#went more in depth than I planned to and probably will have a tiny bit at the start of the next chapter to bridge things

[shikai-the-storyteller]

Ok yeah this chapter's getting cut in half, this thing's 7,700 and counting and that's not even including part two, YEESH

[hoodsturnedheros]

Mar-Bit Babysitting Kat

It was late afternoon at the Curtis house, and Cherry Valance was brushing her fingers through her newborn baby girls red curls that matched hers perfectly. She was reminding herself that she’s making the right choice. It had only been a month and Sodapop and Cherry were both happy for their new bundle of joy but completely and utterly exhausted. Kat had colic, BAD. So a night out was something Cherry only dreamed of— in between Kat’s short sleep windows. But she’d been planning this night out for weeks—her first evening alone with Sodapop since the baby was born—and she was both excited and nervous.

“You sure you’re okay with this, Marcia?” Cherry asked for the third time, her eyes full of concern as she handed over a packed diaper bag. “Babies can be a lot of work.”

Marcia, leaning casually against the kitchen counter, gave Cherry a wide grin and waved her off. “Come on, Cherry, we’ve got this! It’s just one night. Besides, Two-Bit’s been dying to prove he can handle this kind of thing. Right, Two?”

From the living room, Two-Bit Matthews, lounging on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table, nodded confidently. “Piece of cake, babe! I’ll have this little peanut laughing her head off before you two even make it to the drive in.”

Cherry bit her lip, still unsure, but Soda came up behind her, placing a reassuring hand on her waist. “They’ll be fine, Cher. We’ve got this night planned, and we deserve it. Kat will be in good hands. Plus, it’s only for a couple of hours.”

Cherry finally exhaled, giving her boyfriend a small smile before leaning down to kiss the baby’s forehead. “Alright, sweetheart, you be good for Uncle Two-Bit and Aunt Marcia, okay?”

Soda, giving Two-Bit a playful punch on the arm, added, “Just don’t let her learn any of your bad habits, man.”

Two-Bit grinned. “No promises.”

With one last look back at Kat, Cherry and Soda finally left the house, and Marcia stood in the kitchen watching them drive off.

“Well,” Marcia said, turning to Two-Bit with a mischievous smile, “looks like it’s just us and the baby now.”

Two-Bit stretched lazily on the couch before standing up and walking over to the crib where Kat lay, still quiet and content. “She’s not even making a peep. I told you, this is gonna be easy.”

Marcia raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Famous last words, Matthews.”

Kat stirred slightly, making a small cooing sound. Two-Bit reached into the crib and gently scooped her up, holding her awkwardly but carefully. “See? She likes me. I’ve got the magic touch.”

Marcia crossed her arms, laughing softly. “Don’t get too cocky. Babies can turn on you in a second.”

Two-Bit smirked. “Nah, not this one. Little Kit-Kat is too sweet for that.”

As if on cue, Kat’s little face scrunched up, and she let out a loud wail, her tiny fists flailing in the air.

Two-Bit’s eyes widened in panic, and he looked at Marcia like he’d just been handed a ticking time bomb. Moving the baby out to an arms distance. He stammered—“Uh... okay, what do we do?”

Marcia stifled a laugh and stepped forward, taking Kat from Two-Bit’s arms. “Let’s see if she needs to be changed first. Diapers are usually the culprit.”

Two-Bit looked visibly relieved as Marcia took control of the situation. She laid Kat down on the changing mat and expertly went through the motions of changing the diaper while Two-Bit stood off to the side, looking slightly out of his depth.

“How do you know how to do all this?” he asked, genuinely curious.

Marcia shrugged. “I’ve babysat before, remember? Besides, it’s not that hard once you get the hang of it.”

Two-Bit crossed his arms, watching with a mixture of awe and confusion as Marcia quickly changed Kat into a fresh diaper. “Yeah, well, good thing you’re here. I’d probably be trying to change her with duct tape or something.”

Marcia laughed, picking Kat up again and cradling her in her arms. “Let’s just say it takes a little more finesse than that.”

Kat had quieted down now, her wide eyes blinking up at Marcia as she yawned. Two-Bit peered over her shoulder, making funny faces at the baby.

“You think she remembers me from all those times I made her laugh?” he asked, his voice playful.

Marcia rolled her eyes. “You’ve known her for like a month, Two.”

“Hey, that’s a lot of time in baby years!” He leaned in closer, sticking his tongue out at the little girl. She stared at him with a look of confusion before finally giving a tiny smile, and Two-Bit grinned like he’d just won a medal. “See? Told you she likes me.”

Marcia shook her head but smiled. “Okay, Mr. Baby Whisperer, let’s see how long that lasts.”

They spent the next hour trading off responsibilities. Marcia took care of most of the practical things—feeding Kat her bottle, making sure she was comfortable in her crib—while Two-Bit kept her entertained with goofy faces, noises, and random jokes. It wasn’t long before the baby started to grow tired, her eyes fluttering as she fought off sleep.

“Looks like she’s getting sleepy,” Marcia said softly, sitting on the couch with Kat resting in her arms.

Two-Bit sat down next to her, looking at the baby with a strange mix of amusement and awe. “Man, it’s weird seeing Soda with a kid. Like, we were just dumb teenagers not that long ago, and now he’s got this whole... family thing.”

Marcia nodded, her voice softer now. “Yeah, it’s kind of crazy. But I think it suits him. He’s good with her.”

Two-Bit smiled, thinking about how much Soda had changed since becoming a dad. “Yeah, he’s a good guy. Always has been. I guess that’s why he makes it look easy.”

Kat stirred slightly in Marcia’s arms, but she didn’t cry. Instead, she just nestled closer, her tiny hands gripping onto Marcia’s blouse.

“You’re not so bad at this yourself,” Marcia said, glancing over at Two-Bit. “For someone who’s never babysat before, I mean.”

Two-Bit gave her a cheeky grin. “Hey, what can I say? I’m a quick learner. Besides, Kit-Kat’s not so tough. I could handle another hour, no problem.”

As the evening wore on, the house grew quiet. Kat finally drifted off to sleep in her crib, and Marcia and Two-Bit sat together on the couch, talking in low voices so as not to disturb her.

When Cherry and Sodapop finally returned, looking refreshed and happy from their night out, they were met with the sight of a peacefully sleeping baby girl and two very proud babysitters.

“How’d it go?” Cherry asked, her eyes full of gratitude.

Marcia smiled, standing up from the couch. “It went great. She’s a little angel.”

Two-Bit gave a dramatic sigh, leaning back. “Told ya I had it under control.”

Soda clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks, man. We owe you one.”

“Just don’t make me change any diapers next time,” Two-Bit joked, his grin wide. “That’s Marcia’s department.”

Cherry laughed, her eyes softening as she looked at her sleeping daughter. “We’re so lucky to have you both. Really, thank you.”

As Soda and Cherry tucked Kat into bed and the house returned to its usual quiet, Two-Bit and Marcia exchanged a knowing glance.

“Guess we didn’t do so bad after all,” Two-Bit said with a wink.

Marcia smiled, nudging him playfully. “Not bad, greaser.”

With the night winding down, and Kat sound asleep, it was clear that babysitting wasn’t quite the disaster Two-Bit had expected. In fact, he might even say he had fun.

[countlessofvoids]

Talking about/analyzing the warlords is pretty much meaningless since they're kind of a nothing characters but I'll do it anyways:

Firstly, I feel like three of them is too much. With Grimmel, that makes four antagonists in one movie. Of course it's not impossible to write all four well - but with other things the film focuses on such as The Hidden World and the fury romance - even with enough screentime, one of them is bound to be underdeveloped.

I've seen people say there's no reason for them to exist at all. I disagree, I think removing them is arguably worse. They are Drago's allies, him being defeated puts a dent in their plans and makes Hiccup a threat in need of elimination. They have a reason to be there. Defeating Drago should have consequences; building all this up then having no sign of it in the next installment - while the villain is a hunter with zero connection to anything - doesn't make sense for the worldbuilding and would be a backwards progression.

Another thing is the personalities given to these characters. I do like how even though with their limited screentime and depth, we can see they all have their own, unique personality rather than everyone being the same angry brutes. But do said characteristics make sense for their role?

Chaghatai Khan is who I consider the best fit for his job. He's smartest of the three, calm and collected. Unlike Griselda, he doesn't let his frustrations with Grimmel get to him. He seems to know when someone's useful and when they need elimination. All the attributes you need for a succesfull leader are present.

Griselda is what you'd expect from this character archetype. Quick to anger, doesn't respect failure, harsh and a ruthless fighter. I don't think Griselda's dumb, but with how easily irritated she gets, she'd probably start few extra conflicts on her own if it wasn't for Chaghatai stopping her. I kinda wish there was more of her interactions with Grimmel, the tiny bit of their dynamic that we did get sparked some interest in me.

Ragnar makes the absolute least sense to me. He's shown to be cheerful, a bit of a coward and even childish. Not the personality I'd write for this character trope. You're telling me he raided villages, possibly enslaved both people and dragons, build an army and went on a succesfull conquest so barbaric it earned him rank of a warlord? An explanation for this could be him being in a nepo baby situation. But we can't really speculate on that, since there are no canon implications for it.

Now I don't wanna sound like a snob who thinks they know better than THW's writers, because I definetly don't. So feel free to ignore this part. Personaly to avoid having characters who are/should be important to the plot then end up with no development or arc whatsoever, I'd either:

A) Get rid of one or two warlords, making the cast less bloated - which means there are less characters to focus on, allowing more exploration for the remaining antagonists.

B) Have one of them takes on a role akin to Drago. Whoever that would be stays a warlord and becomes the driving force of conflict, meanwhile the other two are reduced to generals. Grimmel has a role similiar to Eret, as in he's under the warlord's command. This way it's clearer that he works for them and is not a warlord himself. You know, instead of like in the movie where he just walks in and bosses everyone around like he's been their leader all along. Seriously, why were the supposed brutal conquerers letting him treat them like insignificant soldiers while they're just standing around pouting?

C) Remove the trio entirely and leave only Grimmel. Either he's a warlord who disguised himself as a hunter, or he used to be a hunter who then became a warlord. Why am I insisting on not keeping him just as a hunter? Like I mentioned above; to me, going from armies and wars to simpler dragon hunters feels backwards.

So in conclusion: The Warlords should've been given a lot more importance to the plot because they have connections to the previous film's antagonist and I believe both them being empty characters and not existing at all is a waste. Think of the possibilities that could've been done with them, like making them pararells to Hiccup's friends/family.

(Feel free to correct me if I got any information wrong!)

[boxcutterbaits]

Double digits

Went fishing tonight at Max K Rodes park. It was slightly overcast, with light breezes and not too much humidity. The temperature was in the 80's. A bit cooler than it has been the previous three days. I was able to use my 3wt rod. I intended to do a bit of Bluegill fishing tonight but, the Bass had other plans. I made my first cast close to 7pm and it wasn't long before I was hooked up. Over the next hour and a half I landed 10 Bass. It was a night of double digits for the number caught as well as multiple double digit length fish. Not bad for a park pond. There were a few tiny ones. The largest fish of the night measured about 13". For reference, from the butt of the rod to the top of the cork handle is 8 3/4".

I used three flies. I started with the yellow/black, then the neon green, then finally the tan/yellow.

I fished the north bank which is probably no more than 75 yards in length. The grasses have been cut all the way back to the waterline which has receded a lot due to our recent drought. The fish were hanging out in submerged grass and clumps of algae, or under what little cover there might be. A two foot by one foot out cropping of grass might be holding a couple of fish. The fish were not on beds. They were chasing bugs that landed on the waters edge. They were fairly aggressive considering the moon phase calendar rated today as a 3.3. Almost all the action took place no more than 6 feet from the bank. I hooked at least half the fish within 2 feet of the bank on far casts.

I hung and lost two bass. I played both of them incorrectly. The first was purely my fault. I was pulling the rod in the direction it jumped, making it easy to throw the hook. The second time I had to hold the rod high because the line was next to a depth marker and I didn't want to get hung up.

There were many Bluegill hits and slashes. I don't think they were aggressive enough. It was almost like they were too scared to come out from cover for more than a couple seconds for fear of becoming prey to a bass.

The pictures below are posted in the order I caught them. The 5th is the 13" fish.

If you are interested in purchasing my flies, please check out my ebay store. They are the same patterns that I use. www.ebay.com/usr/fishgamesstuff

Tight lines & have a great day,

TJ

[imagoddamnonionmason]

Hey Goose! You already know who it is 🥰

I don’t know if you want it to be canon or not in the original BLOPS universe that Keith’s Annika’s biological dad (I’m 100% down for it though) but I was thinking about the similarities they’d show. I wanted to know your thoughts/if you had anything else you wanna add to the list.

I feel like they’d have the exact same tastebuds, besides the fact Annika’s a vegetarian. Annika’s very picky with her veggies and I assume Keith’s the same (he gives off that vibe). She doesn’t have a sweet tooth, and despite being a vegetarian, she loves meat. She salivates whenever Keith starts eating ribs.

Their eyes are almost the exact same color. I think Annika’s are a bit darker than Keith’s but still, they’re practically identical.

