend it to. 

John takes it in stride, unblinking in the face of your shortness, and yet unrelenting in his need for information. "Aye." 

Once more, you sigh. "Right... I'm going to my weekly DnD game at my friend's house, and please, I really don't wanna cancel." You plead, feeling like a child reasoning with their parents rather than two adults on equal footing. You hate the feeling, even if you know his intentions are pure. 

"How many friends?" He asks. 

"4." You answer instantly. 

"How long have ye known them?" His questioning continues, and his focus on the people you trust naturally drives you up the wall, even if again, you know it's just his job.

Your grasp on your keys tightens, your agitation growing. "I'll tell you whatever I can some other time, but please, I hate being late." You gesture to the door, indicating that it's time for him and you to leave. 

John grabs the door, opening it for you and allowing you to step through before he does. As you turn to lock the door, you expect him to arrange another time and to bid you farewell, but he doesn't. "I'll drive ye. Dinnae bother arguing, lass." 

His words have a finality to them that quiets you anyway, but the use of 'lass' renders you all but speechless. 

"Okay..." You mumble, leading the way down the stairs as his hand comes to ghost along your lower back.

MacTavish’s vehicle is parked out in the street, and as you approach the car, you can feel his eyes searching again. He beats you to the car, a sleek black Range Rover, opening the door for you before climbing inside himself.  

The action would be nice under any other circumstance, and such propriety is something you're probably going to have to get used to, but right now it just reinforces the annoying, infantilising feeling that you're currently suffering through. 

As you give your friend's address to John, he takes off without another word, flicking on the car stereo before he goes. The atmosphere is thick, stifling, and you can only hope that in time the feeling will lessen, especially if your mother makes him a permanent feature. 

On the way over, he picks up his questioning where he left off. "So, how long have you known this group?"

"A good few years, since uni." 

"We can go over names and details when you're ready." 

You take a deep breath, holding it in and then forcing yourself to calm a little. Instead, you try to focus on watching John, the diligent way he drives. "I'm assuming you have a long list of things we'll need to go over."

His eyes don't stray from you. "Aye, that we do." 

The two of you fall into tense silence for the rest of the drive, nothing but the music and the sound of the car to keep you company. In the quiet street your friend lives on, John pulls in to park on the opposite side of the road, killing the engine and the radio, making the silence almost deafening.

Your nerves are getting the better of you again, and yet John seems so comfortable, unperturbed by the awkwardness. You're unsure what comes next, what to say. 

"Not to be rude but, I'd prefer if you didn't come in." You utter, saying the first thing that springs to mind, despite it probably not being the best thing either. You flash the man an apologetic smile before you continue. "I don't know how to deal with all this, especially when we haven't agreed on how all this is gonna work?" 

You hope your earnest admission makes up for your temporary ill-manners. 

"Tha's fine, I'll stay here." He looks completely impassive. "Not ideal, but it'll do." 

He doesn't look bothered by the inconvenience, and you suppose you should assuage him of the idea it's going to be a quick visit.

"Really? I'll be gone for a few hours." 

His brow quirks. "Yer maw paid upfront, so as far as am concerned, my job's already started." Once more, his statement is absolute, and you don't bother trying to argue.

"Right then." 

John is out of the car first, headed straight to your side of the door, checking left and right before he opens to let you out. 

The action makes you both laugh and curse, perplexed by the deed as you climb out. "You're not my driver, you know you don't need to open the door for me?" 

He laughs too, derisive and short as he closes the door a little too sharply. "Not tae be rude, but I believe the words you're looking for are 'thank you'."  

"Gonna walk me to the door?" You ask, trying to shed yourself of your nerves and make the situation lighter. 

You can't stay tense and subdued for the entire duration of this relationship—besides, now you're moments away from reuniting with the others in Albion Vale and forgetting all about this mess for a few hours. That alone is enough to raise your spirits. 

John forces a cheeky, tight-lipped smile, the crow's feet at his eyes crinkling almost condescendingly. "Not feeling tha' gentlemanly anymore. I'm sure ye'll be fine." 

"I'm sure." You make your way halfway across the road, before coming to a realisation, stopping and turning. "Oh, what's your number, you know, make this whole thing easier?"  

John darts out, his arm falling just beside you as he ushers you across the road and onto the other side.

"Pass yer phone." He says, holding out a large, rough hand expectantly. 

"Right, yeah." You nod, probably more than is necessary, as you pass your phone over to the man. 

John takes the phone more softly than you expect, typing in his name and number before holding it back out for you to take. "I'll be here when yer done, to take ye home." 

"Uh, thank you." You take the phone, before walking away sheepishly heading into your friend's block of flats and toward her apartment. 

With each step you take, you try to push John and the threats and everything to do with the outside world far, far out of your brain. 

The night passes by in a flurry of laughter and fun, lost in the adventures of Albion Vale and the antics of your party. 

The session wraps up, and while you would usually be in no rush to head back—you know you can't sit around and leave John, however much a stranger he is, sitting in the car outside. 

You text him to let him know you're headed down in five, and when you make it to the street less than 3 minutes later, he is there, leaning against the car door waiting for you. 

"Thank you." You whisper, climbing inside. When John joins you in the car, he scrubs at his eyes before putting the key in the ignition. "Have you not been bored out of your mind?" 

"Nothing I'm not used to." He replies instantly, pulling away before you can ask any further. 

"What did you do before this?" You ask, curiosity getting the better of you. 

From your understanding, most bodyguards cut their teeth in the police or the armed forces, and have tonnes of experience under their belt.

John oozes an ex-forces demeanour–his perfect posture, constant alertness, and the scars littering his skin. 

It'd be hard not to notice, but becomes immediately obvious with the way your eyes seem to love settling upon him when they can. You have to force yourself to squash down the drunken, misguided lust that flares within you as you watch his large hands on the steering wheel and notice his veiny, hairy, and muscular forearms. 

"Army, Captain." He answers, pulling your attention back to him in a more professional manner properly. 

Something within the way he speaks makes you think there's more to the story—though you suppose with that kind of background, he has a cache of secrets and tales that he can never really share.

"Oh." You nod, feeling a little soothed. If you have to be protected, you suppose someone with his level of experience is the best man for the job. "I'm in good hands then." 

Once more, he flashes a forced half-smile. "Aye."

A moment passes, and you find more questions bubbling to the front of your brain. Naturally, you're curious about this man who is undoubtedly going to become a big part of your life from now on, but the fact that his nature is a little reserved makes your curiosity multiply. You've long been a sucker for closed-off older men—call it a character flaw. 

"Why did you leave the army? If you don't mind me asking."

There's a beat of silence where you think he might not answer, but eventually, he does, eyes still fixed on the road. 

"Medical reasons. Nothing that affects my ability to do this job." He rushes to add, a slight spark of defensiveness flashing through as his jaw visibly tightens.

You're no expert detective, and you haven't seen your protector in action, but your first guess is that whatever ailment made him leave isn't entirely physical. The fact he's been somewhat open about it puts your mind at ease, the fact that your mother has clearly vetted him even more so. 

You offer an empathetic smile that he likely doesn't see. "I don't doubt it." 

The drive home passes quicker and easier with a bit of mead in your veins, allowing you to loosen up enough to hum along to the music playing from John's speakers. The little buzz passing through you alleviates that sense of trepidation you felt earlier, luring you into a false sense of security. 

When the car pulls up and John lets you out, you know just what to say what needs to come next. "Well, I guess you should come in so we can formalise things." 

"I'd appreciate it." He nods, before turning back to the car to grab a bag and follow you into the building.

 *

You and John sit at your kitchen island, tea in your hand and coffee in John's—a neat, stapled stack of papers sits before you.

"Here's the contract I signed with ye maw, but she's given us some wiggle room." John says, tapping the top of the paper where the bold letters of CLOSE PROTECTION AGREEMENT — 141 SECURITY sit. 

"Nice of her to allow me a say, if I'm honest." You laugh dryly—you love your mother dearly, but you'd be lying if you said she wasn't overbearing. Your initial protests about this whole arrangement had been entirely shut down, and clearly, she didn't trust you to follow through considering she sprung John on you tonight, unannounced.

"I'm sure she just wants what's best for ye." John offers as you flick through the pages.

The contract outlines the agreement between the Guard and The Principal—with stipulations on activities, compensation, and conduct. 

It's weird seeing it all laid out on paper, seeing the hefty cost of John's services, and the fact you'll be giving this man free access to your home and life. All of this to keep you safe from some nebulous threats that have not even been acted upon.

"She does, but this is inconvenient, and frustrating to say the least." You purposefully choose not to include the words 'fucking annoying' and 'torturing me with a hot man I can't have', though your next conversation with your therapist will absolutely include such descriptions and more. 

"I can understand tha'." He nods understandingly, before raising his coffee and taking a sip—his gaze unwavering as he does. "You've never had close protection before?" 

You shake your head. "No, this is all new to me." 

"Okay. We'll start by discussing exactly what kind of protection you're looking for. Part of tha' will be dictated by what yer maw laid out, like I said, we can decide specifics." 

"Sounds like a plan." You lean back in your stool, tea in hand as you contemplate. Admittedly, you should have done some research before this, but in your defence, you did think you had more time. You're not entirely sure what boundaries you can set—but you hope that John can lead the process a little. "I don't think I can do something 24/7, and it's not like you can stay here, I guess."

You cringe internally thinking about how fucking awkward that would be—your tipsy brain supplies the image of the world's most uncomfortable sleepover. 

In your imagination, John looks grumpy and uncomfortable, still tucked up in bed in that stiff shirt with his boots still on. You are, of course, in little fluffy bunny pyjamas staring at him all gooey-eyed whilst he tries to pretend everything is normal. It takes conscious effort for you not to giggle at the mental image.

"I understand. I'd suggest I escort you anywhere outside these four walls, day or night, work and social events. Conduct security checks on your flat, vet close contacts, update your digital security, things like tha'." John supplies a rundown of potential actions like it's a grocery list, yet a very severe grocery list. His collected nature does put you more at ease.

"Sounds a tad invasive." 

"I'll try to make it as little as possible." 

"Thanks, I appreciate it." You smile slightly, truly thankful for his consideration and tact.

You give John a once over, thoughts once again ticking over. "If you're going to be with me everywhere, you can't walk around like that, outside of my work, that is. No offense, it's just, all my friends are gonna think I'm a self-important twat if I start showing up everywhere with some posh bodyguard." You stop abruptly, realising how much you're bloody rambling.

"Am far from posh. But, more casual look then, aye?" 

You smile a little nervously, hoping you haven't completely offended the man. "Please." 

This whole situation is beyond difficult to navigate—untreaded paths, forging new relationships, balancing existing ones. Your friends really are going to think this whole situation is beyond bizarre. They already find amusement in seeing your mother on the news. Having a bodyguard is going to leave you subject to endless teasing, relentless mocking, and attempts to make your and John's life a whole lot harder.

Your head falls into your hands as you rub at the sockets of your eyes, undoubtedly smearing your makeup and making a mess of your face. It'll get easier, you reassure yourself.

With your eyes closed and pressed into the heel of your hands, you don't see the way John's expression softens or the way he moves closer to comfort you before hesitating and stopping short. "Wha's the matter?" 

"I'm just... incredibly anxious about how this is going to play out with my friends, with work." 

John leaps into problem-solving mode, immediately pulling from his brain some words to soothe you, as well as making note of what bumps in the road to smooth out. "Ye mother said she already consulted yer work, and they're fine to make accommodations." 

Of course, she'd already talked to David about the whole thing. "So it'll be fine aside from all the gossip it will cause." 

"It's politics and I ken yer not naïve, everybody's talking anyway, no?" He offers, and yet you don't seem assuaged, so he tries a different tactic. "It's my job to blend in. They'll barely notice me." 

"With that haircut? Sorry." You giggle—surprisingly you find the mohawk suits his rugged look, but it certainly isn't something you've seen on a man that wasn't walking the streets of Camden. Though, even with a more fitting haircut, the man is so casually striking and ever so slightly imposing that he just naturally draws attention. "In general, you don't strike me as a man who does blending in well, not in civilian life anyway."

His eyes narrow for a moment, before he struggles to fight off a smirk. "Hmm, ye might have a point. Not changing ma hair though, sorry. Nae sure ye family has enough money for tha' one."  

His more playful side makes your heart soar, and gives you hope that everything might just be alright.

"I have a crazy idea." Okay, maybe you're more tipsy than you thought you were, as your brain supplies an outlandish plot and your mouth runs away with it. 

His eyebrow arches and his eyes sparkle with intrigue. John MacTavish seems like a man who likes crazy ideas. "Go oan." 

"I'll tell my friends that you're my boyfriend, and we're just so madly in love that you have to come everywhere with me. Means no real questions." 

Your proposition is met with deafening silence, despite the huge, encouraging grin on your face.

John laughs, just the once, before his expression hardens. "Not a chance, lass."

"Why? You don't have to really do anything. Besides, it'll save you sitting outside in the car, or staring from the shadows and making everyone feel uncomfortable." 

You realise now that while you noticed a distinct lack of a ring, there's the possibility that John is still attached, and what you're suggesting is wildly inappropriate—but it's not that point he argues on.

"Aye, so I just have to spend ma time socialising instead." He scoffs.

"Well, surely you're not brooding and mysterious all the time." You wager.

Once more, he finds a smirk tugging at his lips that he can't hold back. "No' at all, but it's been a long time since I was the life of the party, and something tells me that me an' your DnD friends don't have a lot in common." 

"They might surprise you, but you also might surprise yourself. Maybe you're a secret nerd." You wink, still being jovial before you shift back to your genuine pleas. "It'll make my life a whole lot easier and be one less thing for me to stress about. My friends wouldn't second guess the story much once they got past the shock of me bagging someone older, wiser, and oh-so-handsome. Please."  

You flash your softest, sweetest doe eyes and lay the compliments on extra thick in the hopes of swaying him. In the political world, you're used to using charm to try and get what you want, and know that without charisma you'd get nowhere. Perhaps it's a bit low of you to stoop to using flirtation on someone who could likely run rings around you when it comes to negotiation, but it's worked before, and at this point, you're desperate.

John straightens up in his seat, eyes you for a moment, and then lets out a heavy sigh, crossing his arms over his chest. "Fine." 

The fact he relents honestly takes you a little by surprise. You're relieved, but yes, surprised. "Huh?"

"Fine, I'll be whoever ye want me to be..." The look in his eyes shifts to something imperceptible, as he leans over the counter closer to you. "As long ye listen to what I say when it comes to yer safety and security. Deal?" 

He holds out his hand, and your own feels dwarfed when you reach out to take his calloused palm.

"You drive a hard bargain, John MacTavish. Deal." You shake, and neither of you makes a move to immediately let go.

"Aye, a know." He winks, and the action makes your heart skip a beat, your cheeks flood with heat.

Each second passes slowly, his touch feeling like too much and not enough all at once. You know at that moment that life from now on is going to be especially difficult as long as John is around.

What he says next is the final nail in that particular coffin. "Would've done it anyway, but glad I got ye to agree to ma terms, lass." 

[vodika-vibes]

Take A Chance On Happiness

Summary: While on Coruscant, Sev meets someone who views the world the same way he does. And he decides to take a chance on happiness.

