#along with bubbles and aster

[ananinidraws]

A bunch of doodles of my horrible girlie Lilac <3333 Along with her bestie Vela, who i'm pretty sure i also posted a bit ago

[spurbleu]

where the aster grows

neighbor!price x fem florist!reader

ch 2. impressions s. you threw a pail at your neighbor

You’ve got a good throw.

Perhaps not the first thing John should notice about the situation, given the fact he can feel the quiet familiarity of blood dripping down his temple, or the throb that follows its decent. But as you corner yourself by one of the labor tables, a road deer gasping for the air stolen by his entrance, it’s really the only thing he can think about.

“Who the hell are you?”

Guilt bubbles at the surface of his mouth, but it doesn’t take him long to remember himself. He’s no stranger to recoveries, and this entire first impression lacked any remnant of manners. But it’s never too late to find them.

He would also like to avoid meeting his end to a garden shovel, of all things.

John clears his throat, running a hand up the column of his neck.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you- my name is John Price; I live next door.” He’s got a voice for times like this- lowers it a half octave, baritone an inch slower than his usual cadence. Uses it for spooked civilians, or soldiers blinking back death. Wouldn’t call it comforting, but it’s close. Enough that after he uses it, your shoulders unhook themselves from the lobe of your ears.

He adds a slouch. A neutral position, drawing commonality between polar opposites. It’s as non-threatening as he’s able to look. “I’m Penny’s owner.”

Anxiety melts like molasses. Starts at your neck- stretching into a polite slouch. The aim of your arm dissolves by your side. Your breath slows, and for a moment so does time. Your eyes are blown wide, silting sunlight and the last bits of apprehension towards his stranger.

They are the brightest color in the room.

“P-Penny?”

He smiles. “The cat?”

As if on cue, a bolt of fur scampers to his boots- doing calculated twists between his ankles. He picks her up gently and scratches the spot behind her ear. “She lives part time in this store. With the owner when I’m gone. Must have snuck in here,” he holds her in front of his face with a stern expression, “been lookin’ for an hour. You devil.”

He steals a glance at you, past Penny’s head. The guilt swarms his throat for a second time, seeing your fear replaced with absolute mortification.  

“I- oh my god. You’re bleeding. I threw a pail at you.” Your face flushes. Cute. “I am so so sorry.”

John chuckles. “Don’t be. I made such a fuss opening the door I can imagine I scared you,” glad you have good aim sits on his tongue, but he bites it when he soothes his mouth into a gentle line. No need to soil the impression any further, now that he had just ironed out the broken silks.

“I don’t think I got your name...?”

A beat.

You offer it like its acid on your teeth. Spits it out with the last bits of terror, like a cavity that burns. But unlike the delivery, it’s soft. Curves along the line of your jaw, relaxes around your silhouette in a film that’s drunk on horizon’s champagne. Spills onto the white tiles of the floor by his feet.

Doesn’t even realize that he’s saying it back to you until he catches its last syllable on the back of his teeth. He blinks. “It’s…nice to meet you.”

John categorizes silence into two boxes.

Treasured. Costal nowhere. One in the morning. A city where all anyone does is sleep. The drag of his cigar. The pockets amid time and place that remain nameless. It gives a finite peace that John runs dry.

And then there’s this.

Stiff. Premeditates chaos. The quiet before a grenade, the cotton ears after. The hospital when someone dies, and the emptiness they leave behind. The death of conversation between a beautiful woman, and her impolite neighbor.

John will always put it out as quickly as possible.

“Well, I’ll get out of your h-“

“Let me help you.”

The silence fractures into small sounds. A wire snaps, wine cork pops, pin drops, among other fictions. The air that surrounds you beckons a peculiar clarity. Narrows when John sees you smile for the first time. What he did to earn it is beyond him. “Help me with what?”

You tap your temple. “Your head. I... You’re bleeding. I have an aid in the back,” the look he gives you must be telling, because then you say, “please.”

Christ.

“Alright.” Is all he can muster, albeit it comes out parched. You nod and scamper off to the back door.

Your absence allows him to soak the store in.

He’s been in plenty of times, so its layout isn’t alien. But he supposes that part of its charm is that it feels that way. Beyond familiarity. Every time he’s been in, he notices a new detail.

A freshly kilned pot. A corner section with seasonal flowers. You.

This time, he draws his focus to the carnations by the window. Red and alive, unfurls its buds with a grace he’s only ever seen in nature. He lets his hand come to lift the petals and smiles at himself.

He feels ridiculous, drawing so much depth from a flower, but its caretaker taught him the bizarre empathy.

The old woman would probably laugh at him.

“Uh…John, was it?”

He turns around, letting his hand fall back into his pocket. He doesn’t know why he feels caught, but the heat rises to his neck before he can stop it. “Yes.”

“Here,” You shove various gardening paraphernalia and metals from one of the work benches, push down to check its stability before stepping aside, “take a seat.”

The joke falls before he can stop it. “Aren’t we a little old to play doctor?”

Doesn’t regret it, because it makes you laugh. The hair on his neck rises, and he feels like a teen again, seeing a playboy for the first time. Since when did laughter have the same effect on him as cleavage?

Must have been sometime after 35.

He pulls himself onto the bench and grimaces when the oak whines. You snort. “Don’t worry. They hold anything.”

His eyes squint. “Didn’t you just check it?”

You bring your gaze down to grab an antiseptic wipe, a failed effort to hide your smile. “Nothing wrong with playing it safe.”

He hums. “Forgot I’m talking to the woman who throws pails at strangers.”

He flinches when you swipe chemicals across the cut. Undoubtedly to shut him up. “Maybe don’t break into your neighbors store.”

He rolls his eyes as you find a bandage. “I wouldn’t’ve if you weren’t holding my cat hostage.”

This gets you to step away. “Hostage? She was lounging in the window!”

“Clearly, she was trying to signal for help.”

A third, new silence bloats between you. He doesn’t have time to name it before it dissolves into eased laughter. You go back to applying the bandages while he vehemently ignores the soft feeling of your fingers against his face.

Kate’s words come back to him slowly. The same old song she’d been singing since she got married. Rhymes of settling down, making a home for himself, letting someone else take up the fight. He sees glimpses of these futilities every so often. Like he is now.

Niceties that fatten up the bones of his dreams and cushion the dull blow of walking into an empty home. Having someone there to wait for him. Normal. It bakes the room in a tenderness he can’t remember the last time he’s had.

But in the end, he knows none of this is real. Not in the ways Kate talks about.

Doesn’t stop him from noticing your barren ring finger, though.

“I think…I know why she got trapped.”

He glances at you as a response. Your shoulders have gotten noticeably heavy.

“My grandmother owned this place. She passed away last week.”

Oh.

“My dad must have closed up while she was in the hospital,” your voice breaks, before mending with a scoff, “he’s not very observant. Probably missed her,” she looks over her shoulder before scratching Penny’s cheek with a gentle somber, “glad there was an automatic feeder in the back.”

Despite being well acquainted with death, John Price never knows how to greet him.

Silence and wallowing are classics, but given the troughs under your eyes it would be both inappropriate and apathetic. He’d offer a cigar, but that’s only really been a hit with his soldiers, and he sincerely doubts you’d be the type grieve with tobacco.

So, he tries to picture your grandmother. A reflection of himself, 4 decades from now. Creased and warm. The way her cheeks folded around her smile. How her voice, too, was wrinkled. When she thanked him for lifting the new shipments or calling his cat Penny-girl. The subtle tremble of her hands, and youthful eyes that betrayed her age.

If grief is memory, that’s the best he can do. Looks harder, and he sees her resemblance in you.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” he internally scolds himself for the cliché, but you seem to appreciate it, “I feel very lucky to have known her.”

That makes you smile. “Yeah, most people do.”

You clear your throat, and John doesn’t miss how you swipe your cheek with the back of your hand. He opens his mouth to say something, before reminding himself that he is still a stranger. No outstretched hand or comforting words take up the space a loved one leaves behind.

He’s observed this truth dozens of times, in spouses, parents, children. News about his own failings as a captain to bring someone home. Although it’s unwarranted in the claustrophobic place he sits in now, that same guilt capsizes when he sees you sniffle.

“Anyway,” you start, “I thought you should know, given the fact you were neighbors and…” you pick up Penny, who purrs in your arms, “apparently shared custody of her.”

He enjoys the sight of his cat in your arms more than he cares to admit.

“Thank you, I’m sure Penny will miss her,” he lips quirk, “she always did spoil her rotten.”

You pull Penny out from your embrace, so she faces you. “Don’t worry, I’ll spoil her just as much as Ma did.”

John does not mask his surprise. “Will you be staying?”

You turn to him, a genuine smile playing on your lips.

“Yes, with the shop and the house,” somewhere behind him, a flower unfurls itself from the final folds of its petals when you stretch out your hand, “I’m your new neighbor.”

Spring begins when he shakes it, and John has never been more afraid of anything in his life.

[mbruben-stein]

Hi, i love your work. I was wondering if you could do a bunny x spirit reader where they're really good friends who secretly love each other, and the reader comes over to the warren a lot either to hang out or help bunny (we all know his stress is through the roof). The eggs all love reader and love to follow them around the warren. What if one time an egg accidentally somehow leaves with the reader without bunny or them noticing? And bunny can tell that one is missing and he is just freaking out and searching everywhere for it and its just with the reader. They both find out about the egg and it leads to a romantic confession from both of them? Hope you have a good day

The Matchmaking Egg.

Bunnymund x (fem guardian/spirit) reader.

It was a beautiful spring day in the Warren as Y/n strolled through the lush green grass and colorful flowers, a happy smile on her patterned skull face. The sentient Easter eggs bounced along behind her, chirping excitedly. They always loved when the Lady of the Dead came to visit.

"Ahh, there ya are!" a familiar Australian accented voice called out. Y/n looked up to see E. Aster Bunnymund, the Easter Bunny himself, hopping over with a grin. "The googies have been waitin' for ya all mornin'. Reckon they like you more than me at this point!"

Y/n laughed, the sound like musical chimes echoing through the Warren. "Oh Bunny, you know that's not true. They adore you! I'm just a fun distraction."

Bunny's green eyes sparkled with mirth as he reached Y/n and gave her a quick hug in greeting. "Well, I appreciate ya comin' to help out. This close to Easter, I can use all the spare paws I can get."

"I'm always happy to help," Y/n replied warmly as they began walking together, dozens of eggs trailing behind them like ducklings. "You know I love spending time here in the Warren with you."

"Me too, sheila," Bunny said, glancing at her fondly. "Your visits are the highlight of my days. Er, I mean, the eggs! The highlight for the eggs..." He cleared his throat awkwardly.

Y/n just smiled to herself. She knew Bunny cared for her as more than a friend, just as she harbored deep affection for the Pooka. But neither had gotten up the nerve to admit their true feelings yet. For centuries, they had danced around it, exchanging meaningful looks and "accidental" touches. Best friends on the surface, but bubbling with unspoken love underneath.

As they approached the Color River where eggs were dunked to receive their base coat, Bunny gestured to a set of paint brushes and dye bowls set out on a stone table. "Care to do the honors of helpin' paint some of the googies today?"

"I'd love to!" Y/n replied eagerly. Decorating eggs was one of her favorite parts of visiting the Warren. She picked up a brush and selected a rich purple dye, then began covering a blank eggshell in swirling patterns.

They worked companionably side by side for hours, chatting and laughing together. Y/n loved seeing the care Bunny put into each egg design, green eyes narrowed in concentration, pink tongue poking out. He was so dedicated to making each one special for the children.

As orange light began slanting into the Warren signaling late afternoon, Bunny set down his brush and stretched. "Reckon that's enough for one day. I'm downright starvin'! Care to join me for an early dinner?"

"That sounds perfect," Y/n smiled, gold and red eyes glowing. "Lead the way, conejito."

Bunny laced his paw with her skeletal hand as they headed for his Burrow, both secretly thrilling at the contact. He made them vegetable stew and fresh baked bread, which they ate in front of a crackling fire. Y/n sighed contentedly, feeling completely at peace.

Once the dishes were cleared away, Bunny walked Y/n back to the surface entrance of the Warren. "Thanks again for all your help today," he said sincerely. "Dunno what I'd do without ya."

"Oh, I think you'd manage," Y/n teased gently. "But I'm always happy to spend time with you, Aster." She reached up to stroke his furry cheek. "I should head back though. Early morning tomorrow for Día de los Muertos prep."

Bunny nodded, simultaneously craving her touch and fighting the urge to nuzzle into her palm. "Course, course. Well, see ya soon then?"

"Definitely," Y/n promised. With one last brush of hands, she turned and stepped into a portal, transporting herself home.

Once in her house in the Land of the Remembered, Y/n removed her large hat and gasped. There, nestled amongst the marigolds and candles, was a tiny Easter egg looking up at her.

"Uh, how did you get in my hat, little guy?" Y/n asked with bewilderment. "Bunny must be worried sick... I should probably bring you back to where you belong." She sighed, realizing her mistake. In her distraction saying goodbye to Bunny, she hadn't noticed the little egg had hitched a ride home with her.

Meanwhile, back at the Warren, Bunnymund was doing a final count of the eggs for the night when a spike of panic shot through him. One was missing! He frantically searched the Warren from top to bottom, calling out for the wayward egg, imagining it scared and alone. But it was nowhere to be found. Could it have wandered into one of his tunnels? Been snatched by a wandering elf looking for a snack?

His mind racing with terrible possibilities, Bunny was practically hyperventilating when a shimmering portal suddenly opened and Y/n stepped through, cradling something gently in her hands. "Missing someone?" she asked with a wry smile.

"Y/n! You're back!" Bunny bounded over to her and then froze when he saw what she was holding. "Wait... is that...?"

"I believe this little one accidentally came home with me," Y/n explained, carefully transferring the egg into Bunny's outstretched paw. "It must have snuck into my hat when we were saying goodbye. I'm so sorry Aster, I should have noticed-"

"No, no, it's okay," Bunny quickly reassured her, relief flooding through him that the egg was unharmed. He stroked its shell soothingly. "No harm done. I'm just glad the little ankle-biter is safe. Suppose it didn't want to say goodbye to ya either..." He smiled softly at Y/n.

Y/n returned the smile, her patterned cheeks taking on an almost blushing glow. "Well, can you blame it? I didn't exactly want to leave either..."

They gazed at each other for a long, charged moment. The egg in Bunny's paw started vibrating with excitement, as if it could sense the unspoken energy between them.

"Y/n..." Bunny started, then swallowed hard. It was now or never. "There's somethin' I gotta tell ya. Somethin' I shoulda said a long time ago..."

"What is it, Aster?" Y/n asked breathlessly, hands fluttering nervously by her sides. Could this really be happening?

Bunny took a deep breath and reached for her hand again. "Y/n, you're my best friend. Have been for centuries. But the truth is... it's more than that. So much more. I... I love you. I'm in love with you. Have been almost since the day we met. I know I'm just a washed up old rabbit, but-"

He was cut off as Y/n threw her arms around his neck, almost sending them toppling to the ground. "Oh Bunny," she whispered joyfully. "Mi amor, I love you too. So very much. I never dreamed..."

Bunny blinked rapidly, overcome with emotion. "Really? Ya mean it?"

In response, Y/n leaned in and pressed her lips gently against his. Bunny gasped and then melted into the kiss, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. After so many centuries of pent-up longing, the dam had finally burst, their love pouring out to merge and flow together as naturally as a stream joining a river.

When they finally pulled apart to catch their breath, Bunny was stunned to see tears shimmering in Y/n's eyes, making the gold and red glow even brighter. He brushed his thumb tenderly across her cheekbone. "Hey now, what's this? Why the waterworks, love?"

Y/n laughed wetly and reached up to hold his paw against her face. "I'm just so happy," she admitted. "I've loved you for so long, Aster. I never imagined we'd actually end up here."

"Me neither," Bunny murmured, pressing his forehead against hers. "Reckon I'm the luckiest Pooka in the galaxy." He looked down at the little egg still snuggled in his other paw. "And I owe it all to this little blighter!"

The egg quivered with pride, as if it had planned this all along. Y/n giggled and stroked its shell. "Guess you're our little matchmaker, huh pequeño? Thank you."

Bunny chuckled. "Remind me to paint this one extra special for Easter." He smiled at Y/n. "Now, what do ya say we return this munchkin to its mates and I make us a nice cuppa tea?"

"That sounds perfect," Y/n agreed happily, lacing her fingers with his. Hand in hand, hearts full to bursting, they headed back to the Burrow, the little egg bouncing along giddily behind them. It was the start of a beautiful new chapter, for both the Guardians of Hope and the Dead, all thanks to one adventurous little egg.

As they cuddled together on the sofa, sipping chamomile tea and exchanging soft kisses, Bunny knew he would never stop being grateful for that fateful day and the mischievous little googie that finally brought his love for Y/n out into the open. He squeezed her hand and she smiled up at him with those mesmerizing eyes, and he knew no matter what challenges they faced, as long as they had each other, it would be a bright and colorful future indeed. Hope and new beginnings, just like Easter and Día de los Muertos. Two holidays, two Guardians, two hearts, united as one. It was more than Bunny could have ever hoped for.