Same thing with their skin colors, cause you said Keith’s relatively pale. These two would both get a severe sunburn if they had a mission in a hot climate. Passing the aloe vera back and forth like a blunt 😭😭😭

They’re both cockroaches that refuse to die. You can shoot Annika three times in the stomach and she’d still stand back up. Indomitable spirit.

Same hatred for humanity; but Annika gave up and started killing people whereas Keith continued manipulating people for his entire life. Both hate the opposite gender.

Both doomed as a result of their childhoods. If either of them received one genuine hug from their parents as a child they wouldn’t be menaces to society.

But if Keith had a good childhood, Annika wouldn’t be alive 😔 would’ve been for the best though 😔

Ok, we have spoken about this in DMs but I did want to grace you with an answer here as well, and maybe in a bit more depth than what I went into with you originally.

I think that this is how it could work; I am more than happy for Keith to be Annika's biological father, but it may have to work differently for the 'canon' I have planned fanfic wise. For Jodie being Bell, maybe Annika is just another Perseus operative? We can work with this, if you would like, and then with your permission Annika could make appearances in Jodie and Keith's backstories and in the planned Perseus hunting narrative I have planned.

But that's just for the canon works I have planned.

For Annika being Bell? We can work on the specifics of how, when and where Nadežda and Keith appear for Annika etc.

^ That was a thought I was having which I needed to get out of the way first, just because this would be something we'd need to figure out (mainly because I would hate to make a decision about Annika and it not be something you'd be happy with, you know?)

BUT onto the main thought, which is this:

Keith being Annika's biological father is something I would 100% be down for. I think you're entirely right in the way you've described their similarities with looks, their personality types etc. It's a pretty decent fit and also I think it's karma for Keith being a little bitch that he got a daughter (I feel like he wouldn't have wanted a daughter if he'd have been asked) but you can guarantee he's gonna get a whirlwind of emotions towards her once all the pieces drop into place.

I think we mentioned about their being a birthmark, something that means Annika is unequivocally his. Because you know boy is going to be in denial that somehow one of the kids he's fathered has ended up working right alongside him (and he's a hoe, he would have slept around with a lot of women in his life, one night stands, blackmail, manipulation tactic etc. etc.) so he's probably thinking "shit, there's gonna be at least... two kids out there that are mine (even then he's probably in denial about fathering any kids at all).

Let's be clear. Keith doesn't deserve to be a father. He never wanted to be a father.

Most of it stems from the fear of becoming his own father, treating kids the same he was treated - all that childhood trauma crammed into one tiny little shrivelled heart actually makes him fear the truth that standing right before him.

Keith would have started having suspicions, maybe there was a conversation, her mother's name came up, Keith starts to arrange the timeline, Annika's age. Bit by bit the pieces fall into place and he realises that he is her dad.

I don't know if he would ever tell her that he is, or whether she'd even believe him and strangely enough they do end up toward the latter part of Keith's life being a sort of father-daughter relationship anyway. Would the truth damage all that? He's selfish enough to not tell her because he fears it would ruin the way they currently are.

Also, I need to add the comment about passing aloe vera like a blunt absolutely sent me, I had tears in my eyes because you're fucking right. You're so right, that man so white he burns in moonlight.

Yeah! I can't currently think of anything else that immediately needs to be added to what you've already said, but I'm sure there will be more nuance we can work into their narratives, which is something I most certainly look forward to!!

[ar-pic-ulated]

Ezra (Prospect 2018) Custom Figure

Calling it a custom build is somewhat of a misnomer as I didn’t really craft any of the pieces, I just found the right ones and put it all together; 90% of the pieces come from Marauder Gun-Runners, an action figure company that specializes in customizable figures you can order and build to your specifications. Personally I think the pieces look better in person than they did on the website. The sculpt, tooling, and quality are comparable to the Star Wars Vintage Collection line.

I was going for accuracy in replicating the look of Ezra’s movie costume as closely as I could. I scoured the site for something that would be a good recreation of the helmet (or at least something that would give me a base to build onto myself), but I didn’t find anything I liked so it’ll probably be a project for another time.

Main Body

• Body (without head) ($11.99)

This body is a good base for the torso, hips, legs, and upper arms with a color that is easiest to match other body pieces to and feels closest to Ezra’s suit. The elbow pads, knee pads, and spots on his biceps and calves where pouches could go all went into my decision to get it.

• Vest ($3.49)

Getting the vest gives him more of the spacesuit silhouette without being overly bulky, the lined over-the-shoulder padding and black line down the right side of his chest roughly matches his costume in the movie, and it provides more places for accessories to be slotted into the front.

• Forearms, from elbows to wrists ($1.99)

I got the unarmored cloth forearms for accuracy’s sake, but if you don’t mind him having the black armor shown in the full figure link above, you’ll save some money

• Hands from the wrist joint down ($1.99)

I got these because the lined padding on top of the hands matches Ezra’s gloves in the movie, but the figure already has black gloves so they’re not necessary if you’re not looking for exact accuracy and you’d rather save some money

• Boots from the ankle joint down ($3.49)

Same note as the gloves; the laced top of the boots is what Ezra wears in the movie, but the figure has the black boots shown in the link

Accessories

• Green backpack ($2.49)

The backpack has a long peg to go into the back of a figure; even with the added depth of the vest it was still too long to sit flush to his back so I snipped it down with some wire cutters

• Tan belt and holsters ($2.69)

I got these to match the look of the straps/harness that runs between his legs around his thighs, in addition to providing his belt and somewhere to put a gun. Two birds with one stone.

• Blue pouch on left arm ($0.25)

• Green pouch on backpack ($0.35)

• White hose ($0.99)

The hose attached to the white toggle brick on his belt is the silver ammo belt cut length wise. If you warm up the ammo belt (see build notes below), it can be cut with an Xact-o knife. I wasn’t very patient so only one side turned out right, but if you do it more carefully you could have two “hoses” that have the right look and proportions. I’d like to find something that’s a bit closer to what they have in the movie.

• Tan pouches ($3.29)

This is a pack of about a dozen tan pouches in varying sizes and shapes. Here he has one on the outside of his right boot and a teeny tiny tan plate on the left side of his belt above the hip to mimic the small white device he has in the movie

• Knife and sheath ($1.59)

• Hand scanner ($0.79)

There are several options for tech on the site. My idea with this was to give him something that looked like a handheld GPS or GPR

Total cost for an exact figure (not counting non-Marauder parts, before tax and shipping): $35.39. (You can shave a little off by only ordering specific individual tan pouches instead of the pack, but the pack gives you a variety to choose from)

Non-Marauders Pieces

Head: Cassian Andor (Rogue One) from the Star Wars Vintage Collection line

Brown pack: Accessory for the Vintage Collection Rey figure

Filter (front of vest): It’s the Deathstar plans accessory for the Jyn Erso (Rogue One) Vintage Collection figure. The metal hookup and black hose are part of an old necklace cord, all of it stuck on with sticky tack. Not a permanent piece

Rebreather (around neck): Accessory for the Force Link Jyn Erso (Eadu) figure

White toggle brick (attached to belt above right thigh): Just a quick and dirty Sculpey piece for accuracy’s sake. This one was held on with sticky tack for photo purposes but you could sculpt it around a bit of wire to give it a peg for his belt

Metallic gray box over left thigh: Lol it’s a Lego piece. Ezra has a boxy gray prop hooked to the left side of his belt in the movie but I couldn’t quite figure out what it was and wasn’t going to get overly invested in its function. It’s a small figure with small props, I just wanted him to look like he travels with what he can carry on his person

Handgun: One of my various action figure guns, no idea which figure it goes to. I didn’t find a gun on the site that really matched the angular, differently-futuristic look of the throwers in the movie

Silver tool attached to backpack: Some lightsaber

Build Advice

If you use the full body figure listed above as the base, I recommend moving each joint around to work some of the stiffness out before modding

Vest goes on first, then the head

Each of the modular body pieces will need to be warmed in hot water at the joint for easier removal. (My order came with instructions.) I don’t have an exact temp, but I put a ceramic mug of water in the microwave for two minutes (to about the temp of hot chocolate), put just the joint I was going to pop off in the water for about five seconds, then used a dry washcloth (to protect against the heat and get a better grip) to pull each smaller piece off the main body. Pull them straight off, not at an angle.

It’s probably best to immediately replace the piece you pull off with the one going in its place while the joint is still warm. You’ll hear/feel an audible snap when the bigger pieces pop in place properly. Be gentle with the hands and feet, they may not be as obvious once they slot in place. You shouldn’t have to force anything.

I had to take the legs off at the hip joints in order to get the tan belt and holsters in place. It’ll take some fiddling to get them back on and in the right place: the belt and holsters are snug

The spot of white hair and the facial scar are both just a bit of white cream makeup. It’s easiest if you dab the makeup on, then use a small paintbrush to wipe away the excess, leaving what you want behind (as opposed to trying to paint it on). Any mods I make to my own action figures are ones that can be easily reversed without damaging the figure, and unless/until I get another of the same Cassian figure to use for parts, his head will go back onto his own figure

I used brown eyeshadow dusted on to achieve the textured, somewhat dirtier look of Ezra’s suit. It fills in the shadows, can be layered to add more shadows or distressing, and be easily removed with a mild makeup remover without damaging the figure’s own paint job

Have fun!

[wandish-tarot]

Hii. How are you?

If I may have a free reading I would love one!

So at the moment I'm doing a volunteering project in Finland. I arrived on Monday and I'll be here 2 weeks. I'm a very anxious person so this is all extremely stressful for me.

I'm wondering if I'll have and if people like me? ( like if I'll make some real friends and stuff like that?) and there is this one French boy that I might have a tiny crush on lol which is so strange because I never have crushes and I literally know him for less that 2 days? But also I'm stuck in a room with 2 girls who are very nice but they don't seem to like hanging out with other people and I'm currently in my room and no one is talking and I have no idea where the rest of the group went(and that French boy). I always seem to end up with the introverts and never have the fun group of friends. I mean I love all of my friends but you know the group who parties and loves people. I don't have the problem when I'm in my home country but I'm in Finland to experience something new :/

I kinda feel like crying right now lol

Sorry for the rent

Anyways I'm buba, cancer sun, Leo rising

Hi buba!

I unfortunately do see a bit of a conundrum for you during your time in Finland the way things are going right now.

It looks like you could end up being stuck in a situation where you're lonely but not alone enough, which makes sense giving your living situation for the trip. And the Hierophant Rx shows that the differences between your home country and Finland could be a bit tiring. Nothing crazy but I've been abroad and sometimes the little things can make being out and about feel strange. People just occupy public spaces in a slightly different way. Go faster/slower on the sidewalk than you're used to, talk in a different volume when dining out. The cheapo public bathroom soap smells different. That kind of thing.

9 of wands here suggests a bit of fatigue, from the loneliness and the small cultural differences but also from your volunteer work. The good news there is that this feels like a more positive kind of tiredness. Like you're exhausted a lot of the time but it feels good to be tired because you're doing good work and trying new things. It's very "tuckered out (positive)" to me.

With the queen and the page, I think this is likely you and the French guy. If you look at the way they landed, if they had come out upright, they would have been facing each other. I think that it's showing that there is something there but you're both pretty overwhelmed and out of your depth so it's hard to connect. He probably seems to you from the outside to be handling the trip better than you but it's more because you benefit from routine more than he does so he seems more "normal" in a overwhelmed state than you do. I don't think you guys will get very close during the 2 weeks but you'll get along and I think if you get his contact information he's likely to stay in touch after the project's over.

I think you're going to be disappointed when the trip ends because it went very quick, but not sad that you went. A bittersweet departure.

With the playing cards I was thinking about what you could do to improve the trip. It seems like you just have to ask, as scary as that is, believe me I know lol. But it seems like the people around you are eager to get to know each other, it's just that everyone is nervous and that can get to them. Something that seems like it would be helpful is to make a plan, invite others to go with you but if people don't join you, still stick to the plan. I don't mean anything extravagant, the plan could just be going to a nearby park after volunteering or visiting a shop to see what a Finnish shoe store or something is like. Going through with getting out and seeing things the first time could show people that you're kind of, "stubborn" about having a good time on your trip and encourage them to join you or help them to know that you're "game" to do other stuff with them.

I don't really see like very deep friendships coming from this, but happy low commitment ones feel very possible. Nothing here suggests anyone disliking you or being opposed to being around you or unfriendly. The vibe here is just that no one's really at their best-most-confident selves and that nervousness can be a bit hard to work through.