Pairing; Pre Clone Commando Sev x F!Reader

Word Count: 882

Warnings: None, really

A/N: This isn't really good, but I'm not going to have much time to write for the next week or so, because of family, so I wanted to get at least one story out this week.

It starts like this.

Sev and his pod brothers arrive on Coruscant after a long mission. Their ship needs repairs, and that’s the only reason that they were rerouted to Coruscant. Stars know that the GAR would never give them recuperation time.

And while he would never say it out loud, Sev does love his pod brothers. They’re the other parts of his soul after all. But sometimes he needs a break from them.

A break from Scorch’s bad jokes.

From Fixer’s disapproving sighs.

From Boss’ incessant worrying (though, to his older brother’s credit, he hides his worry behind a gruff demeanor and barked orders).

So he offered an excuse and he left the barracks that they borrowed while they were on Coruscant.

There are few places on Coruscant where clones are welcomed. 79s, if he was in the mood for drinking, dancing, or companionship. Dex’s Diner if he was in the mood for filling food. There’s a library, if he wants to find something to read. And a few cafes that give free treats and caf to Clones.

But, in truth, Sev isn’t in the mood for any of that.

Alcohol wouldn’t hurt, but if he wanted to drink he’d have stayed with his pod brothers. And, so soon returned from the battlefield, the last thing he wants is strangers pressed against him, trying to coax him out of the safety of his armor.

So, instead of visiting his normal haunts, Sev allows his feet to lead him to the memorial wall.

The fact that there’s a memorial for fallen clones is still a shock to him, but it is nice to visit from time to time. Even if it tends to make him melancholic.

The nice thing about the wall is that nat borns don’t visit it. Save for the few who actually care about clones.

And so, when he arrives at the wall, he’s surprised to see that he’s not alone. The woman seems to be reading the names on the wall, her fingers tracing a name every now and then. 

There’s music playing, Sev isn’t sure where it’s coming from, at first, but soon realizes that the music is coming from the woman’s comm. It sounds like a ballad. A song of loss and hope in the face of great despair.

She turns to look at him and the music stops. Sev finds himself missing the music already.

“Apologies,” Her voice is light, it almost flows like a river, “I thought I was alone here. I normally am.”

“You come here often then?” Sev asks.

“Every day, after work.” She turns to face him fully, her gaze flickering to the paint on his armor. Intentionally painted in such a way as to look like blood. She tilts her head to one side and steps closer to him, “Your paint is meant to look like blood?”

“That bother you?”

“Only in the sense that paint doesn’t have the same consistency of blood and so it doesn’t spread the same.” She leans in slightly, “You did do a very good job, though.”

“You know blood, cyar’ika?”

“I’m a forensic scientist who specializes in blood.” She explains, “It’s terribly interesting. You can learn so much from a crime scene based on the blood of the victim.”

Sev’s lips curl up into a slightly amused smile, “I wouldn’t know. I’m generally the person spreading the blood everywhere.”

“Oh?” There’s interest in her gaze, “Like what?”

“You ever see what a Geonosian looks like when it gets blown up?” He asks.

Her painted lips curl up into a smile, “There aren’t very many Geonosians on Coruscant.”

Sev absently taps his helmet, “I have recordings if you want to see. Though they’re not civvie friendly.”

“I would like to see.” She replies, “I’ve seen a lot of twisted things, but an exploding anything is new.” She pauses a moment and twists a thick strand of hair around a finger, “You could come to my place. I have a small sarlacc.”

“A small sarlacc?”

“Genetically modified so it never gets larger than a decently sized pot.” She explains, “Plus, and I don’t mean to brag, but I think I’m a pretty spectacular cook. And you look like you could use a good meal or two.”

“That right?”

“And, if you’re interested, I can take you to the body farm tomorrow.”

“Oh? You planning on inviting me to spend the night?”

“Only if you want.”

He pauses, “What’s the body farm?”

“Oh! It’s a wonderful place! People who donate their bodies to science sometimes end up at the body farm so people like me can study the effects of the environment on their bodies as they decay.”

Sev stares at her, his jaw dropped, “That sounds awesome.” He admits, “I would love to visit the body farm with you. I just need to tell my brothers where I’ll be.”

“Perfect! You’ll be thrilled to see it!” Her smile is small, “I don’t get many guests. But I think you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will.” Sev’s grin widens, “I’m going to comm my older brother and tell him that I’m going to a body farm with a woman I just met. He’s going to freak.”

She laughs, “I think we’re going to get along just fine.”

Taglist:

@bad4amficideas

@justiceandwar98

@Mira-Loves-Star-Wars

@tiredbi-peach

@dukeoftheblackstar

@trixie2023

@Kimiheartblade

@padawancat97

@falconfeather23435

@etod

@bb8-99

@kiss-anon

@continous-mistakes

@imabeautifulbutterfly

@n0vqni

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

this is halloween || seungmin x reader

Summary: Working Halloween night is just like any other night as far as you're concerned — with the promise that you'll get your pick of unsold candy in the next few days. Your coworker Seungmin, on the other hand, insists that it's one of the worst nights of the year. Who knows, maybe the night will turn out memorable for you, and not so horrible for him.

Word count: 4k

Genres: friends to lovers, coworkers to lovers

Warnings & Tags: light angst, some fluff, brief mention of past bullying, spooky atmosphere, customers being assholes.

A/N: Second installment in my Halloween mini-series! This one's for Seungmin, hope you'll like it!

Jeongin · Felix

Halloween is, as far as you’re concerned, just another night that you need to get yourself through. You’re fairly neutral in your feelings about it. You don’t like the weird crowd it brings with it, but they’re not that much weirder than the people that come in on full moons, at the 24/7 convenience store where you work, and you deal with them once a month. You do like that you get first pick on the candies that go on sale right after it’s passed. Don’t like the colleagues that go all in and insist that you should get dressed up; do like that the store gets decorated and the purple, orange and black colors they always pick.

All in all, Halloween’s fine. The candies make it worth it, mostly, as far as you’re concerned. You don’t even mind entertaining the few kids that come in looking for candy. You’ve got a jar by your cash-register that you can pick from for them — company policy. This year, you’ve even agreed — with, mind you, a very pronounced eyeroll — to wear a witch hat on your head. It delighted the children, amused some of the adults, and pissed off most of the ones you didn’t like in the first place, the ones that asked you if you planned to work at a convenience store forever or commented on what it had to mean for your studies, your intelligence or the way you were raised.

The ones you like the least are the ones that tell their kids ‘see, this is where you’ll end up if you don’t do well in school’ while pointing at you.

Since the hat makes them judgmental but isn’t punishment enough for them, you also shake their carbonated drinks, discreetly mind you, before handing them back to them.

On top of the shitty, boring, rude clients, that are less frequent when you’re nights, there’s one other person that doesn’t like the hat. One person that practically hissed at you when he first walked in and you were wearing it. One person who has very strong feelings about Halloween, in that he fucking hates it.

Seungmin’s spent the past month mumbling about how Halloween used to be a pagan celebration that’s been recuperated by capitalism. It’s not like you think he’s wrong, but the whole thing has made you quite wary of how he’ll be when Christmas or Valentine’s day will come around.

Seungmin’s usually one of your favorite colleagues. You like his dry wit, the snide comments he makes about some of the weirder customers. You like that he doesn’t hesitate to step in when you’re dealing with guys that think they can make a move on you because they’re alone in the store and it’s two am. You like how he lights up when you ask him a question about basketball or how he grows shy when you talk about the singing lessons he’s been taking but is very secretive about.

Oh, and you like that he’s hot. Obviously.

Even now, when you walk by him to get behind your register and wave at him, hat firmly on your head, you can’t hold back a laugh when he shoots you an utterly disgusted look.

“Have a good night, Seungmin!” you shout at him.

“I won’t!” he yells back. You think there’s the ghost of a grin on his lips then, and you take your seat with no small amount of pride at the thought that you made him smile on Halloween night of all nights.

It’s not a great victory, but you do need it to get yourself going as you get to work. The first hours are usually the busiest ones, especially on a night like that, and you don’t have much time to yourself, whether to think, be bored, or steal glances at Seungmin over your shoulder. Even when you get the chance to do that, he’s busy himself, and you don’t get to tease him about Halloween, or laugh at one of your insides jokes.

You’ve been here for a couple of hours when a group of college students walk in, and you groan inwardly. It’s not that you mind college students as a rule, you’re one yourself most of the time — some of your best friends are college students! — it’s just that tonight, it means that they’re either here to buy alcohol for later use, and you’ll have to ask for their ID, and they might not be of age, and it’s going to be unpleasant. Or, and the alternative is actually worse, they’re already drunk from pre-gaming, and they’ll be annoying. It doesn’t help that you know they definitely won’t be the last to show up tonight.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t relieved when they don’t pick your register once they emerge from the store, but you immediately grimace in sympathy as they line up in front of Seungmin’s.

The store’s mostly empty by now, so you don’t have much better to do than to turn around to watch the scene. There are a few regulars that you know will be making their rounds no matter what later on, and someone will have to go through the store to check the inventory in a few minutes, but that can wait a little longer.

Even through the group of young men, you can see that Seungmin’s shoulders are tense, his jaw tight. Yup, they’re drunk, and probably being assholes, because he usually doesn’t have much trouble dealing with people.

He sends them away with a tight-lipped smile and a muttered ‘have a good night’ that you can still hear from your seat, because the phrase, which you’re supposed to tell each customer before they walk through the door, is engraved in your ears by now.

You walk up to him once you’re back to being alone in the store together.

“You okay?” you ask him, more sympathetic than you were earlier.

He deadpans at you before groaning, pinching the bridge of his nose as he closes his eyes.

“People are just so loud,” he sighs.

“Aw, am I people?” you fake-pout, hoping to cheer him up, and the corners of his lips tremble but do not quite curve up.

“You’re tolerable.”

You scoff, roll your eyes playfully. You miss the way Seungmin’s eyes soften as he watches your antics.

“You want to go take a walk through the store?” you offer him, tone more serious. “Could help clear your head, though I’m afraid there are decorations up everywhere.”

Another groan, before he gets up.

“I guess I can deal with that. If I absolutely have to.” Now on his feet, he looks down at you, and his brow furrows. “Call me if there’s an issue.”

“There won’t be.”

He glares for a second more, and it’s cute actually, it’s really cute, that protective look in his eyes, but you don’t need him to be right now — except maybe to feed your ego.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” he says like it’s a warning, before walking away with one final glare. You wave your fingers at him, before going back to your spot.

Now, you have more than enough time to get bored. Your phone is in your pocket, but you’re familiar with the angle at which the cameras are filming you, and you’re not bored enough yet to risk it. That time will come, no doubt about it; it always does. You can hold it at bay a little longer though, so you do, resting your chin in your palm as you let your gaze wander over the store or slide back towards the doors. There’s stuff you could do inside the store, but you’re not supposed to leave the registers unattended, which means you have to sit there, useless, until Seungmin comes back or someone walks in.

The first option would make you happier for sure.

As the minutes stretch out into what feels like hours, and Seungmin doesn’t come back, probably having found some issue he can fix, your eyes linger on the windows. The night is pitch black outside, with the harsh, white light of the street lights that dot the parking lot as the exception. From your spot, they leave islands of perfect darkness in between them. It unsettles you, looking at it, always does, despite how long you’ve been doing this job. One of the street lights has been blinking for the past week, and no one’s bothered to do anything about it yet.

You’re staring at it, complaining internally about how unsafe it makes you feel and about how it could just decide to stop working as you’re walking under it when you’ll leave the store in the early hours of the morning to catch the first bus home, when, after one final on-off-on, the light goes off. Despite your eyes being right on it, it catches you off-guard, startles you. You wait for it to turn back on.

It doesn’t.

There’s nothing to be scared of, you’re aware of that intellectually. It’s not the first time that one of the streetlights has died on you, it’s probably happened on one of your shifts before, too. Still, one glance at your phone tells you it’s 11:59, and that is an odd enough coincidence to make you tense. You stare into the night a while longer. Obviously, there is no one out there — you would have seen them by now.

But as the numbers on your phone change to 12:00, the automatic doors slide open and a gust of wind rushes in, and suddenly you’re absolutely frozen in place, convinced, in a way that is as far from rational as possible, that there is something there.

You nearly scream when you feel a hand on your shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Seungmin asks you as he spins your chair around, a concerned frown on his face.

“I’m fine, it’s just the—” By the time you turn back around, the doors have slid close again. “The doors opened,” you say with what you hope is a nonchalant shrug, while your heart is still beating erratically, “but there was no one here. It must have been the wind.”

He looks at you a little longer, than at the doors.

“I guess,” he replies slowly. “It just better not be one of these jerks trying to play a prank on us.”

He sounds so indignant then that you have to smile.

“I haven’t seen anyone out there since these college kids left earlier. I think we’re good.”

Seungmin keeps staring at the door as though his eyes could pierce through the darkness, then, when they decidedly can’t, shakes his head.

“That’s why I hate Halloween,” he mumbles under his breath, but he’s close enough for you to catch it, something you’re doing your best not to think too much or too hard about.

“I thought it was the capitalism.”

“That too,” he says without having to think about it for even a second. “But it’s mostly the mean pranks. I’ve—” Then he interrupts himself. You wait a little, expecting him to resume the story once he feels ready. When he doesn’t, you put your hand on his, rubbing your thumb over his skin. His hand is warm under yours.

“Are you okay?” you ask. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s— fine. It’s been a long time. I guess some kids had just seen Carrie and thought it would be a really fun idea to test it on me.” He sounds annoyed at himself for still being upset about it rather than at these people, and that makes anger boil inside your chest. On the one hand, maybe it won’t do much good to express that feeling; on the other, maybe that’s just what he needs.

“What fucking assholes,” you say, and laughter spills out of his lips, his bright, toothy grin visible for the first time since the beginning of the night.

“You don’t need to have beef with thirteen year-olds for me,” he tells you fondly. “I’m sure they would never do it again.”

Sure, but that means that he’s the one that’s stuck with the effect of one ‘prank’ that they don’t have to think about again. Which pisses you off even more, actually, though this time you keep your mouth shut.

“I’m sorry, I wish I’d asked you if you wanted to take this shift. I’m sure we could have found a replacement.”

Seungmin just shrugs at that.

“Like I said, I’m fine. And I’m not going to let people scare me anymore.”

There’s something definitive to his tone, and you can tell it must be a promise he’s made to himself a long time ago. For the next seconds, it’s just his eyes in yours, your hand on his.

Then the doors slide open and old Mrs. Yang walks in, pushing her cart and dragging her elderly husband along with her. She has insomnia and likes to do her shopping without being bothered by other people, and he dutifully accompanies her each time, no matter how tired he is. Both you and Seungmin greets them with a smile.

By the time they’ve both disappeared in the aisles, Seungmin’s back in his seat.

Time keeps crawling at a snail’s pace after you’ve checked them out. There are more regulars, more college students, followed by other unbothered — or slightly bothered by the presence of disguised teenagers and young adults —  regulars, and then college students again. All in all, you’d say the night goes okay. You do have to take a stern tone with some people who want to empty your bucket of sweets, something that children’s mothers usually do for you, but that’s not unexpected.