[lu-dao-writes]

A Hard Pill to Swallow

⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹𝙎𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨: Feng Xin and Mu Qing have always been at each other’s throats, and you’ve dealt with it, but now you can’t.

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) Spoilers for vol 2, gn!reader, reader is a martial god who served XL, mentioned blood and injury and death, arguing (MQ & FX), ambiguous relationships and ending.

𝘼/𝙉 The ending is open ended, but I like to think it’s Jun Wu that visits you, hehe, cause that man is sus. But hope you enjoy. I’ve been unable to do much lol, but I managed to do this while sick. Also!! If anyone finds and gets the reference I used, I fucking love you fr🤣💕. ⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹

You were the first to arrive at Xiè Lián’s recently erected palace, mind still reeling from the meeting that occurred an hour ago.

Xiè Lián had admitted to a huge crime, claiming he was the one that slaughtered Láng Qiānqiū’s family during the Gilded Banquet.

Xiè Lián, who was nothing but righteous and good, killed the monarchy of Yǒng'ān because he “couldn’t stand to see them on the throne”.

Yeah, you don’t believe that. Not one bit.

Xiè Lián greets you at the door looking a little disheveled, rubbing sleep from his eyes with his non-injured arm. You wince at the blood and at your foolishness for forgetting to bring something to alleviate it.

“Oh, hello,” Xiè Lián offers bashfully.

“Ā-Lián,” you sigh, reaching out to grasp his sleeve, and he grips yours before allowing you inside. “I’m sorry I didn’t bring anything, I-I just needed to see you.”

Xiè Lián waves off your apology with a smile, sitting down. “Don’t worry it doesn’t even hurt. Jūn Wú did enough.”

“But—.”

The doors open and light footsteps come towards you and Xiè Lián, Mù Qíng soon appearing. His dark eyes meet yours before cutting to Xiè Lián, a scoff leaving his lips. “What? Expecting Fēng Xìn? As if.”

“Mù Qíng,” you start warily.

“What are you doing here?” Xiè Lián chimes in softly.

“The emperor detained you in your little palace. He said His Highness Tài Huá couldn’t come, but I’m not him,” Mù Qíng replies flippantly, digging into his sleeve. He fishes out a small porcelain bottle and tosses it to Xiè Lián. “It’s pitiful watching you sling that bloody arm of yours. Use it or don’t, but no one else is going to help you.”

Mù Qíng has a little smirk on his face, reminding you of a pit viper. It makes you frown disapprovingly, but Xiè Lián doesn’t acknowledge his attitude, and instead he opens the bottle and watches as the medicine does it’s work.

“So did you really slaughter the royal family? How’d you do it?”

“Mù Qíng!?” you exclaim, appalled by his inappropriate excitement and questioning.

“What are you doing here?” Fēng Xìn’s naturally boisterous voice startles them all, but Mù Qíng’s shock turns into something more ugly, disdain washing over his morbid excitement.

“I’m a guest here like you and anyone else is. Last I checked this isn’t your palace.”

Fēng Xìn glowers at him before briefly making eye contact with you before approaching Xiè Lián, his face softening. “Your Highness, what you said at the Palace of Divine Might-.”

“Yes,” Xiè Lián cuts in softly, finality in his voice and expression. “I killed them.”

Fēng Xìn pales along with you, and Mù Qíng looks briefly startled before going for Fēng Xìn again.

“What’s that expression for? Don’t make me laugh.”

You sigh and rub at your temples. “You guys-.”

“It’s not for or about you! Get lost!”

Mù Qíng looks excited again. “That is rich coming from you! As if you’re so loyal; how long did you stay around for again?”

Fēng Xìn grits his teeth, his fists tightening at his sides as a fire is lit ablaze in his eyes.

Xiè Lián fiddles with his his sleeves anxiously, a slight look of anguish on his face. “Please you two, let’s not talk about this right now..”

You on the other hand, typically the calm one and their mediator, are not feeling the aster. Your pulse is thrumming and frustration begins to bubble in your belly. “Okay, stop this right now,” you demand.

But of course yours and Xiè Lián’s pleading goes unheard.

Mù Qíng takes a step closer, finger poking at Fēng Xìn’s chest. “Some say you left because you couldn’t stand to see your former master fall from grace. Tch, such a pretty excuse, but we all know the real reason. You just couldn’t stand to spend the rest of your days cleaning after a broken man!”

“You shut your fucking mouth!” Fēng Xìn practically roars, swinging his fist at Mù Qíng, hitting the delicate looking man square in the cheek, causing him to stumble back into the cabinet, holding his cheek as he glares daggers through his curtain of dark tresses.

You and Xiè Lián gape, the latter standing up, sending his chair backwards.

“Fēng Xìn, Mù Qíng, stop!”

“You think everyone is as vile as you, but I don’t take joy in watching him suffer!” Fēng Xìn snaps, throwing another punch, but Mù Qíng dodges and smashes his own fist into Fēng Xìn’s face.

“Enough!” you exclaimed, only to be ignored and the two to ruthlessly attack one another, breaking a few pieces of furniture.

You escort Xiè Lián out safely before trying to break the other two up from their brawl, but it ends up with you getting shoved aside aggressively by Mù Qíng.

Just as your ass hits the floor, the main doors to Xiānlè Palace opens and a swarm of deathly spirit butterflies come inside, fluttering past Xiè Lián and heading straight for you, Mù Qíng, and Fēng Xìn. You’re yanked behind Mù Qíng as he and Fēng Xìn use a shield to protect themselves, and you from the swarm.

But during this you’re frozen, appalled that you were just shoved by someone you’ve been close to since before you ascended. You watch as Xiè Lián doesn’t put up a fight with Huā Chéng, who steals him away.

You say nothing as chaos goes down in the communication array, only eventually piping up in your private communication array with Xiè Lián. “Ā-Lián…?”

“Ā-(Y/N)?”

“Are you really okay?”

“Yes, yes, I’m okay. I promise.”

You believe him this time, especially as he looks so comfortable with Huā Chéng beside him. You bravely look at the Ghost King. “Keep him safe, please.”

Huā Chéng acknowledges you with an assured little smirk and a nod before he and Xiè Lián both disappear.

Although Huā Chéng is feared, you’ve always trusted Xiè Lián for the most part.

Fēng Xìn and Mù Qíng are still arguing with one another, their voices infuriating you.

“Why are you lying and saying he escaped!? We watched Huā Chéng kidnap him!”

“Is it really kidnapping if he didn’t put up a struggle?” Mù Qíng snaps dismissively. “Get off my ass!”

“You bast-!”

“Enough!” you shout. “Stop it! Just stop it! I’ve had enough!”

The two looked at you with bewilderment, and in return you gave them a vicious stare, eyes stinging slightly as your fists trembled at your sides. “Both of you are so fucking selfish, you know that? First you fight in front of His Highness and bring up your issues you either have with yourselves or each other, wrecking his palace in your brawl, and you disrespect his feelings, as well as mine, when we both asked you to stop! You’re both so wrapped up in yourselves and each other that I’m sick of it!”

“We-!”

“I-!”

“Shut up! I’m done! Done hearing both of you! Get over yourselves! If you want to actually look for him, then do it! Don’t ask me to meditate your petty arguments anymore!”

It’s quiet for a moment before you start hearing other voices.

“I’ve never heard General Qiáng Yǒngmíng get so angry before…”

“Someone finally told those two to shut up..”

“Poor General Qiáng Yǒngmíng. Dealing with those two for this long and finally snapping.”

You feel mild embarrassment as you realize you broadcasted your rant in the communication array, but maybe some humiliation is what these two need, but you doubt it’ll do much. With a huff, you make your exit and ignore Fēng Xìn’s pleas, heading to your palace to hide away.

“Ā-(Y/n), thank you,” you hear Xiè Lián murmur, sounding very faint now.

“Anything for you, Ā-Lián,” you reply, falling into your bed, just as your palace doors open.

[moonchildstyles]

whats this aster curious gazes im seeing ?🥸

wordcount: 2.7k+

—————

Mikaela impatiently checked the time broadcasted on the clock above the auditorium's entrance, trailing after the molasses-slow minute hand. How had it only been three minutes since she last checked and not the twenty she had sworn it had been? She and her group had already finished peer reviewing each other's papers ten minutes ago, but they were all confined to their seats for fear of Professor Rian marking them down for leaving early—one of his favorite activities Mikaela had learned about the hard way during the second week of courses.

"How much longer?" Bria bemoaned from across the table, her own boredom showing in her dull gaze. (Y/N) perked up at Mikaela's side at the question, though she stayed just as quiet as she always was. 

"Another thirty," Mikaela murmured, a moment away from rolling her eyes, "I feel like we've been waiting for, like, an hour." 

Around them, the remaining groups were still chattering, some speaking about the essays while others seemed just as checked out as them. Running a hand through her long hair, Mikaela convinced herself to stay strong. 

"At least it'll be the weekend after this," she reminded the table, looking to Bria, "You're still set on getting your tattoo this weekend?" 

Bria plucked up at the question, her brown eyes sparkling in excitement. "Mhm! They called and confirmed yesterday with me, so I'll be in tomorrow morning, first thing!" 

"Are you going to be with the same guy that you had the consultation with?" Mikaela asked, picturing the long haired, heavily tattooed man she had seen when she went with Bria the first time to set up the initial appointment. She almost booked one for herself after seeing him; even the scowl and less than friendly demeanor couldn't detract from his... everything. 

Leaning across the table as if sharing a secret, Bria raised her eyebrows with a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes. "I hope. I might cancel, if not." 

Mikaela laughed along with her friend, knowing exactly where she was coming from. 

Piping up with a small smile on her features, (Y/N) asked, "Where are you going for your tattoo?" 

"It's not too far from here actually," Bria started, settling her chin in her hand as she spoke to (Y/N) at Mikaela's side. "It's called 17Black." 

(Y/N)'s expression brightened at the mention of the tattoo parlor in a way Mikaela had never seen before. Though she usually came to class fresh-faced and dewy, there was now a glimmer in her eyes that almost gave the illusion of glitter having fallen in her lashes.

"They're the best," she bubbled, her smile wide, "It's gonna turn out really, really good. You said you know who your artist is going to be?" 

"Yeah—um—hold on," Bria muttered, reaching into her bag, "I got his card last time I was in—I think he's the owner, or something." After a moment she pulled out a black and white business card, reading the name off: "Harry." 

Passing the card across the table, (Y/N) eagerly read over the stylized font and the glossy logo on the other side. "He's amazing—you're super lucky, Bria." 

(Y/N)'s smile wasn't one that could be shaken as she passed back the card. Mikaela thought she looked like she was proud, even. (Y/N) was always so reserved, seemingly more comfortable in the background and only chirping up when needed, Mikaela had never seen her so bright like this. 

"Have you been there before, (Y/N)?" she asked, trying to imagine someone like (Y/N) with any tattoos—especially done at a place like 17Black. 

Not that there was a specific kind of person that could have tattoos or that the parlor wasn't nice, but she had a hard time picturing (Y/N) with all her ribbons, pink sweaters, and shimmer flouncing into that building and getting a design inked into her skin. Especially by someone like Bria's artist; she was already shy enough, Mikaela doubted his scowls and curt tone would be anything of comfort.

That left her raising her brows in surprise when (Y/N) happily nodded her head. "Yeah! I only have one tattoo, but Harry did it and it's"—there was a moment something dreamy flashed over (Y/N)'s gaze then—"It's perfect." 

"I didn't know you had a tattoo," Bria interjected, her expression surely mirroring Mikaela's with her own perked brows and searching gaze as if they had both somehow missed an obvious marking. 

"It's really little," (Y/N) explained, settling some in her seat, "It's on my side, like, on my ribs, so people don't really see it." 

"I never pictured you with a tattoo," Mikaela added, "And especially on your ribs. You're brave." 

"Honestly," Bria started, bouncing full brows over her eyes "I don't know how you got through it, especially with him." 

A cinch appeared between (Y/N)'s brows. "What do you mean?" 

"You probably had to take your shirt off for the rib tattoo, right?" Bria prodded, watching as (Y/N) flustered some before ultimately nodding her head, "I don't know how to act around that guy—Harry—with my clothes on, I think I would combust if he asked me to take them off." 

It wasn't hard to see that (Y/N) was bubbling with embarrassment at Bria's remark—though Mikaela did hardily agree. She wondered if (Y/N) felt the same way; it was hard to picture her getting flustered over someone like Bria's artist. There could be that whole opposites attract thing going on for them, but Mikaela could only really see the scenario where Harry would crush the marshmallow that is (Y/N).

"Oh, I don't know," she muttered half-heartedly, trailing off without a real answer, "You know, he's just..." 

"It's okay, I get it," Bria finished for her with a bubbling laugh that had (Y/N) cracking her own polite smile. "He's pretty intimidating, honestly. Not for everyone, I guess." 

With her hands a bundle in her lap, (Y/N) tilted her head, "I wouldn't say that—" 

Not a moment too soon, Professor Rian made his way back to the forefront of the auditorium—something Mikaela wished he would have done a half an hour prior. "Class dismissed. Next Wednesday we'll do our final draft reviews and the finished essays will be due next Friday at midnight. Have a nice weekend." 

"Finally," Bria exasperated, immediately rushing to pack her things just as Mikaela had before Rian had even finished talking.

(Y/N) had done the smart thing and had her things ready to go once they had finished peer reviewing, only having to sling her bag over her shoulder while she quietly waited for the pair of them to get their own shit together. 

It was wild how much more awake Mikaela felt now that class had been dismissed, leaving behind the exhausted state she was lulling into at her desk. Shrugging into her jacket, the mental list of tasks she had to accomplish before her sister, Mira, and her boyfriend would be over for dinner didn't sound so bad now.

"What are you getting, Bria? For your tattoo, I mean," she chirped up, peering around Mikaela as they walked into the corridor, steps in sync with one another. 

"The moon and some stars and stuff on the top of my hand," she explained, "It's kind of hard to describe without a picture, but it's this whole thing." 

"That sounds really pretty," (Y/N) smiled, sincerity in her voice, "Hopefully it won't take too long—I hear the top of your hand can hurt sometimes with the bones and all." 

"It might not be so bad if it took a while, right?" Mikaela piped up, shooting Bria a look from the corner of her eye. Maybe, if Mira and her boyfriend didn't overstay their welcome tonight, she'd go with Bria in the morning and see if her artist had a girlfriend or something. 

(Or was at least open to hooking up on one of the tattoo chairs). 

Leading down the hall towards the main entrance of the building, Bria nudged Mikaela's shoulder. Ahead of them, (Y/N) reached forward and opened the door for the three of them to pass through. 

"Definitely wouldn't be bad," Bria laughed, the chill of the winter air seeping through the sleeves of Mikaela's jacket as they stepped outside. "I don't know, I might even—Wait, oh my god." 

"What?" Mikaela asked, brows furrowing at the abrupt change in her friend. 

Instead of the amused bubbly expression she wore just a moment prior, Bria now looked ahead with wide eyes and gaped lips, her steps slowing over the concrete. 

(Y/N) noticed the change in her demeanor as well, peering around Mikaela as her own features molded into something of worry. "What happened?"

"He's here," Bria muttered, looking straight ahead towards the student parking lot, "That's literally him right there, isn't it? Why is he here?" 

"Who? Who's her—" 

Following Bria's line of sight, Mikaela felt her own words get stuck in her throat when she saw just what had her friend going limp. 

As if summoned, Bria's tattoo artist—Harry—had somehow found a prime parking space in the student lot and was now waiting.

He was ever the intimidating figure with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the hulking frame of the black Range Rover behind him. (Because, of course, he would drive a Range Rover). Even with the chunky black cardigan draped over his form, he didn't look any less imposing than when he had stalked through the tattoo parlor. He perfectly matched his car, all black, tattoos tracing over his skin, including the heavy chest pieces on display from the low scoop of his top. A pair of sunglasses were holding his hair back on the top of his head, with his lips set in a firm line, lip ring and all.

"He doesn't go here, right?" Mikaela blanched. Why else would be here, if not to go to class, right?

(Y/N) looked just as bewildered as they were, a cant to her head as she took him in. "What is he doing here?" she muttered, voice quiet enough to be speaking to herself.

Their small trio stood off to the side, out of the way as the rest of their classmates trickled around them as well as other students meandering through campus. From where they stood, Mikaela could see the way the tattoo artist scanned over the student body, searching for something—or someone.

He didn't come to see Bria, right? That would be crazy, leaning on certifiable—even if he was hot.

Mikaela's eyes widened when she saw (Y/N) wave her hand above her head. What was she doing? Did she not think this was weird that he had showed up to campus when he really didn't have any reason to? 

She watched as he caught sight of (Y/N)'s waving arm and his features almost immediately softened. Even from where they were standing, it was clear to see the tension releasing from his body in a breath. He pushed off from where he was lent against his Range Rover and started towards the building—towards them.