Tldr; ask people to hangout, get the French boy's insta

[gothicheroinedaniellarusso]

My biggest problem that I have with Edmond/Haydee romantically is there was no build up. I buy Haydee’s feelings for the Count, just not the other way round lmao. He cares about her but, like, he thinks of her as a daughter until she threatens to kill herself if he leaves her/dies (the turnaround is literally less than a paragraph! (c90 p990)). I probably could get behind established toxic waste dump garbage fire co-dependent romantic Haydee/Edmond but in general I prefer a familial dynamic for them (once again Gankutsuou is S tier in that regard) ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[I didn’t think about these.] I was shipping Eugenie and Haydee from Eugenie’s first appearance! I agree that their personalities probably would mesh better, along with having a shared interest in music and art. I hadn’t really considered Valentine/Haydee until the very last chapter and I thought they had more chemistry in their 3 pages of interaction than with their respective actual love interests XD

I’m not surprised Gankutsuou passed you by, it’s pretty obscure! I don’t actually remember how I found out about it but I was lucky enough to find a dvd soon after I first saw it when I was 16 when my first TCOMC hyperfixation started. I got into TCOMC via the musical and then went into a rabbit hole. I did try reading the book then but the audiobook I had’s narrator was terrible so I kept falling asleep and I missed a lot and eventually gave up XD So last year was technically the first time I read it properly in full too! (I too have a Penguin Classics edition! I also listened to the audiobook narrated by Bill Homewood)

[that’s so evil] I have provided clues regarding what I am planning >:3c And I will talk if someone figures it out~

[same feeling… first encounter with Albert] Definitely, but also I also think it’s a bit simpler than that. Killing their son just adds another layer of suffering to both Fernand and Mercedes (even tho she kinda did nothing wrong)

[Mercedes + Villefort interactions] Okay so, chapter 11 page 85 is where Mercedes goes to find out information about Edmond from Villefort. I wasn’t misremembering, which is a scene I’m probably gonna have to include in my Dancedes fic (so long as I can work out what I’m doing). Later I think the only (very loose definition of) interaction is the ball I mentioned in my previous post.

[Villefort plot] I’m not planning on going too in depth with it in my Dancedes fic, maybe a little bit if I go for the SamTory route with Andrea!Zara for the Albert!Sam interlude chapter. I’m not sure. But I’m planning on being a bit more in depth with the Albert!Daniel fic because I’m thinking I have space to go a bit more in depth. I don’t know how in depth, I think the poisoning plot will still be there (simplified) and I already am thinking of Wolf for Andrea so that plotline’s still there. I have some ideas but they are also Gankutsuou specific spoilers so I’ll hold off on them for now.

[power outages] yeah, we get at least a week without power practically every summer, but that was pretty bad. I think there was something like 100 powerlines down in my town?

[other fandoms] the dead fandom I was writing that fic for was The Tribe, a post-apocalyptic teen soap opera from New Zealand from the late 90s/early 00s. But other fandoms I’m in are Doctor Who, Warrior Cats, Crimson Peak and Pokemon. I’m sporadically in others but those are probably my evergreen main ones (mind you with WC almost everything I do is OCs, tho I did design a tiny Scourge plush the other day (mostly for a con I’m planning on tabling at with a friend)).

[don’t be too hard on yourself] thanks <3

To distract myself from the cyclone I'm gonna work on a fanfic but before the power goes out I would like to ask an opinion:

Context: This is just going to be a fairly short fic (5 chapters max), and is not my primary silverusso Count of Monte Cristo au that I've mentioned before (ie Karate Kid era, Daniel is Albert). This AU is an omegaverse, and Daniel is Mercedes and Terry is Edmond. Also whomever is Fernand doesn't have to have been friends with Terry prior, I'm using the book's vaguely hostile acquaintance dynamic there. (also Kreese can't be Fernand because Kreese is Danglars)

[flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash]

Irresistible Danger - Part 51

Synopsis:  After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 3,279

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

ID Masterlist can be found HERE

Masterlist of all my fics can be found HERE

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

Author’s Note: Holy crap, can y’all believe I dove back into writing this fic after almost two years with no updates?! I’m still shook over it haha. I will say that this fic has gone way off canon at this point (I haven’t watched the last few seasons of the show and also didn’t finish the last few issues of the comics). However, I’ve had a vision for certain characters and events for the last how many years, so I don’t plan to change them just to try and fit canon. I also now realize that while I tried to make “you” as nondescript as possible, there are physical traits and actions of her character that haven’t been as inclusive of all potential readers as I had thought when first starting the fic 5 years ago. I apologize for that, and plan to be more aware of those things with any reader characters I write in future fics. My plan is to post a chapter update every Friday from here on out, until it’s over, so fingers crossed I can accomplish that. Enjoy! :D

Cloud Nine

You surfaced from the depths of sleep slowly, rather than the more abrupt jolt to consciousness that usually started off your days. Feeling cozy and relaxed, a slight smile tipped your lips in contentment. It didn’t take long to realize that the reason for your positive mood was the large, warm body with which you were currently sharing the tiny, twin-sized bed.

Eyes blinking open, you took in the delightful sight of masculine bare skin. You were curled up against Negan’s side, cheek cushioned on his chest and both legs were wrapped around his nearest thigh. The bedsheet was pulled up over your back and ended teasingly right above his hips. One of your hands lay palm-down on his stomach, fingers twitching slightly in delight at the feel of the hard muscles beneath the soft skin. You could tell from the curve of his body that he was sitting with his back reclined against the rickety headboard. You might’ve found his positioning odd, but you were still a little hazy from sleep and so could only feel happiness at not waking up to an empty bed, like last time. 

You were on cloud nine after talking things out with him last night. Being able to work through a conflict together had been major progress, and you had been proud of yourself for laying down your boundaries regarding your here-to-stay friendship with Ben, as well as standing your ground regarding the situation with Trixie and the pregnancy test. It was important that Negan learn to trust you when it came to situations such as those, and it seemed as though that message had finally gotten through to him last night. 

The fact that he had even come to your room and taken the huge step of apologizing for his hasty reaction still had you a bit in shock. The evening had panned out much differently than your original plan of going to bed angry. Instead, you had gone to bed very satisfied, and then woken up next to the man who was very quickly becoming essential to your daily happiness.

He must’ve felt you shift against him, one hand coming down to rub your bare shoulder as he gave a soft, “Mornin’, doll.” 

His raspy morning voice sent tingles down your spine, even as your brain fought to stay awake. It still felt way too early to be sitting up and conversing, so instead of returning the greeting, you buried closer into his side and grumbled, “What time is it?” The words were muffled against his skin, nose pressed into his chest hair as you inhaled the glorious male scent of him. 

You felt him lean over towards the side table. He must’ve been checking your watch, because he replied, “‘Bout 6:50.”

“Jesus Christ.” 

“Language.” 

“Hmph. Do you always get up so early?”

“It’s more productive than sleeping half the day away and being late to everything.” 

That got more of a response, as you finally lifted your head to glare up at him for the jab. However, he didn’t notice, as he was too focused on the book held in front of him. It was then that you realized why he was sitting up in bed, a smirk crossing your face at the novel he had open and was intensely reading. You felt a spark of desire low in your belly, the sight of a sleep-tousled and naked Negan lounging in your bed while reading Harry Potter an unexpected, but welcomed, aphrodisiac.

“Thought you didn’t read ‘fucking kid books’?” you sarcastically asked, quoting back his initial description of the series. 

You received only a low grunt in response, his eyes not leaving the page. You weren’t offended, since you’d probably react the same way to someone trying to interrupt a reading of Harry Potter. In fact, you were a bit jealous that he got to experience the magical world for the first time. His curiosity must’ve gotten the better of him when he saw it lying on your bedside table, and it appeared as if he had already read a small chunk of it. 

He didn’t seem to notice you staring, his attention still focused on the book. In fact, he held the page a scant few inches from his face, eyes squinted into slits. The sight was a tad humorous, though you wondered how long he had been struggling to see the words. 

“I thought you needed glasses to read?” you asked. 

“Fuck, you always so full of questions this early in the morning, doll?”

You pinched his side hard enough to make him jump and growl out another expletive, before giving him a saccharine smile and lifting a brow expectantly when he glared down at you.

Attention finally taken off the book, he reached over and plopped it down on the side table before rubbing his eyes with both palms. “I do. Felt like it took me a fucking hour to get through that last page.”

The fact that he had continued trying to read and hadn’t easily given up, despite his struggle to see the words, told you more than anything how much he must’ve been enjoying the novel. A warm thrill settled in your chest at the thought of him taking an interest in something he usually wouldn't bother with simply because you enjoyed it. 

The warm thrill morphed into more of a low heat and traveled down your body as your gaze refocused on his bare skin. Moving the hand on his stomach upward over his chest, your fingertips traced the outline of the tattoo on his left pec.

“What prompted you to get this?” you asked, curious if there was a meaning behind the skull and criss-crossed rifles.

Giving a low chuckle, he replied, “Youth and stupidity.” 

Giving a huffed laugh in return, you trailed curious fingers over to the other tattoos on his arms, inquiring about each one as you went. Some had a story behind them, others not so much (you had tried not to roll your eyes when he explained that the revolver on his right forearm was the same one he had handled once and thought was ‘fucking cool as shit’). He also had a few scars on his upper body, some from before the apocalypse but most from after. You listened intently as he opened up about each one, drinking in as much personal information about the man beside you as possible.

Not wanting to stop the exploration just yet, you pushed up on your other elbow and journeyed over his throat, tracing his Adam’s apple before running your fingers delicately through the surprisingly soft beard framing his gorgeous mouth. 

Capturing the questing hand in his own, he brought your fingers to his lips. The breath caught in your chest when he kissed the mostly-healed scar from the knife injury you had acquired a few weeks prior. Heart beating frantically at the gentle gesture, you smiled up at him when he released your hand and allowed it to resume exploring.

“So,” you tried for calm and casual, fingers moving up to lightly trace his ear before diving into his thick hair and mapping the streaks of salt within the pepper. “What are your plans for today?”

It took him a few seconds to answer, his eyes having fluttered closed as your nails gently massaged his scalp. You smiled at his obvious enjoyment of your touch, at how he had lowered his walls in this moment and was allowing himself to be both physically and emotionally vulnerable. 

“I wish they were to stay here and enjoy this fucking delightful body of yours all day, but I have a meeting with my Saviors at eight.” 

The thought of spending an entire day frolicking in bed with Negan caused a dreamy sigh to leave your lips. His eyes opened and zeroed in on your mouth at the sound, that magical tongue of his coming out to lick his bottom lip as he added, “Though, that’s still about an hour away…”

At that, he quickly rolled over so his lean body was pinning you into the mattress, his lips cutting off your squeal of surprise before it even left your throat. The hand still in his hair tightened, causing him to give a low groan and grind his hips down into yours. You tried to make a mental note of his reaction to the touch, but seeing as how there were no barriers keeping his quickly-hardening erection from pressing into your thigh, all higher levels of brain function quickly flew out of the room. 

Bracing above you, he leaned down and started kissing your neck, a move guaranteed to make you melt. When his mouth descended over the curve of your breasts, you tried to lift your head to watch his downward progress but a sharp pang of discomfort at your scalp made you wince and try to jerk away, which only succeeded in making the pain even worse. 

“Ow, wait!” you blurted, causing Negan to instantly freeze and look up at you in alarm. 

“Doll, what-”

“You’re on my hair! Move your hand!”

Quickly realizing his mistake, Negan moved the hand that had accidentally been pinning a large chunk of your hair, and by proxy your head, to the mattress. 

“Fucking hell, I’m sorry, doll,” he cursed, making as if to lift his body off you entirely. 

Now wanting his faux pas to ruin the moment, you pushed his shoulders sideways and hooked a leg up over his hip before commanding, “Roll over.”

He hesitated for a moment before relenting, the two of you somehow able to switch places on the narrow, twin-sized bed without falling off. Once the semi-awkward resituating was done, he was on his back and you were straddling his hips. The move caused the sheet to fall off, exposing your entire body to his gaze. Based on the way his eyes grew hazy with lust as they took in your bared curves, not to mention his obvious erection, it was safe to say that he didn’t mind this change in position one bit. 

Warm, calloused palms drifted up over your thighs, hips, and the sides of your waist, before cupping breasts that were begging for his touch. Leaning down, your already-hardened nipples pressed into his palms as you kissed him hungrily. Shifting your hips, you started rubbing forwards and backwards over the erection pressed between both your lower stomachs. You moaned into each other’s mouths at the sensation, pussy lips parting around his girth so that your wetness coated his cock, the fat head bumping against your clit with each slide. 

“I think I like being in charge,” you purred. 

Giving a dark chuckle that sent shivers down your spine, he replied, “Enjoy it while it fucking lasts.”

Planning to do just that, you reached over to pluck a condom off the side table, incredibly grateful to whatever deity helped you successfully open the foil packet and smoothly roll the latex down over him on the first try. Tossing the empty packet over the side of the bed, you wrapped slightly trembling fingers around his swollen cock and lifted your hips, lining him up with your entrance. Maintaining eye contact, you slowly slid down his length, mouth falling open on a whimper at the feel of him parting overly-sensitive flesh that was still a bit sore from the activities of the previous night. Despite Negan’s initial threat over you stealing both coconut oil from the kitchen and condoms from his room, his only “punishment” last night had been fucking you relentlessly into the mattress until you had multiple orgasms and could barely even remember your own name.

In spite of the slight burn as sore muscles again stretched around his thickness, you didn’t stop until he was fully seated inside. His cock felt so big in this position that it was almost overwhelming, but you sat up so that your hands were braced on his chest and used your thigh muscles to start a slow up and down rhythm. 

His fingers reached up and pinched your nipples, causing you to clench around him. He groaned at the sensation, gaze becoming more intense when you slightly picked up the pace. It felt magnificent, but at the same time you craved more of the hard, rough friction that he had given you the night before. Body trying to find that friction on its own, your hips swiveled in a circle as you sank back down, which must’ve felt just as amazing for him as it did you, since he gave a strangled moan at the same moment his hands immobilized your hips in a bruising grip. 

“Alright, doll. My turn.”