It’s around 3am that you hear Seungmin’s voice call for you. You yawn as you turn towards him.

“Did the three guys come out yet?”

You blink at him.

“Which ones?”

“Frat boys. Red shirts with their logo on it. Have you seen them come out?”

You do remember them coming in, now that he’s mentioned them. You for sure haven’t checked them out. The last people you saw were that exhausted single mother balancing her sleeping toddler on her hip, which is what you tell Seungmin. He rolls his lips together.

“They’ve been in there for a while.”

You get up, stretching and wincing as blood circulates in your body again. You pick up the coffee Thermos you never forget to bring with you — you’d probably die if you did — and show it to him while you get used to being on your feet again.

“Do you want some?” you ask. “I’ll go check where they are.”

Chances are they’ve raided the candy aisle, possibly the booze aisle. Wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened, just means you have to get ready for an unpleasant conversation. That, too, is an art you’ve unfortunately had to master since you started working here.

“Call if you need anything,” Seungmin says, and you wave at him vaguely, both to say ‘I will’ and ‘It won’t be necessary’. You can handle yourself.

After your weird experience with the parking lot light earlier, you’d think walking through the store’s empty aisles would make you uncomfortable, but the truth is, you know the place by heart. They feel familiar to you, and you see no reason to be nervous.

You start by the alcohol aisle, just to get that out of the way, and nearly breathe a sigh of relief when you don’t find anyone there. That could have gotten very messy. After quickly checking that everything is in order, you start walking again. Candy aisle it is.

As you approach it though, you have to note how quiet the store is, much more than you’d expect with three frat boys stealing and probably eating candy. It’s odd, so you’re not all that surprised when you reach it and you find it empty too, with nothing out of place as far as you can tell. Shit, you don’t want to be playing these games. You spin on your heels, ready to do what you probably should have done in the first place and make an announcement with the mic, when you see a man standing, thirty feet away from you.

The figure, you recognize immediately. A black hoodie and, of fucking course, the ghostface mask from the Scream franchise. You physically couldn’t roll your eyes any harder than you do then.

“Hilarious,” you say. “You got me. I’ll be waiting for you at check-out once you and your friends decide that you’re done playing around with minimum-wage workers.” …who are not getting paid nearly enough for this shit.

Since you’re not walking past that guy, you take a few steps towards a different aisle. When you reach it, though, there’s another man, exact same attire, exact same frozen stance. Twenty feet away from you this time. You let out a dry, unamused chuckle. You still don’t want to walk towards him, but you’re also all too aware of the fact that there’s a fucking third one hiding in wait somewhere. These guys are all bark and no bite, you’d bet on that, but you’re no less uneasy, eyes darting around to figure out an exit route.

You take a step back. The man take a step forward. You grit your teeth.

“Stop that.”

He takes another step. Fucking asshole.

You turn around, and right fucking there, right behind you, is the third one.

You scream. It just comes straight out of you before you can control yourself, and even if he’s trying to keep up the façade, you see the guy’s shoulders shake in laughter. Shit, you’re not doing this. You dart past him, intent on going back to the front of the store, but by then, the first guy has moved to be in your way. He walks towards you in a way that you’re sure is supposed to be menacing, shoulders squared, and you’re getting ready to give him a piece of your mind when, out of nowhere, Seungmin’s fist connects with the guy’s jaw.

You take way too much pleasure in the way he falls down and hits one of the display units, which leads to all the packs of pasta in it to land on him. They’re not heavy enough for it to hurt, but it still gives you intense Schadenfreude. While you’re still staring, Seungmin grabs your shoulders, looking at you with panic in his eyes, checking that you’re okay. Once he spots the two other men, he pulls you behind him, standing between you and them. It’s both endearing and pretty useless.

“Start running,” he mumbles to you before you can explain the situation.

“Dude, what the hell!” the man he just hit protests behind you, extricating himself from under all the pasta.

“Yeah, uh, these three are the frat bros,” you inform him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“C’mon, man,” one of the two that are still standing says as he pulls his mask off, “that’s not cool.”

“You better hope he’s not injured, ‘cause—”

“They were trying to get themselves banned from the only convenience store near the college that’s opened 24/7,” you interrupt, narrowing your eyes at them, “and they figured that harassing the employees was a great way of achieving their goals.”

They seem to hesitate at that.

“It wasn’t harassment…” one of them says weakly.

“Of course it is!” Seungmin snaps, voice filled with more anger than you’ve ever heard. “We’re working here! And it’s a fucked-up thing to do, if you want to scare people because you think it’s funny, at least do it on people who have a choice!”

The three guys are starting to look more and more sheepish, in a way that you’d almost find sweet — aw, grown men who have no concept of boundaries but can still learn! — if you weren’t so pissed.

“Okay, okay, we’re leaving,” they all start saying as they take off their hoodies, giving you more than enough time to memorize the name of their frat, help their friends up and start walking away. “But you won’t ban us then, right?” one of them has the absolute nerve to ask.

“We’ll think about it!” is your shouted reply at that, which seems to satisfy them.

“We will?” Seungmin asks you quietly.

“Obviously we’ll ban them,” you reply, no louder than him. Fucking assholes.

When he turns around to face you, you’re careful to check his expression. His fists are still clenched, his jaw still tense.

“Are you okay?”

He exhales, long and hard.

“Yes.” He answers with surprising strength. Then a grin. “It felt great, actually.”

You watch him open and close his hand a few times. His knuckles are slightly bruised, but it doesn’t seem to bother him.

“Are you okay?” he asks you after a few seconds.

The question catches you off-guard. You have to take a moment to think about it, and when you do, you let out a sigh.

“I’m glad you got here when you did,” you tell him honestly. “I knew it was them, but it still was a bad experience.” Again, not the first time you’ve had to deal with weirdos in the store, so you’re not even that shaken, but having Seungmin to lean on for sure plays a big part in that. “We really need to get back to the front, we’re not supposed to leave the registers unattended,” you say with a grimace. Actually, if the boss decides to randomly check the footage for tonight, you’re as good as fired.

His hand wraps around your wrist before you can walk away.

“You should go out with me,” he says, all in one block, when you turn around.

You stare.

“What?”

His mouth hangs open as red forms on his cheekbones first before it spreads to his whole face.

“Sh– Sorry, I– That was the adrenaline talking, don’t– Don’t–”

Ah, he’s just too cute.

“No, I quite liked what the adrenaline was saying, I just wasn’t expecting it,” you say. “Could I hear it again?”

When he turns to face you, he’s just as red as before. He clears his throat and is still refusing to look you in the eye when he speaks.

“Would you— Would you like to go on a date. With me.”

“Yeah,” you say, “I would”. You could tease, you’re certainly tempted to do so, but it’s clear that it took a lot from him to even ask, and you don’t want him to think that you’re unsure. Because, well, you’re not. You’d love to go on a date with him. It makes your heart flutter in a soft, fragile way, and you know that anything after that will need to be carefully nurtured, if you wish for it to bloom, but that is something you can deal with later. For now… “Would you mind if I gave you a little preview? As a thank you?”

Seungmin swallows, then very, very slowly, he nods.

You push yourself on your tiptoes, holding both hands behinds your back, and close your eyes while you press your lips against his. It’s soft. Sweet. Your lips move against his gently, and you feel him tilt his head to kiss you back while he stands still, with the exception of one of his hands coming up to grab your shoulders, to keep you stable or to keep you from pulling away too fast, you can’t tell.

Heat spreads through you when his long fingers caress your arm, and you feel your face warm as the kiss intensifies, without either of you daring to move, too afraid of breaking the spell.

When you do pull away, you meet his eyes for a second, before he looks away, trying to hide how wide he’s smiling.

Ah, you just can’t wait for that date.

again, don't know if this was any good but i hope it entertained you :) would love to know your thoughts and if you don't feel like leaving a comment (i don't bite i swear), please consider reblogging, it helps showing the story to others <3

permanent taglist: @lethallyprotected @jisuperboard

[prettyboykatsuki]

pls read me for filth bestie: intj eldest daughter 🤓

ahhh. fellow intj. this one might be mean sorry. once again i am working on assumptions so disclaimer yadda yadda

intjs are usually known for being cold, calculated and intelligent as a result of introverted intution which is shared with your fellow NJ pairs and for the most part this stereotype is true. most intjs are gifted in early childhood and do well academically with good insight for pattern recognition. youve probably one point felt yourself to be better than your peers

the two way consequence of this being true is that you definitely have semi abysmal social skills. intj women(or just generally speaking fem presenting intjs) tend to make-up for this by capitalizing on their physical appearance in their later years if possible. intj men tend to be mildly insufferable because behaving that way is accepted as masculine and tolerable. this lack of understanding in relation to socialization comes two fold from your last function being extroverted sensing and your third function being introverted feeling.

like most introverted feelers you take things incredibly personal which wreaks havoc in your relationships. as you grow older and experience more things (and more trauma) your sense of basic sympathy allows you to overlook the things that you used to bother you day-to-day but you do have to actively realize that not everything that happens to you is a personal matter. in fact most things are not and your paranoia that they are worsens greatly under stress. a lot of shit has genuinely nothing to do with you

intjs are interesting in that they do actually get along with several types of people and tend to fall in the camp of open minded. you have a tendency to make quick judgements about people and you're rarely wrong on your first impressions but you sometimes allow them to cloud your judgement. you don't prefer leadership roles but you will handle them well when they are forced upon you which they often are as a result of you being technically competent and talented at compartmentalizing. how are u dealing with that one haunting impulsive decision you made btw

most often intjs get in relationships they can hide behind in some way. extroverts are ideal for this but it's mostly anyone who can comfortably shield them away from public scrutiny as they pressure of being around others is rather annoying to you though im sure you do fine. you've developed some specific culturally relevant social skills to keep you afloat but you need to recuperate more oftne than you care to admit.

you probably similarly had a phase of total hedonism in your late teens and young adulthood in a way that wasn't obvious to everyone else as you discovered your extroverted sensing and the concept of sensuality.

you have inadvertently developed a desire for validation of something you can't actually recognize. intjs are typically well accomplished in some aspect, but the validation you're seeking is actually entirely emotional and you will benefit a lot from realizing this. your ideal relationship is not someone who will simply shield you, but will allow you to be yourself and push you in areas you need pushing while fully understanding who you are and not who you are very good at pretending to be.

its fine to admit some parts of you are sloppy, irritable and irrational. the extremity you treat his part of yourself with is overblown in the first place and being around emotionally in tune people makes you self aware of this.

you date people you assume you'll have emotional control over and years later understand doing that is also exhausting you. the cycle will repeat until you can find someone who can view you with sincerity and all your flaws and acknowledge them without stepping on your toes about them all the type.

you can pretend that happy-go-lucky people exhaust you all you want but having at least SOME to balance you out is literally important to your nervous system. if dating a dumb himbo and the false sense of emotional security he gives you is what fixes you let it happen its fine no one else will be able to tell but them.

despite all of this, ultimately no one is harder on you than yourself which is why many people in your life forgive you for things most others would not. your expectations for your accomplishments as a result of your talents and somewhat your ambition suffocate you but your health is more important and it's fine to put those thoughts to rest eventually. not everything needs to happen at once for you

try not to let your perfectionism completely disconnect you from the one artistic hobby you have and work hard at that - it contributes more to your sanity than u will ever give it credit for and it is that deep. u can't pretend its not lol

it will be fine btw

[thebluemoonjune]

Home (Richonne One-shot)

Even with Rick's difficulties and trauma, the Grimes family is still going strong after two weeks since Richonne made it back home.

Her life had long been defined by womanhood and motherhood, long before this. Her first was not long for this world, and she had lost her second, but she still had a daughter and son whom she would give and do anything for. She had murdered for them. She battled on their behalf. She could even leave them with a promise to bring their father home. Many things happened and she was on the verge of giving up as well, but heaven had eyes. They were finally back together. As one family. She opened her eyes to discover her hubby still sleeping. He's normally awake before anybody else owing to many bad nights, but he slept better than he has in recent days, forcing a gentle smile on her plump lips. He was so gorgeous while he slept; his steady heart and breaths were enough to make her fall in love with him all over again. After two weeks at home, she had to constantly reassure him that they were safe, that he was doing fine and that they were truly home. They would never recover any of that lost time. Not her year of struggling to recuperate and survive, nor the eight years it utilised to break him. She slid out of bed and put on her bedroom slippers to prepare breakfast before everyone awoke.

In his nightmares, he heard his children's footsteps, laughter, and impromptu singing. He would feel both asleep and awake in his spirit while he experienced the joys of parenting. Then it would be blankness, when he couldn't remember his oldest's face or how he came to terms with the fact that he'd never see his wife or daughter again in this life, let alone see his youngest, but he'd wake. He'd be greeted by his beloved's face, and his children would sometimes be wrapped up in the blankets with them. "Father" is an attribute of a man that comes to life when he is with his kid, and it does so because he adores them, enjoys being with them, and values the connection they share. He was still a father. It was a lengthy dream. One in which his son was dubbed a sacrifice. His son is not a sacrifice. He was his son. He had certain ambitions and goals, but they were cut short. If he were here, he'd see that everything worked out in the end. He would recognise and adore his little brother, and he would realise how much his litter sister had matured. He was his son, and he missed him. He loved his son unconditionally, and there was no price to it. His wife had awakened before him. An unusual occurrence. She must have been preparing breakfast for him and the children. His children. He was still a father. He was still a husband.

...

Placing the plates, knowing it was about time, her family got down. She continued to reflect. Feeling a new person develop within you and raising them to be self-sufficient was both the greatest joy and the greatest challenge. It combined with her previous successes to shape who she is now. Being a parent should be like that—not an extra or an "add-on," but a fundamental topic around which other interests revolve. Now she was pregnant for the third time. Her child, whether a boy or girl, is her child, as are their elder siblings. Her kid had her soul in their heart, and her heart will be theirs forever. Her child is free to live, grow, and love whoever they want, since no regulation can include such a blessed thing. If her child ever needs her help or advice, she will be there for them. She would go through the gates of hell to keep them safe, feeling honoured and grateful for the opportunity. Each child is a precious gift. She was lonely and without any comfort the last time. After all, what comfort could a three-year-old provide a pregnant widow? Her husband missed their son's first step: his initial words. They had lost out on those experiences together, but now they had another chance. Were they both afraid? Yes, but she had everyone she needed with her this time. They'd be okay.

Walking down the stairs, he heard her steady steps. She’ been placing the plates, knowing it was about time, for the family to go down, lost in her thoughts. Her placing her hand on her tummy drew his attention. They were once against expecting. Their child would be born in a few months, ready to seek and receive love, to be part of that lovely protective web of emotions that gives, nurtures, and protects, just like his or her siblings. Once Again. They would once again encourage them to be the greatest versions of themselves, to rewind, to abandon the poisonous cynicism and instead weave the love web that their kid would want. She was the finest mother he'd ever known, the greatest wife, and he aimed to be the ideal husband and father.

“Hey…”

Placing the final plate, she gazed upon her husband’s face. “Hey, baby… Want some eggs?”