Was (Y/N) insane or something, and they'd just missed all the signs until this moment? Why would she ask him to come over here?

"He's coming over here, what the fuck," Bria murmured, just as lost as Mikaela. 

It didn't take long for his spanning strides to cross the concrete and take him to where their small group had taken root. Seeing him this close again, Mikaela realized her memory didn't do him any justice—he was more than gorgeous. Unfortunately crazy, but still hot. 

Had he always had his nose pierced? Had his eyes always been that green? Had they always been pinned to (Y/N) like that? 

"(Y/N), do you—" Bria started, only to cut herself off when (Y/N) excitedly bounced up to her toes once the tattoo artist was close. 

"What are you doing here, H?" she chirped, familiarity in her voice as she looked up at him.

Mikaela figured she wore the same expression that Bria did, with her eyes wide and brows raised, a fraction away from her jaw dropping as they watched the tattoo artist—H—pull (Y/N) into his arms and drop a kiss on the top of her head.

"Came to pick you up for lunch, if that's okay," he murmured, not sparing a glance their way as he kept the pink marshmallow in his arms. "I also noticed there was an extra jacket lying around my room that I thought was supposed to be with you." 

Sheepishly looking down, (Y/N) shook her head. "I forgot, I'm sorry." 

Adoration was clear on the tattoo artist's—her boyfriend—features. "'S alright, lovebug. I brought it with me so y'can have it the rest of the day, jus' don't keep forgetting it. 'S only getting colder out, I don't want you to get sick." 

"I won't," (Y/N) sighed, looking entirely at home as she clutched his sweater in her hands and fluttered her lashes at him as if he were a king. "Thank you." 

Mikaela couldn't help the simmering of her blood beneath her skin, surely a flush painting her complexion as she thought back to just what she and Bria had been saying during class. They talked all about how hot (Y/N)'s boyfriend was to her face, implied he was intimidating and not her type, and she had even heard them freak out thinking he had come to see them. She was never going to pair with them for peer review again.

(Though Mikaela will give herself credit for not speaking about the lingering fantasy she'd had involving one of those tattoo chairs and Harry's hair pulled back so he could focus). 

"Um," Mikaela sounded, almost cringing at how stupid she sounded from just a single syllable, "I think we should probably go, but we'll see you next week, (Y/N)." 

(Y/N) turned with her expression going bashful. Her boyfriend's hands didn't move from where they were on her waist though he finally looked up from her to see the rest of the world around them. 

"I'm sorry," she apologized as if in reflex. Looking at the man behind her, she started with a shy smile on her lips, "Harry, this is Bria and Mikaela. They're the girls from one of my English classes I've told you about." 

Back was the expression she recognized from when she had dropped by the tattoo parlor. His features hardened some, going less open and easy to read than they had been just a moment ago. He took them in with a stilted smile on his lips. 

"Nice to meet you," he murmured, his gaze flicking to Bria for a split second longer, "Actually, we've met before, right? You're my nine a.m. tomorrow." 

"I am, yeah," Bria said, sounding just as lame as Mikaela felt. It was easy to see Bria was floundering for anything to say before she finally settled on, "(Y/N) didn't tell us she had a boyfriend." 

His smile turned lopsided at that, amusement flickering in his gaze as he looked down at the marshmallow in his arms. "She didn't?" 

(Y/N) looked to the pair of them, biting back a smile as if remembering what was said back in class but deciding it was their secret to keep. "It just didn't come up." 

"Right," he smiled, squeezing her waist just enough to get her bouncing at his side with a short huff of laughter pouring out, "Are you ready to go?" 

"I think so, yeah," (Y/N) agreed, craning her neck to smile up at him before returning her attention to Mikaela and Bria. "I'll see you guys next week."

The pair shared similar goodbyes, hoping they didn't sound as embarrassed as they felt. Walking away from them, Mikaela watched Harry tangle his fingers with (Y/N), slowing just long enough to press a kiss to her forehead before leading her towards his Range Rover.

"We are the most annoying people in the world," Mikaela said, breaking their silence, "We literally said all of that about him to his girlfriend." 

"She's never going to partner for peer review with us again." 

Despite the guilt and bits of humiliation floating through her system, Mikaela couldn't shake off just how sweet it was to see (Y/N) interact with someone like that—especially someone like her boyfriend. They were clearly in love, that much she could tell.

"Oh my god," Bria said, whipping her head around to look at Mikaela with horror stricken eyes. 

"What?" Mikaela asked, taken aback at the sudden urgency in Bria's voice. Was another person they had lusted over to their partner, about to round the corner? 

"I have to see him again tomorrow," Bria whined, "And, (Y/N)'s probably going to tell him what we said." 

At that thought, Mikaela really hoped her sister would overstay her welcome tonight—give her a reason to stay in bed and leave Bria to her appointment alone. 

—————

this is the first time im trying out this kind of pov so I really hope everyone like it! thank you sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and please lmk if you have any ideas you want to share!

[tanaisokay]

☀️RISE AND SHINE☀️

University AU // Sebastian Sallow x MC Fanfiction

Hi, hello! I'm getting around to posting something I wrote a long time ago; 2 years ago to be exact. This is a Modern/Hogwarts University AU. No magic; just idiot college students being silly.

Backstory: Sebastian is Aster's tutor at Hogwarts University. She has numbers dyslexia, which she's gone her whole life untreated and hasn't managed it at all. So people think of her as the 'stupid air-head bratty extroverted rich girl' for the entirety of her education. She gets a tutor in Uni because she's flunking her math courses and if she flunks out of them; she can't stay in her Entomology program that she barely scrapped by to get in. Low & behold, the University provides her a tutor, Sebastian. He falls madly in love with her even though he's kind of a flirty fuckboy. Best part, she's too fucking clueless to notice.

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Aster Button (MC)

Rating: YA

CW: Swearing, Intentions of Fornication, Mentions of Alcohol and Marijuana use & some Sebastian self-deprecation.

Characters: Sebastian Sallow, Aster Button (My MC), Iona (MC of @elliestrawberri), Anne Sallow & Bubbles (The Pupper)

Tags: Modern AU, Anne is there & kicking ass, Aster & Iona are roommates, Sebastian is pathetically & desperately in love because I flavor him no other way, Aster is the biggest airhead ever and I love it.

Words: 4,884

☀️ Teaser ☀️

"Good morning, Buttercup." It was almost as if Iona was expecting such a morning greeting. The smirk on her lips and the willingness behind her chipper spoke volumes.

"We, have, an emergency." Aster whispered as best as she could. Her face was mortified with a flush. Her breath heaving in her chest as if she ran a mile, but literally only ran across the hall.

"Oh really? What kind of emergency?" Iona tilted her head, probing ever so gently at the conversation she anticipated tremendously.

"Sebastian's in my bed." Aster whined in her whisper as she pushed the door closed gently. She shook her body as the door clicked and then danced on her toes like a child who needed to pee as the surge of awkward energy released from her.

"RISE AND SHINE~!"

Just like Kylie Jenner, Aster pushed open the bedroom door and hit the light switch next to the door as she sang. The light turning on didn't matter, however. Even though the bedroom she invaded had darker decor, the room was already brimming with delightful morning sunlight. 

The opened window with pulled back curtains, allowed for the song of spring birds to trickle in from outside. The occasional hum of car tires rolling over pavement joined the song. The April breeze slowly pushing the curtains to dance along the wall.

Like any sane morning person, Iona was still in her pj's. She clearly only got up to make herself a cup of coffee before crawling back into bed to ease herself into wakefulness. Iona was lounging in bed, back pressed against the headboard. She was on her phone, her cat smothering her lap. On the floor beside the bed, a Springer Spaniel male named Bubbles, lifted his head quickly at the sight of Aster bursting into the bedroom. His tail slapping against the fluffy rug he laid upon as he began to wiggle energetically.

"Good morning, Buttercup." It was almost as if Iona was expecting such a morning greeting. The smirk on her lips and the willingness behind her chipper spoke volumes.

"We, have, an emergency." Aster whispered as best as she could. Her face was mortified with a flush. Her breath heaving in her chest as if she ran a mile, but literally only ran across the hall. 

"Oh really? What kind of emergency?" Iona tilted her head, probing ever so gently at the conversation she anticipated tremendously. 

"Sebastian's in my bed." Aster whined in her whisper as she pushed the door closed gently. She shook her body as the door clicked and then danced on her toes like a child who needed to pee as the surge of awkward energy released from her. 

Iona gave a reassuring smile. "I know." 

"What happened?!" Aster groveled her voice to the depths of hell and summoned a demon into her throat. The gremlin then spoke out instead of Aster, demanding quietly.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Aster repeated but in question, her voice back to normal.

"Not unless you two fucked after I went back to sleep, which is highly unlikely." Iona turned back to her phone quickly as it buzzed. Bubbles stood up from his lying position on the floor gently and walked over to Aster.  "Do you remember anything?"

Aster shook her head so hard that her cheeks jiggled with her. 

"Splendid." Iona celebrated slightly. The girl found great amusement in the little mess that began to unravel, given the circumstances. "So, you came home from the party with Sebastian around… 2 in the morning. Cross faded as fuck; I might add."

"Yeeeaaah…" Bubbles shoved himself in-between Aster's legs and then sat down on her foot. She seemed unphased by the motion of her legs being pushed by the dog. "We took a hit of some random guy's joint before we got in the Uber… probably not the best decision." 

"You think?" Iona snorted quietly as she inhaled a laugh. "Anyways, Sebastian greened out and threw up in our toilet." 

Aster winced at that loudly, not saying anything in response. Her hands found Bubbles' face and mushed it lovingly, giving him some affection even though her full attention was on Iona.

Iona continued on as if there were no worries to be had. "You got really upset, started taking care of him. Changed his clothes, got him to brush his teeth, and made him drink a Gatorade. You then got him into bed, showered yourself, and crawled into bed with him. You drank a Gatorade too, don't worry."

Aster gasped lightly. "That's why I feel amazing… Fuck, I thought I fucked my tutor… That would have been so awkward."

"Awkward for you." Iona laughed as she poked at Aster, her voice rolling gently as if she knew something but wasn't going to be clear about it. "How did it go?"

"Hm?" Aster hummed in question. She had turned her gaze down to Bubbles sitting on her foot. She was making a face at him, his tail beginning to thud against the wood floor this time. 

"Your date?" Iona pried.

Aster blinked, a pout pushing out her lips as the gears in her brain started squeaking. "It was a party, not a date."

"Yeah, sure." Iona finally locked her phone and placed it down with a soft plop as her phone hit the bed. "I want the details, Buttercup." 

"The party was nice. Sebastian and I danced, I talked to a bunch of people. He and I hung out on the couch. Everett actually left me alone for once." Aster mumbled as she turned her face up towards the ceiling. As if the tilt back would help her think better.

"Yeah, because you had a date." Iona snickered lightly, petting her cat's ears as she began to pry into the topic that confused Aster greatly.

Aster finally glared, the gears in her head coming to a complete stop as she looked back to Iona. "You know what… I don't know what you're getting at here. But I'm going to take Bubba for a run now." Bubbles barked softly at the word 'run' and Aster turned on her toes, a little frustrated huff coming from her. 

"Bubs was very upset that Sebastian took his spot." Iona called out before Aster opened the door.

Aster gasped and her baby voice was turned on, Bubbles at her heels. "Oh, my goodness, an extra-long run for you!" 

A few hours later...

A groggy groan cried out from under the multiple blankets piled together, body stretching out and taking up most of the bed for themselves. Sebastian breathed deep in the lul of sleep, tangled below the cloud like comfort that hugged his body like heaven. The dream he was having was still playing behind his eyes. Yet, reality was beckoning him to wake. 

A little staggered groan with a short breath then came. The sunlight that poured in through the windows finally penetrated his eyelids. There was a wince, with a restless shuffle under the covers. His legs moved first with his consciousness. A hand then covered his eyes from the sunlight that burned his unadjusted retinas. His shoulder then retreated his whole face under a pillow with a frustrated turn and a small cry.

Sebastian didn't want to wake up. The bed was way too fucking comfortable and for some reason, moving felt like a sin. The nerves in his body could have been spasming in pain due to last night's events, yet they sang a glorious hymn instead. He felt amazing, which was unheard of for him when he did manage to go out. A grateful mental note was given to himself. Somehow not being hungover this morning was a miracle in itself truly.

Sebastian inhaled with a manly grunt to go back to sleep once more. He pulled the covers over his head and finally relaxed through his bones once more. It was then, in his tender attempt to sleep more, that the smell that surrounded him registered in his mind. Under layers of stabbing deep forest moss in a fairy forest and swimming lilac florals of a May garden, stung a familiar scent with a side of honey that tickled his senses. The three scents together reminded him of something that made his face hot, and brain stop functioning. As if it struck a chord of the one thing which turned him into a fool…

Aster- 

Sebastian gasped loudly as he pushed his body up out of the pile of pillows and blankets. He hovered above his hands as both palms pressed into the mattress. His body contorted into a sloppy upwards facing dog position, that would have made more sense if he was actually doing yoga or getting it in. The bright room with colors of soft yellows and sage greens, was not a room he was familiar with at all. In fact, it was quite disorienting. He was used to his black varnished cheap Ikea furniture, black out curtains and the indigent thrifting of mid grunge aesthetic. The literal and metaphorical sunshine of this bedroom was everything he was not used to. 

He thrashed about in the bed, so he was sitting upright. His mind slowly registered all the furniture in the room one by one. He definitely was not home and the more he acknowledged the room, the more it was piecing together as Aster's room. The one thing that made it absolutely obvious was the excessively large taxidermy display of bugs that practically took up the entire wall above the desk.

"What the fuck…?" Sebastian blinked a few times.

His mind was empty. Blank. He had no idea how he got to the apartment, how he got in Aster's room let alone her bed, or if he said anything to Aster in his intoxication that could royally fuck him. At the mention of how fucked he could be by his internal thoughts, how fucked was he exactly? His eyes tore down to his own body, and he was disturbingly surprised to find himself in clothes that were not his. 

"Shit… No no…" The wash of blackout anxiety ran over him and he whipped his head around looking for his phone. He needed something, anything to remind him of the night before. He turned the pillows and the covers until he found his phone on the nightstand beside him. He frivolously snatched it into his hand, and he looked at it. 

Can you at least tell me you're alive and not dead in a ditch somewhere?! [Anne 6:35am]

"Fuck!" The first thing Sebastian saw in his notifs was the message from Anne. He promised her before he left that he would text her, but he clearly never did. Before he responded though, he looked through his photos. Hoping to find anything that could jog his memory. Whether fortunate or unfortunate, Sebastian found absolutely nothing. So, he turned his attention to Anne before he met an untimely rapture. 

I'm alive. I'm at Aster's. I think nothing happened? [Me 9:20am]

Quickly, Sebastian shared his location with Anne after his response. For a moment, he sat in his growing anxiety when his phone started vibrating in his lap like crazy.  

YOU THINK?! 🤯 [Anne 9:23am]

ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THAT?! [Anne 9:23am]

HOW DID YOU GET THERE?! DO YOU NOT REMEMBER?! [Anne 9:23am]

NO WAIT SHUT UP I'M COMING TO GET YOU [Anne 9:24am]

FUCK BALLS DID YOU CONFESS HOW DID IT GO [Anne 9:24am]

SHUT UP DON'T ANSWER THAT I'M LEAVING NOW [Anne 9:25am]

I'll be there in 30 [Anne 9:26am]

Being suddenly reminded of the entire reason Aster and him hung out to begin with, made him instantly ill. His entire plan being together outside of their normal tutoring session was thrown out the window. To openly admit his affections to her as clearly as possible. In a way that wasn't tied to the self-inflicted obligation to raise her math grade so she could stay in her Entomology program. Now, he probably blew his chances of ever getting Aster to understand how he truly felt.  

"I'm such a fucking mess…" 

Sebastian's head fell into his hands for a moment to collect himself. He had a strong love hate relationship with the way Aster turned him into a bouncing bumbling buffoon with two left feet. He was usually much better at these things. Confident, charming, unnecessarily bold with a strong mix of mischievousness and perseverance. He never had such a hard time with his previous partners. Never stumbled on himself and made himself look like a constant dolt in a schoolboy’s daydream. 

Maybe that was the difference of it all though. He never actually cared as much as he cares now. His other partners were mere distractions to his shit life or a means to an end to his nonexistent emotional availability. He was called Shallow Sallow for a reason after all… 

Woefully, Sebastian cared way too fucking much about this one girl that it drove him insane. For months, he wallowed in his own ardent pining for the most vacuous but utterly adorable girl he’d ever met. In the end, his chances of being straight forward were met with her own confusion or his advances entirely unseen. All the built-up karma of his not caring about others had finally caught up to him and it was constantly slapping him in the face.

After a moment of collecting his thoughts, Sebastian finally peeled himself out of the bed. He didn't want to leave, but he had to. The one good thing going for him was that he wasn't on the couch. Nor was he sent home with no recollection of the rest of the night after crawling into the Uber. So, he clearly didn't say anything too bad that would have caused her to reject his presence… right? 