That was the only warning you got before he braced his feet against the mattress and moved up in you, hard. Falling forward onto your palms with a gasp, fingers curled into the bedsheet and hips writhed in pleasure when he repeated the move. He continued the sharp, deep thrusts, watching your face closely before wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and pulling your mouth down to his own. His tongue thrust into your mouth possessively, as if trying to claim as much of you at once as he could. The pace was brutal yet unhurried, each thrust feeling like a deliberate attack on your sanity as his movements drew fire over your skin and consumed you, body and soul. 

Pressing down into him while leaning forward caused your clit to grind against his lower abdomen in the perfect way with each thrust, building up the orgasm that had previously hovered just out of reach. Breaking the kiss with a cry, you saw the expression of intense concentration on his face as he continued to move your bodies together in perfect rhythm. Breasts pressed into his chest and mouth panting at his ear, your body gave into his, letting him drive you up and over the edge, into the abyss of pleasure. 

“Negan,” you moaned, muscles tightening then releasing as the orgasm washed through you. His answering grunt and curse signaled his own release, though he continued his driving rhythm through it all, wringing each drop of pleasure from your body until it collapsed limply on top of his.

Resting your head on his shoulder, you again traced over the tattoo on his chest, waiting for your heartbeat and breathing to slow back down to normal. Glancing up his body, you found him already looking back down at you, a relaxed and satisfied grin on his lips that was only witnessed behind closed doors, when the two of you were alone. His hand idly stroked over a piece of hair laying on your shoulder, the gesture making you think back to earlier when he had accidentally pinned you to the mattress, and the resulting ungraceful maneuvering to switch positions in a bed that was entirely too small for two adult bodies. A light laugh escaped you that caused Negan to raise an eyebrow in question. 

“Just remembering your super smooth move from earlier,” you teased. You wouldn’t admit this out loud, but it was actually a bit of a relief to know that even Mr. Harem-of-Wives, Sex-God Negan wasn’t always flawless in the sack. 

“Making fun of me, doll?” he growled. 

“Maybe.”

Whack. The loud crack, accompanied by the slight sting of sensation against your left asscheek, caused you to jump and look at him in wide-eyed shock. 

“Did you just spank me?!” you exclaimed.

“Maybe.”

Before you could form an appropriate reply, he silenced any retort with his lips. Shallow creature that you apparently were, the move worked, and when he pulled away a long minute later, your brain conveniently forgot why you were supposed to be coming up with a retort in the first place. 

Negan glanced over at the side table, where your watch sat. Also looking over, you saw that it was now almost 7:30am, which meant he had half an hour to go back to his room and become presentable for his 8am Savior meeting. You were curious what the meeting was about, but didn’t want to ruin the perfection of the morning by bringing up a potentially serious topic. 

“Much as I hate to say it, doll, duty fucking calls.”

Your expression must’ve showcased more than you thought, since he gave a chuckle and said, “How about I make it up to you by finishing our fucking chess bet?”

Interest instantly piqued, you sat up on his chest and replied, “The third outing?! Can we go today?”

He looked at you consideringly, before giving a slight nod and agreeing. “We fucking could, but I won’t be free until the dinner hour.” 

Much as you didn’t want to skip out on your duties, even if it was with the leader of the establishment, you also weren’t about to turn down more alone time with Negan, especially outside of the Sanctuary. 

“I could meet you at the front gate at 5?” you suggested. That would give you just enough time to make sure dinner was fully prepped and almost ready to serve, since the community ate their meal from 5 to 7pm. It lessened the guilt, since you wouldn’t be completely leaving Ben and the staff short-handed. 

“Works for me, doll,” he said, gently rolling you off his body and to the narrow strip of mattress free beside him.

Biting your lower lip to keep from gasping at the empty sensation when he pulled out his now-flaccid dick, you watched him rise slowly from the bed. You took possessive pleasure in viewing his naked body, thighs clenching at the sight of him stretching muscular arms up towards the ceiling with his head tipped back. The pop of his back and resulting grunt made you comment, “I think from now on we might be better off in your bed. I have no clue how we even managed to fit in mine all night.” 

“Thank fucking god. If I have to spend any more nights in that fucking thing, I’ll be stiffer than a cock in a brothel.” 

Rolling your eyes at his that’s-so-Negan one-liner, you pulled the sheet up over your chest and settled in to watch him get dressed. You felt a bit like a voyeur when he removed the condom, tied off the end, and tossed it into the little garbage can. You felt a lot like a voyeur when he leaned down to pick up his boxer briefs and the sight of his bent-over ass almost made you whimper out loud. 

“You sure you can’t skip the meeting and stay here?” The words left your lips before your brain could even stop them. 

Turning to look at you, the desire must have been written all over your face because that muscle in his jaw ticked and he ran a hand down over his beard in obvious frustration. You swore he started to take a step back towards the bed, but he caught himself and instead returned to the task of getting dressed. 

When he was done putting on the navy tee and dark grey pants, complete with his signature black boots, he did finally come back over to the bed. Leaning down, he cupped a warm hand possessively around the side of your neck and placed a heated kiss on your lips before slightly pulling back and saying in that sinful, husky voice, “5 o’clock, doll. You better be ready for me.” 

With that, he straightened, crossed the room, and let himself out. As the door clicked softly shut behind him, you replied with a dazed, “Yes, sir.”

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

[allthewhumpygoodness]

They wake up tired. But it hardly matters; they went to bed late, got up early for school, and with all the work they’ve got to do they’ve been stressed enough to wear them down more often than usual. It’s a cold day, they can feel it even from inside. They bundle up in more layers than they probably need, and only have a small bit to eat before hurrying out the door, ready for their usual bus rid to the collage. 

Their morning classes go by in a blur, between the dim florescent lights making their head ache and their already foggy brain they find it hard not to fall asleep as the professor talks. On top of that they’re still cold, despite wearing most of their layers in class. It would be so easy to curl up in a ball of warm clothing with their head on their desk and shut their eyes, but they have to keep up with their work.

By lunch hour they’ve started shivering. It’s not just the sweatshirt and winter coat now, but their scarf and even their hat. One of their classmates - all right, almost close enough to them to be called a friend - sits next to them in the break room and laughs at them. “Aren’t you hot?” they say.

“Dunno. Maybe.” They should be, and maybe they are, but if they remove even one article of clothing they feel a persistent chill across their skin. They shiver harder, hunching down and looking over their notes yet again.

“Can I have a chip?” Their friend has been inching steadily closer to their bag of potato chips they planned to eat ten minutes ago. 

“Go ahead,” they say. Despite barely eating breakfast, they aren’t hungry. They have a sip of water though, and that feels good. But it makes them realize for the first time how scratchy their throat feels. Wonderful. Another thing to worry about. They cough a little, and go back to their notes. 

In the afternoon they sit at the back of the class, huddled in their layers and barely concentrating on what the professor is droning on about. Everything hurts, maybe it’s from shivering so hard, and they feel like their muscles are being shredded to pieces with a fork. The cough shows up more frequently now, they try to keep it quiet for the sake of their classmates but sometimes it’s impossible not to let it out. There’s an ache behind their eyes that only just goes away if they close them, and they’re too tired to care anymore so they do, resting their head in their hand.

It shouldn’t be like this. They’re a good student, they can’t turn into one of those kids who falls asleep in class, even if they’re tired or bored, they can’t just give up so easily. After another round of half-stifled coughs they feel a hand tap their elbow and turn to see their friend beside them, looking concerned. “Are you okay?” they ask.

“Fine. I’m just tired.” Their vision swims a little and they shut their eyes again, willing the black spots in front of their eyes to go away.

“You don’t look good,” their friend says. They don’t feel good, either, it’s taken this long and this much misery for them to put it into words, but they really, really don’t.

Another voice cuts through the fog in their brain. The professor. “Are you doing all right back there?”

Everyone is staring at them. They can feel themself flushing red, it’s bad enough that they feel like they’re about to pass out, now they’re the center of attention at the worst time in the world and they can’t handle it.

“I’m fine,” they say hoarsely, praying they’ll all just leave them alone.

“They’re not,” that’s their friend, saving them and humiliating them all at once. 

“Do you need to step outside?” says the professor. They’re in the middle of shaking their swimming head when their friend interrupts with, “yeah, I think they do. I’ll take them, be back in a minute.”

They don’t know how they stand up, but the next second they’re leaning heavily on their friend’s arm and escaping the crowded classroom, face still burning with embarrassment.

Soon they’re outside, and their friend helps them sit against the wall, gently pushing their head between their knees. “You went so white in there, I thought you were going to faint.”

“I’m not,” they mutter into their knees, though they might not be far away. 

Their classmate’s hand touches their cheek, it’s only then they realize how cool it is, and how hot their head feels compared to the rest of their icy body. “You feel really hot...oh honey, why didn’t you say you were sick?”

They don’t know how to answer, they didn’t know they were sick until now, but it makes sense. 

“Which pocket is your water bottle in?” 

They frown, it’s hard to remember at the moment. “Second one,” they answer. But their bag isn’t out with them so why - ?

They feel a gentle pat on their back. “I’ll be back in a second, you stay there.”

They want to protest, but it’s all they can do to stop from collapsing even sitting down, so they focus on that instead.

Soon their friend is back, and they slowly raise their head to look at them. The floor under them rocks uncomfortably and there’s a weird shimmer around the walls. They blink hard, but it doesn’t go away. Next to them, their friend has brought their bag and fished out their water bottle, which they gratefully accept with a shaking hand. They take a sip, but all it does is confirm how much their throat hurts.

“You’ve got to go home,” their friend says. “You’re really sick, there’s no way you can keep yourself here.”

“I can’t go,” they reply, panic starting to rise in their chest. “I’ve got so much to do, I’ll never be able to finish all my assignments if I leave, I’m going to fail everything - “ And unable to stop themself, they start to cry. They feel their friend’s hand rubbing their back, hear their soft reassurances, but it’s not enough. Everything hurts and the tears aren’t helping, but they can’t stop no matter how much they try. 

Eventually they’ve cried themself into a hiccupping silence. They don’t want to move, wish they could just stay slumped against the wall and their friend’s arm for the rest of their life, but far too soon they feel a tap on their shoulder. “Come on, we’ve got to get you home. I’ll walk you downstairs.”

They have to shake their head to clear it. “No...you go back to class, I’m okay...”

“Hush. Can you stand up?”

They can, but their vision swims and soon they’re clinging to their friend’s arm with their eyes shut tight. “That’s it,” they hear, “hold on to me, we’ll get there.”

They keep their eyes closed and try to distance themself from the present as they’re supported down the stairs and to the front doors, trying not to feel the aches all over their body and how much their exhaustion seems to drag their bones into the floor. How is it that they feel so terrible when they woke up just fine that very morning? 

A rush of cold air hits their face when they step outside, both soothing on their too-warm cheeks and horribly uncomfortable on the rest of their body. They manage to stay standing for long enough to sit down on a bumper at the edge of the parking lot, still shivering in the depths of their many layers. Their bag is plopped down next to them - they hadn’t realized their friend brought it out for them.

Their friend sits down beside them, a hand on their shoulder. “I don’t want you trying to get home on your own...if you want I can drive you back.”

They shake their head firmly - this person they don’t even know that well outside of school has already done far too much for them today, they can’t let them miss their own class on top of that.

“Fine, if you’re sure. Is there someone I can call for you?”

Their first answer would be no, but then they remember that one person. A mutual friend, they suppose they could be called, and they never want to bother them but now...if anyone is going to help them...as little though they want to admit it, they don’t know if they can make it home by themself. 

Their friend gives them a knowing look when they let them know, and starts pulling out their phone and punching in numbers. It’s embarrassing, and they hate the attention, hate that they’re going to bother yet another person with their stupid problems. But at the same time a tiny bit of tension that’s settled along their shoulders lessens. They’re going home, to their own warm bed. It’s all they want.

“I’ve called them,” their friend says. “Want me to wait with you?”

They nod, unable to keep pretending they don’t need them. Their friend goes around them, pulling them in close. “Okay. You’ll be home soon, make sure you get lots of rest and drink plenty of fluids, all right? Take care of yourself.”

They nod again, wearily. Already they can feel their consciousness slipping away on their friend’s shoulder, they know if they fall asleep they’ll have to be woken up once their ride gets there and hate it, but for now they can’t help themself. It’s been an exhausting day, and it’s not even over, full of trying so hard to pretend they’re fine, but now they’re about to go home and let someone else help them for a change.

So they stop trying.

[tainted-wine]

Nowhere, absolutely nowhere in your ask did you insinuate that you wanted this but I couldn’t resist getting thirsty because...you know. Thinking about it, I may have been subconsciously inspired by @bibbidi-bobbidi-birb​ and her amazing Seven Deadly Birds series. If you want some real magical Hawks action, go read her beautiful fic Gula!

What do you call a hummingbird version of Hawks? Hums?

This rambling-turned-ficlet contains Microphilia, Noncon/Dubcon, Forced oral(receiving), and Yandere vibes. Just pervy fairy!Hawks in a fantasy AU.

Anyway Hawks is a tiny bastard that has completely ruined fairies for you. Everyone in this village, a village built in the middle of an enchanted forest, welcomes the small magical beings whenever they’re spotted flying about. You knew that fairies had a reputation for being tricksters, but Keigo...