“Yeah…” He planted a kiss on her lips, deepening it the first chance he got. The kiss went on for two whole minutes before she managed to break it.

“Sit.”

“Yes ma’am.” A chuckle escaped his lips before his face grew pensive.

“Rick?”

“I had a dream.”

“Oh, I thought you were sleeping better.”

“I am, darlin’. I am… It was about Carl.”

“Carl?”

Put all unpleasant memories in your left hand and all happy memories in your right. Memories danced on the edge of his thoughts, alternating between cherished times and terrible recollections, walking a fine line between consolation and misery. The world went on, indifferent to the sorrow that enveloped him, like a dark cloud that followed him everywhere, casting a shade on even the okay days. Those were the sentiments he held in the CRM. Then he couldn't recall the faces, which was worse than everything else he'd experienced in that godforsaken place. The weight of loss hung on his shoulders like an unbreakable load. Things were different, however. He was home with his wife and children. He could see his son's face again and had a photo of him his daughter, a little younger than he remembered her when he was taken. The fact that he could see his son's face was incredible. He was at home with his family. It wasn't an awful dream after all.

“He came to say hi.”

“I’m happy for you. Maybe he’ll visit me sometime?”

“Mhmm. Maybe Andre will.”

Her eyes welled and a weary smile came to her lips. “Maybe.” Next thing, Rick wrapped his arms around her and the swayed from side to side, resting his chin atop her head.

“I thought I told you sit, Grimes.”

“I will. For now, I just wanna love on my wife… Our boys, they’re in a better place, watchin’ us, wantin’ us to live life.”

He was, by no means, religious. He grew up a Baptist, and he would go to church every once in a while with Lori and Carl before the new world but his faith had left him long ago, but when it came to their children, he had faith. Faith that they weren't hurting and they were happy. Faith that they would all be together again. Was he hypocritical in his thinking? Yes, he was; regardless, it was how he viewed things.

A pair of heavy footsteps came running. Their children had arrived, ready to start the day. Breakfast consisted of fluffy pancakes, eggs, and berries, all as warm as they would be in the sun, with maple syrup threaded on top. It provided a tranquil sense of comfort, which helped to start the day off well.

“Morning, sleepyheads.”

“Mornin’ Mom! Morning Dad!”

“Morning, Mama! Dad!” Unlike his sister, her son hurried through the morning hug he owed her and rushed to his father’s side. “Oh.”

“Hey, junior.” He beamed, ruffling his son's curly brown hair. How’d you sleep, hmm?”

“I slept great!” Rj proclaimed, pulling the seat next to his father.

“What ‘bout you, Judy? Sleep alright?”

“Kinda.”

“She was doing homework till 10:30.” Michonne poured the three orange juices. “I think they are giving her too much work. I don’t like that they skipped RJ either.”

“I argue about Judith, but skipping grades just means our boy takes after you.”

“Two whole grades? He’s eight, Rick.”

“And he’s brilliant and I’m proud of him.” He gazed deep into her eyes. “I’m just happy they’re living normal lives.”

“I’ll talk to Judith’s teacher.”

“I go with you.” Rick gave her a deep grin, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “Four eggs for breakfast, fried in a brushing of olive oil, lightly salted... so perfect. Just the way I like ‘em.”

“So perfect, Mama,” RJ said, obviously following his dad, earning a warm smile from both his parents.

“I’m glad you and your daddy like it, baby…” Michonne placed a bowl of freshly cut tomatoes at the centre of the table and her two special men reached for some. “Judy? Since school is finishing early, what’s your plan for the rest of the day?”

“Well, I promised Gracey I’d help her with her assignment.” Reading the disappointment on her parents' faces, she added, “I can’t tell her I can’t.”

"No, sweety, we’ll manage. But you keep your weekend free, okay?”

“Deal!”

“RJ?”

“Mhm?”

“Daddy is taking you out after school. Just the two of you. Behave.”

“I always behave.”

“Yeah, right.” Judith rolled her eyes

“I do!”

“No, you don’t!”

“Alright, alright… Eat up or you two will be late.” He simply stared at his his then his wife. The joy was apparent.

...

“Once upon a time, there were two children, one boy and one girl. Their parents loved them like a thousand suns, and they grew up to be clever and carin’. The father joined ‘em in the kitchen and danced to insane music; the sillier, the better. He followed ‘em with fingers that could transform them into monsters with a single twitch. The mother encircled ‘em with affection and defended ‘em like no other lioness��”

He smiled softly as he saw his junior yawn. Trying to persuade RJ to sleep in it is like separating an octopus from its prey. There might have been some anger rising in him—frustration—but he had missed too much of his son's life to harbour such feelings. They were both overly obsessed with one another. Even after three bedtime stories, he wasn't ready to leave his kid. His namesake, who was about to be dethroned as the youngest, was all he could have wished for. RJ begrudgingly closed his wide brown eyes and allowed the realm of dreams to take him. He kissed him good night on his forehead, dragging his feet out the door after taking one last look for the night. The couple opted to announce their new addition to their children later, preferring to focus on connecting and reconnecting right now.

…

Entering the bedroom, he smiled. Rick and Michonne gave each other their full attention as they celebrated Rick's good day of connecting with the children, specifically RJ. The temperature outside had dropped to practically freezing, but inside, they had a raging fire, also known as each other, and were soon pretty cosy. Michonne lay in bed across from Rick, her feet resting in his lap.

"I guess RJ is knocked out?"

"Yep." His shoulders slouched. "He put up a good fight, though."

"Don't feel too sad... You have tomorrow, the day after that, and the day after that one. We have time."

Rick let out an anguished sigh and was stimulated by her toes moving over his leg. "We do," he explained, his voice gruff yet calm. "I wish he could stop ageing, if even for a few years."

"Okay, don't get carried away over there," she said, smirking.

Chuckling at her words, he tugged on her feet. "Get over here," he stated, suggestively.

And with an amused smile, she sat on his lap, and as she adjusted, she could feel Rick hard beneath her.

"Hard, huh?"

"I am," He threw one arm around her waist and pulled down the strap of her silk pink nightgown. He squeezed her right breast and kissed the back of her neck.

Michonne felt his desire and rolled her hips, tingling from the sensation of his dick against her pussy. She should have become used to him by now, given their frequent screwing, but they had more than eight years to make up for. Her bodily response was still strong, which seemed strange. But every time he touched her, it was distinctive. Addictive even. She let out a small sigh as his left hand moved south, pushing beyond her panties to touch her slit. He didn't waste any time, which made her happy. She adored how much he loved her. How much he longed for her. She relaxed her body against his and extended her legs, granting his wish to explore. His fingers began to work. He pulled her off and stroked her clit as she vibrated softly on him. 

"Rick," she forced out softly, his fingers much overpowering her thoughts till she came.

He inhaled sharply as her breasts crushed against him, and his lips brushed against hers. Rick felt his dick buzzing. He really wanted her. She drew him in for a deeper kiss, holding his hair and inviting him to join her on the bed.

On top of her. He was both kind and passionate towards her. He landed another kiss on her lips before moving down her body, delivering several on her stomach, his dick only becoming harder as he returned to her chest. He enjoyed how well the breasts fit in his palms. Her pregnancy with RJ filled them out considerably more than they were eight years ago. It was the first thing he noticed. He sucked and nibbled her hardened nipples.

He licked and lapped at her erect nipples, smiling as she groaned in return. He admired her figure and enjoyed touring it. He'd missed her silky, creamy, dark brown skin and all of her lovely muscles. "Shit," he muttered into her ear, making both of them snicker. But the lightness immediately faded as he resumed their kiss and the top of his dick got cosy with her entrance. They both murmured silently, anticipating the moment to follow as her clit touched his tip. Their lips got chaotic while he sought to find his way inside, and their moans grew louder as he pressed into her.

"Right, ahhh!" Michonne muttered as he pressed on and began thrusting.

"Ahhh!" She gasped with a gentle moan. Filling her to the brim, pressing along her walls. He was great. It was greater once he started pounding. He rolled his hips methodically and sensually, hitting numerous places simultaneously, kissing her neck and grasping her breasts, captivating her entire body. She experienced an upheaval and was unsure if she ever wanted to get off. If she wasn’t already pregnant, he’d surely knock her up tonight.She could feel the impending climax as his dick worked against her clit with each stroke.

"Darlin', I'm gonna come," he declared, breathing against his wife's throat. He could feel the rhythm in his chest and his vision was a swirl of loveliness before him.

He enjoyed how thick and clinging it was actually. They had become soaked during sex. Michonne seemed aware of her actions, despite her suggestions indicating otherwise. The fashion in which her hips met his.

The couple shared unrivalled chemistry, which resulted in an incredible time between the two like all those years ago. The sort of sex that came with wet, sloppy kisses, strong grunts, nicks and scratches, bites, and chaotic, incoherent curses in moments of deep lust.

Rick felt Michonne's limbs weaken and the feeling of her bathing his dick, similar to how his fingers felt before. The taste of his name on her lips motivated him to finish quickly. The smell of sex filled the air as he grunted and halted his grinding. He rested, his forehead brushing hers, and caressed her belly with tenderness. Their thick lungs were filled with love and lust—even before they came.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Rick's smile was so vast that you could scarcely see his eyes, and her flush was like flowering blossoms, conveying the love of her heart. They were so fortunate to be able to look directly into each other's eyes at that silent moment when the rest of the world was placed on hold. She put her palm on his chest and felt the tempo of his heartbeat. They had a wordless feeling of joy. Joy was a vital part of the recipe for life, and when they were happy, their lips curled into matching smiles.

“It’s good to be home.” A soft smile played on his lips.

“It is.”

[project-reaper]

Moving forward into 2024!

I haven’t really had a proper chance to say Happy New Years, so this will have to suffice, with a little breakdown of what’s been going on and what’s to come!

WHAT I'VE BEEN UP TO

I’ve been spending the better part of the last year working on new projects and endeavors. Both with Time Gate and outside of it. From vendoring at markets and working expo’s for the first time to working on art pieces completely outside of Time Gate, 2023 was a hell of a year and it makes me all the more hyped for 2024. That said, I’ve been carrying a weight with me through 2023 that’s made it difficult to enjoy it to the fullest - the weight of knowing that [AFTERBIRTH] is still on hiatus.

This isn’t the longest hiatus that I’ve been on, but it’s certainly starting to approach the record and I wanna get it back on track. Like getting back in shape after spending an entire winter hibernating and eating nothing but junk food, getting back into drawing [AFTERBIRTH] on a schedule is gonna be a process of rebuilding good habits and learning what I can do better to keep those habits alive and well.

The fortunate side to taking hiatuses is that it always does give me a new sense of perspective. In this case, I learned that I put myself through a lot at the start of [AFTERBIRTH]’s production. Like, way more than I realized. At the time I thought I was super capable - and I am! - but now in hindsight I can recognize it wasn’t healthy or sustainable for me to manage that sort of output all on my own. I’m still grinding away at comics like I always do with those other projects I’ve mentioned, but it’s still nothing near the amount of work I put myself through just to meet my own deadlines with [AFTERBIRTH]. I also have this thing called help now in the form of a background artist who’s been working with me on those other projects, which has been an amazing and enriching experience.

Having that time away from [AFTERBIRTH] not only gave me the breathing room I needed to recuperate from the burnout I got myself into, but also got me out of the routines I had stuck myself into, which has given me some new tricks and skills that I’m really hyped to bring back into Time Gate with me.

This does, in a way, mean that I’ve had to really reflect on Time Gate, a lot. It’s a project I’ve been writing since I was a kid, and drawing as a webcomic since I was around 18-19. It’s changed a lot in that time, but I’m finding while a lot of those changes have been reflected in the comic as it is, there are still so many more I want to make - because like the comic, I’ve changed a lot, too, both as an artist and as a person, and considering Time Gate’s always been a sort of personal extension of myself, I no longer resonate with a lot of parts of it that I’ve since outgrown. It’s not so much that I want to hide or take for granted those parts of it that are ‘uglier’, but I want the writing and art to be expressed in the best way it can be because at the end of the day, I’m trying to tell a coherent story that’s enjoyable to read and experience. I’m also the sort of person who learns best by just getting their hands dirty and learning what not to do, and boy, have I spent a lot of years doing just that through Time Gate.

GOING FORWARD

So, going forward, I’ve adjusted my schedule with my other projects to accommodate the time I need to both get back into Time Gate: [AFTERBIRTH] as well as prepare for the upcoming convention season. I’ve got a bunch of plans for this year’s markets with new ideas for prints and stickers and other goodies that I’m really excited to make! And I just, overall, want to pull myself out of the burnout funk. You can’t force recovery to happen on your own time but there does come a point where you gotta start taking steps otherwise you get stagnant, and I feel like that’s where I’ve been the last few months.

AFTERBIRTH FORMAT CHANGE

[AFTERBIRTH]’s format will be changing back to page format in its second season. Vertical format works for some projects and stories, but not for Time Gate. It’s been fun, but part of learning what I’m best at is learning what I’m not best at and the vertical format is too limiting for what I want to do with Time Gate in the future. Color will still be remaining!

REAPER RECOMPILED

I will also be working on the Recompiled editions of Reaper. These will predominantly be the first few volumes redrawn and rewritten to accommodate a tighter story down the road. I know, I know, “don’t get trapped redrawing/rewriting stuff”, but I feel the changes that I wanna make are so necessary that they’re part of what’s holding me back from continuing with [AFTERBIRTH] into Thread of Fate and beyond. There are a lot of really silly and otherwise unnecessary writing decisions I made back during Reaper that I currently feel aren’t working for what I’m trying to accomplish in its sequels, and let’s face it, I wrote it almost ten years ago when I was still very much learning, so it’s due for an upgrade. It'll be the last time too, because it'll be putting us on Loop 9999 and remember what Matty said about surpassing 9999-

This will be something I’ll be picking at slowly but surely. When it’s ready I’ll basically be replacing the old pages and updating any new mirror sites with only the new version (I’m currently planning on trying out NamiComi and Lemoon and of course I'll be continuing to post on ComicFury and GlobalComix).

THE BIG GREEN ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM-

All of that will basically be working towards my biggest step - getting the flying fuck off Webtoons. Because let me tell you, I've basically spent the last two years like this:

Y’all know that I’m not really one to roll over and take shit from massive platforms, and Webtoons is no exception. I’ve been posting to it since 2016 and I’m very very much done with it; just like with Tapas it’s no longer the site it used to be and there’s fresh competition entering the market that I’d rather put my focus on. At the very least, I want my independence back, if I’m gonna be stuck having to market and network my own work anyways I’d much rather be doing it for my own site or platforms that aren’t constantly undercutting its creators by removing core features and not implementing necessary ones. I as well as many others have been doing our own investigating into Webtoons and we’re basically feeling like canaries in the mineshaft right now, picking up on some massive warning signs that we want to get ahead of. The worst that can happen is that I pull the same stats I pull on Webtoons somewhere else, what a tragedy that would be LMAO

LIVESTREAMING

And then of course there are my livestreams. Like learning the hard way that I shouldn’t have been drawing [AFTERBIRTH] on such a strict schedule, I’ve learned that streaming on the schedule I used to be streaming on just ain’t for me. Call it the ADHD but I’d much rather stream when I have something to legitimately talk about or showcase rather than force myself to stream even on days when I’m really not feeling up to talking. And I’d like to get back into doing actual video editing content, whether it’s speedpaints or gaming videos or commentary stuff, whatever have you. Now that I have a proper PC rig that’s actually built to do heavy duty stuff, the possibilities of what I can create are a LOT more vast and I wanna take full advantage of them!