As he headed for the door, Sebastian's foot hooked onto his jeans on the floor. He picked them up with a painful groan, the desperate want to remember what happened flooding through him pathetically. He quickly slipped off the anonymous sweatpants he was wearing and replaced them with his jeans. He then composed himself and walked out of the bedroom. 

Outside the little paradise that was Aster's perfect oasis, Sebastian was met with the combining aesthetics of dark and light. If someone didn't know Aster and Iona, they would have thought the apartment was made by a phony witch who couldn't figure out their passion. Fortunately, the blend of dark boho where a goth plant mom meets an insect sun enthusiast was balanced perfectly. 

The air smelled of coffee and rich soil, clinging around like a never-ending fog. He took a few steps breathing deeply, the coffee calling his name. 

"Morning." A feminine voice called out from inside an open room. Sebastian had just crossed the threshold of the door, and he turned when he was greeted. Iona was sitting on the floor of her room, newspaper all over as she shoved a moss pole into a large variegated monstera pot.

"Morning…" Sebastian had to stop himself from scratching his stomach under his shirt. A light sense of tiredness still hung around him and the automatic motion almost got the best of him. 

"How'd you sleep?" Iona looked up briefly to look at him as she tapped her hands together to get the soil off of them. 

"Great…" Sebastian strained his voice the more he stood there. The panic he swallowed down began to settle in the darkest corners of his thoughts once more.

Iona got up off the ground, leaving the monstera where it sat on the floor but picked up the empty mug that rested beside her. She watched him for a second and then passed Sebastian in the doorway as she exited her room. "I see you panicking. You didn't fuck your crush and completely forget about it." 

"Thank God," Sebastian's heart raced quickly as he heard the news he miserably wanted to hear. He watched as Iona continued down the hall and he followed slowly. "Where did the clothes come from then?" 

"Me. That was Om's shirt." She smiled over her shoulder quickly as she laughed.

Sebastian closed his eyes for a second, "Do I want to know what happened…?" 

Iona turned quickly into an opened archway. A few steps later, Sebastian noticed the kitchen beyond the archway she entered, as she moved around with graceful ease. "You greened out and threw up in my toilet. Got it all over you." 

Sebastian seethed as he stood there as the well painted moron he knew he could be. "I'm sorry…"

"No, you're not. Whose bright idea was it, to hit a joint off some guy you didn't know?" Iona's playful tone was welcomed in the state of the conversation.

"Mine." Sebastian's admittance fell from his lips so easily. 

"You're a disappointment." Iona grabbed a coffee cup from one of the cabinets above her. "If you said it was Aster, I would have easily blamed it on peer pressure. Since it was you being stupid however, it's naturally your fault. Shame on you!" As she spoke, she placed the new coffee cup on the makeshift kitchen island made from a thrifted old wooden table with her own. She stepped gingerly to the fridge off to the side, where she opened it and took out the cream from the door side pocket. She then shook the cream at him while making eye contact as she scolded him in a tease.

"In the end, I was the one that got really fucked up anyway. So don't patronize me for my idiocy." Sebastian shrugged but also nodded while looking directly at the cream in her hand, "Also I feel great, how is that possible?" 

"Don't worry, she took good care of you." Iona turned to fill the coffee cup with coffee and added the cream. "You were such a big baby about it though."

At the thought of Aster taking care of him at possibly one of his lowest states of mind, Sebastian melted into the door frame of the kitchen. He stumbled lightly, picturing the gentle hands of a girl who couldn't hurt a fly and cried when an ant was accidentally stepped on. "Fuck, she's so perfect." 

Iona closed her eyes to roll them behind her lids as she held out the mug to him. "How was last night, by the way?" 

Sebastian groaned loudly and flailed on the door frame to stand straight. He moved into the kitchen with heavy feet and a soft heart. "Amazing. We danced, cuddled on the couch and… she held my hand." 

Iona watched as the small domestic gesture of holding hands sent Sebastian into a hopeless romantic spiral that nauseated her as he took the coffee cup from her outstretched hand. She turned her attention elsewhere to ignore him and filled her coffee cup again. "Did you confess?" 

Sebastian blinked at the coffee in his hands and grew stiff. The realization that he did not do what wanted to do, hit him in the face once more like a sledgehammer. "No…"

Iona puffed a laugh, leaning against the counter behind her. Her hands hugged her coffee cup gingerly, "Too much liquid courage?" 

"One too many." Sebastian nodded as he took a shameful sip of coffee.

"Smooth." 

Sebastian huffed a short breath quickly, wanting to change the subject entirely. He looked around the kitchen and the other rooms he could see where he was stationed. His mind switched to the one channel it seemed too always be on. "Where's Aster?" 

Iona almost groaned loudly at his little obsession but kept it inside, "On a run."

With Iona's response, the front door opened quickly. A small crash came with happy pitter patters on the floor and the light squeak of sneakers stomping out on the outdoor rug. 

"Yes, yes! Breakfast!" Aster turned into the door, the sound of a dog running across the wooden floor bolted away from the front door.

"Pupper!" As Sebastian lit up like a lightbulb, Bubbles bounded around the corner and ran to Sebastian. Sebastian quickly put the coffee cup on the island table he was standing beside and got down on a knee to pet the excited dog. "Hi buddy!"

"Oh, you're awake." Aster peeked around the corner. She was dressed in a cute little tennis skirt and tank top, her hair up in a ponytail. The fresh sweat of a run during the spring clinging to her cheeks and forehead. She lightly danced her way into the kitchen, her arms holding out a small bag in her hands towards him. "I stopped at the Laundromat and washed your shirts. You kind of threw up on them." 

Sebastian immediately turned into a puddle of pathetic mush. Stuttering his words a bit as he took the bag from her hands and stumbled to stand as he did so. "Th-thank you. You didn't have to." 

"Oh no, I don't mind at all! There's a troubled veteran that sleeps at the Laundromat who adores Bubba. I don't mind stopping so Bubs can give people love." Aster shifted about on her toes as she spoke, going from being an inch shorter to an inch taller than Sebastian within seconds. Sebastian watched every movement she made in her staggered fluidity, unbothered by the fact that they were practically the same height. Bubbles stood beside them both, his toes tapping against the floor as he danced from one paw to the other. His butt wiggling vivaciously over the thought of breakfast.

"Little butt wiggles!" Iona laughed as she floated out of the kitchen to give the two blossoming love birds some space. She patted Bubbles on the butt as she passed, causing him to bound about in jumps and back to his dance. "Happy toes!" 

Sebastian and Aster two stood together for a moment in the kitchen looking at each other. Sebastian inched closer every second or so, so he could lower his tone to something more pleasant. "... Thank you for taking care of me. Iona told me what happened." 

"You're welcome, you got really sick." Aster stuck a hand down to pat Bubbles' head, so he didn't start barking for attention.

"I deserved that punishment." Sebastian spoke without thinking.

"Hot." Iona called out from the living room. 

"I… had a lot of fun last night." Sebastian ignored the comment from Iona, his full attention on the girl that captivated him like a siren.

"Me too." Aster smiled as one hand reached out to touch his arm gently. "Thank you for protecting me from Everett." 

"We went to the party together. Of course, I'm going to protect you." At the bond of her touch to his arm, Sebastian deflated as he spoke. Hoping his words would cover up the pitiful leaking reverence that his heart viciously bled over. 

"Still, I appreciate it."  

"You're welcome, anything for you." Sebastian laughed and realized his worship of the girl before him was coming out too strongly. He cleared his throat as he took a step back to retreat. "Anne's coming to get me, so I'm gonna get changed." 

"Okay…" 

Aster watched as Sebastian quickly walked out of the kitchen with the bag of his shirts in hand. She heard her bedroom door open and close, a confusion settling over her as she stood there. After a moment, Aster fed Bubbles his breakfast in a light trance. Moving into the living room after feeding her hungry dog, Aster stood there with her arms crossed under her bosom, a pout splattered on her face. 

Her thoughts were quite mean and didn't make any sense to her. The run she went on caused a lot of unnecessary ideas to cross her mind. All of them clouding her judgment, making her feel more stupid than normal. 

"You good?"

Iona disrupted Aster's silent brooding, the sharp whisper said with a crisp nature to get Aster's mind gears back on a normal track. Aster jumped a little bit and then nodded, a very pensive look on her face. 

Aster was unable to answer, as Sebastian came out of Aster's bedroom as quickly as he had entered. He did that natural male gesture where he patted down his jeans to make sure he had everything. He seemed a bit frantic in his departure, as if he didn't want to leave anything behind. "Anne's here, so I am going to bounce. Sorry for throwing up in your toilet but… Thanks again… for last night." 

"Sebastian, wait." 

Sebastian thanked Aster directly once last time. A brilliant smile on his lips as a blush crept forward, causing him to roll his words off his tongue slowly. As he turned for the door, not allowing Aster to say her own goodbyes, she yelled after him. She chased and hugged him tightly. An embrace that contained a hand to the back of the head and grasping his shoulder which was not the intimate gesture he was expecting. Still, Sebastian hugged her back almost immediately.

"See you later?" Aster whispered in the hug.

"Yeah, absolutely." Sebastian's confirmation was sickly sweet, his hands lovingly caressing her waist as he savored the moment. Even though he didn't want to, Sebastian broke the hug and he ducked outside, slipping on his shoes lazily. 

Aster stood near the door after it shut. After a few blinks, she lightly stomped over to the armchair that was set beside the couch which Iona occupied. She fell down into it with a huff, her arms returning to their absorbed position under and across her chest.

"What's up, buttercup? You're acting weird." Iona called out slightly, knowing that anything louder would have spooked Aster in such a deep thought. Iona’s cat jumped on the couch to occupy Iona’s lap as the serious conversation began.

"You're going to get mad at me." Aster whined like a little girl.

"Definitely not. Spill." 

The sincerity behind Iona’s reassurance made Aster hum a long low note before answering. "Mm, well… I was thinking on my run - which I know, I shouldn't do…" Aster's hands flew out from under her arms and started waving through the air nervously. "But it dawned on me that Sebastian's been really nice to me, like super nice. And not that nice where someone is trying to get into my pants. But like… nice." 

The spontaneous need to express her internal thoughts was almost unbearable, but Iona kept her grip. Iona was grateful for Aster finally catching on to Sebastian’s advances and slowly watching Aster piece it together on her own was quite gratifying. Instead of celebrating outwardly, Iona did her normal routine of feeding little thoughts into Aster, so there wasn't an entire mental shutdown. "There's a reason for that, you know…"

Aster groaned frustratedly, "Yeah, yeah. He's my tutor, I get that. And I know you've told me a thousand times that Sebastian cares about my wellbeing. So, I should repay him and I was thinking-."

"Repay him-?"

"I think I'm going to have sex with him." 

"What-?!" Iona had just brought her coffee cup back to her lips for a sip as the girls started spitting at each other frivolously. The moment Aster's final words fell from her mouth, so did the coffee that Iona sipped into her mouth back into the coffee cup. Her eyes went wide, and she had to control every burning ounce of shock and anxiety in her body so she didn't explode.

"It's the least I can do. I don't have anything else to give him and I wouldn't mind. He's actually really fucking cute." Aster shrugged, as she drove her last statement into the ground with her shocked detachment.

"Aster, what the fuck!?" Iona raised her voice finally. Her cat jumped from her lap as she leaned forward and practically dropped her coffee cup onto the coffee table.

"See, you are mad at me!"

"Because what you just suggested is ridiculous! You don't need to use your body to repay someone!" Iona stood from the couch to frustratingly pace before the couch and armchair. Her own special kind of panic set in as she stumbled around telling Aster the truth. "Get him flowers! A plant! A cup of coffee! Anything else but that!" 

"I've already gotten him a lot of flowers and coffee. I want to give him something more." Aster the brat began making an appearance as she huffed an outward hum of her little annoyance.

"Okay, no." Shaking her head, Iona finally stopped pacing and looked directly at Aster. "Aster, please. I love you for the slut that you are but don't do that. Maybe, sit down and-and have a conversation with him. Talk things out, hang out."

"But I already did that! You already told me to do that, that's why we went out together last night. It's not enough!" 

"Holy fuck, I'm going to lose my mind." Iona wanted to scream from the rooftops the truth, but she couldn't. It wasn't her place. "Aster, this is a terrible idea. Awful. This can turn really messy and- What if he gets feelings for you? You then completely led him on and you'll end up breaking his heart. You won't have a tutor anymore when that happens."

"One; I'll be straightforward with him. No feelings, just sex." Aster stood and moved around the armchair in a fluid motion. "Two; I sure hope the sex is messy, cause messy sex is the best sex. Three; I think this is a great idea and I'm going to do it."

"Aster, please-!"

"Nope, I've made up my mind. I'll just ask and see what he says."

Iona tried to plead with Aster, but Aster just moved down the hallway to run away from the argument. Disappearing into her bedroom, Iona was left alone, standing there completely dumbfounded.

Aster was really about to repay the boy that loved her with his entire being with her body…

Iona had to keep reminding herself it wasn't her place to say anything - but fuck, was this going to end badly.

[gx-gameon]

1. Aside from Jesse, who else is going to know about Jaden identity as Prince of Duels?

2. How did they find out?

3. What's their reaction?

I think the first one to find out is actually Chumley.

He works for Pegasus now. His boss brings him along to a business meeting with Kaiba Corp and it’s the summer time and Jaden is hang out in his Oto-san’s office, maybe waiting to go to lunch with his parents when Chumley walks in with Pegasus.

Chumley is shocked and Jaden has no clue how to play this.

Seto just breaks out an Iron clad NDA and has a shocked Chumley sign it.

Chumley argues at first because he doesn’t understand why it’s a secret until he looks at Jaden and sees how his usually bubbly friend has shrunk in on himself like he’s waiting for something bad to happen.

And Chumley asks him if he’s okay and Jaden reveals his anxiety that people will treat him different if they know who he is. “Just think how Crowler would behave.” And Chumley instantly get it.

And then Seto adds on the fact that there have been kidnapping attempts and Chumley’s like ‘ya no Duel Academy is already dangerous enough.’ (This gets him pulled into the ‘who are we firing’ project that Seto and Mokuba have had running since Jaden’s entrance exam. Crowler permanently sits in the line, some days he tips towards fire and others he tilts towards keep only time will tell)

But Chumley promises not to tell anyone, that it’s Jaden’s secret not his. And while he wished he found out because Jaden trusted him, he still wants to be Jaden’s confidant.

It’s nice for Jaden to have a friend who knows even if Jaden didn’t decide to tell him. And Chumley’s left school so he doesn’t really have a lot of communication with anyone but Jaden anyways.

During school breaks the two will get together and talk about duel spirits and Chumley’s job. Once Jaden gets the Neospacians back he actually starts helping Chumley design a few cards.

Jesse is still the first person Jaden Choses to tell. He’s so special. No one else at school knows and beside Chumley no one close to Jaden’s age knows.

The rest of the crew o my find out post graduation. Jaden’s original plan is to tell ever one at graduation. He was kinda looking forward to the drama. But then the dark world happens….

Jaden wants to graduate quietly. He doesn’t want to be the center of attention.

The others don’t find out until post cannon. Maybe at a tournament held that summer?

There are a lot of hurt feelings. Why didn’t Jaden trust them? How could he keep this a secret from them?

Some get over it faster than others (Chazz. He’s mad for a bit but he remembers how much his brothers suck and how supportive Jaden always was, so he wants to repay the favor. Even if the Slifer never trusted him(he did Chazz he was just scared and then traumatized)) the two bond a lot over being rich kids and Jaden just drags Chazz home one day and is like ‘he’s ours now. I’m not giving him back to his family.’

Joey, my home life sucked, wheeler is instantly on board with this.

Seto just looks at Chazz and asks if he wants to do a hostile take over of his brother’s company or if Seto can just buy them out.

Chazz finally has a supportive family. (They are also crazy.)

I think Aster gets a very similar treatment. Jaden just keeps dragging kids home after graduation like ‘they’re my friends’ and no one agrues against the growing collection of you adults who suddenly have rooms at the manor to stay at.

Some people stay mad for way longer. How can Jadne no trust them!!!! (Take your guess who that is)

[lace-coffin]

For when your requests open soon kinda like the child breaking in how do you think the collector would rect to like teens using the hotell as a smoke spot or something also jow that im thinking about it he would just kill them since the start of thr collection it starts by saying he kills anyone and doesn’t discriminate personally i say dang but also i hsve no idea i might be making up everything im typing as i go along hoping your like oh wow this fella this extremely homosexual fella is so right!!!! #guess whos drunk game!!!!!£!

How would Asa Emory react to teens breaking into the hotel to smoke?

I absolutely love this request lmao, from one homo to another u r absolutely so right. I hope u had a good night pookie < 3

Tw for violence and gore

The acrid ashy smell was a dead giveaway before he’d even stepped into the hotel. Teenagers using his hotel as a smoke spot, hadn’t they seen literally any trashy slasher movie? This was a perfect setup to get murdered by a hulking masked man with an axe or whatever the kids were watching these days.