You didn’t know it was possible for someone the size of your hand to be such a menace. You should have never acknowledged him. You shouldn’t have commented on his rose wings as he hovered over your flowers, the shimmering feathers appearing to change color at every angle. You shouldn’t have given him that small dish of sweet syrup as you thanked him and his kind for using their magic to keep the humans safe from the more wicked inhabitants of the forest.

His obsession with you began on that very same day you met. At first it was endearing, the way he fluttered around you, embarrassing you with backhanded compliments that only a fairy can make sound flattering.

“You’re pretty good-looking yourself, for a smelly human at least.”

Everyday he would ask for another sugary treat to slurp up, the sweetness of his voice hiding the fact that he never takes no for an answer. He’d passive aggressively question you, because what’s more important than showing a little gratitude to a creature that’s just trying to protect you?

When he isn’t forcing you to feed him, he’s following you around like a pesky bug, expecting you to make conversation. Ignore him and he’ll buzz loudly in your ear or tug on your hair. Whatever task you’re handling can’t be more important than a generous fairy asking for a little company. His questions become a bit too invasive for your liking.

“Have any of the men here caught your eye?”

“No? And why not? Are they missing something?”

“So are you still a maiden?”

“You are? Then you must taste sweeter than anything you’ve given me so far! Why not offer yourself?”

You weren’t sure what that meant, but it frightened you. The old tales never mentioned fairies consuming human flesh or drinking blood.

He only became more aggressive and less respectful of your privacy as time went on. One night you noticed too late that he found a way into your home and was calmly watching you bathe, laughing when you screamed and jumped out of the small tub without thinking and revealing your nude body to him.

“Can I drink from you?”

You say no.

One morning you wake up to find him curled up and sleeping soundly on your chest. You react by smacking him and sending him flying into a wall. As much as you’ve grown to detest him, you still panic over the fact that you just harmed a fairy.

He smirks when he sees your fear, despite how dazed he was.

“I’ll forgive you if I can drink from you.”

You say no.

Keigo frowns and, instead of pressuring you like you expected, flies away on his damaged wings. When he doesn’t return that day or the day after, you think that he has finally left you alone.

You had your first terrible nightmare the next time you slept. They got more intense every night, dreams of shadowy beasts violently tearing you limb from limb. For awhile you try different herbs and remedies in hopes of getting a peaceful sleep, but they all fail. You begin to fear sleep, dragging your feet through the streets with dark and heavy eyelids.

Then the hallucinations haunt you. Your neighbors are starting to keep their distance, whispering to each other about the times when you suddenly collapse and scream, raising your hands in front of you as if a monster is lunging at you. “She’s gone mad.”

One night, as you sit on your bed and try to blink away the horrid creatures, Keigo returns.

You’re already on your hands and knees the second you see him and realize he isn’t a part of your own cruel delusions. You beg him to save you from whatever this is, whatever evil has suddenly taken hold of your mind. He takes a long look at your sad state before answering to your pleas.

“I can save you, if you let me drink from you.”

It only scares you for a second before you accept, ready to give him anything he wants. It can’t be worse than the horrors you’ve been experiencing these past days.

You don’t know what you were expecting, but it wasn’t the order to remove all of the clothing below your waist. When you hesitate, he motions to turn around and exit out of your window, which quickly makes you panic again as you shakily fumble with your garments.

It was the first time you exposed yourself to someone. Keigo may not be a human male, but judging by the many times he’s casually ogled you, he’s probably just as wolfish as one.

You’re told to lie back on the bed and spread your legs. The embarrassment is almost strong enough to overpower your drowsiness and week-long headache. The fairy flies and lands between your thighs, standing right in front of your virgin womanhood.

Small hands touch your lips all over. “What a beautiful flower. I’ve been dreaming about how sweet your nectar tastes since you first spoke to me.” He presses the hooded bud at the top and chuckles when your hips jolt.

Oh gods, is this what he means by drinking? No...

You’re afraid to close your eyes, afraid of whatever terrifying demons await you in the darkness, but you simply don’t have the strength to watch him violate you like this.

You don’t see, but you sure do feel the slender and very long invasion inside of you, a foreign and shameful feeling, but admittedly not unpleasant. It darts in and out of you rapidly, your nerves struggling to keep up with the speed of sensations. He’s feeding from you just like he would from a flower or a cup of sugar water.

The avian tongue is small yet brings you so much pleasure that it chases away your fears. You fight to keep your quivering thighs from closing and crushing the feasting fairy, your pussy contracting as more juices flow to soak him. 

He’ll occasionally come up for air and comment on how delicious you are, how juicy your petals are once you fully bloom, and how you’ve officially spoiled him and will no longer be satisfied by any of your sugary gifts. 

His nimble muscle works fast at collecting your moisture, pressing against your walls just enough to make you whimper as a strange pressure grew inside of your belly. You eventually gain the courage to look down, though all you can really see is a pair of wings that will sometimes happily flutter.

Keigo is still gorging himself when the tension in your gut suddenly snaps with a burst of pleasure strong enough to temporarily smother the darkness. It has you screaming into the night, and if the village wasn’t already convinced that you were insane, someone probably would have ventured out to check on you. He climbs up your stomach and rests on your chest when he finishes, completely drenched and proud of it.

He promises that the shadows will slowly go away, and you want to embrace his small form. You haven’t forgotten how despicable he’s been, but you owe him your life, or at the very least your sanity. You still shy away when he informs you that he needs to feed from you at least once a day to ensure your mind remains free. As incredible as it felt, it will always be difficult to just open your legs and allow his tongue inside your most intimate spot.

As for Keigo, he can’t believe how well this plan went. Now he can go tell his fellow fairies that you have finally made amends for your unreasonable behavior. 

When you had the audacity to smack him into a wall, he fled into the depths of the forest and alerted the others of his injuries. Enraged by the harm you brought upon one of their own, they lifted their protective magic over you, leaving you vulnerable to the evils of the woods. It truly was sad watching the unseen forces torment you, but you needed to be taught a lesson for denying him so many times and daring to strike him.

Your protection will return once he gives them the news, but you'll never know that. Instead, you’ll believe that he is keeping you safe all on his own, with the work of his mouth and ravenous appetite. It sounds ridiculous to his own ears, but it’s not like you silly humans understood fairy magic well enough to know better.

He can’t help it. You’re the sweetest flower in these woods, and he’s going to keep you all to himself.

[ererokii]

Infinite || Izuku Midoryia

Izuku Midioryia x Fem! Reader (Soulmate AU)

Warnings: insecurities, bit of angst

Word Count: 3194

Synopsis: In a world where soulmates exist, Izuku Midoryia believes that he won’t have one on the day of his 17th birthday.

Taglist (message to be added): @pixxiesdust @shoutodoki @shoutosteakettle @saltie @fryingpanitachi @sugacookiies @kingtamakimurder

➺ Note: This is for the @bnhabookclub​‘s bingo event and Celebrating Deku event! The prompt are Long Kisses and “Did you ever think we would be here? I mean since we were kids, I just..”

Bingo Masterlist

Soulmates were always a thing since the beginning of time. The signs were simple when you were supposed to find your soulmate. You either share the same colored iris of their right eye, or their birth date would be tattooed on your thumb in cursive. Some people got both, while others just had one. 

The signs didn’t come at birth. Some babies were born with grey eyes and wouldn’t get their soulmate’s eye color until they turned 14. It was a celebration when a child finally got their right eye color, matching with their soulmate or not. However, there were cases where someone wouldn’t receive their right eye color until they turned 17. 

Other babies who were born with a birthmark in the shape of a heart on their thumb got their tattoo at the age of 5. It was funny how the two worked. But that’s how the universe wanted it. 

Izuku Midoryia was always a curious child, ever since he learned how to walk. He was always up to meeting anyone with a new face. You happened to fall victim to his ways. Izuku met you when both of you were 4 years old, at a park. You were running around the playground and when he saw you, he practically begged his mom to let him go. With much reluctance, she did. 

Both of you connected rather quickly. When your mothers called for you to leave, both of you clung to each other as you sobbed, begging for another 10 minutes with each other. Seeing their children already so close despite only knowing each other for an hour, the mothers decided to talk amongst themselves as well. 

Inko and your mother got along well. This meant that you and Izuku would be seeing each other a lot more, which both of you were ecstatic about.

Both of you went to the same school. In the younger grades, the teachers would hold a small celebration for any child that received their tattoo. It happened a couple of times. A group of small kids and their teacher surrounding one of the students, a bright glowing light emitting from their thumb. It was something that always fantasized Izuku. He couldn’t wait for his own.

Yet he wasn't born with the heart birthmark. You were born with one. 

That was the only thing you could babble about. How excited you were to find out the date, to find your prince charming as you told him after watching your princess movies. 

“I think today is the day Izu-kun! I feel it!” You spoke with confidence, jutting your thumb in his direction. 

“W-what makes you think that?!” he gasped, his small brain blown away at your confidence.

“I just feel it! Today I’m going to find out about my prince charming!!” You giggled as you curtseyed, acting out the role of the princess. “And we’ll dance and dance!”

“It sounds like you have your whole life planned out! I wish I was able to get one!”

“Silly!” You pointed to his grey eyes. “You’ll get the eye remember?! That’s super-duper cool if you ask me!”

He rubbed his knuckles gently bashfully as he lowered his head.”You really think so?”

“I know so! You’ll probably get a pink! Or maybe purple!”

“Maybe yellow!” Izuku’s little body rattled with laughter alongside you. Both of you were huddled up on the carpeted floor, minding your own business from the other kids who were too busy coloring. 

“Bright!” you gasped and held your hand out, a glowing light emitting from your heart birthmark. “S-Sensei! It’s glowing!”

At the sound of your voice, your teacher and your classmates rushed to you. Izuku scooted closer, watching the heart glow brighter. “Does it hurt Y/N-Chan?” he whispered in astonishment, hand touching your arm. 

You stayed silent as you stared at the scene in front of you, the heart outlined in a gold shimmery light, it’s light blinding but also beautiful. It fully stopped as black ink formed on your hand.

“What does it say?”

You whimpered and lifted your hand up to your teacher’s bent over body. “I don’t know what it says.” You were only five years old and was still learning to read your numbers.

A chuckle left their lips as they grabbed your tiny wrist in their bigger hand, scanning over it. “July 15th!”

Gasps resonated throughout the room.

“That’s my birthday!” Izuku squeaked out as he stared at you.

You cheekily smiled and clapped your hands together. “It is! Maybe it’s you Izu-kun! Maybe you’re my prince charming!”

“You think that?!”

“I don’t know! But will we dance and dance like they do in the fairytales?!”

Izuku absentmindedly nodded as he bowed. “Yes Princess Y/N! We will dance and dance!”

You jutted out your pinkie in his direction, a serious look for a five year old displayed on your face. “You pinkie promise swear Izu-kun?”

He stared at it for a second before sticking his pinkie out as well, wrapping his small one around yours. “I pinkie promise swear Y/N-chan!”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

“My birthday passed and I still haven’t gotten my color! What if I’m not meant to have a soulmate?”

You scoffed and held the papers close to your chest. “That’s not true Izu! You’re going to! Don’t be so negative. Be like All Might!” You cheered and jumped up, fist raised in the air. 

He shook his head, his green hair moving in the slightest with his motion. “Yeah you’re right. He hasn’t even said anything about his soulmate! Maybe it’s kept a secret!”

You squealed like a little school girl, which you were. “How romantic!! Keeping your lover away from the spotlight! A mysterious type of love! Imagine that!”

“What’s so cute about that? Sounds like a cheap drama to me.”

An offended gasp left your lips as you spun on your heel, stopping right in front of him. “Cheap drama?!” you bent over a bit, placing your hands on your hips, one of your hands holding your papers. “It’s more than that!”

He stumbled back at your sudden movement and gulped. You were close. Close enough where he can smell the faint essence of your shampoo. His eyes were glued to your face. Over the years he definitely saw the changes throughout your body and would even say he found himself attracted to you. 

You’ve grown from the tiny toddler that always wanted to protect him, to a maturing teenager. You also noticed the changes in Izuku’s appearance. You noticed the way his face lost its baby fat and slowly shaped itself over time. Both of your moms loved seeing you walk home together. It was something that warmed both of their children staying friends after many years. They secretly hoped that your soulmates were each other, if only the universe was nice enough to grant their wishes. 

“You listen well!” you snapped with no ill intention, somehow shuffling closer to his now trembling body. “It is romantic to protect your soulmate from the horrors of this world! Imagine just fighting for them! That’s so romantic! In the dramas, their reason for fighting is always their soulmate! If someone fought for me, I would love them forever and ever!” you swooned, clasping your hands to your chest as your fingers gripped around the vest. Your papers were long gone on the floor, your eyes squeezed shut. If they were open, he could have swore he would have seen hearts in your eyes. 

“Okay I get it!” he said quickly, hands in front of his body as he shook them in defense. “If you shut your eyes any tighter you won’t see!”

A groan left your lips as a pout tugged them right after. “I was in my dream world! Always messing with it huh, Izu!” You opened your eyes to stare at him, head tilting to the side like a confused puppy when you saw his shocked expression. 

“What?” you asked, hand reaching up to your face. “Is there something on my face or something?”

His mouth opened but no words came out, only strangled noises and gasps for air. His index finger pointed at his right eye. “Y-Your eye! It’s maroon!”