That said, if you wanna see an example of what the streams will look like when we return, check out this lil’ time lapse demo:

Definitely couldn't do that on my old setup! It might not be regular streaming like before, but it’ll damn well be higher quality and more fun to watch haha

WELL THAT WAS A BIG WALL OF TEXT WASN'T IT

So yeah! That was a lot of words but I hope it clears up everything that's been happening on my end. Thanks for following along with my work all these years, whether it’s Time Gate or my lil’ secret projects or my streams, through all the ups and the downs. Long-term projects like these may take their toll but there’s so much joy in seeing them change and grow over time, and I want to fully embrace and reflect that growth as best as I can through what I bring you guys.

Thank you all so much, let’s make 2024 a good year <3

[edenityy]

( chapter fifteen ! )

"Music? Oh— or croquet! Boating could be fun?"

Within the walls of Phantomhive Manor sit Leah Barrett and Elizabeth Midford, brainstorming ideas on how to satiate their boredom. Lacking the presence of Ciel to be a mediator and maker of the final decision, the two girls have spent the past ten minutes going back and forth. Still, neither seem entirely interested in each other's suggestions.

Sitting atop one of the lounges in the drawing room, Leah gently rubs her fingers across the material of her amber dress skirts. She is disengaged from the conversation, evident in how she trains her gaze on Elizabeth's canary yellow dress or the relentless way she presses her lips together. Perhaps had she stayed home to recuperate from her time at Noah's Ark Circus, she wouldn't feel so overwhelmed by mere conversation.

"Is it like you are not even listening to me!" complains Elizabeth. "How could you possibly not like a single activity I named?"

Effectively being snapped out of her trance, Leah swallows and reluctantly meets the blonde in the eye. "It is not that I reject your ideas.. It is just— does it not feel like we do the same few things as women? As if our options are limited. You can only have so much fun before you grow tired of it," her voice trails off towards the end of her sentence.

A sigh escapes Elizabeth, followed by a muffled agreement. Silence also fills the room and works to set a tone of slight discomfort, primarily on Leah's end, both girls letting their eyes wander to different spaces of the room.

Leah points a finger to her chin before glancing back up at her friend. "Horseback riding?" she suggests, not expecting a thrilled answer.

The Midford's face immediately lights up in a smile. "That sounds quite lovely!"

"You know how to ride, yes?" asks Leah as she stands from her seat and smooths out her dress skirt. "You can ride on my horse if not."

Shaking her head, Elizabeth follows suit and skips towards the door of the drawing room. "I believe I should be fine! I'm sure if I need help, you are capable," she grins widely.

"My Lady," Thomas interrupts before Leah has a chance to react to Elizabeth's words. "Riding can be dangerous. Surely there are safer activities you can do this afternoon?"

Stopping in her tracks, the young Barrett turns around to face her butler, face displaying utter irritation at the sound of his voice. "Thomas.. just get the horses and riding clothes. If it bothers you that much then ride behind us. Just keep quiet!" she almost raises her voice in anger.

Leah exits the room with Elizabeth on her tail, nearly stomping down the halls for the guest room she was given. Back in the drawing room, Thomas doesn't have the chance to respond before he must arrange everything, heading out of the room as well but purposely taking a different path to give the Barrett her space.

Walking down the halls, the teenagers have slowed their speed now that Leah has calmed, allowing Elizabeth to not have to exert herself to keep up. The sound of labored breathing dissipates as the brunette regains her composure, shaking her head to clear her previous thoughts of anger.

"That butler is so irritating.." complains Leah, moving her hair out of her face. Today the brown locks are styled half down with a braid going across the back while Elizabeth is wearing her infamous pigtails.

Elizabeth's face wears an expression similar to surprise. "He is not all that bad. All he did was suggest a safer activity."

The pair approach their rooms with small steps.

"I know. I think I let him anger me so much over trivial things that now Thomas merely existing seems to offend me.." Leah's voice fades, fully aware that her distaste towards the butler is unjustified.

Steps slowing to a stop, the girls enter their respective rooms to prepare for the afternoon ahead.

— ౨ৎ —

The grand doors of the manor are pushed open by Thomas who stands tall, a display of nature behind him, giving a false sense of security with the February air that nips at their noses. Stepping aside for the ladies, he watches them file out and make their way toward the horses he fetched and brought around to the front of the manor.

Both the Barrett and Midford wear riding habits, Leah wearing one in pine green while Elizabeth chose azure. Leah is the first of the two to attempt to get close to the animals, taking a peek at the horse's face before trying to mount herself, promptly being interrupted by the butler ten steps behind her.

"Allow me, My Lady," says Thomas as he arrives by her side, shifting himself to bend his knees.

Giving him an askew glance, Leah — with the help of Thomas — hoists herself up and places her foot upon his right shoulder. Thomas strictly follows the way to help a lady mount a horse, getting his master on the saddle and strapping in everything necessary. Settling down in her spot, Leah steadies herself on the horse and watches as Thomas assists Elizabeth before getting on a horse himself.

Leah adjusts her riding hat. "Your lead. I suppose we shall just go around the manor," she speaks up and sends a nod to Elizabeth beside her.

"Alright!" Elizabeth muses, slowly allowing her horse to begin a trot.

Following suit, Leah swerves her horse to position herself on the blonde's right side, acting as a stand-in man. Just a couple of feet behind the teenagers, Thomas keeps a respectful distance but acts as a supervisor, ready to intervene if necessary.

The ride is initially quite silent, only the faint sounds of rustling leaves or chirping birds fill the gap. Neither attempt conversation. Beneath them, the horses keep a steady pace and walk around the perimeter of Phantomhive Manor. Only occasionally does Leah glance in Elizabeth's general direction to ensure she doesn't fall from her horse.

Elizabeth glances over at Leah warily. "I am glad we are doing this. It has been some time since we have been able to be together like this," she smiles, trying to strike conversation without making her friend feel uncomfortable.

"Yes, I suppose it has been some time," responds Leah. "Life moves quite quickly, does it not?"

"It does. Soon enough, we'll be of age to make our social debuts. Then get married," Elizabeth has a face that reads of bliss for the future, unlike Leah who shows apprehension at her words.

Turning a swift corner, a breeze passes through the girl's hair. The atmosphere feels serene. Even being beside something as simple as a manor rather than the pure outdoors, it still manages to draw people in. Not far behind them, the shuffles of Thomas can be heard but go unnoticed despite the man watching them like a hawk.

"Sometimes it feels as though I barely got time to be a child.. but I suppose that is just how life is. We all have to grow up eventually," sighs Leah. Her disdain for the future ahead, no matter how prepared she could be, is clear.

Nodding along to her words, Elizabeth pouts in response but it is masked by something almost euphoric. "Well I am happy I get to grow up with you," she turns her head completely to drag her eyes across her friend's face, admiring someone who has been a constant in her life for years.

Leah's hand gripping the lead twitches and tears prick the corners of her eyes, bringing her head up to meet the green eyes of Elizabeth that hold nothing but fondness in them. For the first time in what feels like a long time, a genuine smile pulls at the corners of the brunette's mouth until her teeth show. Despite the internal issues she may struggle with when it comes to Elizabeth, she cannot deny that the girl is indeed her friend.

"I am grateful I get to grow up with you as well.." her face glows under the sunlight, a newfound sense of happiness that comforts the Barrett.

Returning their gazes ahead, the pair let their horses pick up speed and enjoy the feeling of the wind pushing against their face. As the afternoon wears away, they make gleeful — though sometimes forced — conversation and manage to hold onto topics. Even after months of little chance for interaction, Leah and Elizabeth can always somewhat keep the spark ignited within them, bleeding into the cold February air that envelops them like a hug that they cannot currently give the other.

— ౨ৎ —

Crash!

Leah shoots up in her bed with a gasp, the typically heavy sleeper awoken by the unpleasant — and unbelievably loud — sound of a noise that is uncomfortably close to her bedroom. Pushing the undone hair off of her shoulder, she sits up fully in a sideways kneel. Any further sound is nonexistent, making her tense up as she keeps her eyes trained on the door, despite her difficulty to see with only small gleams of moonlight being the lamp of the room.

Shaky breaths escape from her parted lips and she swings her legs over the side of the bed, reaching beneath the plush furniture to reach for a sword she keeps hidden. The cold floor pricks her fingertips while she blindly feels around before grasping the sword handle and gripping it uncomfortably tight, her knuckles would look white if her hands weren't already pale.

Rising from the safety of the soft blankets, Leah steadily approaches the door with quiet steps, keeping the sword held tightly against her back. Her footsteps are the only sound that reaches her ears, lifting a hand to wrap it around the door handle. Cracking the door open, she warily sticks her head out. Standing just a few feet outside the door, Finnian walks in a straight line in her direction, a small patch of blood shining beneath the light on the previously spotless floor.

"..Finnian?" Leah whispers, her hands clinging tightly to the door.

The gardener steps slowly as he stops before her door. "You should be asleep, My Lady! It's late, you need your rest," his words are quiet but his eyes are wide and pupils small, emitting an unnerving aura.

"What were those sounds?" asks Leah. Her eyes are equally as wide, but full of fear rather than the startling look from the typically cheerful gardener.

Finnian's eyes flicker to an undistinguishable emotion. "Don't worry about it.. We're taking care of it. Please get back in bed."

Shifting on her feet uncomfortably, Leah rubs her thumb over the handle of the sword in an attempt to make herself feel better. She opens the door a bit wider but Finnian stops the movement.

"What's happening?" the Barrett demands an answer.

"Please—"

"Answer me."

The sudden shift in Leah's tone is one Finnian has never heard before, stilling his movements. They both stare into each other's eyes. Silence.

"There is an intruder.. but please don't panic," Finnian whispers, unable to pull his eyes away from Leah's.

Leah's eyes trail over to the small pool of blood on the floor and her finger twitches. "Is Elizabeth safe?"

She is only offered a nod in response before gunshots sound from the end of the hall. Flicking her eyes to Finnian's, she glances out the door and runs down the hall, the sound of her footsteps pattering against the floor.

"It's dangerous, My Lady! Please go back to bed!" calls Finnian as he runs after her, surprised by Leah's speed.

Rounding the corner, Leah's breathing is slightly labored and her grip on the sword tightens at the sight. Standing at the end of the hallway is Dagger and Beast, staring back at her with wide eyes. Her steps slowly come to a stop and she can hear Finnian approach her from behind, unable to rip her eyes away.

"Diamond..?" Dagger's voice is low.

A shaky breath is the only thing Leah can offer in response, glancing warily at the knives clenched in his hands. 'What are they doing here? They aren't supposed to be here!'

Leah holds the sword to her stomach. "I'm sorry I lied.. I didn't mean to," she shakes her head at her words, tears pricking the corner of her eyes.

The circus performers glare, observing her uneasy stance with disdain. Against his better judgment, Dagger sends a knife straight past the Barrett's head and listens to her shriek.

"Prying into our lives. Take advantage of our hospitality. You nobles are all the same!" Beast's voice nearly becomes a yell and she retrieves her whip from her side, flashing it to frighten the teen.

There's a flash of something in Leah's eyes. Hurt. It only seems to last for a quick moment, her eyes darkening into contempt.

"You know, I did not think you people were all that bad. But it seems it stands true that the poor are only a burden," Leah clenches her teeth and wields her sword. "How dare you invade my home!"

Dagger and Beast hardly have a moment to react before the Barrett is charging at them, her feet pounding against the floor. Any previous anger she bottled up is released, showing in the swing that she aims directly for Dagger's head, only to have to dodge Beast's whip.

Hastily grabbing another knife, Dagger begins to swing and nearly cuts Leah's nightgown in the process. However, further attempts at injury fail when Finnian takes the chance to send a statue flying their way.

"Leave the lady alone," he calls out, voice lacking emotion yet a wide smile sits on his face.

Rubble and dust fill the air, prompting coughs but that doesn't deter the young Leah from taking the chance to swing rapidly at her targets. 'How is Finny capable of lifting those things? It doesn't matter.. He is giving me the upper hand.' She tries to steady her breathing as she lands a hit on Beast's arm, only to be forced to duck from a flying knife.

Eyebrows knitted in anger, Leah glances back at Finnian who holds another statue before dragging her eyes back to Dagger. "Would you like to make the fight fair?" she asks.

Throwing herself in the direction of a wall, she sticks her sword out at the same time Finnian chucks another statue, causing half of its length to shatter. Taken aback by this, Dagger and Beast don't get a moment to react before Leah violently swings at them again, almost landing a hit on Dagger before he is pulled back by Beast.

"You people are insane!" Dagger yells.

Finnian lifts a statue over his head. "We're just exterminating the mice," he pulls it back and sends it flying.

The circus performers continue deeper into the manner, but this doesn't deter Leah nor Finnian from chasing after them. Glancing behind him, Dagger grunts and throws a knife directly at Leah, missing when she ducks to the floor. But given the advantage, Beast can land a small hit with a whip on the Barrett's leg, only enough to cause pain but still reddening the skin.

Leah gasps and takes ahold of her leg, pain written all over her face as she watches Finnian throw yet another statue. 'Just where is he getting them from?' Nonetheless, she gets back on her feet and tries to follow after the pair flying down the steps but is stopped by the gardener.

"My Lady, please go back to bed. Us servants can handle it!" Finnian looks worried as he smiles down at the girl.

The Barrett pouts. "But—"

"Please.." he nearly begs. "For your safety."

A sigh escapes Leah but she nods, allowing her sword to escape her hand and drop to the floor with a rattle. Reluctantly separating herself from the situation, she heads off down the hallway and steps past the mess she helped create, lacking the will to feel sympathy for Dagger or Beast.

'It truly is a shame. I thought they were quite nice..'

When Leah rounds the corner and enters the hallway that leads to her room, her breath bitches at the sight before her. Thomas.

There is no face. It almost looks molten, like it cannot choose what form it wants to take until it settles on all black amidst the night. The eye holes are gaping and the teeth razor sharp, lacking the lips to keep them contained in it's mouth. His body— It's body is lengthy and mangled, only the legs seeming in tact to resemble any form of a human.

But just as quick as she sees it, the face uncomfortably melts back into the face she's seen since adolescence. Thomas. This can't possibly be Thomas though, can it? This isn't Thomas this is—

She lifts a shaky finger. "You're that thing I saw all those years ago.." Leah whispers, struggling to breathe.

"Whatever are you talking about, My Lady?" Thomas tilts his head, choosing to play coy.

Leah shakes her head and takes a step back, nearly tripping over her own feet. 'No..'

— ౨ৎ —

Cold. The night was cold.

Leah Barrett, freshly five at the time, ventured out of her room knowing that she was not meant to be doing so. That never stopped her though, she always enjoyed the feeling of being able to roam freely on her own. But she wished she hadn't that night.