It’s not like he could completely blame them, him having been a teenager once and not above bumming a smoke off other students when the stress got the best off him.

Groaning and dragging a gloved hand down his face, Asa enters the building, pulling the door with more force than necessary and effectively slamming it into the wall in annoyance. It’s not like it was worth being stealthy, these little fucks will be dead soon enough, not like it’s going to matter in the end.

Two hounds sit either side of the collector at his monitor, Allister on the left and Aster on the right, waiting at attention for orders but mostly soaking up the absent minded pats Asa has been giving them whilst focused on the screen.

A group of teenagers, maybe about college age, sit slumped against the filthy walls of the abandoned hotel room smoking, what, he’s not sure, but that’s not relevant. smashed beer bottles litter the floor, glittering under the barley there fluorescent lights.

Disgusting, spilling all that shit over his floors, don’t they know he has art pieces in here that are priceless? Not like they would understand the work that goes behind his beautiful collection.

A pissed off groan escapes Asa’s gritted teeth, the dog’s ears perking at this, shifting to sit slightly more alert. Asa looks down to his pups, tilting his head in thought. He has a good view of the room from here, he may be able to put on a show for himself in the future before finishing them off. Setting the camera’s to ‘record’ he stands, scraping his chair backwards.

Pulling the mask taught by the strings and tying himself in he double checks his hunting knife is where he left it and sets off. Aster and Allister follow happily down the halls, just happy to be included and by their masters side.

The door is slammed open before any of the teens can react, dogs ordered to dispose of the intruders with a shout and hand signal, realistically no matter how well trained his pets are they wouldn’t be able to take down 4 teenagers by themselves. knowing this Asa pulls his knife from his belt, the teens paying no attention to him, solely focused in attempting to either kick the dogs snouts away and detach the muscle deep bite they have lodged into them off or trying to tear the hounds off their screaming and struggling friends.

Grabbing one of the men by the throat the collector slams the stranger against the wall, knife raised at his jugular with intend to slash.

“Y-you don’t have to do this man, we’ll leave ok? We’ll even clean up, fuck just..just let us go and we won’t say shit I promise”

the fear is evident all over this kids face, the desperation gives Asa a sick kick, feelings of superiority and giddiness bubbling up in his chest. the masked man adds more pressure to the knife, enough to break skin and allow a few dribbles of crimson to run down the knife, watching the panic increase ten fold.

Apart from letting out an undignified squeak the teen stops reacting, bracing for the end. How dull. Realising his toy has stopped performing he rips the blade across the soft flesh under him, making it messy and careless. The gasping body slumps against him, no longer able to hold himself through the agony. Asa’s lip curls in disgust, shoving the bleeding body away from himself to crumple to the ground.

Glancing back over it seems the dogs have fatally wounded at least two of the intruders, they aren’t dead yet but regardless they won’t be rushing anywhere in a hurry. The injured strangers flinch in terror as he approaches, before anything can be said Asa’s heavy leather boot is smashing the teens head against the dirty floor as hard as he can, skull making a sickening crunch under the weight of it and sending a wave of euphoria over the killer. He notes his boots will need cleaning later, viscera caught on the laces.

Something about the display must have awakened something primal in the least injured victim, taking off down the hall clumsily, usually he would send a dog to give chase or do it himself but he knows this hotel inside out, there’s a range of traps lining the walls of just that hall, let alone the entire building. Regardless if Asa bothers to follow or not he won’t be making it out alive. As if on cue a guttural scream then groan can be heard. He made it atleast two corridors down, better than most.

Attention now back in the room Asa looks over the last victim, curled up and bleeding into the ratty carpet. Shock probably. No point in making a show of this one, his mind has already checked out. He might make good food for the projects in the basement…you can never be too prepared. Sighing Asa slings the man’s half conscious body over his shoulder without care, whistling for the dogs to follow as he makes the trek to the basement.

[val-creative]

Merry Whumpmas! Day 2: 'Broken Bone'

Hurtcember Day 2: 'Breakdown'

Whumpcember Day 2: 'This is your fault'

Medcember Day 2: 'Septic Shock'

Rise of the Guardians

For the Merry Whumpmas 2024 Day 2 prompt "Broken Bone"!

For @medcember's Day 2 prompt "Septic Shock"

For @whumpcember's Day 2 prompt "This is your fault"

For @hurtcember's Day 2 prompt "Breakdown"

Type: Fanfiction | Fandom: Rise of the Guardians (2012) | Characters: E. Aster Bunnymund, Sophie Bennett, Jamie Bennett, Jack Frost, Other Rise of the Guardians Character(s) | Ships: None.

Warnings & Triggers: Major Character Injury, Illness, Near Death.

---

During the very next spring, Bunnymund watches the river moss and sedum and green flowering lichen creep and cover the oasis's stones.

He always welcomes down the two kids: Jack Frost's first believer and The Last Light, Jamie Bennett, and... Jamie's sister, Sophie. Out of all the Guardians there ever were, Bunnymund's her favorite.

Sophie often runs around the Warren, chasing the unpainted eggs, laughing at the brooks bubbling and ancient-carved stone heads dancing. Sophie jumps at Bunnymund's feet to dance along, eagerly tugging his paw, batting her eyes up at Bunnymund without saying a word and getting whatever she wants. As if princess to Bunnymund's own domain. She may as well be. No other kid was ever so loved.

"No, Sophie! Don't jump off those!" Jamie yells, waving over to his little sister taking tumbles off the stone heads flailing to catch her.

One of them misses, and Sophie lands with a thud. But she's smiling.

Reassured by it, Bunnymund waves off a frowning Jamie instead. "No more fussing! It's an Easter picnic, mate!" he announces. Jamie's shoulders slowly go tense. "We got jellybeans! We got ham and we got carrot cake and we got pepper deviled eggs and we got--!"

At another high-pitched holler, Sophie leaping again, Jamie gets up. He marches to the nearby pond she plays at, calling out again.

"What are ya gonna do when Sophie's all grown up?" Jack mumbles, glancing between her and Bunnymund's eyes entirely focused on her. "The day's coming, y'know. She's turning nine in December this year."

"You should ask yourself that question instead, mate," Bunnymund sharply points out, and Jack makes a bit of a face, nibbling on one of the deviled eggs and ignoring Jamie's back. "He'll be out of middle school soon enough. That's usually when they stop believing..."

"Hm, no." Jack shakes his head, insisting, and Bunnymund huffs, "No. I'm not worried about Jamie. You guys have had adult believers."

"But they never remember to look... and to SEE us, Jack."

Unconvinced, Jack still shakes his head, frowning now like Jamie.

"JACK! JACK, HELP!"

Jamie's panicking scream echoes through the Warren, and a fierce-looking Jack's running off even before Bunnymund gets himself up.

At the pond's edge, water ripples. Where's Sophie?

He manages to get it out between breathes, Jack's hands protectively clasping Jamie's face--"Sophie fell in! I think she's hurt!"

Bunnymund doesn't wait, diving in, searching her out underwater. His rabbit-heart thrums fast. Something must be wrong. Very, very wrong. Because Sophie knows how to swim... and if she can't swim...

When Bunnymund pulls her out, his fur soaked, Sophie gasps for air and trembling and cries in Bunnymund's paws, holding her left arm.

It looks distorted to Bunnymund, swelling red. And unnaturally warm.

"Oh, no..."

---

He was the fastest out of everyone. Bunnymund whispered to Sophie cry-hiccupping Bunnymund's name into his dripping wet bunny fur, unsure of how to make her better, heaving them above ground.

Unfortunately, Sophie's arm didn't get any better. The skin purpled. Bunnymund thought he caught a whiff of a fever on Sophie building.

Mr. and Mrs. Bennett took her away, frantic.

They were mad at Jamie at first, scolding him for not watching Sophie and letting her get into trouble, then... they weren't. Sophie got worse. From an infected bone fracture, Bunnymund learns.

For a while, Sophie slept while being taken care of doctors. And slept. And slept past the time Sophie was meant to wake after her surgery.

Before she woke up in that morning, nearly a month after Easter, Jamie confronted a devastated-looking in Jamie's own bedroom. "This is your fault!" Jamie yelled, tearfully ramming little fists against Bunnymund's chest. "I hate you! I hate you, Ihateyou!"

He finally broke, angrily sobbing. Jack, watching them solemnly from the door, nodded. Bunnymund lowered his ears and hugged onto Jamie sobbing louder and hugging Bunnymund back reluctantly.

(Jamie didn't hate him... he didn't hate anyone, Jack mumbles to Bunnymund when it's late in the night. That wouldn't ever be Jamie.)

"It is my fault, Jamie... I thought she would always be safe with me..."

---

Bunnymund sneaks to Sophie's window as soon as she's home.

Sophie notices him, grinning, trying to open her window. Instead of having her struggle with it, Bunnymund opens it and climbs in.

"Hi!"

Bunnymund's nose-whiskers twitch. She smells like herself again. "Hi, Soph," he says, eyeing Jamie wheel up Sophie's oxygen tank.

"Did you have something to say, Sophie?" Jamie mentions.

She flattens her lips, glaring a moment at her brother.

"I... I promise I won't practice hopping anymore."

"That's what happened in the Warren?" Bunnymund mumbles, awed. "You were trying to practice to be... a rabbit like me... and hop high?"

When Sophie looks down, a little more ashamed, Jamie seems satisfied and pats her uninjured arm. Bunnymund minds her little hot pink cast, hugging Sophie, cupping the back of her blonde head.

"You need to all better first, okay... that's the most important thing," Bunnymund reminds her, letting an eager-eyed Sophie rest on his huge and furred knee. "Then... I'm gonna teach you even more secret rabbit tricks. Not even the other Guardians know about them."

It's worth hearing a giggle. Because one day, Sophie will grow up. And Sophie will understand how truly, deeply loved she really is.

[goron-king-darunia]

Richter and Emil "10. “Please don’t make me socialize.”" for the meme :3

Gonna be real, this prompt also caught my eye. Let me give it a spin. How to Develop Social Skills (Modern-ish AU, Teen Audience, M/M, Canon-compliant character death [Aster is still dead in this universe.] Also I'm writing a holiday-themed story in March! I play fast and loose with the fantasy elements so in this universe Ratatosk and Emil split well before Richter busted the otherworldly gate and Richter and Ratatosk beat the shit out of each other until everything was all better without dooming the world. Because of Verius plot bullshit powers and because I say so. No betas, my audience are my betas and we die like Aster on Tumblr.com.)

Richter grimaced over the rim of his glass, sipping on punch he could tell was spiked by the smell alone. He was going to need all the liquid courage he could get. Emil, for some godforsaken reason, had decided that the best way to repay him for ‘all the kind things’ he’d apparently done was to drag him along to one of the Zelos’ many parties.

“You don’t really have a lot of friends, and the only reason I do is because you taught me that special motto.” The boy was obnoxiously cheery. Especially for someone who, despite his own best efforts, was also averse to social situations. He’d bonded with most of these people trying to put the world back together, and now that their quest was over, he had to learn to relate to them on a more social level as well. Despite his obvious hesitation to mingle with anyone but Richter so far, Emil at the very least seemed genuinely excited to have a chance to rub elbows.

Richter couldn’t share in that sentiment. Not one bit. He’d known most of these people as adversaries, and while Emil was nauseatingly easy for him to get along with, he dreaded having to make nice with people who, if they’d even give him the time of day, he was sure he had so little in common with. The Chosen had both lived exceptionally different lives compared to the average, at least from what he’d heard. Then for the remainder that actually shared his half of the planet growing up, there was a ninja and summoner from a secret village, the president of one of the broadest-reaching companies in all of Tethe'alla, and a girl – woman? – with an eerie wisdom and strength that didn’t suit her delicate form in the slightest. The only person he thought he could carry a conversation with would be Seles, the quarter-elven half-sister of the chosen Zelos. But from what he knew, the conversation wouldn’t quite be a happy one and Seles herself seemed much more intent on spending time with her beloved brother than with most of the other party guests. The other chunk of guests from the Sylvaranti side of the world included The Chosen of Regeneration’s best friend – boyfriend? – Lloyd Irving, a young man Richter only knew from the other end of a blade. He supposed they had a commonality in fighting style, but that wasn’t exactly a topic of conversation suited to a party. Then there were the Sage siblings. While it would be nice to get to know them a little more, interrogating them about the half-elf experience on their side of the planet wasn’t exactly a happy topic either. Then of course, there was Marta, and though his animosity toward her was mostly incidental, her being the bearer of Ratatosk’s core and all, even if he had anything else in common with her, she rubbed him the wrong way. Bubbly, assertive, and at least a hair spoiled, even after all her work to save the world.

The only person he had any inclination toward talking to besides Emil was Rilena. And that was doomed to be painful. Sobbing over a death wasn’t exactly a warm and fuzzy holiday pastime.

“Do I really have to be here?” Richter asked, watching as Zelos’ butler, Sebastian, walked by with a platter of festive canapés.

Emil frowned. “You haven’t even tried talking to anyone yet! The party’s only just started!”

Richter groaned. “And I’m already uncomfortable.”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Emil offered. “But… the only way I made friends was because–” “–Courage is the magic that turns dreams into reality.” Richter nodded, frustrated but knowing. “Not sure that applies here.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I’m not afraid of them. I just… don’t know how to relate to any of these people in a way that won’t ruin the party.”

“Sounds like fear to me.”

“It’s really not.”

Emil shrugged. “Well, whatever it is, I’ve felt that way too. I was afraid of being hated just for being me, like what happened in Luin. Afraid of saying the wrong things and upsetting people.”

“Fair enough. And I looked down on you for that. But to be fair, as much as I disliked the timid you, you at least had reasons to be uncomfortable. You actively got attacked for the crime of being Emil Castagnier in public, just because Decus’ involvement had you 'slandering’ Lloyd’s name.” But the more Richter thought on it, the more he couldn’t deny the parallels Emil was drawing without meaning to. He himself had also been abused just for being a half-elf. But it just felt different. And as much as his brains shouted at him that the circumstances weren’t at all the same, that his reasons for discomfort made this a situation where he ought to pull away but Emil’s situation required courage, he just kept sitting with the nagging sense that it wasn’t true, not at all. He sighed, slugging down another drink. “Please. Don’t make me socialize.” He knew Emil was right. He knew he was being, at this moment, the exact bitter, angry, shy, small, loathsome little kid he’d been all those years ago, before Aster. But the child inside him was so scared and so loud that he couldn’t drown it out. Not even with Aster’s motto. The grating cognitive dissonance was preferable to trying to make friends with this particular group of people.

Emil clapped a comforting hand on Richter’s forearm. “I won’t make you, but… when I couldn’t be brave for myself, you were brave for me. You helped me. So it’s my turn to help you, okay?” Richter’s gloves squeaked against the crystal of his wine glass as his grip tightened ever so slightly. “Just… go easy on me, kid.”

*~*~*~*~*

Emil stayed close for the early evening. Richter avoided most conversational responsibilities by just nodding along with whatever the blond was saying and keeping his mouth occupied with food and drink. He was particularly fond of the poinsettia canapés which seemed to be some sort of smoked fish slices laid across a puff pastry filled with a creamy, pale cheese with a blend of herb seasoning and capers dusted on top. If he was honest with himself, even if the entire rest of the evening was a bust, the food was pretty great.

But as the catching up and appetizers began to slow, the scheduled activities began. And Emil, evil, terrible Emil, volunteered him to partner up with people. He glared absolute daggers when, out of nowhere, while pairing up for building gingerbread houses, Emil’s hand shot up and “Richter would like to be paired with Genis!” While there were worse partners, as Richter would quickly learn, he wasn’t keen on participating at all, let alone with a practical stranger. But everyone else seemed more than happy to play along with Emil clearly speaking for him. And once everyone was paired up, Richter had no choice but to communicate as the timer began. “Erm. Right. So I’ve never done this before.”

Genis nodded. It made sense. “Luckily for you, I have all the tricks up my sleeve. If we’d gotten to bake our own gingerbread, we could beat everyone else here with taste alone.”

Richter wasn’t so sure about that. “If I had to bake my own ginger bread for this, the Chosen wouldn’t have a kitchen anymore.” Genis burst out laughing. “You can’t be worse than my sister.”

“I assure you that I very much can be.”

“Well, don’t worry too much. I’d compensate for you, and besides, they started us off with everything, so it should be fine. I’m going to need your hands here for the structure.” Genis had already added extra sugar to the icing to make it extra thick and was massaging the piping bag as he got to work laying the foundation of icing to stick the walls to the cake board. “If you can hold your sides steady for a minute, I can put the ribbon on and clean up the edges.”

“The ribbon?” Richter had never done this before but he was pretty sure most gingerbread didn’t have ribbon on it. “Shh, not so loud. You’ll give away our strategy.” Genis unspooled some decorative ribbon from the centerpiece on the table and used it to brace the walls together before laying some down across the walls and frosting around it to set the roof in place, tying the slanted pieces together so they had just enough support to stay in place while the icing set. “We’re already coming out way ahead of the pack like this.” Genis carefully cleaned up the edges so they had pristine walls to work with. “So what are you thinking for design? Classic peppermint? Icing icicles?”