A scream left your lips as you quickly took out your phone, immediately going on the camera app to stare at your reflection. “I-It’s here! It’s here!” your voice was higher pitched, clearly in shock as you felt the back of your neck heat up. 

You lowered your phone and placed it back in your bag. “Oh my..it’s here” you whispered breathlessly, slowly lifting your head to meet Izuku’s concerned gaze. “D-Do you not like it or something?” he whispered.

Your next action startled him.  A high pitch squeal filled his ears as your hands found themselves on his wrists, squeezing them as you jumped and down, excited. “It’s here Izu!” Your head bobbed up with each jump you did, your smile never faltering as you kept using his body as leverage to jump. 

He felt his heartbreak and fall in the depths of his soul. “I’m so happy for you Y/N! I bet it’s so exciting to finally get it!”

He was truly happy for you, he was. On the inside he was already hurting. He felt like his heart got chopped up and thrown away. You had a soulmate. Someone out there was already made for you. For you to love. For them to cherish and protect you like you wanted. 

He couldn’t. He couldn’t hold you. He couldn’t cherish you. He couldn’t protect you like you wanted. You weren’t meant for him.

You stared into his gaze with your new eyes. The iris from your parents matched beautifully with the maroon. If possible, it made your eyes stand out more. “Do they look weird?” you whispered, suddenly self conscious of your new appearance. 

“Course not! I think they look-” he stopped himself, flustering up as he twiddled his thumbs. “Beautiful.”

“Ah..” you rubbed your arm, hand moving up and down slowly, lowering your head at his words. “T-thank you Izu..” you meekly whispered before gasping, reaching out and grabbing him by his forearms. “I have to tell my mom! I’ll catch up with you later?!”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Enrolling at UA High School gave Izuku many opportunities. Before enrolling, he met with the Symbol of Peace himself. Gaining his quirk, Izuku worked hard to achieve his goal of entering. Seeing you at the entrance exam made him ecstatic.

That was until he would look into your eyes. Each time he dreaded looking into them. It left a grim reminder that he wasn’t for you. He remembered every moment of that day when you got the color. He remembered crying into his pillow for hours, leaving his mother worried sick. He couldn’t tell you how jealous he felt. He didn’t want to ruin your friendship.

Each kid in his class had their tattoo wrapped around their thumb or mismatched eyes. He often felt left out. He could feel the pity stares sent his way. The hushed whispers of gossipers ringing in his ears. Every time you would comfort him about it, saying it was natural to feel the way he was feeling, he couldn’t feel your comfort. It didn’t feel sincere to him. Nothing did.

He despised his birthday after his 14th. He hated the thought that this coming birthday will be the same as the one before. No trace of his soulmate. He did research. He tried forcing it by thinking of his soulmate. Would spend endless nights begging that the next day a sign would appear. 

There were times where he would come into class, absolutely exhausted as his feet dragged behind him, his shoulders slouched forward, his green and grey eyes bloodshot. It worried you to no end. You often spent nights in his dorm, comforting him. He would break down into your arms, repeating the words that no one would love him. That no one was made for him. 

When you got your signs you were over the top. You ranted and bragged about how amazing your soulmate was without even knowing them. You already knew it. Deep down you could feel their presence. It was an amazing feeling. A spark exploding inside of you that had to be let out soon. You heard stories of people finding their soulmates. How time seemed to stop leaving the two of them to drown in each other’s presence. You wanted it. 

Izuku’s birthday was today. His 17th to be exact. He was holding onto the small string of hope. You hoped that this would be different. He was at the age limit where he should have gotten the sign. You didn’t want this birthday to end with him crying again. You wanted him to be happy. He deserved it. 

It was a sunny afternoon. Izuku and you walked in silence to a park—the park where both of you had first met. A small humming came from his end, a small bounce in his step as the both of you continued to follow the cement path to a nearby bench. 

He would say it was an average morning. Despite the fact that you and Ochako decided to wake him up by singing him happy birthday and practically forcing him out of bed while he was still half asleep. He got greeted by all of his classmates, even Eri said happy birthday to which brought a big smile on his face. 

All Might came down and spoke a few words to his successor. Even Aizawa, which surprised the whole class. 

“Soo..” you spoke up, hands clasped behind your back. “Did your mom call?”

He nodded and looked up at the sky, red tresses adorning the blue sky. “She did. She was the first one to call me this morning”

“I’m surprised she didn’t stop by. I mean after all, I’m sure she could have gotten a free pass or something” 

“Yeah” he mumbled, eyes averted downwards. Something was on his mind. 

“Hey, why am I getting the feeling that you aren’t okay?”

A shrug of his shoulders made him lift his head to meet your gaze. “I’m alright. Just thinking.”

“Whatcha thinking about, Izu?”

“The normal is all.”

“Oh” was all you said as you lowered your head, regretting that you even asked him. 

His elbow gently jabbed into your side. “Don’t look so down.” A gentle smile appeared on his lips, motioning to the park bench with his head. “I still got time.” 

“Yeah you’re right about that.” you followed his footsteps from behind, placing yourself down on the wooden bench. 

A comfortable silence overcame the both of you. You leaned forward, resting your hands on your knees. “It’s been a long time hasn’t it?”

“What do you mean?” 

“Did you ever think we would be here? I mean since we were kids, I just… When I was younger I didn’t think we would be here if I’m being honest. I thought we were just going to have playdates till we drifted off once we entered high school.” 

Izuku turned his body to face you, concern evident on his face as his grey and green eyes glossed with tears. “You thought that?”

You nodded slowly as you pointed a finger towards the playground. “Do you remember? You came up to me with that bright smile of yours, asking me if we could play together. I remember we played superheroes, played on swings, and went down the slide so many times.”

A wave of nostalgia hit his body as he relaxed, leaning into the wood of the bench. “Yeah, I remember that. t’s funny how simpler times were back then huh? Not have to worry about grades, quirk sometimes, and...” he got quiet as his leg bounced up and down. “And soulmates”

“You seem to be stressing about your soulmate a lot. Izu it’ll happen. I promise. I mean you are technically of age now.”

“Yeah but what if it doesn’t happen?” he whispered, clenching the iron bar of the armrest, a small spark of his quirk emitting from his body. “What if I’m not meant for anyone? What if I’m one of those sad cases that will never ever find someone? Those pity stares keep me up at night! Everyone always talks about me like I’m not there!”

A small sob left his lips as a hand covered his eyes, shielding the small sense of dignity he had left. 

“Izu,” you whispered breathlessly, reaching out to touch him. Your fingertips touched the top of his shoulder, his body jerking away. 

“No! I don’t want you to feel bad for me! I like you! I like you so much but I’m not for you! You aren’t for me! I cry every day because you’re the one I want yet I can’t have you!”

Your vision grew blurry as you desperately rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand to conceal your tears. “You dummy..you can’t just say stuff like that!”

He sniffled as he looked over at you. “And why is that?”

You felt your heart stop. A funny feeling running through your veins. Butterflies appeared in the pit of your stomach. “Izu...” you whispered and suddenly cradled his face, your thumbs rubbing the swell of his tinted cheeks. “You- your eye.” 

His eyes widened drastically and he immediately shoved his hand into his pocket, pulling out his phone. Turning on the camera he faced it toward him as he choked on air. Green and maroon eyes. “It’s maroon,” he whispered and lowered his phone onto his lap. 

You let out a shaky breath and reached for his hand. A spark of electricity ran through your veins at the touch. His presence was clear as ever. His touch was real. It was like you were able to see clearly now. 

This was the moment everyone spoke of. The warmth of their partner touching them for the first time. The newfound wave of love exploding throughout both bodies. 

“I can’t believe it.” His eyes wandered to your hands enclosing his, focusing on his birthday tattooed on your thumb. The word and numbers adorning it. 

“Neither can I,” you replied, squeezing his hand gently. 

“There are an infinite amount of soulmates you could have had...yet you got me.”

A small smile tugged your lips as you stroked the side of his face with your knuckle. “There may be infinite amounts but I wouldn’t dream of being theirs. I only want you, Izu.”

He stood up abruptly as he held his hand out. “Well Princess, are you ready to dance and dance?”

A laugh left your lips. The moment when you were both small as you made a promise to each other replayed through your head. You could have swore you imagined a smaller version of the both of you, dancing and running around the playground behind him. A sign that everything will be alright. 

You placed your smaller hand in his, using him as leverage to stand up. 

“I’m ready to dance and dance with you until the end of time, my Prince.” 

[yikesharringrove]

@kumathecatalyst made my brain go bbbbbrbrrrrrrrrr

-

Billy let his head fall back, resting against the side of the house.

He had lost track of time in his drunken haze, and was an hour past curfew.

No way his dad would let him in.

He thought about finding some girl, convince her into letting him drive her home, into letting him stay the night.

In whatever capacity that means. Rumors will only help him here, help him blend in.

He gave himself until the end of his cigarette. Then he would head inside are start sniffing at chicks.

He knew that Vicki girl was watching him earlier, and he’s pretty sure Tina is the one throwing the party. Maybe he can sweet talk his way into her bedroom. It’s beat having to go anywhere.

He stared at the dwindling cigarette.

It was cold out, but Billy was still drunk enough that it felt nice. It was too hot inside, everyone tugging at him, pushing him around, trying to cling onto him.

He took a deep breath, was about to stub out the dying cig against the side of the house when he heard humming.

A tune that nearly made his heart stop.

Harrington came around the corner, stumbling, and very drunk, holding a red cup with one hand, his stupid sunglasses with the other.

He stopped for a second, looking down at his feet, taking a shaking breath.

“It’s a beautiful day in this neighborhood, a beautiful day for a neighbor, would you be mine?” He laughed bitterly, pouring out his drink. He watched the spiked punch splatter in the grass at his feet. His eyes tracked up, landing on Billy as he clumsily sang, “could you be mine?”

“Mr. Rogers, huh?” Harrington just stared. “I like that show.”

“It’s good.” Steve was slurring, just a touch. “Mr. Rogers wants to be my friend. He says so. Every episode.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda the idea of the neighborhood.” 

“Wish I had a neighborhood.” Harrington threw his empty cup into the bushes.

“You do.”

“No, like, a Mr. Rogers kinda neighborhood. Where everyone was nice, and, and people liked me, and I had friends. Mr. Rogers is my only friend and he’s not even real.”

“He’s real.” Harrington huffed dramatically at Billy.

“But he lives in the t.v. He’s not here. He’s not real in my life. Or I’m not real in his.” He furrowed his brows, looked like he was getting confused.

It was cute.

And Billy suddenly realized he didn’t know Harrington’s first name.

That Tom kid just kept referring to him as Harrington.

“I’m Billy.”

“I know.” Billy rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, but I don’t know your name, Dumbass.” Harrington’s eyes went hollow. It was fucking creepy.

“It’s Steve. But Dumbass works too I guess.” Billy made a mental note never to call him dumbass again.

“Well, you know. Now that we know each other, we can be neighbors.” Steve’s face lit up slowly, like the words were sinking in one by one.

And then he threw himself at Billy, hugging him tightly around the middle.

And Billy realized, horrified, that Steve was sobbing into his neck.

Billy reached up, patting his back.

“Why don’t I take you home, Steve?” That was somehow the wrong thing to say, as Steve just started crying harder.

“No one takes care of me.”

“Whoa, who said anything about take care of? I was just gonna drop you off. Let your mom do all the heavy lifting.”

And then Steve’s legs seemed to give out under him.

“Mom’s not home. Never home.” A chill spread through Billy’s whole body.

“Is she, did she pass?”

“No. She just chooses not to be around me,” Steve wailed. Billy was very much in over his head.

But he may have found a place to sleep tonight.

And if Steve likes Mr. Rogers, he’s gotta have the channel at home.

Because that was the thing about moving to Hawkins. It meant leaving everything behind. Including, Mrs. Beverly down the street that let Billy come in and watch The Neighborhood with her.

She was old and kind, gave him cookies and turned a blind eye if he got choked up during an episode.

“Hey, Steve, just let me drive you home, okay?” Steve nodded into his neck.

Billy led him to his car parked far down the road. He didn’t want any assholes hitting it.

He had pounded some water before heading outside, and felt alright. Still a little hazy, but he’ll get them there in one piece.

Steve had calmed down some, just kinda had tears sliding down his face now, Which was better than his body wracking with harsh sobs.

He silently pointed at streets Billy was meant to turn down, and Billy, for once, drove slowly enough that it worked out.

Steve was still humming the theme song, his voice cracking every so often.

He pointed to a big house at the end of the street, and Billy pulled into the long drive way.

He glared at the huge fucking house. Steve made no move to get out of the car.

He was holding onto his seat belt, the car silent without his humming.

“Do you wanna come in?” His voice was tiny, like he already new the answer.

“Sure.” His head snapped up to look at Billy. Billy just killed the ignition and pulled himself out of the car.

He watched Steve, smile on his face, as he stumbled awkwardly out of the passenger seat, nearly falling over in the process.

Billy got one hand on his elbow as they walked to the front double doors.

“You wanna-I got Mr. Rogers on tape.” Steve was just holding his keys out for Billy.

There were only a few, one clearly a car key, so it was a matter of three different keys.

Steve seemed like he just didn’t wanna bother.

“I got a buncha episodes. We could watch one.”

“Sure, if you want.” Steve beamed at him. Billy just focused on getting the door open.