The soft sound of her bare feet against the floor was the only thing to fill the silent halls, most of the servants were even retiring for the night. It was January. Barely ending the holiday season. The cold on her translucent skin hardly pushed her away, prompting her to walk further into the dark.

Children naturally hold curiosity. Leah was no exception.

She continued down the hall, turning a corner into a part of the manor she had hardly ever gazed upon. But it wasn't the dark she was scared of when she looked into the depths. It was an ungodly sight.

The molten face. The missing eyes. The mangled body. Little Leah cried out, taking the largest step back she could with her short legs. It twitched. To the creature, the young brunette was nothing short of wondrous. It spent years silently watching. Seeing the shining tears that fell down her porcelain cheeks, it was enamored.

But what was it? What invoked such feelings within a being such as Thomas? What was so interesting about a young girl? Whatever it was, the creature's interest had been peaked, unidentifiable sounds ringing out into the void.

Leah tightened her grip on her stuffed bear, breathing shakily and holding back noises of horrified sobs. She didn't even realize she was previously stuck in place until her legs bolted her back in the direction of her room, leaving behind the awful noise that only seemed to echo in her head.

Letting the sounds escape, the young girl ran directly inside her bedroom to find Anna who was no older than twelve at the time.

"Mistress, I was just about to start looking for you. What are you doing out of bed at this hour?" the maid questioned, leaning down to try and get a better look at the child.

The attempt to examine Leah was a failure though, as she immediately collided with her and wrapped her short arms around her legs. Loud sobs rang out and Leah's tears began to stain Anna's dress, the bear previously in her arms was discarded to the floor.

Anna's eyes widened. "What is wrong, Mistress?"

"I saw a monster!" cried Leah, streaks of tears painting her cheeks.

Picking up the small girl, Anna brought her over to her bed and sat her down on the plush blankets. "There, there.. Monsters don't exist. I'm sure you just thought you saw something in the dark." she tried to reassure the child but the lack of emotion on her face was clear.

"But—" Leah tried to counter the maid's argument.

"No buts. Now please try and sleep, Mistress. It is well past your bedtime. The nannies will be upset if you are in a terrible mood tomorrow," Anna stroked Leah's hair and settled her beneath the covers.

The young Barrett couldn't find it in herself to protest any longer, the weight of her exhaustion having hit her the second her head felt the pillow. Beside Anna, Leah always felt safe. But whatever Thomas was.. it haunted her for many years to come.

— ౨ৎ —

Moonlight streams in through the windows, illuminating Thomas' blonde hair and the strange look painting his face when he notices Leah creating distance. Her discomfort is undeniable though, shakily stepping away from him and unable to control the volume of her breathing.

"I— I need a moment.." Leah whispers, unsure of what to say but takes off for the balcony.

Thankfully — or perhaps not so much — the balcony is close by, the fresh air flooding Leah's nose and almost calming her. The wind blows through her hair, the leaves rustling in the far distance. The atmosphere is nearly perfect. 'Surely I'm just going crazy. Yes. This is all a dream. None of this is real. None of this—'

"You know you're not supposed to be around balconies unsupervised, My Lady," Thomas speaks up from behind her, standing in the entryway. "It would be a shame if we were to have a repeat."

Leah's breath hitches. Staring down at the ground beneath her, her body tenses. It only gets worse when Thomas approaches and places a firm hand on her shoulder, his eyes matching the look Finnian previously held. Empty.

The butler's eyes drag across her face. "I would advise you to step away. It is time for you to rest."

Moving back in an act of defiance, Leah's hand hits the edge of the balcony. Stiffening, her eyes connect with the butler staring down at her, unable to form a sentence. It all came rushing back.

— ౨ৎ —

She was awake when she shouldn't have been. She knew that. When is she ever asleep when she should be?

It was a cold April night, silence throughout the house. Not even the servants were awake in Barrett Manor at this hour, only a fourteen-year-old Leah occupied the hallways.

Her movements were slow and coordinated, almost as if she was being controlled. The hems of her nightgown brushed against her ankles, mimicking a small spring breeze.

Approaching the balcony, the young girl took in a deep breath and stared down at the ground below her. It was far. At least eight yards. Leah took a tight hold on the edge, her hands twitched and shook.

A small tear escaped her eye and fell down her cheek, illuminated by the moonlight that shone above her. Lifting a leg to settle her foot on the balcony's edge, Leah stood tall amidst the world below her. It was peaceful. Serene.

'Why am I doing this?'

She swayed back and forth.

'Would it all be worth it? For..'

Leah closed her eyes and allowed her body to fall forward, feeling the air whip across her face as she plummeted towards the ground.

'Sweet release.'

This peace was short lived though. It was all Thomas' fault. Right into his arms, she fell. A grunt from her end, feeling the appendages wrap around her in a tight hold that she hadn't felt in forever.

"My.." Thomas starts. "What are you doing awake at such an hour?"

The Barrett's eyes slowly opened, blue staring straight into the grass as they filled with disdain. "I hate you. I really do," she muttered.

Thomas stared down at the girl in his arms, a sadistic smile forming on his lips. Walking with a shake of his head, he took off for her bedroom, finding the predicament oddly entertaining.

'I just wanted to feel peace.'

— ౨ৎ —

"No!"

Leah shoves back against Thomas, almost throwing herself over the edge of the balcony in the process. Her breaths are shallow, only worsening when her butler grabs ahold of her wrist.

"It is bedtime," says Thomas as he swings Leah over his shoulder with ease.

The girl protests, the faint sound of continuous gunshots becoming quieter the closer they get to her room. Pounding her fists against Thomas' back, he appears unfazed as he forces the door open and places her down on the bed.

Throwing the blankets over her, Thomas moves back from the bed. "Goodnight, My Lady."

Shuddering under his gaze, Leah gives up on fighting back and settles her head against the pillows. She watches Thomas step out of the room and shut her eyes, trying to forget everything she's just seen. It was nightmare fuel.

Sadly her attempts at sleep are interrupted by the sound of an explosion, startling her and earning a rattled gasp. Sitting up in her bed, Leah gets up for the second time that night and shakily approaches the door. 'Elizabeth is surely fine.. The sound is too far for it to have affected either of our rooms.'

"Leah," the voice lacks any emotion. "Get back in the bed."

Pausing in her tracks, the brunette turns her head over her shoulder. There in the corner of the room is Thomas. Standing there in the chilly night air, staring her down. 'I thought he left..?'

Leah cannot bring herself to defy this time. The look in his eyes is much too threatening, she feels uncomfortable beyond belief as she shuffles back over to the bed. Getting under the covers, she keeps a grip on the blankets and stares at Thomas warily.

"Are you going to kill me?" she asks with a shaking voice, keeping a tight hold on her blanket.

There's a silence that overcomes the room for a moment, almost as if Thomas is thinking before he breaks it. "I would never," he doesn't lie.

"Please go away.." whispers Leah.

A hum sounds from Thomas, looking at the girl in the bed before closing his eyes. Slowly walking towards the door, he turns his head over his shoulder one last time.

"As you wish."

[void-ink-studios]

Lost but Loved, Forever and Always

Don't be alarmed by the title, no one dies in this fic.

I wanted to do this for quite a while. Prismo has been constantly comforting Scarab. It's time for Scarab to return the favor. We're talking about Jake tonight.

And, this is my own catharsis. I've had more death and health scares in my close family in the past 3 years than I have my entire life. So... this is to them, I guess.

So... yeah. Enjoy you guys.

TW: Suicidal Ideation and Alcohol Abuse

Word Count: 2,700

Prismo was missing.

This was a new worry for Scarab. He was usually the one to disappear into the Time Room's lower chambers, usually to recuperate his aching shoulders.

But it was Prismo missing today. Scarab hadn't seen the Wishmaster nearly all day, not since the one wish maker wandered in. Even then, Scarab's companion seemed very... withdrawn. Quieter than he'd ever seen him, at least not since before Fionna and Cake.

Prismo's energy had been draining out of his spirit over the past few days. He started going quiet at random intervals, with seemingly no trigger.

Scarab was fretting.

He was not used to fretting. Prismo always seemed... untouchable, emotionally speaking. Unflappable in the face of it all, always a lazy sort of happiness radiating off of him. But... this was not anything the beetle was used to.

He wondered if he should search for Prismo... The Wishmaster had gone looking for him more than once, he should return the favor. But what if he didn't want to be found?

Hmm...

Maybe he'd go find Prismo, then back off if he wasn't wanted. Yes, that sounded like a decent plan.

He closed off to entrances to the Time Room for now and scuttled down into the basement.

Okay, where to look... Scarab's first thought was the pickle room, maybe he was just working on a new recipe? It wouldn't explain the melancholy, but it was a start.

So, to the pickle room Scarab wandered. He idly thought about how well he knew his way around this section of the Time Room now. Oh, how himself from a year ago would have cringed...

Okay, pickle room is empty. No evidence of it being used.

Come on Scarab, you're an Auditor. You've tracked down things that could teleport across the multiverse. You can find one messy Wishmaster who can't leave the Time Room.

He took another look around. There had to be something, anything in here...

Wait, there!

There was a missing jar from the shelf, a trail of brine on the floor. Bingo.

Scarab followed the trail, the faint smell of alcohol slowly seeping into the air. Or, maybe it was stronger, but he couldn't tell. Either way it was... concerning.

"Prismo...?"

Hmm...

He doesn't recall coming this way before. The walls of the Time Room seemed to be coming more unstable the further he searched. Walls with random notches in them, the floor becoming trickier to navigate, drop offs appearing suddenly, walls sliding into each other.

Wait a moment...

Wait, this was familiar. This was where the chase for the Crossovers ended in the Time Room.

Which means...

Scarab found himself staring at Prismo. Both forms.

Prismo, the Wishmaster, staring down numbly at Prismo, the Dreamer.

"...Prismo...?"

Prismo looked terrible, for lack of a better word. He looked tired. Scarab wasn't sure how a dream could look tired, and yet, here he was. He looked... empty. Just staring blankly at his own body, slowly drifting up to Scarab. And, even with his own crippled sense of smell, Scarab was smacked in the face by the harsh smell of alcohol and vinegar. There was a half tipped over pickle jar in the corner.

"...hey..." he murmured. Just like his gaze, his voice was... empty. He said nothing else, drifting his gaze back to his sleeping body. He took a silent swig from a bottle.

"Uhm... What are you doing down here...?"

"...Thinking."

Scarab made a few tentative steps closer to his partner.

"What about?"

Prismo remained silent.

"Prismo...?"

"...You... wouldn't get it."

"I wouldn't?"

"You don't... talk to people. Talk to mortals." His voice sounded wobbling, his voice trailing up and down. Drunk. Prismo was drunk.

Scarab had never seen the Wishmaster... drunk. Tipsy on Star Punch. Maybe a bit too loud and cuddly after a game night with the guys. But this was just... sad.

"You're right, I don't talk to mortals. But that wasn't what I was asking. I was asking what you were thinking about."

Prismo didn't look up. It was honestly making Scarab nervous.

"...You ever think about how long immortality is...? Like... compared to the shorts that pass by upstairs everyday?"

Scarab blinked, pondering.

"I do, sometimes. It's... inevitable with beings like us."

"Hmm... Beings like us..." Prismo sighed blinking tiredly. "They're like... like a blink... Like a spark and then they're gone..."

"I suppose..."

"...Why am I still... here, Scarab? Like... I'm what, hundreds of thousands of years old? I think that's too long, don't you? I died at some point... I sometimes... wonder if I should've stayed that way."

Scarab felt his chest seize, suddenly also very fixated on Prismo's sleeping body. He... he wouldn't right...?

"I... I'm thankful that you are still here, Prismo... More so than you might think..."

"Hmm..."

Prismo took another drink.

"...I'm only alive because of a mortal..."

"Really now...?"

"Yeah. It was... well, super off the books. Wasn't even pinged by the Organizer... Not supposed to get involved with mortals and all that junk... But... well, he was one of my best friends... and... well, that's all I've got left of him."

Scarab gave him a confused look, approaching Prismo's body. It was unnerving, seeing the warm, soft old man the beetle loved so fondly being so still and silent... Wait, was that... fur?

Yes, right there, at the edges of the beard and hair were little whisps of yellow dog fur.

"What on Glob...?"

"Yeah... I got killed, and he helped me with my backup plan. Long story. Complicated. But, a copy of him became... me. It's his dream and memory of me keeping me alive. And... well, the original passed away. A while ago. And... Well, this is all I have left of him. Just... staring at him, looking like me, but that's not even really me..."

Prismo was spiraling. Scarab could hear it in his voice, he was spiraling.

"Prismo-"

"And what was it for? He's... He's stuck here or he's dead or he's a monster or whatever else, and for what? For... me? For everybody's pal Prismo. What a joke."

"Love, what-"

"I got nothing, Scarab. I've tried to have something. But... what do I have to show for it? The banjo? Fucking pickles? A hot tub? I got nothing."

"Prismo" Scarab hissed, sternly, gripping his upper arm, stopping Prismo's spiral.

"Prismo... how long have you... thought about this?"

"...I dunno, man. It comes and goes again..."

"Prismo. You know I, and many others, would be... heartbroken if you disappeared. Many were the first time. Even when I had my grudge, I felt... empty when you vanished."

"I... I know, I guess... Maybe that's why I haven't... done anything. Not yet, at least..."

Scarab warbled, nudging his head against Prismo's shoulder.

"...I might not know much about your... mortal friend... but I don't think he'd want you... wallowing like this."

"Oh, what do you know" Prismo snapped, startling Scarab. "You don't know him! You don't know how this feels!" His eyes flashed purple, a black color pulsing through his whole body before returning to normal.

Scarab took a few frightened steps back, looking up at the Wishmaster with wide, uncertain eyes.

Prismo's eyes sparked with immediate regret. He looked at the bottle, then back to Scarab. He groaned in frustration, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hands.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I just... I don't know how to be when I'm like this... I've... I've never felt like this before Jake... I don't know man..."

Scarab chirped out a soft sigh, feeling emboldened to come closer. "...It is not exact, but... I do know a bit of what you're feeling, Prismo..."

"...You do?"

"Mhm. So. How about this. You tell me about this... Jake. And I'll tell you about Cricket. We'll mourn together."

Prismo seemed to be considering.

"...Can we... stay here with him...?"

"If that's what you'd like, love. But let's not loom over him, okay?" Scarab gently tugged Prismo's arm. And he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when the Wishmaster allowed to be tugged. The beetle retireved the pickle jar, and the two sat down, leaning against each other.

"So... Jake?"

"Yeah... Jake the Dog."

"...How'd you two meet?"

"A wish. His brother, Finn, they were chasing their universe's version of the Lich into my Time Room. The Lich wished for the end of all life, and I granted it. Finn wished for the Lich to have never existed. They both got warped to their new realities. And then there was Jake..."

Scarab tilted his head. He'd heard of the Lich. One of those beings he'd have liked to take in, but couldn't. Vital to reality and all that nonsense. He didn't know Prismo met him before the incident with the Citadel.