Richter shrugged. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t have an opinion.”

Richter nodded and tried to contribute. “Well… what are we being rated on?” “Best design overall, best in creativity or originality, best environmental storytelling – though that usually goes to Colette and her salvaging disaster results.” Richter nodded again, vocalizing his understanding with a soft hum and fiddling with some of the extra gingerbread pieces in the box. He slid two flat cutouts together to assemble a fir tree base. “And we have a time-limit and only the pieces in our boxes, correct?”

“We can trade with other people, but for the most part, yeah. Everybody starts off with roughly the same stuff. But if you’re after color-work for a theme or something, trading with other people is absolutely encouraged.”

“Right.” Richter laid out a sheet of scrap paper. “I’m not much of an artist, but since you know how to handle the construction part, I’ll try to handle design.” He scrawled for a bit, sifting through the box of candies for inspiration. “Taste, uh, isn’t a factor, right?”

“No, not for winning, but I would prefer to keep things edible as much as possible so please don’t put any mistletoe on this, I’m begging.”

“Noted.” That certainly hadn’t occurred to Richter, but the oddly specific request seemed to indicate that this had been a problem before. He was mostly referring to whether or not he ought to use the licorice provided. Though based on past experience, Richter was sure even with the best of ingredients that he could somehow manage to make even a prefabricated gingerbread house toxic somehow.

He went with a classic red and green, though most of the candies were in that category already. Gumdrop fencing and bushes, sprinkles as a stand in for string lights, candy coated chocolates for roof shingles, candy cane pillars, marshmallow snowmen, icing with food coloring for little scenes drawn on the windows. The real stroke of genius was the sour candy ribbons for bunting and the crushed peppermint cobbled paths.

Genis cooperated, more than happy to just have a competent partner in the game. “Should we add a frosted pattern to these bare edges or use the negative space to contrast something else?” and “Should we decorate the gingerbread men or break them up for other details?” were his main contributions to the discussion. Most of what he had to add was a wordless exchange.

By the end of things, Richter was surprised at how much he’d actually handled. Granted, collaboration required communication. But even in such a context, he hadn’t expected the words to come easily. “I think that went well.”

“You’re saying that like its a surprise.”

“Well I’ve never–”

“You’ve never done that before. I know. But if you start a new task worried about the results, you’re just going to psych yourself out. These things are supposed to be fun, you know? Just let go of expectations and give yourself a chance.”

It was good advice. “I’ll… try.”

They voted anonymously with little tokens slipped into paper boxes, but results wouldn’t be until the end of the evening.

In the interim, there were other diversions.

Richter appreciated having a break with some of the more competitive games that didn’t require too much communication. There was a version of beer pong but it was sinking marshmallows into solo cups, a similar but sillier game that involved a bendy straw and paper muffin liners where the objective was to float the paper liner into a cup, and a mechanically different game with a similar goal: rolling coins toward overturned forks with the intent of getting the coins to catch upright between the tines of the forks. Richter wasn’t much good at the games, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t particularly interested in the goodie bags anyway. There was plenty to eat freely available without having to fret about a little extra candy.

But, much to his chagrin, Emil also made it a mission to volunteer Richter for other cooperative games.

“I think Richter would love to do the candy cane game with Presea!”

Richter knew to expect it this time. From the very moment another cooperative game was announced he knew Emil would sign him up to partner with another stranger. And for the first few attempts at the game, Richter was almost glad Emil had gone with one of the quieter guests. That is, until it became clear that this game, despite relative simplicity, required much more talking than building a gingerbread house.

The objective was straightforward: With each team member holding the opposite side, use the ribbon provided to hook candy canes strewn across the table and maneuver them into the mason jars. There were a limited number of candy canes and if they fell off the table they were out of play. Any team that filled their three mason jars could claim a prize, and the prizes were first come, first served. Sheena and Raine absolutely decimated everyone else while Zelos and Colette were kneecapping everyone including themselves with the highest candy cane casualties so far.

Richter was able to get the basic hooking part down pretty easily, slipping the flat bit of the ribbon taught against the table and easing it under each one was easy and wordless. It was getting them into the jars that was the problem. Presea didn’t telegraph her thought process at all, and whenever Richter thought they finally had a handle on it and she seemed to be leaving the minor adjustments to him, she would over correct for minor movements, dropping the candy canes back onto the table with a very dull “sorry” between attempts.

Alas. He had to use his words. “This won’t work without talking, huh?” He squatted down again, shimmying the ribbon under another candy cane.

Presea hummed in a way that seemed like she understood.

“I’m taller so I think we should try for the jar closer to me first, after that it’s going to be easier to slide the others toward you.

Presea nodded.

"Put your hand over your head. Please.”

Presea raised the ribbon. “Hold still.” Richter guided the candy cane down the ribbon until it was over his jar. “Let me level out. Good. Okay, now let’s get a little lower so the tip is in the jar. Okay, now bounce.”

K-ting! The candy cane dropped into the jar.

“Now for yours.” With the same finesse, the second candy cane dropped into the jar.

The middle jar took more back and forth. But with Richter giving direction, they finally managed one of the last 3 candy canes.

Emil was more excited for their victory than either Richter or Presea.

“You did well.” Presea mumbles, fishing through her goodie bag for a chocolate covered wafer cookie in the shape of a gingerbread man.

“Oh. You can actually talk.”

“Yes.”

Clearly she was a woman of fewer words than even Richter himself. “I… almost thought you couldn’t.”

“Talking is… difficult. Finding the right words can be hard. It’s easier… when someone else takes the first step. But if no one does, you can’t move forward.”

“I… suppose so.”

“Having friends that you can be quiet with… is almost as nice as having friends you can say anything to. Thanks for… being patient.”

Richter blinks. “I… you’re welcome.”

The next game involved a sort of jenga-like physics puzzle where the basic objective of the game was to slip pieces of cardstock out from under each cup in a stack, so that the cups, one by one, settled and stacked onto the cup below. Each team member had to pull at least one card from the stack for each attempt.

Emil decided, this time, to have Richter pair up with Zelos. Richter was done being upset by the blond match-making. Unlike the previous game, the cards and cups were allowed to be reset if toppled, but the entire tower had to be put back and your team had to start over. Colette and Sheena flew out of the gate with an excellent performance, and several jokes were tossed around about Colette’s fortuitous klutziness and Sheena’s inexplicable talent for falling into holes. It seemed like some sort of in-joke Richter didn’t have context for. Zelos ran his mouth a mile a minute, trying to teach Richter the “proper” technique for getting the card stock to pull away cleanly but Richter just couldn’t get a handle on it.

“You’re rushing too much, my guy. Fast but not that fast. Watch again. It’s not like that tablecloth trick you see magicians do, it’s a much more lateral motion.”

“I don’t think it’s your instructions that are the problem. I just… don’t have the experience to make my body move like that.” “Don’t overthink. I promise it’s not as hard as it looks.”

Richter growled. “Again. That’s not the problem.” He made another unsuccessful attempt at his pull.

Zelos set the cups up again. “Do you need me to hold your hands?”

Richter made a sour face. “Please do not.” He tried again and bungled it.

“C'mon, man. You can get one, I believe in you.”

“This is stupid.” Richter tossed the cardstock. “I’m never going to get it. Might as well forfeit. Half the teams are already done.”

“We don’t give up in this house.” Zelos set up the cups again. “Again. We’ve got all night. I don’t mind losing, but I don’t accept quitters.”

Richter huffed. “It would be easier if you could shut up a minute and let me breathe.”

Zelos held his hands up in a pearl clutching gesture. “You wound me. I want you to try, but it’s not that serious.”

Richter thumped his fist down on the table. “I didn’t ask to be bad at it, okay? I am trying, you know?!”

“… Dude. Chill.”

Richter rubbed his temples. “I’m sorry. I’m just… frustrated and tired and the alcohol is already starting to hit me pretty bad and I’m just… not going to perform well.”

“I didn’t ask you to. I just asked you to try.”

Richter let out a long and weary sigh. “It’s embarrassing.”

“You have to suck at stuff to get good at stuff. Nobody’s laughing at you. Just try. You can definitely do it.”

Richter stared the problem down for a long while, trying different ways and speeds of pulling. None of them worked. There was just too much friction at play and he didn’t have the experience to manage it. But Zelos had mentioned street magic, the way the tablecloth tricked worked and how that was a different sort of strategy but for the same effect. He was sure he had seen something similar at a bar, once. About earning a free drink by upending a mug of beer that was already upside down on the bar. And that got him thinking of that prank with the money pinned flat against the table under an empty bottle and having to remove it without touching or tipping the bottle. Could that work? He decided to give it a shot.

He pounded his fist, gently, quickly, against the table. Little taps that just barely rustled the cups. And with a quick swipe, the card was out, and the cup toppled gracefully onto the one below, slipping into place.

“Holy shit. You did it! Nice going!” A congratulatory high five and Zelos set to work getting the rest of the cups to fall into place.

They finished last, but Richter would be lying if he said there wasn’t a small sense of pride at completing his objective.

“I told you you could do it, man.” Zelos clapped a hand on Richter’s shoulder.

Richter tried to accept the affirmation gracefully. “Thanks. For believing in me. Even though it was a completely wasted effort.”

“No such thing. It’s just a party game but even if it wasn’t, there’s no shame in having to learn and fumble your way through things. Fucking up sometimes is part of the process.”

“I guess so. I just… don’t really like doing things I know I’m not good at. Especially with people counting on me.”

“Pretty sure you tried a half dozen new things today at least. Doing things you’re not sure you’re good at is the only first step there is toward doing things you are actually good at. Sometimes biting the bullet is all you can do.”

“Maybe so.”

The final cooperative game for the evening was sorting candies for your team’s color out of a bowl using a straw. Each team had two participants and an even number of candies to collect and an equal number of candies to sort through with two cups and two straws to use in the process.

This time, Emil let Richter choose his partner. And while he was sorely tempted to go the easy route and pick Emil or Rilena, he decided on Seles.

“I should warn you. I don’t have the best constitution, so I may need breaks.”

“I didn’t exactly crush the last game, so it’s fine by me.”

Accommodating Seles did make for slow progress. She was careful and deliberate but it was clear that even the relatively small amount of suction needed to keep the candy attached to the straw was taking a toll.

“Are you alright? If you’re getting winded that easily, maybe you should take a break.” Seles shook her head. “Stuff like this is good for my lungs. Doctors say so. I was a lot better before when I had my Exsphere, so with practice I’m sure I can improve.”

It made sense, but Richter didn’t want Seles struggling just for a game. “If you say so. But in that case, maybe we should split the labor. At some point we’re going to be rooting around here for our color, and we have two cups, so… why don’t I sort everything that isn’t our color into one of these cups and leave fishing our color out to you? That way you can take breaks when you need it and you don’t have to waste breath fishing up the wrong pieces.”

“I think that should work.”

They completed the task second out of all teams. Once Seles got the hang of targeting the broader face of the candies head on and dead center, things got a lot easier. “Thanks for helping. You’re actually really good at the game!”

“I’m not that special. It’s just physics.”

“Yes. But you still did the lion’s share of the work there. You picked up a lot of my slack. I couldn’t have finished that quickly on my own” “It was only natural. You needed the extra help. So I helped you.”

“And if I can learn to accept help when I need it, you can learn to take a compliment. Being a team is all about accommodating and enhancing each other’s strengths and compensating for each other’s weaknesses. Acknowledging your partner’s achievements is important for proper teamwork.”

It made sense. “As you say. Then… thank you. You did very well, too.”

“Thanks!”

The end of the evening brought more casual conversation. Richter found it a bit easier this time as he rejoined Emil. He was able to contribute more to conversations and even made an effort to thank Zelos for hosting and thank his teammates for their great efforts.

When the results were tallied for the gingerbread house judging, there was very little surprise with the results. Colette and Regal took the prize for best environmental storytelling as predicted, with a spin on the Wizard of Oz and the house that fell on the Witch of the East. As usual most of their walls didn’t hold up, despite Regal’s best efforts to thicken the icing properly, and Colette had had a happy little accident with her gingerbread men that just worked out seamlessly.

Richter was genuinely pleased when Emil and Raine took the prize for most creative execution. Raine had bartered with Colette and Regal for some of their broken bits and they cobbled together a very effective annex to their main gingerbread house, though the final product was licorice and red hot heavy and the icing set brick hard making the final product borderline inedible.

The only real surprise was placing himself. “Genis and Richter, for best overall design! Congrats you two!”

Emil insisted on a picture and Genis was happy to oblige. “For a first-timer, you really knew what you were doing.”

“I– thanks. You were a great help. You executed the stuff in my head better than I could have alone.”

“Don’t mention it! It’s easy to execute a lot of stuff with a solid foundation and you really helped out. You had great ideas and it was fun to bring those designs to life.”

“Couldn’t have done it without your structure. You saved us so much time.”

“Yeah, but now I’ve got competition for next year.”

“Only if I remember all your little tricks.”

“I’d say you got a pretty good handle on a lot of things today.” Genis gives a knowing smile. “I think it’ll all be even easier next year.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

*~*~*~*~*

Guests trickled out as the event came to its conclusion. Emil and Richter stayed back a while longer with Colette and Lloyd to help Zelos clean up.

“So… did you end up having fun?”

Richter snorted. “In a way. Definitely not a relaxing evening. But I suppose my idea of a relaxing evening would have been a boring way to spend a party. So even if it was absolute hell on my nerves, I am glad you talked me into coming.”

Emil beamed. “Good. I’m really glad you had a fun time.”

“It’s still a little embarrassing having to piggyback off of your already established friendships.”

“You have to start somewhere. Making things a little easier on you by having you socialize with friends I know and trust is way nicer than just turning you loose in a room full of strangers to fend for yourself though, right?” “If you ever do that to me, I will actually go through with killing you.”

“You would never.” Emil smirked.

“You’re still a piece of Ratatosk. I could be easily convinced.”

“I could be twice as evil as him but you’d still never.”

Emil could read him like a picture book sometimes. “You shush.”

“You know it’s true.”

Once the majority of the trash was bagged up and the decorations were removed and the last of the food was packed up in doggy bags, Emil and Richter made their way out with a few quick goodbyes.

In spite of everything, Richter thought that he could get used to this new, uncomfortable normal. Bit by bit, the sharp edges of social situations were being sanded down. “Hey, uh, Emil?”

“Y-yes, Richter?”

“Thank you… for dragging me along tonight. And… thanks for talking the others into going easy on me.”

Emil blushed. “You could tell, huh?”

“By the end it became kind of obvious. Pairing me up with people to progressively challenge me to come out of my shell and actually… confront my discomfort.”

“Did it work?”

Richter shrugged. “I think it’s too soon to tell for sure. But even if it doesn’t stick, it at least made tonight… fun.”

“I’m glad. Like I said, things only worked out so well for me because of everything you did for me! So if I can help pay that back, even a little, then it makes me very happy.” Emil started heading off, but Richter caught hold of his hand.

“Emil?”

“Huh? What is it Richter?” “You’re. Um… You don’t… have to pay me back. Even though we finished things as enemies and had to… start off all over again… even as a part of Ratatosk… Everything I did for you it’s… I’d do it again. A thousand times. I would do it all again.” Emil blushed more before a thought crossed his mind and his brow furrowed. “Because… because I remind you of him?” The idea took Richter aback. “I– no. It’s… more that you remind me of… me. Who I was a long time ago. Who I retreat back to being when I’m out of my element. I’m… I’m actually really proud of you. You make it look easy.”

Emil squirmed. “It’s nothing, really. You… make things feel easy.” Emil lingered for a moment.

Richter repeated that mantra, psyching himself up as his fingers curled around something in his pocket. “I, um… Emil?”

“Yes?”

The words stuck like peanut butter. But the gesture was clear. He fished out a sprig of mistletoe he snagged from the party decor and held it aloft.

Emil went holly red. “O-oh.” He twisted his hands through his scarf.

Richter was just as nervous but… “It’s… only if you want to. I understand if not. I know you still… think I only like you for the wrong reasons. But–” Emil closed the gap. “No. I’m sorry for thinking that. Even if things started that way, you’ve… you’ve always treated me as me. Even Marta took a while to do that. It only started feeling that way once I knew… who I looked like. And even if you were only ever nice to me, b-because of him… that would have been alright.”

“Emil–”

“I know it isn’t. It’s just… going to take a while for my heart to catch up with my head on that.” He looked up at Richter.

“Is it… still alright if I–?” He didn’t need any other words. Emil leaned in, up, pressing his lips to Richter’s. They were chapped just the slightest bit from the cold, dry winter air. But they softened, just as Richter melted into him, around him, embracing him. Maybe there were worse things than awkward parties…

“Awww!” A sickly sweet cooing erupted from the doorway. Colette crooned the loudest.

Richter yanked himself away, trying to compose himself. “Sorry, that was delightful but I am never going to a party again, okaybye,fuckin'leavin'now.” His words blended together as he scurried off as far as he could get from the absolutely embarrassing situation he’d just made for himself.