The second key worked and the heavy lock slid open.

Steve’s house was cold.

It was immaculately clean, like some kinda model home.

It looked like nobody lived in it.

Steve brought Billy through the entry hall to a door just off the kitchen leading into a basement.

This was better. The couch was worn and there was a blanket strewn on it like Steve had been curled up underneath it.

Billy realized this is probably where Steve spends most of his time in this empty house, the almost cozy television room downstairs.

There were shelves lined with tapes, all sorts of movies and neatly labeled television show recordings.

Steve had probably every episode of The Neighborhood in a section all on it’s own. Billy picked a random episode and hoped it wasn’t one guaranteed to make him cry.

He figured Steve’s breakdown was enough for one night.

Steve sang along to the theme song under his breath.

It was so damn cute.

He was slurring still, drunk and lazy, sitting low on the couch with the blanket pulled up to his chin.

It looked hand knit.

He had put some over Billy’s lap when he sat down.

The episode turned out to be fine.

For Billy that is.

It was an old one, one from about two years ago.

One about friendship.

And Steve seemed to be okay.

And then the story moved to the Neighborhood of Make-Believe.

The puppet people were on their way to a picnic at King Friday’s palace.

But Lady Aberlin was in a rush and forgot to get Daniel Tiger and bring him to the picnic.

And Daniel Tiger explained how hurt he felt, forgotten and left out by his friends. How they had fun without him and that made him feel bad.

And Steve was crying again.

“They, they just forgot Daniel-” Billy could barely make out what he was saying.

This was no pretty crying. This wasn’t a few dainty tears.

This was water covering Steve’s cheeks. This was snot and borderline hyperventilating.

And Billy has never felt more out of his depths.

“They don’t care about Daniel! They don’t love him!” Yeah, this was not about Daniel Tiger and the fucking picnic.

“Steve, of course they love Daniel. Lady Aberlin came back, and, and she apologized! Sometimes, you know, friends can just be shitty,” Billy offered. Steve wailed. There were tears dripping off his chin now.

“I wouldn’t know!”

“C’mon, man. Didn’t I say I was your friend?”

“You don’t even know me!”

“I’ve seen you fucking ugly cry three times tonight. I feel like I know you pretty well.” The episode was still playing, Mr. Rogers now explaining in that soft voice of his, that telling friends our feelings can help make us feel better. Billy pointed at the television. “Tell me your feelings! Mr. Rogers said it’ll help.”

“I, I, no one loves me. Nancy doesn’t love me, my old friends want fuckin’ nothing to do with me, and, and my parents don’t even like me, and I’m always left behind.”

“Wait, Nancy’s that girl, right? That Tom guy said you ditched him for her.”

“No. I ditched him because he was being a fucking asshole.”

“Them Steve, you kinda can’t complain that he wants nothing to do with you after you ditched him.”

“I tried to talk to him. Like, a month later. We were best friends since we were five, and it was one stupid fight, and I tried to talk it out, and he told me to go fuck myself.” Damn.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Steve had stopped crying by now, but his face was still wet. He was fucking covered in snot. Jesus Christ. “I tried. He just realized he was better off without me.”

“Or he was hurt and trying to protect his pride or some shit.” Steve deflated a bit.

“The Nancy thing is, that one’s real. She said she was just pretending. We’ve been together for a year. And I, I love her. And she’s just pretending.” Steve suddenly sat up, flipping the blanket down to let out his top half, scooting to sit against the armrest facing Billy.

The credits were rolling on the tape.

“Y’know, I offered to like, not go to college for her. I missed the early application deadline because my whole plan up until like two hours ago was to rot in this shitty fucking town for her. To settle down with her. To marry her. And she’s fucking pretending.” He finally wiped off his face. “I don’t even know what to do anymore. I fucking don’t.”

Billy didn’t either.

Well, he had a few suggestions, but you could always suck my cock, right here and now felt a little crass for the situation.

“You said early application. You’ve still got the regular deadlines.”

“I wanted to do early because Nancy had been helping me with my grades all fucking year. She helped me bring them up a lot last year and without her, man they’re gonna tank.”

“Nah. You got me now. I can give you a hand.”

Steve gave him a look, one eyebrow raised.

“What? I’m smarter than I look.”

“That’s not reassuring.” Billy reached out and slapped Steve’s arm. Steve pouted at him, rubbing the sore spot. “Owie.”

“Don’t fuckin’ say owie.”

“That hurt, Billy. What would Mr. Rogers say?”

“He’d agree you were being a pain in my ass.”

“Rude.”

Steve looked better. His eyes were a little bit brighter.

“So, Daniel Tiger. Did talking about your feelings help?”

Steve rolled his eyes, but he was smiling, just a teeny bit.

“Yeah, it did. Thanks, King Friday.”

“Oh, you better take that back! I am not King Friday.”

-

Here’s a clip from the episode they watch. It’s lowkey fucking brutal. (The clip is “Daniel Feels Forgotten” under the Daniel Striped Tiger section)

[skellebonez]

Happy Birthday Kit!!!

It’s your birthday @kitkat1003​ heck yeah! And for your birthday Spirit is going to have a good day because I and many other people love them a lot! I hope you like this fic as much as I loved writing it!

It was possibly the oddest favor Spirit had done for anyone, ever. But, if they were being at least a tiny bit honest with themselves, it sounded like it could have been one of the more enjoyable ones. Well… technically Pigsy said it was “not a favor I’m just asking you to do this”. So. Potato potahtoe.

Specifically he asked if Spirit would “spend the day with him.” That was it. Simple, easy, long to be sure but not as long as many of the other favors that required a fetch quest at the very least. That was the original bare bones request, vague as it was. Just spend the entire with with Pigsy, 9 AM to 9 PM, and they would be right as rain.

And it wasn’t even like that would be hard! They already had work scheduled for the day, helping Pigsy open the shop and working the register. Why, they could even finish up the task while at work, two bird one stone and all that!

At least, that was what Spirit thought. Before Pigsy met them at the shop entrance and announced in a tired voice after chugging some very very clearly fresh and not sweetened coffee-

“Store’s closed for the day. We’re going shopping.”

Store closed.

For the day.

And going shopping.

Going.

Shopping.

Spirit pushed down their immediate shudder of “oh, that’s not what we had planned today and now today is different oh no I was not prepared for this oh dear oh jeepers” that ran up their spine.

“Uh- o-ok… where are we headed?”

“Food market, mostly,” Pigsy said with a shrug as he adjusted a few reusable baskets in his hands. He must have had a lot on the list for the day or he was buying a lot in advance. “Thinkin of hitting up another place or two in the area if we got time, but nothing too strenuous.”

A bit of Spirit’s tension eased from their shoulders and spine at this. They’d been to the market plenty of times before, so even though it was out of the blue it wasn’t exactly that unusual for them. The last time they went had been with Pigsy and Tang, and while their fighting over which carrots looked “good enough” wasn’t the most… fun conversation to be present for, it was nice.

Pigsy had even bought them a snack, insisting there were no strings attached. No favors. Just a snack from a friend to a friend. And that memory was nice… nice enough to help elevate any extra anxiety still lingering in the demon’s spine (that came from the news anyway, the regular anxiety was as there as always).

“Well, best to head as quickly as possible?” They offered, following Pigsy as he lead the way. “Want to get there fast to get the pick of the best vegetables, right?”

“You’re speakin my language!”

~

The market was surprisingly calm and quiet. Maybe it was because it wasn’t one of the usual busy days, or maybe it was because of how early they were in the day, but instead of the loud bustle and clutter and yells of vendors there was just a set of clearly dedicated loyal customers and relaxed vendors making small talk.

“Oh, I forgot to mention,” Pigsy said suddenly as they made their way down to where he would usually buy root vegetables. “They do this sort of thing a couple times a month where the market isn’t open to the public for a couple hours. It’s a little somethin to help out the local restaurants and other businesses who come here for their supplies.”

“Is that why that guy at the entrance looked at me like I was about to steal a child’s lunch money?”

That hadn’t been fun at all. Until Pigsy had stepped up beside him Spirit thought they were genuinely in some sort of trouble they didn’t know about.

Then again. That happened a lot. Thinking they were in trouble they didn’t know about. Pigsy was trying to make sure that didn’t happen as much. “If I could tell their brain to stop it wouldn’t happen at all” was what he said when Spirit overheard him talking to Tang about them.

It wasn’t good to snoop, Spirit knew that, but… it was. Nice. Oddly nice. He wasn’t going to be able to just tell Spirit’s brain to stop telling them things, and before Spirit would be confused and maybe a little horrified at the idea, but after spending so much time with the pig demon it felt. Nice.

Their conversation continued on for a moment, Pigsy explaining what the market on these special days was like and how the deals here were so helpful and every stall they stopped at Pigsy made it a point to keep the conversation going with the vendor himself. Just open enough for Spirit to insert themselves if they wanted, though they didn’t except at the vendor selling oddly colored flowers (which led into a short explanation about how they were made) and an explanation of how many of the dried ones on sale were imported from other countries and difficult to find outside their stall.

They didn’t know why Pigsy was buying flowers, though. At least, not the specific reason. Dried, fresh, some with stems and some with only the heads. Some bulbs as well. Maybe he was going to try some more floral broths or flower infused noodles? He’d done that in the past apparently! And Spirit had watched him made odder things, experimental dishes that didn’t really change much with the old recipes so much as they simply added more depth to them.

Spirit did notice, however, most of the flowers he had purchased were… purple. Or, in the case of one, blue. An odd one out to be sure.

“Alright, we’re done!” Pigsy announced, smiling widely at his haul. Which, all things considered… wasn’t actually as much as Spirit expected. Still, a good haul. “We’re going to put this all away at the shop, I have an appointment with Sandy later but we’re not expected at any specific time so there isn’t really a need to rush.”

“AH, hold on just one moment!” The flower stall vendor said as he came out from behind his stall. “Pigsy, I want you both to have these. For being a wonderful return customer and for the nice conversation.”

Spirit watched as he tucked a purple flower behind Pigsy’s ear, a daisy if Spirit was correct. And then he did the same to them, making them tense in surprise. If they said anything after that Spirit didn’t realize due to their shock, but the next thing they registered was Pigsy gently guiding them out of the entrance.

~

Sandy was more than ready for them when they arrived, urging Spirit inside and to his couch while Pigsy and he talked about… something.

Spirit wasn’t paying as much attention as they normally would when they were immediately swarmed with cats.

Cats on their lap, cats on their arms, cats on their shoulders. Cats. Cats everywhere. So many cats.

“Uh… S-Sandy…” Spirit started, an uncertain chuckle bubbling up as another cat plopped down on their head. “Do your cats… smell fear? Or do I smell delicious? They’re vibrating very violently. And… rubbing against me. A lot. I mean, I know they’re purring but this is weird.”

Sandy turned toward Spirit, covering his mouth to keep himself from laughing at the sight.

“No, no they don’t and you do not,” he said with a shake of his head, and he gave a look toward Pigsy. “You probably got some catnip on you somehow at the market. You’re just their favorite person right now.”

“… oh,” Spirit breathed out, reaching up to pat one of the cats on his lap carefully. The cat let out a trill, rolling onto their back as they pressed harder into Spirit’s side. Spirit couldn’t help it. They gave in to the temptation to quote a video Mei showed him long ago. “… I have been chosen.”

They didn’t even pay attention to Sandy and Pigsy until something on a trey was placed on the table between all of them, the clinking jolting some of the cats and making them roll off Spirit (who was grateful for the use of their arms back).

“So… I was hoping you might want to taste test something I wanted to add to the menu for special occasions that Sandy is teaching me to make,” Pigsy said with a smile, gesturing to the trey. “He actually made these in advance, they take a long while to dry properly, but they’re supposed to be worth it. But I, uh, can’t guarantee anything.”

It was very… purple and blue. A clear cup filled with what Spirit assumed was blue tea and a purple… stick of some kind that seemed to be flowers dipped in sugar? The only thing that seemed to stand out was the tiny cup of what smelled like lemon juice between them.

“The stick is candied lavender!” Sandy explained, gesturing to the hardened blossom. “You can use it to stir the tea and add sweetness or just eat it as is! But before you choose, pour that little cup into the tea.”

Spirit raised an eyebrow, almost wondering if this was some kind of prank. It didn’t feel like Pigsy and Sandy would pull a prank like this but. Well. Who knows… but they wanted to trust that they weren’t so they did as asked, slowly pouring the lemon juice into… the…

“It’s turning purple,” Spirit whisper shouted, eyes wide and awed as the blue tea slowly turned from the brilliant blue to a more brilliant purple from the bottom of the cup up. “What. Purple? It’s purple! The tea changes colors!”

Pigsy chuckled, nodding his head with a wide smile. “Yup.”

“It’s called Butterfly Pea Flower tea,’ Sandy explained, smile just as wide. "Lemon and lime juice made it do that! It’s not really a rare tea, but we added some extra stuff to the lavender that should make it taste even better when you mix it all in. Go on, give it a try!”

Spirit looked between the two of them and picked up the lavender stick and tea cup, mixing them together as they sat back and took a sip.