"Jake... Well, I think he was in shock or something. He... seemed confused. Didn't know what to do, what to wish for. He nearly wished for a sandwich, but I talked him out of it. Like, I could just make a sandwich, no need to waste your one and only wish on it. So... we just hung out. We watched Finn's wish altered reality for a while, and we talked. Mortals never really... stick around long enough to talk. To know me as anything other than 'Almighty Prismo.' He chilled with Cosmic Owl and me. He had some of my pickles, said they reminded him of his dad. And I just... couldn't stop smiling. Some... some human part of me hoped he'd never make a wish, just so he could stay..."

Scarab could hear Prismo's voice shaking, so he pressed his head against his upper arm and nuzzled, chirping quietly.

"But... Something in Finn's wish reality started going wrong... He started to panic. I... I definitely broke protocol on this but I talked him through his wish. The wish that would make things go back to somewhat normal, and he was gone. I sent him some pickles, invited him back, but... Well, I never thought he would. No one just comes back to the Time Room, not unless you're a god. He got his wish, why would he want to come back? But... he did. Again. And again. And again and again."

Scarab wrapped around Prismo's arm, nuzzling softly as the Wishmaster sounded on the verge of weeping.

"He became one of my best friends. He was... something special. He'd level with me like a person. He didn't have this... weird, distant respect that everyone first comes at me with. He treated me like a person and... well, that was special to me. More so than I ever really noticed... not until he was gone for good.

"When the Lich killed my human body, Jake was the one who volunteered to help bring me back. That's him, sleeping in the bed. It's him keeping me alive. And... I don't know, I don't know how I could possibly repay him for that... I can't just bring him back to life, he belongs to Death now... and I don't think he'd want it. He's on the highest Deathworld, and he deserves to be there. I'm not gonna take him away from paradise just for my sake..."

Prismo trailed off. Scarab assumed he was done talking now, as he gently massaged the Wishmaster's arm.

"Thank you for telling me, Prismo. He does sound special. And I'm sorry you have lost that."

"...I can't talk to the others about it... They'd just say I was stupid. It is stupid, getting that attached to a mortal like that. So... you're the first person I've told, I guess."

"Is this... Finn still around?"

"I think so... Humans live a lot longer than dogs. I see him on the screen wall every once in a while."

"Have you thought to talk to him? I'm certain he's mourning Jake just the same as you. It might be nice to share memories of him."

"I dunno... I don't know if my heart could take it if I got attached to Finn..."

"Hmm... That's understandable, I suppose..." He reached up, gently rubbing away the tears from Prismo's cheek, nuzzling it lightly, even trying his best to kiss it.

"So... Who's Cricket?"

Scarab hummed. Time to hold his end of the deal, yeah?

"Well... My situation with Cricket doesn't align exactly with yours... I knew Cricket from when I was still mortal, rather than meeting them in the middle of eternity. But... well, they were my best friend."

Prismo's eyes widened at that.

"Cricket and I were neighbors, in the mounds. You tend to bond pretty quickly with those burrows around you, but Cricket was my first and best friend when we emerged. They farmed mushrooms while I patrolled. Our routines would have us pass by each other a few times a day, and we'd both get into heaps of trouble for slacking off to chat."

Scarab chuckled at the memory, trying to picture Cricket's face... Glob it's been so long...

"I told them everything. We told each other everything. What we thought about our other friends, who we thought we fancied, what might've been up in the stars, all of it. Thinking back, they actually remind me of you, in a lot of ways. They had this... magnetism about them, it made it easy to talk to them, they were charming and relaxed in ways I wasn't. I... I suspect, if my life turned out simpler, we could've been mates."

Prismo gulped at that, leaning down to listen.

"But... well, then I saw the mouth in the void. They helped me research, they helped me train, they helped me get that audience with the Pantheon. They gave me a crushing hug when I went to go fight. And they were the last I spoke to when I ascended. I promised I'd come back for them someday..."

Scarab rubbed his mandibles together, hesitating.

"I... I've said I haven't seen my home since then. But... that was a bit of a lie. I did go back, once. But... I hadn't realized how much time had passed between me leaving and coming home. What felt like, maybe 5 years to me was... almost 70 for them. Eternity messes with your sense of time like that. I never saw Cricket again. It's been so long; I feel guilty I can't clearly remember their face... I remember a few things, though... they had a deep blue shell, their antenna were long and curled, they laughed loud enough to get neighbors to complain about our late nights... But I can't remember their face. Not clearly anyway."

Scarab sighed, leaning into Prismo's open arm.

"...Does it ever get easier" Prismo whispered. "Knowing you've lose someone that important...?"

"...I'm not sure if easier is the right word... It never really stops hurting, when you think about it. But... it becomes a part of you. A part that prickles and catches you off guard sometimes, but a part of you none the less. You eventually evolve the hurt. The hurt mixes with everything else you felt about them. The hurt of the loss blurs together with the warmth of memories."

"Oh..."

There was a long silence, as Prismo looked between the body sleeping on the pedestal, and the drink in his hand. He gently set it down.

"...I might not know much about Jake. But I can tell he was special. It's okay to feel that hurt when you lose someone special. But... don't let it drown the warmth you felt with them. Remember them. The hurt just... tells you how much they were loved."

Scarab felt the tingle of light as Prismo wrapped around him completely. He could feel the Wishmaster's chest struggling to heave. The beetle shushed him softly, petting his talons against what he could reach.

"...One second" Scarab whispered. He conjured both himself and Prismo a small glass of Star Punch. He picked his up. "A toast. To Jake."

Prismo blinked wetly, a shaky hand reaching for his glass. "To Jake. And to Cricket."

"To Jake and Cricket. Lost, but loved, forever and always."

The two clinked glasses and took their drink.

Scarab knew talking about this would bubble up old emotions. That cloyingly harsh coldness, fighting with an aching warmth. Thinking too long about his home did that, sometimes.

But, it was worth it. Worth it to remember his friend. Worth it to bring some comfort to his partner. Worth it to bring some light onto the peacefully sleeping body across the room.

Lost, but loved.

Forever and always.

[allyaloe]

Pick a Starry Sky - Guidance Pick A Pic

Select a pic below for general guidance you need to hear right now! These are collective messages that will not resonate for everyone but hopefully you get some of the clarity you need.

Thank you so much for checking out my readings! ❤️

Group 1

I feel like this group is more focused on career opportunities. Taurus placements could be relevant here, especially risings. The name Katarina could resonate for some of you or the letters/initials JS. You may be gunning for a promotion or other progress within the company or firm you work for if you work in an office. Scorpio suns could also be relevant. For others, I see you taking a backseat from work as the responsibilities pile up. You may want a break, perhaps a union could be significant too. I’m seeing you stepping away from emails and computer and really resting and recuperating during the holiday season.

For those of you in relationships, you could be getting newly engaged and married. I’m seeing the combo of Taurus again along with Pisces. For the person this resonates for, this could be unconventional or perhaps your family does not approve of the relationship and is more conservative. Feel the fear and persevere. Your home is in each other, not in any bigoted beliefs or misconceptions. This person could be of a different religion or faith to you, maybe Buddhist when your family is Christian or Catholic. It’s like that episode of The Simpsons where they want Lisa to celebrate Christmas even though she’s Buddhist, I’m getting. This is true love, the romance of a lifetime. Don’t let anyone deter you from it. For some people, your family will become more accepting over time. I understand this is triggering, but I have to tell you this.

I’m also getting someone could be a Libra sun, moon, rising, letter H. They might want a reconciliation or trying to contact you through friends and Instagram DMs. For who this resonates for, do you really want them back in your life? It is ultimately up to you. Someone could be listening to Can You Feel the Love Tonight by Elton John. That’s really random, but it brings you comfort. Take what you need, let go of what you don’t!

Group 2

There is a powerful and creative energy around this group, Virgo and Leo, with Capricorn placements. I feel like many in this group are working on new projects with a focus on community. There are some very artistic people here, whether it’s music, painting, multimedia skills. Some of you have big families and love the holidays. The name Seth came through, that could be significant to someone here. Someone’s favourite animal and symbol is an elephant.

Someone is a brilliant mind but they may not believe in themselves enough; a significant number could be 888/222. Someone may be a Sagittarius rising with a critical streak towards self and others. I feel like there are some big hearts in this group as well. You may enjoy gift giving or wining and dining. I saw a brown classic teddy bear and a big red lobster in a restaurant so that could resonate for someone. A Christmas date, perhaps? I feel like you could dating someone very charming. I saw someone pouring and smirking at someone else over a glass of red wine. They were Black with a short haircut and wearing red, in particular a nice shirt or jacket. This is NSFW, so minors don’t interact: if you are planning on sexual relations with this person if this resonates, please wear protection, especially if you are not planning on conceiving anytime soon. I feel like a couple here is very passionate when it comes to that sort of thing.

Overall, I’m getting to enjoy the holiday season, no matter what you celebrate, and pouring your focus, passion and creativity into the things - and people! - you love. Don’t stress and worry so much and make sure to unwind while still planning your goals.

Group 3

I need this group to know if you have experienced any type of loss this year, it is not your fault and you are being loved and watched over. This may be a significant message for Libra and Aries placements. I am aware this is sensitive so please read the next half with caution.

For those who have lost family, you may already feel a strong presence in the home, perhaps in a favourite chair they used to frequent, or when a song plays out of nowhere that they used to love. That is a sign that they are thinking about you and are with always. Someone here with Scorpio placements needs to know that if you believe in past lives, they will be with you in your next one, in a different role. For example, if they were a parent to you in this lifetime, they were be your child or pet in the next one to come.

I really feel you’re being guided to grieve for as long as you need to. The name Henry could be significant to someone. Watching Ghibli or Disney with another loved one over the holiday period could bring closure or comfort. I mean no disrespect, so if this doesn’t resonate, feel free to pick another group.

This is another sensitive topic spirit wants me to speak on, so if this is too distressing, please feel free to keep scrolling or come back to this when you feel you are ready. For some people, they may have lost a friend or loved one to a hate crime or other bigoted attack. For some reason, Trans Day of Remembrance came to mind, so that may be significant for someone here. You could be transgender yourself and share the community with this friend. They had a bright, bubbly and engaging personality and smile, incredibly warm and caring. I am sending all my love and condolences, and want you to know there were so grateful for your friendship and comradery. That’s all I’m getting, but I needed to write this down, on the chance it reaches who it needs to. 

You need to know that even if life is really awful right now, that it will not be this way forever. You will recover and heal and people love you more than you know.

Group 4

For this group, I feel nothing but joy and optimism. You got over the worst and are now preparing for the best. I see a holiday dinner with your chosen family and really reaping the rewards for all your hard work. All your strength and prayers have paid off, particularly for a Virgo sun, Libra rising, Pisces moon.

You are manifesting your goals and speaking them into existence. For some of you, you could be confessing to a crush with Pisces placements and possibly a Sagittarius moon. I feel like you manifested this person into your life, and you want nothing more than to kiss them. They can be very flirtatious and mischievous but they have a kind heart. You may have manifested them with the water method or 369 method. Go for it!

For others, I see you cutting off an abusive and toxic ex and friends for good. I feel there was a third party, cheating and mixed signals about the state of the relationship. This is quite delicate, but for others, I see you having a friend who did not hesitate to betray you and date this person, and even become intimate with them behind your back. Seeing their true colours was the best thing for you, even if it was gut-wrenching. You deserve only the best calibre of people in your life, and “birds of a feather flock together.” They are nasty people and they can have each other. I see you may be finding yourself in friend groups where there is a LOT of toxicity, gossip and drama. Someone could be a Capricorn sun or moon as well. Someone watches Home Alone every year with blue makeup and nails, this could be a sign or confirmation.

This is coming up because it is all about a fresh start for some of you. Cleansing ego and bad habits within yourself and those of others will be ever so good for you, and you will benefit immensely from dropping this energy which has kept you stagnant for so long. I’m also hearing go paint your nails and treat yourself! You deserve it!

[kawaiichibiart]

I did it with ATLA, figured why not do it with PRSK? Here's a random assortment of AUs I probably won't do anything with:

Cinderella AU. This can go one of two ways: Toya and/or Mafuyu is Cinderella. I'm thinking masked ball to further hide their identities from their respective Prince/Princess aka Akito/Kanade. We follow the story of Cinderella almost to a T. Almost. Neither of them have an evil STEP-parent. Just an evil parent. Toya's brothers can be his evil brothers, but as a single child, we gotta give Mafuyu siblings. Or we can diverge from the story and make it so her mom won't take Mafuyu to the ball, even after she's done everything she's been asked (ordered) to do. Mizuki would be Mafuyu's Fairy Godmother and Tsukasa would be Toya's. Because I think it'd be a neat idea for their Fairy Godmother to just be someone they know and not actually a fairy. This is the rough idea, things need to be worked on, but yeah :D

Fantasy, Arranged Marriage AU (follows the White Day cards roughly). Lady Asahina, Queen of her kingdom (I actually had names for the three kingdoms but forgot them, oops) wants to arrange a marriage between her kingdom and the neighboring two. Not so much to unite them, but as a show of control. She plans for her daughter, Mafuyu, to marry the son of King Harumichi, while she's ordering one of her subjects, a sorcerer named Rui Kamishiro, to marry a noble's daughter. The noble is said to be a sickly girl named Saki who was recuperating from her illness, but would be in perfect health in time for the wedding. She is the first to arrive with her brother and his fellow knights. Lady Asahina has her daughter show her around, stating it would be good practice for whenever she hosted grand balls and tea times. Rui, would eventually take Saki to his room and leave her brother and his fellow knights behind to enjoy tea with Mafuyu and her two ladies in waiting: Honami and Shizuku. Upon them leaving, Saki's brother breaks down into tears and that's when the truth is revealed. The person who left with Rui wasn't Saki. Saki was sitting in the room with them. The person who left with them? Her older brother, Tsukasa, who vowed to help her walk free and take her place as Kamishiro's wife, so she could go home and marry her love, a musician named Ichika.

Intruder Alert aka Unexpected (and unwanted) Guests in the SEKAIs: Basically, their parents/siblings find out about the SEKAIs. Mafuyu's finds out because she's a nosy little bitch. Ena's dad finds out because he's also a nosy little bitch but in the sense that he wasn't actually trying to find things, he just comes across them. Mizuki's sister finds out because her girlfriend, Hinata, told her about the Untitled Song in her little sister's phone, and how she was curious what it was and when she went to listen to it, she found herself in a new world. She was back in her sister's room so fast she can't help but wonder if she was imagining things. Ken finds out because An accidentally took him with her (she was in a rush and didn't see him come up behind her until it was too late). He gets along with MEIKO tho, so that's a plus. And so on and so forth.

Unit Shuffle AU: Self explanatory, tempted to make one, but not sure if I ever will (:

Fairy AU: The idea for this is that everyone is a fairy (obviously). Each Unit is a different type of fairy (kinda like the ones from Pixie Hollow). L/n are fairies who help people remember fond memories, moments that made them happy or feel loved, they tend to work with everyone but usually just with each other. MMJ are fairies of hope. Their job is to help people go forwards and not give up. VBS are fairies of ambition. They help people push forward and fight for their dreams and goals. Because of this, they often work with MMJ. WxS are dream fairies. Not "my dream is to become this or that," like dreams you get when you sleep. They mainly work with children, helping them get to sleep and comforting them whenever they have nightmares. 25ji are sorrow fairies. They take care of people who've been hurt, are hurting and need someone to care. They help people cry and ask for help. If they ever need to help a child, someone from or all of WxS will help them. Fairies can be seen by the human eye and there is a law that bans fairies being traded or sold. They can't be kept as pets or toys. Do with that as you will.