And all Emil could think was “Damn. I need some fuzzy handcuffs for Christmas.”

[wolfiethedestorur]

Clan gen challenge- iris clan!!

Warning: due to the amount of cats in iris clan, I EXTREMLLYY dumbed down my style. This art is not good!! Its to keep me from burning out!!

Quiet-star, the bloodthirsty and scrutinizing leader of iris-clan. Quiet-star is a mid-sized, short furred she-cat with speckles along her cream colored pelt. She is cruel, secretive, and all along not a very kind leader. She can come through at times for the cats she loves and steps up when need be, but at other times she is very distant and unavailable for her clan mates. She loves her son brindle-fur, and also her adoptive daughter bitterbird- but won’t admit it

Mint-shadow. The large, orange Tom cat who believes himself to be extremely morally superior to his clan mates. He has 3 daughters- shy-gaze, rush-night, and cricket-hare. Mint-shadow had raised all 3 young cats by himself due to his mate, aster-belly, dying due to white cough. Mint-shadow believes he has an extremely well moral compass and will use that to win any argument he may have.

Shy-gaze is the small, plump, soft spoken med-cat. One of mint-shadows daughters, early in life she was selected to be a medicine cat apprentice after forest-breeze, the early medicine cat, had witnessed starclan saving the young-she after a horrific snake attack when she was an apprentice. Shy-gaze is an extremely smart and well-thought of med cat, surpassing even forest-breeze in skill.

Bitterbird- the main character! She is quiet-stars adoptive daughter, her origins are kept a tight secret from the clan. She is reluctant, nervous, and unsure of her skills as a warrior. However under that is a secret bubbling.. maybe she won’t stay a timid young warrior for too long.

egret-coral: bitterbirds sweet, caring, and adventurous childhood friend. He’s been pestering her ever since they were kits- they did their vigil together and they have been close for many moons. Egret-corals mother is rushnight, however his father is unknown to the clan. Egret-coral enjoys making his fellow clan mates laugh and genuinely hates seeing anyone upset. However he is a bit desperate to prove himself as a capable warrior, and will therefor charge into stupid battles to do so.

Ice-fur, a pious, kind young she-cat. Panthersongs sister.

panther-song, a jealous, hateful she who wishes to be elected in a form of power to finally prove her family isn’t what the clan thought it to be. As a young kit, her and her siblings were bought in and kept under the careful eye of hoot-lilac, who seemed nothing short of ashamed of his rogue kits he was assigned. Panther-song will do anything to prove hoot-lilac wrong.

Sneezestep; brother to smoke-fin and blue-needle, he is the camps biggest know-it-all. Snooty, knowledgable, and insufferable.

smoke-fin, not much of a talker, prefers to keep himself on low.

blue-needle, a young Tom-cat who strives to be deputy one day like his sister, panther-song. However he is noble enough to put his family first.

Hoot-lilac, a snooty, cruel, and self-serving Tom. Due to an injury, he was assigned den-dad duty as a young warrior to panther-song and her siblings. Least to say he was not very fond of them.

ebony-fur. A young, curious Tom- mostly keeps to himself and doesn’t say much.

Shadow-claw, a young she cat who was involved in a badger attack as a small apprentice, she is highly regarded in her clan after protecting the kits during this attack!

Creekacorn- a smart, respected Tom in the clan. Earned his scar in a battle against owl-clan.

toad-claw, a young she cat. Recently earned her medicine cat name.

pigeon-feather, a respected warrior.

scar-whisker, a young Tom panther-song seems to be close to..

blink-shadow, an old Tom who has served his clan for a long time.

egret-leaf, a young Tom who seems to have his sights set on shy-gaze, but respects her role as a medicine cat.

Rushnight, a gorgeous speckle-pelted she-cat. However is not held in high regards for breaking the warrior code with a rouge..

cricket-hare, tiny, sarcastic, and insecure, she is not a delight to be around.

Brindle fur! Quiet-stars elder son and bitterbirds half brother. He is kind, charismatic, but ashamed of his past. He loves his little sister and tries his best to see past his mothers negativity, but finds it a bit wearing sometimes.

[annymation]

How did the King and Queen change Aster's wish in Swap au?

Been a while since I've answered an ask about the swap AU.

Then again been a while since I've answered asks in general lol

But this gives me an opportunity to imagine an interaction between Swap!Magnifico and Swap!Amaya, and I won't let that pass because I kinda love them.

So here's how that same scenario from Kingdom of Wishes, when Asha was peeking through the door and sees the villains change her wish, would play out in the swap! AU.

Aster questioned everything he had ever known as he listened to the queen and king, changing the wishes from their people, laughing at their misery like this is just a normal routine for them. They've been doing this for years... And now the boy can only watch in horror and wonder... What will they do with his wish?

"Now darling" The queen chimed in, snapping Aster out of his thoughts "What shall our little birthday boy's fate be?" She asked, holding a wish bubble.

Aster's wish bubble.

Amaya took a closer look at it and scoffed "Ugh I should've guessed" she rolls her eyes as she shows the wish to her husband "He wishes to "Make others happy". How pitiful, a wish so vague after all that effort to squeeze it out of him"

She seemed quite frustrated with Aster's wish, to which he didn't know if that was a good or bad thing, maybe she might leave his wish alone and unchanged?

But her husband had other plans.

Aster felt his blood run cold as the king, whose usually so calm and reserved, now has a twisted smile painted on his face, as he clutched the bubble to ponder what to do with it

"Hmmmm the brat's wish certainly is quite vague, alright..." He agreed... But unlike her, he sees this as a golden opportunity "Which gives us a lot of creative liberty to mold it to our liking"

Amaya grins upon seeing his enthusiasm "I see you've got an idea, well then, don't keep me in the dark"

(See- see what I did there? In the original story Mag says "Enlighten me" but here in the swap AU Amaya says "Don't keep me in the dark"... I think that was neat)

"We want to keep that little birdie under our control, do we not?" the king refers to Aster as a bird, since he's an aspiring singer "What better way to do so than to... Cage him up?"

Aster doesn't like the sound of that at all. The boy feels his heart beating faster in fear.

"Ah if only we could lock him in the dungeon, but unfortunately, that'd raise suspicion" The queen lamented dramatically "I'm afraid we can't arrest a child that has committed no crimes"

"Oh but he has committed a crime my queen, the worse one of all" Magnifico said as he gently held his wife's hands, bowing his head devotedly "He raised his voice to you, and for that, I say we take that petulant voice away from him, along with everything he holds dear. I say we make him follow our every whim. I say... We make him a prince."

Aster's eyes widened... What?

"What?" The queen was suddenly unenthused, but she kept her composure "I'm not quite sure I follow, sweetie" She said calmly while caressing her husband's beard

"It's quite simple really. A prince would indeed bring happiness to our people, therefore, you can change his wish to that easily" He explained as he tapped his fingers on the orb with a menacing gleam in his eyes "Poor little Aster will have no clue, but his personality will be fully re-written to fit his new role, as our loyal heir"

Aster could not believe what he heard. He felt his legs shaking as he held on tightly to Valentino in his arms

(Yeah forgot to mention, Aster does have Valentino in this AU)

"And there's where my problem lies, dear..." Amaya felt a shiver run down her spine just by the thought "He'd be the heir to MY throne"

"Ooooh yeah, he would huh?" The king spoke more sarcastically, as he already had a plan to remedy that "It would be such a shame then if the boy, oh I don't know, chocked on some deeefnitely not poisoned piece of food, or maybe fell deathly ill, or perhaps simply fell, period." Magnifico was unhinged as he imagined all the ways he could get hid of Aster. But his face melts into a gentle and warm smile as he turns to his wife, who now seems more on board with his plan "You have nothing to worry yourself with, my goddess. I'll make sure he's out of sight and out of mind in the west wing tower, for as long as he lives... Which won't be that long at all heheeh"

The king chuckled darkly at that. While Aster feels a scream in the back of his throat.

The queen wasn't fully convinced yet, although she did like where this was going "Don't you think the people would find odd if the boy died right after being put under our care?"

"They never found odd when your sister passed all those years ago, I'm sure it'll be no different now" he shrugged dismissively, the wickedness of his smile only growing more and more as he handed the bubble to his wife "If anything, the "tragedy" will give us even more sympathy points"

The queen held the wish, with her mind made up "Your cunning little mind never fails to impress, mi rey" she praised him gently, as he gazed upon her with eyes full of love and devotion.

And with her magic, the queen proceeded to twist Aster's simple wish of fitting in Rosas, to the desire of being their loyal prince, much to Aster's horror as they could only watch from behind that large door, holding in tears.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Bruh this is how I know my writing improved cause' like, I just conveyed the same thing from the original scene, but with the dialogue shorter.

[bellafragolina]

Ice Skating Date

A late Christmas gift for the lovely @astererer !! Hope you enjoy!!

🍓🍓🍓

Skating isn’t really anything new to Aster. She tends to rollerskate around when she’s going somewhere nearby, or whenever she wants to have some fun, and surprisingly ice skating really isn’t that different. She adjusts her balance, gliding over the frozen pond as others sail by. Couples, families, kids, friends, all of them working their way around the ice, hand in hand.

The only person not skating about is Aster’s date. For a man with such presence back in his subway, Ingo seems particularly small out on the rink. Perhaps it’s because he’s curled up, knees touching as he struggles to maintain balance and an upright position on his skates.

Aster carefully stops before him. “Can. . . you not skate?”

Ingo, already rosy from the cold, turns a dangerous red, nearing the same color as his Excadrill beanie. “W-well! I, er, don’t partake in the hobby, but I’ve. . . skated before.” Aster squints, not sure if she believes him. “I don’t do it often, but I heard how wonderful this place was for couples wanting to go on a winter themed date, and I wanted to treat you to a nice day out, and I didn’t realize I’d be so rusty, so. . .”

“So that’s a no.” Aster replies. She chuckles at Ingo’s embarrassed whine, but skates forward, offering her hands to him. Ingo glances at the railing he’s curled around, detaching himself slowly, one hand at a time. “Come on. I’ll show ya.”

Ingo’s grip is tight, cold fingers wrapped around her wrists in a death clench. His feet don’t really move as Aster skates backwards, pulling him along. He stares at her feet, watching them move, brows furrowed as his brain works out the physics of ice skating. Aster snickers to herself, practically able to see the calculations and diagrams floating in and out of his pink ears.

Slowly, Ingo puts more weight onto his skates, carefully leaning into the wobbling steps he makes. Aster moves a little faster to accommodate him, and also to avoid the reach of his longer legs. However, despite Ingo’s planning and careful attempts, he misjudges where most of his weight should lie, and his foot gives out underneath him.

With a scream, he tackles Aster, knocking her onto her back as his face smacks into her chest. The pair slide across the ice, sprayed in the frost of other skaters jerking to avoid them. However, their jerky movements only end up in them also falling over, and then others, until practically the entire rink has collapsed to their butts.

Aster blinks up at the street lights illuminating the rink.

Ingo, horribly embarrassed, pushes himself up. He gazes down at Aster, eyes wide and wet, voice wavering as he tries to apologize. But before he can manage the first word, however, Aster cuts him off with a hearty guffaw. Despite his numbed ears delighting at the sweet  sound, Ingo only blushes harder.

“If you wanted closer, you just had to ask.” She teases. Ingo tries to protest, but Aster just slings her arms around his neck, and he chokes as he realizes their position. “I don’t mind a little cuddling. Though I’d prefer to do it off the ice.”

“Aster. . .” Ingo whines, though he doesn’t resist her tugging.

The cold melts away with the simple press of their lips together. Ice and snow have never existed in the little world the two create for themselves with every kiss they share. They curl together, arms pulling one another ever closer, as the heat of their faces meld into steam caught between their shared smiles.

“Scuse me.” Someone says, popping the warm bubble. Ingo jerks back, dragging Aster up with him, and boggles the man standing over them. “Y’all two wanna. . . get up anytime soon?”

With swiveling heads, the pair see most everyone who had also fallen has stood up again, all waiting for them to rise so they can continue their skating.

Ingo loudly apologizes to everyone, mortified, and Aster can only laugh. Despite what Ingo may lament about later, she thinks this is a wonderful date, one she’ll definitely remember forever.

[gemwing1988]

Kaichi TV Tropes

Accessory Wearing Cartoon Animal: He is always seen wearing a dark blue bandana scarf with a silver rim around his neck.

Adorable Fluffy Tail:

Affectionate Nickname:

Katie often calls him either “bud”, “buddy” or “pal”.

Lexie likes to call him Kai.

Berserk Button: He certainly has some for his size.

Don’t try steal his cookies.

Don’t bully, insult or threaten his friends.

He’s also not above trying to pick a fight with the Devil himself whenever he’s flirting with Katie and/or tries to kidnap her.

He hates being called a powderpuff.

Blue Boy, Pink Girl: The Blue Boy to Aster’s Pink Girl.

Blue is Heroic: He has plenty of blue in his colouring design and he’s one of the heroes. Crossdressing Voice: He is headcannoned to be voiced by Ash Ketchum’s original VA, Veronica Taylor.

Cunning Like a Fox: He has the tail of a fox and he often display some fox-like cunning when necessary.

Deadpanned Snarker: He’s a nice little guy with a heart of gold and a loyal companion, but even he has his snarkier side when certain events are necessary. Mainly when some villains like the Devil and his lankiest are involved.

Does Not Spam:

In his own words: “Who actually puts prunes and raisins in cookies?!?!”

Mushrooms don’t sit well with him. In fact, he can totally agree with Katie that smell even worst when they’re being cooked.

He also doesn’t like anything too sour or bitter.

Spicy foods don’t agree with him.

Dude in Distress:

In The Devil’s Pitchfork, he, along with Mugman, Lexie and Natty get kidnapped by the Devil.

Subverted in The Devil’s Revenge in which Kaichi spends half of the episode being locked away in a birdcage in the Underworld, partaking in joining Lexie and Natty snarking off at the Devil, going as far as to mock him about his “pitch-spoon”.

Expressive Ears:

Expy: When Gemwing2010 first made him up, she had picked up many inspirations for his design and a few of his traits.

He is heavily inspired by the old ornament collection, Pocket Dragons, mainly by his pocket size and love for cookies.

He is also inspired by Sparx the Dragonfly to be Katie’s sidekick

Fairy Companion: Make that a Fairy Dragon companion. He is often seen at Katie’s side to the point of being portrayed as the Sparx the Dragonfly to her Spyro the Dragon.

Fairy Dragon: In some sense. He’s a tiny fairy-sized dragon like species called a Sprigon (the name of his species is a combination of sprite and dragon).

Floating in a Bubble: One of his abilities is to encase himself inside an air bubble when he needs to travel and speak underwater.

Making a Splash: He’s an Ocean Sprigon and he has some water-based magic.

Mascots Love Sugar:

Meaningful Name: His name means “Sea” or “Ocean” in Japanese, which is fitting for an Ocean Sprigon.

Nice Guy: While he does have his snarky moments and has a somewhat mischievous streak on some occasions, he is genuinely a sweet kid who’s always got his friends’ backs.

Non-Human Sidekick: He is a small Fairy Dragon and he is loyal companion.

Our Dragons Are Different: He’s a small Fairy Dragon with fur instead of scales, has a busy fox-like tail, long rabbit-like ears, antlers instead of horns and his wings are more flowery than feathery or the traditional bat-like stature.

Picky Eater:

He hates prunes or raisins in cookies.

He can agree that pineapple on pizza is weird.

Much like Katie, he’s not a fan of spicy foods.

He’s not a fan of anything sour or bitter either.

Ridiculously Cute Critter: He really is.

Ship Tease: With Aster.

Shoulder Parrot: When he’s not hiding away in either Katie’s pockets, Kaichi is often perched on either of her shoulders. Shoulder Parrot: When he’s not hiding away in either Katie’s pockets, Kaichi is often perched on either of her shoulders.

The Smurfette Principle: Gender-inverted. Since Aster Cyra came, Kaichi is currently the only male Sprigon in the company of the Dreamstones.

Sweet Tooth: Sprigons have a fondness for sweet foods. Their diet is mainly on fruits and berries but they still have a soft spot for cookies given Kaichi often snacking on them and trying to sneak one on separate occasions is of any indication.

Trademark Favourite Food: He really loves cookies, mainly chocolate chip and Oreos.

Undying Loyalty:

You Just Had to Say It: Kaichi had said those exact words to Cuphead when the Devil appeared to either steal Lexie and the cup’s souls and Natty’s wand or attempt to kidnap Katie the moment Cuphead utters out his Catchphrase, “Eh, I ain’t to worried about it”.

[talesfromtheasterism]

WITNESS (VIII/VIII)

Read from the beginning here.

Ripples. Raindrops. Calm water and thick mist, sunlight peeking through. Luna’s eyes opened on her own lap, cradling an iridescent oar in a crystalline canoe. Shining blue and yellow, brittle and impossibly lightweight. Her arms ached along with her back, now. The oar was wet. She had been here longer than she had seen.