Well...This Was a Nice (?) Reunion: Toya's family is holding a reunion. It's been years since the last one and he's changed a lot. He honestly doesn't want to go but he can't get out of it. He thinks he might enjoy it when he finds out they'll spend a few hours at Phoenix Wonderland, maybe he can see his older brother and his troupe mates perform a show. Things turn sour rather quickly and Toya uses the moment his dad and aunt start arguing to sneak away. Hopefully WxS will let him hide backstage.

We've Met Before: Sometimes we don't always remember the first time we've actually met someone. This is meant to be moreso a series of small stories where characters are told about times they've met one another before they first met one another (meaning the actual first time was forgotten). Kanade is visiting her father in the hospital when Tsukasa and Saki leave said hospital. A nurse tells her about the time she'd sat with Tsukasa as they both waited to be told about their loved ones condition. When VBS is together at Weekend Garage, Ken tells them about the first time An and Toya actually met. The boy had runaway from home and rather than go where he'd normally go, he ended up at WG. An had spent several hours talking to him before he left. Etc., etc., etc.

[middleearthpixie]

Something in the Night ~ Chapter Six

A/N: I once more apologize for the radio silence here, but I'm finishing up my Master's and only just this week finished the rough draft of my thesis. So, since I've a bit of a break, and since I promised updates would be coming... :)

Thanks so much for sticking it out with me. I do appreciate your patience! 💜

Summary: Following the Battle of the Five Armies, a seriously wounded Thorin Oakenshield returns to Erebor to recuperate and eventually ascend the throne as king. With the deaths of Azog the Defiler and his son, Bolg, Thorin no longer has to worry about the bounty the Defiler placed on his head and can instead concentrate on restoring Erebor to its former glory. 

Nina Carren of Esgaroth has one goal—to make Thorin Oakenshield pay for unleashing Smaug the dragon unto her home—where he destroyed the town and killed her family. The Defiler might be gone, but his bounty remains very much in place, and she fully intends to collect on it. 

Finally, the opportunity shows itself for her to do just that, only to have it go horribly awry. Wounded and now at his mercy, neither Nina nor Thorin stopped to think what might happen, should things not go quite according to plan…

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Nina Carren

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.2k

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @fizzyxcustard @xxbyimm @kibleedibleedoo @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @ruthoakenshield @lathalea @legolasbadass @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @msjava1972 @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @sazzlep

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here. 

Nina bit back a wince as she shifted in her saddle once more. For one used to walking and unused to riding, she had no idea how stiff her legs could actually be until she’d spent two hours astride the pony that was now hers, thanks to the generosity of the elves and their king. 

But, she kept her discomfort to herself as she kept her mind focused on her task and her eyes focused on the dwarf leading the way along the narrow road out of Rivendell. The Misty Mountains rose in the distance, their peaks swirled in a grayish-white mist that occasionally seemed to gleam pink or violet from the sun. 

“Tell me,” Dwalin’s pony fell into step alongside hers, “why are ye here, lass?”

“How many times need I explain it?” She held his gaze even has her fingers tightened about the smooth leather reins she held. “I’ve no love lost for the orcs and if I can help you, I will.”

“No love for orcs, eh?” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Why?”

It was a foolish question, really. Who didn’t despise orcs? They were abominations, interested only in killing. If it wasn't for her personal stake in the matter, she would despise them just the same. But, as much as it galled her to admit it, she needed them to a certain extent. Well, needed their gold anyway. The bounty on Thorin’s head would keep her comfortable for some time to come. And while she knew she couldn't trust the orcs, nor could she fool herself into believing Tarog would pay the bounty without a bit of persuasion on her part, her options were limited and she did need the money. 

And since she knew at some point, someone would ask her a variation of this question, and since she’d had time to prepare herself, she merely shrugged and said, “It’s quite simple, really. They destroyed my village. And if I have a chance to kill one, I take it and do so with a smile.”

“And where is this village?”

“Just west of Bree. I’ve been on my own ever since that night and if you don't mind, I’d rather not speak of it.”

“Why?”

“Dwalin!” Thorin broke in sharply, glaring at him over his shoulder. “Leave her be.”

Nina held Dwalin’s stare easily. “If you absolutely must know, I lost my family that night. All of them. Slaughtered like sheep for no reason. So, you’ll forgive me if I’d rather not relive that night.”

With that, she pressed her knees gently against her pony’s side and nudged it ahead of Dwalin. Let him think—let them both think—recalling her story upset her so much she needed some time to herself. 

Thorin, however, slowed his pony so he eased back into step alongside her. “Pay him no mind.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Dwalin.” He nodded toward the glowering dwarf behind them. 

“I thought I already was doing that.”

He just stared at her for a long moment, almost as if surprised by her flippancy and she wondered if he suspected something was amiss as he continued to just stare. This was the closest she’d been to him and in the warm sunlight of the clear afternoon, and it then that she realized his eyes were no quite the same steel blue they’d been in Rivendell. Instead, today they were paler. Paler and almost shimmering, like aquamarine in the sunlight. And for one breathless moment, she forgot she hated him, forgot why she was there with him and what she planned to do.

No, for that one breathless moment, she was once more standing in the snowy darkness, just beyond the steps of the Lake Master’s ramshackle house, wishing with everything she had that Thorin would notice her. That he would see her and in the instant he did, he’d be smitten with her just as she’d been smitten with him.

Then a cloud floated before the sun and as the light softened, Thorin’s eyes no longer shimmered. The snow, the darkness, the ramshackle house all fell away. 

But she wondered if he’d felt the same breathlessness she did, as for a moment, the air grew thick with tension and he looked as if he had something heavy weighing upon him. He met her gaze and then offered up a hint of an almost sheepish smile. “I beg your pardon,” he said, his voice low and rather growly, “but for a moment, I thought I might know you from somewhere.”

“Yes, from the other evening, when I—”

“No,” he broke in gently with a shake of his shaggy head, “that isn’t what I meant. I mean, I feel as if I’ve seen you somewhere before the other night.”

It was her turn to shake her head. “I can’t image where. Do you spend much time west of Bree?”

“No, I can’t say I do. The Shire is the farthest west I’ve been in a long time and even that was some time ago.”

“So, then, how would you have seen me before?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and she found herself holding her breath, a dull thump in time with her heartbeat coursing through her temples. He seemed to be studying her, as if about to nail down exactly where and when he’d seen her.

But what if he did? Did it matter much? She was but a face in that crowd and considering the amount of devastation left in Smaug’s wake, she would be surprised if anyone lived in Esgaroth at all. The last she saw? The half of the town that hadn’t been incinerated was slowly toppling into the lake’s frigid waters. Hardly inhabitable, to say the least. So, it should come as no surprise, should he learn the former denizens of Esgaroth had struck out for other parts of Middle Earth.

Even west of Bree.

But then, Thorin shook his head once more. “No, I suppose I wouldn’t have. Still,” he mused, stroking one forefinger along the side of his jaw, “you do seem familiar.”

“I have one of those faces that everyone thinks they know.” She shrugged as if people swearing they knew her from somewhere happened to her all the time. “No worries.”

“Perhaps, but still…” He turned away from her to look ahead. “Either way, you needn’t mind Dwalin. His bark is usually worse that his bite.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She glanced over her left shoulder to see the barker in question still glaring at her. Then, without thinking, she muttered, “He does more than bark and I’ll neuter him for his trouble.”

“I beg your pardon?”

She forced a smile as she looked back at Thorin. “Nothing. Just a bit of thinking out loud.”

“So, tell me,” he replied, “how did you come to be in that clearing anyway? From what I could see, there was no one else about, until that orc pack descended upon us.”

Her heart skipped a beat although she had not been traveling with the orc pack and he had no true reason to believe otherwise. Certain ones within Tarog’s inner circle knew of her existence, but overall? Orcs would have no idea who she was, and she didn't doubt one would run her through as easily as they would the dwarves. 

Still, the last thing she wished was to arouse any suspicions and so replied, “I wasn’t on the road, but traveled instead along one of the pathways that run parallel to it.” She shook her head. “I was alone and I’d rather not happen upon an orc pack on one of the main roads if I can possibly avoid it, you know.”

Perhaps it was but her imagination, but he appeared to blush, a hint of color blooming along his cheekbones, above the line of his silver-threaded beard. “It would be foolish to travel otherwise, yes. But you can hardly fault me for being curious, can you?”

“No, I don't suppose I can.” She tightened her fingers about the worn leather reins as she turned her gaze back to the road ahead as well. “It would seem someone kept you in their good graces.”

“Mahal does smile upon me from time to time.”

“Mahal?” The name was unfamiliar to her.

“The Maker. The Creator of all things.” He smiled then. “Well, to dwarves, anyway. Sometimes He toys with me, but other times, He watches over me with the greatest of care.”

To her surprise, his eyes softened then as he added, “As he did the other night.”

“Yes, well… I did only what any decent person would have.”

“You leaped between me and an arrow. I am not at all certain I’d share your sentiment.”

She shrugged. “Then I’m afraid I don't know what to tell you. You needed help and I could help, so I did.”

With that, she turned her attention ahead of them once more. The Southeast Passage looked like a road that time forgot. Narrow and grassed over, with the underbrush slowly creeping out from the woods along either side of what had once probably been a lovely, narrow little road. But time and neglect and lack of use rendered it as little more than a track at that point. 

But in the distance, the Misty Mountains looked far more real now, black and purple as they rose toward the sky and the sunlight touched their peaks. That would be the worst part of their trek, through those mountains. Once they crossed through them, and came down toward the Anduin River, they would then pick up the Old Forest Road and that would bring them to Mirkwood. 

But, of course she couldn't let them know she knew how they’d get to where they were going. They thought she was from a village west of Bree and she was fine with them also thinking she was a simpleton who had never really been anywhere else until now and was but fumbling her way along. They needn’t know anything else about her. 

“So,” she glanced over at Thorin, “where will we pass the night?”

“We will stop when we are nearer the mountains,” he told her. “I hope you are not adverse to sleeping on the ground.”

“I’m not, no. As I told you, I live nowhere and everywhere.”

“Yes, I do believe you said something of that nature.”

“It’s the only good thing to come of what happened,” she replied softly, shrugging as she spoke. “I’ve been able to travel a bit, even if my lodgings are usually quite humble. Although,” she smiled, “I once came across a cozy cabin nestled in the woods that had been abandoned.”

“Where?”

“Does it matter?” 

“No,” he shook his head, “I don't suppose it does. I’m merely curious.”

“Why is that such a difficult question for ye?” This came from Dwalin who had caught up to them by now.

“I never said it was difficult,” she told him, twisting in her saddle to meet his glower. “And stop looking at me as if you expect me to leap from my horse and drag His Highness into the brush to slit his throat.”

“I just find it odd, that ye came upon a cabin and yet dinna know where it was, where ye were.”

“I asked why it mattered, not that I dinna know,” she growled, her fingers itching to wrap about the leather grips of the sword at her hip. She need only slip it free and turn and in one fell swoop, she could take the tiresome dwarf’s head clean off his shoulders. 

He glared at her, his eyes narrow slivers of silver-blue ice. “Do ye mock me, girlie?”

“Girlie? You are almost amusing, Mr. Fundinson.” Her fingers stretched of their own toward her hip. It was only through sheer will that she managed to keep them wrapped about the worn leather. “Almost.”

“Ye wound me, lass.”

She sniffed and turned forward once more, the tension in her fingers easing as Thorin said, “Take care, Dwalin. The girl has done nothing to deserve your ire.”

“If ye expect me to apologize,” Dwalin growled, “yer going to be disappointed.”

“I expect you to be civil,” Thorin countered evenly. “And you as well, Miss Nina.”

A hint of chagrin swept through her. Dwalin was suspicious of her, and rightfully so, of course, although he couldn't possibly know just how right he was. Still, it wouldn’t do to pick a fight with him and give him even more reason to suspect she wasn’t quite as she seemed. 

They weren’t quite far enough away from Rivendell yet and she wouldn’t have been surprised if Elrond had sent scouts to follow along, keeping out of sight, until they reached the Misty Mountains. Although the alliance between dwarves and elves was a relatively young one, the respect and alliance of one king to another was far stronger. She saw for herself the respect and esteem with which Elrond held the dwarf king, and she had the feeling they were not alone on that passage, and that it was for that reason Elrond suggested traversing it to begin with. Either way, she couldn't risk it.

So, she’d have to wait until they were on the far side of the mountains. Then, between the Carrock and Mirkwood, there would be no one else to get in her way. 

[icebrooding]

Woke up feeling salty again abt the way they wrote Trahearne out. If I analyse enough, I can find even fitting reasons why, but it doesn't mean it doesn't make me still salty.

Like, I wonder which reason it was for. The right end to his character arc? (I don't agree). Didn't know what to do with him anymore? Because he was very, very disliked amongst players at the time? Maybe even just they wanted to bring the remaining members of DE into the foreground and couldn't really think of a way other than what they ended up writing in? Have Trahearne die, make it another concrete reason for the Commander to quit the Pact, place Logan in there as Pact Marshal so he still would frequently be in contact w/ the Comm, and have Rytlock and Caithe be part of DW and thus be still relevant and prominent characters.

I feel like there's basically a whole slew of solutions, of which I have some. All of these involve him surviving HoT, obviously.

A) Have Trahearne retire and spend his time recuperating in the Grove if you just don't know what to do with him yet. He's been through a lot of trauma, likely would need a long time to recover both physically and mentally, and with the rampant levels of sylvari-oriented racism it would make sense for his character for him to give up his position to someone he knows is a trusted, responsible figure if it makes people less afraid/regain confidence in the Pact itself.

B) Have him part ways with the Commander and the Pact after HoT. For the same reasons above, but this would be him departing on his own to find himself. I would say have him kind of come back and forth from the story, bumping into the Commander on his travels, but this would be too much like Canach's post-HoT appearances. This way they could bring him back if they found another need for him, and can keep him out of mind, but without the need to kill him. Hell, they could have used this to eventually bring back Malyck by having Trahearne find him and his tree during his travels and settling there for a while.

C) Have him join DW himself after stepping down from the Pact. After all, he is very attached to the Commander. This would be a thorn (hah) in the side of players who don't like him, but with the Commander being the de-facto leader, it might mitigate some of the 'he stole muh main character spotlight' complaints going forward. This would also give him ample room for self-discovery, and it would be amusing to see how his 'makes friends anywhere with anyone' trait could come into play in places outside central Tyria.

There is a whole laundry list of things they could have done with him, and I just can't wrap my head around the concept that killing him was the best way to go about it. Like, it's not. Fun or enjoyable at all to see someone who has spent twenty plus years of their life, for their whole life, working towards a goal that isn't theirs, and then dying before even getting a chance to establish their own sense of self.

Maybe I'm just a simp (I am, for him) but I just feel like there was so much more they could have done with him.