Drizzle dropped quietly through the mist into the surface of the sea. Both waters were warm. Her mind was fogged as the world was, but it receded as she woke from the dreaming passage. Had the last few hours been real at all? She retraced her steps from the brand, a certain reality – no mere nightmare could create such trauma. Return to the Commune. Altercation with her parents, clearing the house of her few worthy belongings, a single bag holding most. Marching Moon-aft into the opposite outlands, sweeping the cloak from her back without stopping, hearing the guards’ feet recoil and their hands drag the doors open in panic. Thinking on her options for exile as she neared the rift. An unwaking passage. Glimpses of the woman in sapphire, shepherding all those crossing between the Asterism’s realms. This was real. A force beyond her assured it.

Rowing forward, she couldn’t see far ahead through the fog, but it seemed to be dissipating slowly. Even as her senses returned, she struggled to remember her thought process. Where had she decided on? The weather here was mild and comfortable, even for a Whisperer used to the cold. Were her outerwear not in shreds, she might even be sweating, but she refused to remove the adventuring gear until she had a bed to lay in. Not that this place posed a trial. It took so little strength to row. No stories she recalled of the other three realms began in an ocean. Was this even a sea? There were calling gulls and the smell of brine, but the water was so still and peaceful. The smooth, meagre waves caressed the boat as a parent would a rocking chair. In even such a brief period, the solace of this place put any stuffy room of the Commune to shame.

Solace!

That was it! This was the Sea of Solace! So her will had drawn her to the Flooding Sands, of all places. An unusual choice for a Whisperer (or so she imagined). She had gleaned so little knowledge on this world. She knew that beyond this sea, the realm was a vast desert, with an oasis of water and resources that humanity made their home on. She had heard of a great, sparkling lake with no tributaries, whose warm waters bubbled up from unseen depths below. Her mind wandered immediately to what might lie beneath the mud and waters of the Empress’s nation. Perhaps this destination was chosen because of her ignorance, rather than in spite of it.

The fog cleared enough to see the sky, and a mile or so forward. Sunshine was warmer than she had imagined. Just below the high sun (Blinding!), a great cliff of light stone and verdance loomed, carpeted with lush greenery on every available ledge. Tropical trees and exotic bushes. Such a deep, vital green. At its base, over salt marsh and pristine beach, a rustic village of intertwined wooden docks and walkways stretched near and onto the water. Even from such a distance, she could feel its sleepy atmosphere. A worry furrowed her brow. Had she exchanged one dull prison for another?

A bright-haired woman waved cheerily to her on the nearest dock. Floodlander business casual: a pair of high olive waders over a green tweed suit, onto which the straps had seeped muddy water. She manoeuvred the crystal boat near enough, before another set of hands tied it down on her behalf. She took her heavy holdall and her camera bag, concealed the sword under her cloak as she alighted, and stepped up the pier. Her legs’ strength had returned.

“Welcome to the Floodlands!” the greeter patriotically announced, producing a pencil and clipboard. Even the wood it was cut from was glossy and smooth, with a droplet symbol embossed on its back. On closer inspection, the woman’s curious attire featured an equally odd plate-metal shoulder guard on her right flank, its side bearing the same icon – a red droplet. Another clue for the lantern’s blood, perhaps. She smiled under her mask. A small adventure already.

“This is our annex upon the Sea. The Sands lie just through the canyon pass beyond. May I take your name and nationality, please?” Luna’s wonder was caught off guard. It had been weeks since she was actually spoken to with an expectation to respond. Her ultimatum to her father was a rarity in having exchanged with him at all. She couldn’t remember the last time she had willingly conversed.

The woman beamed at her, patiently waiting. She cleared her throat.

“Luna Azur. Whisperer.” She paused before the latter word. Was it true anymore?

“And what brings you to the Empress’s fair lands?”

A place to stay. A job to work. Vital medical attention. She was here for everything the Void had starved her of. She was here for a world willing to be explored. She was here to dive under turbulent waters and seek out wonders unimaginable. She was here to sit outside in Port Poiseuille during true daytime, drink a cup of tea under a blue sky, watch a real sunset over the shimmering lake and feel like a human being who belonged where they sat. No worthless walls and lying lamps. No scorching curse of a Moon that hated mankind. She was here for a life worth living.

She ran her hand over the messenger bag.

“I’m here to have some photos developed.”

Part 8 of 8. Previous.

[inoreuct]

PART 2 CONTINUATION

for the whole month, sanji had busied himself with whatever he could; he got bored of wandering aimlessly after a while. it was fun, but he could feel his brain rotting away. so in the first week he’d poked his head into the throne room, and the high table that he’d only seen empty was filled with zoro’s advisors.

somehow he had managed to barge in on a council meeting. great.

but his attention had been snatched by the throne next to zoro’s, clearly meant for a spouse. it wasn’t smaller or any less grand, like many of the kings on the surface would have made it; this one was made of ivory and white marble, the veins liquid gold, obsidian accents scattered throughout on the detailing and an obscene amount of diamonds decorating the towering crestrail. a lighter version of zoro’s throne of darkness.

he’d scoffed a little inside, half-miffed by the assumption that he’d be staying to use it or even want it, but he couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t flattered.

and then zoro had noticed him, and sanji realised he’d been caught, but before he could duck out in a panic—

“would you join us, sanji?” zoro had breathed, almost looking nervous. “i… would appreciate your counsel. your opinion.”

and that. that was what had really convinced sanji to go in and take a seat beside zoro.

the marble had been softer than he’d expected, almost warm. he knew it was probably magic, but it was… comfortable. like it had been made for him.

they’d been having a meeting about the famine going on above, and sanji had winced. when he’d been taken zeff had been furious, and although he’d raced back home to reassure his father as soon as he could, the world was still suffering from the aftereffects. there were more souls coming in than expected, more people dying of starvation, and zoro had been at a loss. the underworld wasn’t infinite. they could only host a certain amount of souls at one time.

but sanji had come up with a solution for it, blessing souls with his fertility magic and sending them back up to heal the fields and plantations. it had worked. and from that day, he rarely missed a council meeting.

he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it. being listened to, being a delegate for the people and doing what he was good at; zeff had meant well and sanji loved him immensely but he’d felt suffocated without realising it, even with all that fresh air. ironic, how he felt so free when he was so deep in the earth.

on the last day, zoro says that he wants to show sanji something and brings sanji to the cave.

and sanji can’t believe it.

there are orange trees crafted from tiger’s eye and amber, glowing ruby carnatians and lilies hewn in marble. rose quartz camellias and clemantis climbing the walls with amethyst petals and emerald vines. gardenias made of flawless moonstone and red asters of fire opal.

and that’s not all; there’s a strange glow coming from further into the cave. sanji walks towards it, almost feeling like he can’t breathe, because it looks like—

sunlight. the ceiling suddenly curves up high and there are miniature suns bobbing beneath it, countless tiny glowing balls of blessed, golden sunlight and he gasps because on the ground there is a replica of his garden.

not exactly the same, of course, but it’s more than close enough. there’s even a tiny stream, bubbling along merrily with pebbles sparkling at the bottom.

“happy birthday.”

he turns around and zoro’s there, throat bobbing as he swallows, a tiny smile lifting the corner of his mouth.

“how did you know?” sanji breathes, all awe and wonder and something warm bursting into bloom behind his heart. “how—”

”i have my ways,” zoro says mysteriously, stepping closer. “do you like it?”

“do i like it?” he echoes, spinning in a circle to take it all in again, a laugh spilling from his throat. “this is your final bid to get me to stay, isn’t it.”

“not— exactly, no.” zoro pauses and shakes his head. “i would never presume to… keep you, here. this is not your element; it is too dark. too lifeless.” he chuckles, a little sadly. “you need the sun to thrive. it makes you happy, and i would never dare to deprive you of that. but if you were to— to stand by me, perhaps, i—”

the king seems to run out of words, and sanji takes pity on him. “you wish for me to be your queen.”

“my equal,” zoro asserts, “in every way. by my side when you wish. you are smart and kind and beautiful and— you make me happy, sanji.” he exhales, stepping even closer. “in all the years i’ve lived i have never, ever felt happiness like this. i would be honoured to live out the rest of my time here with you. and if you were to accept i’d build you a thousand gardens. if it made you happy, i would.”

sanji takes a shaky inhale, kneeling by the rows of herbs. thyme, rosemary, peppermint— even the oregano he grows only for zeff, gods knew he doesn’t use it. some of the sprouts are a little wonky, and he smiles as he gently brushes over their leaves. “did you plant these?”

“every one,” zoro replies, voice both hollow and filled to overflowing with something that sanji desperately wants to cup in his hands, drink down like ambrosia, but he holds himself in check. watches as the king drops to his knees beside him in the dirt, slowly pulling out a ring—

and it’s simple, but it means so much. the gold is fashioned into braided sheaves of wheat. sanji looks up sharply to find that one of zoro’s earrings is missing.

“marry me,” zoro whispers, breathless.

sanji kisses him.

the wedding is glorious. not that either of them want it to be so, but it is expected for such a major god. there are whispers, of course, about the little nobody that’s marrying the king of the dead—

and sanji can’t give less of a shit. he surveys the crowd cooly, lounging with his crown of gold and ivory set atop his head, his hand outstretched and clasped in zoro’s. his throne is fucking huge and his husband treasures him more than all of the jewels in the earth, so as far as he’s concerned the haters can go suffocate in a grain silo.

(he doesn’t need them to know his own strength, anyway. he embodies spring; without him, there would be no season for the crops to flourish, no safe time for the newborn animals to explore the world on their shaky legs. he is important—

and zoro makes sure he knows it. every single night. sanji goes to bed blissed out, pleasantly achy and mentally smirking at every single person who had ever tried to marry zoro for power or riches, because the way zoro holds him close and presses slow, reverent kisses to his hair as they drift off speaks of nothing short of love.)

they have their own marriage ceremony. a small, secret one, with only the people they want there; zeff, of course, and nami, zoro’s chief advisor who sanji has come to call a close friend. luffy, who was thrilled to meet him; usopp, the satyr who grew up with sanji in the valley, his brother in everything but blood. there is cake, and champagne, and afterwards zoro dips him into a kiss in his garden, his garden that zoro gifted him, and he laughs, bright enough to rival the sun. his heart is full.

he is happy.

this is SO. LONG. OH MY GOD. i had so much fun writing this and i’m smiling like an idiot right now asksjbdjaj THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR THE ASK 🤭🫡🫡 also pspsps all the crystal flowers have specific meanings,,, but i’m too lazy to list them so search em up if you’re curious hehe

Headcanons for Zoro and Sanji as Hades and Persephone? 👀

HERE WE GOOOOO. buckle up. this is LONG.

sanji’s persephone. the breathtakingly beautiful god of spring, kind and charming with wit sharper than a grain scythe and a marvellous capacity for divine rage. he’s a whiz in the kitchen (it’s sanji. duh.) and has a green thumb to boot; up on the surface he has a garden that’s his pride and joy, where he grows his own fruits and herbs and vegetables and rare blooms, occupying a plot of land together with the cottage that he and zeff (more on him later) stay at whenever they can.

zoro’s hades. intimidating as all hell (heh), has a MAJOR resting bitch face, and a three-headed dog with the heads named wado, sandai and enma. he’s a good man, just VERY emotionally constipated and he’s never had to woo anyone before; it should be illegal for someone that powerful to be so awkward but he IS.

he goes up to the surface one day to take care of underworld business, something about dead souls escaping— and he sees sanji in his garden, on his knees in the dirt, gathering herbs with his hair a mess, golden as the sun and all over his face and when he flips it aside to talk to zeff his smile is even brighter. zoro feels his heart lurch so hard he considers if he’d gotten cardiac arrest.

and as previously mentioned, zoro has NO IDEA how to talk to this beautiful— god? nymph? human?? he doesn’t know. he doesn’t care. he wants to get to know his mystery guy but he doesn’t want to freak him out, so he just thinks FUCK IT I’LL BRING HIM TO MY HOME AND FIGURE IT OUT FROM THERE

zeff’s demeter. protective, sometimes TOO protective, the god of agriculture practically raised sanji himself; barely anyone even knows that he HAS a son. he has fields upon fields of grain; rice, oats, wheat, whatever sanji requires to bake to his heart’s content. the entire valley where their cottage resides is known to be his territory, and he doesn’t hesitate to rain holy vengeance down on whoever trespasses.

which is why zeff is so pissed when zoro pops out of the literal dirt and whisks sanji away. it’s not fun for any of the human farmers on earth that day.

when zoro brings him down to the underworld, sanji pissed as fuck; kicks and yells the whole way down, then knees him in the balls and nearly rips off one of his earrings before strutting off like he already owns the place. what about his garden?? zeff?? all the humans he has a soft spot for?? who the fuck does this king of the underworld think he is, plucking sanji out of his life like this?

meanwhile, zoro lies there curled up on the ground as wado licks at his face, and for the first time in his life he wonders if making a plan would have been a better idea. he asks his shades to gather information and learns that sanji’s the god of spring, zeff’s son in all the ways that matter; but even if he hadn’t been a god, zoro would have easily made him immortal if he’d wished. the thought is wild and so out of character for him that he sits there for even longer until the shades tell him that sanji’s demanding to talk to him.

sanji finds the throne room but on the way he’d already passed multiple chambers filled with gold, crystals, extremely rare night-blooming plants— he walked by a cave with its walls encrusted with rubies as big as his head. but he misses the sun. he misses his flowers and his herbs and fuck, he had a bundle of rosemary drying in the kitchen. he really hopes he’ll get to see it again.

the shades are all polite, if a little wary, but they seem to relax when he smiles at them. the throne room is massive, a cavern with stalactites dripping from the ceiling, ending in wicked points, and the throne itself is a twisted amalgamation of iron and obsidian, gold and bleached bone and pure, sparkling diamond.

he doesn’t even flinch when zoro enters with his sweeping black cloak and his liquid, inky shadows, just pulls his lip up in a sneer; he doesn’t give a shit who this big shot is. doesn’t care for the crown of ivory and volcanic glass set atop his brow. he knows where he is, knows exactly who he’s dealing with, and he stomps right up to zoro, shoves a finger in his chest and says, “what the fuck do you think you’re doing.”

the shades obviously didn’t see the whole getting-kneed-in-the-family-jewels spectacle, because there is an audible gasp. the court goes deadly quiet. zoro feels his shadows subconsciously swirl around him, building the silhouette behind his back into something out of a nightmare, but he makes an effort to disperse them as soon as sanji looks.

“i want. to court you,” he ekes out, eyes big and mouth pinched, and sanji suddenly realises that this man is just very, very awkward and obviously has not interacted with many living people for a very long time.

and no matter about anything else, zoro looks earnest. he takes a deep breath and his shoulders shift beneath his cloak, lifting his chin— but his expression screams pleasesayyespleasesayyespleasesayyes and sanji doesn’t have the heart to say no. what will a few days hurt, right?

so they come to an agreement. sanji will spend a month in the underworld and allow zoro to court him, and if by the end of that time he doesn’t want to stay, zoro would personally see to it that he got home safe. he isn’t a prisoner, either; he is free to wander in the upper world for half the day. twelve hours of sunshine, and twelve hours in zoro’s domain.

if sanji’s honest with himself, the underworld honestly isn’t bad; zoro spares no expense to ensure he's comfortable, even though he doesn't come see sanji himself very often in the beginning.

(sanji doesn't know it yet, but zoro's deathly terrified of sanji genuinely hating/fearing him or the underworld, or not being happy. he'd brought sanji down because he'd fallen hard and fast in love but if sanji ever truly did want to leave, it wouldn’t be a question. zoro would send him back up with his weight in jewels and gold.)

it's a little lonely, but not horrible; sanji befriends the shades and talks to the passing spirits, and word spreads that the king's crush (oh, zoro would have a conniption if he heard) is to be treated with the utmost respect, not just because of the order zoro proclaimed but because he deserves it. sanji is kind and understanding and fun to be around, but he also gives solid advice and he's much more emotionally aware than zoro. the shades haven’t gossiped this much in years and honestly zoro’s concerned about their work ethic, but he walks past a tea-spilling session one day and hears sanji giggle and all thoughts of stopping it fly right out of his brain.

zoro snoops around secretly and finds out that sanji’s birthday is within the month. the last day of their month, in fact. so he calls in a favour from luffy (apollo!! the sun god!! his best friend!!). he spends a week, almost two in a cave he’d picked out, carefully pulling gemstones and groundwater to the surface, getting his shades to bring down soil and seeds and consulting with dead farmers about how the hell he’s supposed to pull off what he wants to pull off, because he HAS to pull it off.

all the while, he’s still courting sanji; having tea with the god of spring, trying not to embarrass himself and mainly just trying to win sanji over. he gets so enthralled by sanji recounting a story once that he drops an entire crystal teapot, heart hammering as one of his shades phase through the ground and catches it before it can shatter. sanji looks a little perplexed about how it suddenly disappeared, but zoro urges him to go on and he lets it go.

(zoro had never been that panicked in his entire immortal life.)

i can’t believe it WE NEED A PART 2 I’M OUT OF CHARACTERS