It was… amazing. Earthy and slightly bitter from the lemon juice. There must have been honey as well as sugar in the lavender stick, bringing a bright sweetness to the drink. There was a bit of spice to it, maybe cinnamon, as well. It was nothing like anything Spirit had ever drank before. It was warm without being too hot, and combined with the purring of the cats surrounding them…

They realized they felt. Good. Not perfect, not completely relaxed. They didn’t know if that was possible. But they felt good. Happy.

“I think… I think people will love this.”

[x0401x]

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #5

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Iolite of Cloudy Skies

Iolite. Its Japanese name was “blue flower stone”. The gem was blue with a purple tint stronger than that of a sapphire and had a unique viscosity that made it seem as if it was coated with a bit of dew. The level of hardness was seven. It was called iolite when treated as a gemstone, but when treated as a type of mineral, it was also called cordierite. It was an eccentric stone, which also appeared to have a grayish brown color instead of blue depending on the angle that one looked at it. Etc., etc.

“What happened, Seigi? Your eyes are dead.”

“How can I put it...? Surfeit, I guess.”

“Haah?”

I couldn’t memorize the stones’ names. They were too many.

The client who left just now had come because they wanted to see many sorts of blue stones, so Richard’s treasure box was packed with a great variety of blues. There were sapphires, of course, and also tanzanites, lapis lazuli, blue chalcedonies and this iolite.

Half a year before I had started working part-time in Etranger, the image I had of gemstones was limited to things such as diamonds, rubies, sapphires and emeralds, I believed. Now I knew about the existence of a stone named zircon, which shone in the same way as a diamond, and also knew about the spinel, which was red like a ruby, as well as that the color of sapphires was not just blue, having a wide range from purple to yellow, and I had seen transparent jades that were impossible to tell apart from emeralds.

If I had as much knowledge of minerals as Tanimoto-san, I would’ve managed to sort stones inside my head by the differences the in chemical composition of each, but unfortunately, I was unfamiliar with such things, and I currently didn’t have enough enthusiasm or willpower to study them. If I were to explain figuratively, it felt like going out to hunt for clams at a beach, and when you innocently dove into the lake, you’d see the Mariana Trench spreading out below. It was a beautiful world, thus also too wide and too deep. And endless. To a terrifying extent.

When I told him roughly this, Richard laughed, the depths of his throat trembling with giggles. “It is not as if you are aiming to obtain a GIA or FGA qualification or anything, right? Isn’t it all right for you to observe as much as you like?”

“That might be the case, but...”

I found myself thinking that it was a waste.

After all, I’d be on my knees listening as Richard went, in earnest, through the trouble of introducing all kinds of stones to me one by one. I often heard from my senpais that “job hunting is a connection for people”, so I felt sorry that my connection with stones remained scoreless. Regardless, it wasn’t like I was suddenly going to get any smarter.

As I said this, Richard laughed again and beckoned me with a hand gesture. He then took something out of his suit’s pocket. One of those subdivision vinyl bags that I’d often see when he was handling jewels in the back room. It seemed there was an iolite inside. There was a label stuck to the bag packed with absorbent cotton, and something was written on it in horizontal letters. “Viking sunstone,” it read. Vikings? Like the ones that you’d imagine wearing horned helmets, carrying axes and coming from the sea on a ship? As I asked for confirmation, the jeweler nodded with a “precisely”.

“The words written on this label are associated with the former ‘purpose’ of the iolite. In the past, people used iolites as sun stones.”

“‘Used’ them as ‘sun stones’...?”

I didn’t understand anything from A to Z. What did that mean? For starters, why was gem of such a cold-looking color made into a stone of the sun?

Before I even had a breach to ask, the beautiful shopkeeper began talking, a smile ghosting his lips, “You might already know this, but a portion of the people residing in the current Britain are descendants of those who went through the Norman Conquest that began around the ninth century - in other words, of the Vikings. They were famous for having the skills to travel long distances, which was unusual at the time, so Seigi. If you were someone who travels the sea for long periods, how would you know your way?” Richard asked me.

A means to know the cardinal directions in the open sea. So it was a situation where there’d be no piece of land to act as a mark. The only thing I could use in such a case was a magnet. No, wait. Richard had said earlier that it was the ninth century. The compass would be invented only much later. I recalled memorizing that this was the invention that triggered the Age of Discovery back in high school for history class. If so, I recalled the words on the label. “Sunstone”. Yeah, it connected.

“They knew the directions by using the stone of the sun?”

“Good for you. Exactly. Isn’t it clear?”

“K-Kinda!”

“Then, what about under cloudy skies, when the sun is not visible, Mr. Enlightened Part-Timer?”

Speaking of which, the weather changed easily at sea. I had also heard that England was a country where the skies tended to be overcast. Bad weather must be frequent in those coastal waters. If the sky stayed cloudy for three or four days, what should I do? Was there nothing more that could be done at sea?

When I made a puzzled face, Richard smiled as though he had hit the nail on the head, his white hands displaying the iolite under a fluorescent light. “For instance, let’s try to put a mark on any of this iolite’s faceted sides with ink. Another one on a different side. On sunny days, we would record in which direction we can see the sun from one of these two points at given times, and on cloudy days, we would look for parts where the two points overlap. When doing so, since this stone can detect even the faintest light, we would be able to tell the sun’s position,” he said.

“So we can know the position of light with that stone...? Then couldn’t it be any other stone?”

“Light refracts. If it were passing through thick clouds, the human eye would find its shine in a different direction from the sun’s actual position. Iolites acted as polarized lenses, so to speak. By using this stone, the sailors could tell the correct position of the sun. Yet the most famous sunstone is not iolite, but a type of refraction stone called ‘Iceland spar’.”

A polarized lens. Now he was talking about physics? But I did remember the stuff about light refraction. Got it; so that was why it was a “stone of the sun”.

“I don’t get it very well, but I feel the gemstone romance from it. I like that kinda thing,” I said enthusiastically, Richard giving me a calm smile.

“You do get it. Just as you said, you ‘don’t understand stones very well but like them either way’. That is exactly why your eyes were open, so you thought only about how far your destination was and felt your teeth set on edge at it. You mustn’t expect to be able to understand everything overnight. Go steady, without rushing. Do not waver at the impatience stuck back-to-back to your ambitions. That is different from having no one to depend on due to not knowing where you are headed. The hardest times are probably the ones when you have no idea where you should go, but you know the exact position of the sun.”

So, in short, I knew exactly where I wanted to be?

While I remained quiet, Richard shrugged and added, “Of course, this is a metaphor. Even if little by little, the stones should definitely be leaving a trace inside you. Aren’t you supposed to be treasuring this instead of chasing after what goes away?”

Lastly, Richard threw in the trivia that, in the world of power stones, the iolite was said to be a stone that showed people the “right direction”. Taking the backbone of it into consideration, that was indeed a convincing talk. But more than that...

“It’d be great if you were by my side forever.”

“Hah?”

“You’re an expert at noticing what’s troubling other people, aren’t you? I really think you’re a handy guy, like a compass. Aah, ‘the world’s most beautiful compass’, huh?”

“Those are quite irrational words, on top of being illogical. You were born in Japan, raised in Japan and aspire to become a public servant of Japan, so why are you calling an English jeweler a ‘compass’?”

“Well, I don’t plan to ask you about how to prepare for the public servant exams, but I can rely on you when I run into bigger problems, right?”

Richard sighed with a face of thorough dismay. I could understand how he felt. This was like a child in nursery school saying, “It’d be great if my teacher could always be there to help me out.” Long story short, I was acting spoiled. Even though he was my superior at work.

“That’s right; about the custard pie that today’s costumer brought, it looks like it’s quick to expire. Wanna eat it? I’ll make some tea.”

“If you would. Aah, the sugar...”

“Holding back on it this month, right? I know.”

“Help me with half of it. The amount of sugar in it concerns me.”

“Leave it to me.”

This guy was truly good at leading the mood around, and the same applied for the not-too-straightforward way that he phrased himself when recommending gemstones to the customers. Apparently, he thought I was feeling down.

I cut the crunchy pie in half while the tea leaves boiled, then shared it with Richard in the reception room and we both ate it. Covered with powdered sugar, the pie was a dangerous white little thing, as the colorless powder could scatter around from the pie’s surface just by us breathing on it a tiny bit, so the snack time turned into a moment of silence. I felt like laughing at the much too surreal sight several times, but if I happened to cause a big damage to the beautiful shopkeeper’s high-grade suit by doing that, my pay would be reduced. In the end, I ate the pie entirely while looking at the wall.

On the way back home that day, as I looked up at the night sky, I thought about the Vikings of over a thousand years ago. It was said that they were after new lands. What about me? Where was I headed? Would there ever be a day when I would fall into a philosophical concern, like, “I have no idea where I’m trying to go”? Perhaps Richard too? I insolently prayed that the stones may help us out at least in times like those.

Stars were beginning to twinkle in the purplish-blue night sky. There was no doubt that the stars appearing in the sky had not changed ever since the Vikings’ era. Thinking about that as I walked, I mistook one of the streets I should have turned. I had the feeling that I heard Richard’s voice, telling me to mind at least my own steps. I get it, geez.

I decided to wait patiently for the benefits of the stone. It was best for something like that not to happen, but there was no guarantee that both of us wouldn’t lose our ways at the same time one day.

[lord-explosion-baku]

Our Love Is God pt. 2

Dabi x Reader

Warnings: mentions of noncon/somnophilia, abortion, dark themes, yandere characteristics, dabi just being a rat tbh

A/N: so like I said that I’d get back to this fic when I got bored or other, more important things were a drag to write and, well, I got bored/other,more important things were a drag to write. TW for talk of abortion. Dabi doesn’t take things lightly and thinks certain things that may make anybody who has had an abortion or has deep feelings about abortion either really guilty or really angry, but that’s not the point. The point of this fic is that he’s a bastard and not a savior. This is pretty short! And yes I plan on writing more, but that’s when I get bored or other, more important things are a drag to write!

Dabi found himself panting when he finally lifted himself up onto your balcony. It had been, what, almost two months since he’d last snuck into your room? Too long, but you hadn’t called him, and he had been busy to see what the hell was up with you. Now he had a couple days to himself, and he couldn’t shake the pestering feeling of wanting to spend them with you.

The door to your balcony was unlocked, thank god; he really didn’t want to have to burn the knob off—why make a reason for you to get pissed at him already? Dabi smirked. You were fucking cute when you were angry, but he wanted his return to be at least a little pleasant.

Unsurprisingly, you were passed out underneath that ugly-ass, pink canopy, snoozing away peacefully and unexpecting. Your bed was built for a princess, but with you sprawled out on your back with your arms splayed apart, your tank-top rising up to expose your soft belly, and your blanket tossed down so only one of your feet were covered, you looked nothing short of a cavewoman. Still hot though, and Dabi missed you.

That was it. Dabi missed you. He never really expected to miss anybody he fucked. He made plenty of girls mad in the past, so when you last kicked him out, it shouldn’t have been any different. He’d gotten used to a routine: sleep with some chick, piss her off, do crime, then forget about her. But since the night you’d kicked him out, he couldn’t get your bratty fucking face out of his damn mind. Was it that you were stubborn? Or was it that you came across as such a lil do-gooder, daddy’s favorite princess and all that bullshit, when you were really just a filthy slut on the inside?

“What is it about you that makes me crazy, baby?” Dabi asked aloud, tracing a finger up from the hemline of your pajama shorts to your bare ribs. He watched goosebumps appear on your tummy and flattened them out with the palm of his hand.

Your only response was a soft snore. Dabi scoffed.

The first time he fucked you, you had been asleep. Or at least, you were asleep when he began. He visited you a couple nights after he and Twice tried to loot your father’s safe. He’d thought you were a cute little shit, and just wanted to see your frightened face again. He climbed in through the balcony and found you asleep in your bed like you were now, only you were laying on your stomach. After sniffing around your room a little, he couldn’t help but crawl into your bed. He wanted to hear you scream, but you stayed asleep, even when Dabi’s hands inevitably started exploring your body.

Dabi couldn’t forget how deliciously wrong it felt to pet your pert little ass while you slept, how exciting it was to rub a knuckle over your clothed slit, how incredibly hot it was for you to cry out when he plunged two fingers into your sopping wet pussy. Yes, you cried, but you also moaned, and Dabi felt you clench around his fingers when he wrapped his free hand around your neck, pulled you back, and whispered to you, “I’m gonna fuck you, and you’re gonna love it, babydoll.”

Dabi made good on that promise that night. You took him so well, and it really didn’t take him all that long to get you to sing for him. You liked being taken advantage of, and Dabi learned that the more aggressive he was with you, the easier it was to make you cum. And oh, baby girl, it was just too easy to make you cum.

He was hard now, and he wanted to fuck you, but he wouldn’t. Even though you snored, there was something peaceful about watching you sleep. Of course, that didn’t stop him from palming your breasts, if only just to see your nipples pop against your tank top.

“Why haven’t you texted, huh? Was I really all that bad to you?” Dabi’s voice was soft against your neck as he placed gentle kisses along your warm flesh. He nuzzled his nose behind your ear and inhaled deeply, taking in the aroma of your washed hair. “You know I could be real good to you if that’s all you want from me…”

Calloused fingers brushed across flowery lips, the vast contrast between him and you burning a hole into his chest. He leaned over to see your mouth part subtly, invitingly. Dabi took the initiative and planted a light kiss on you. He whispered, “there’s no way you haven’t missed me a tiny bit.”

At this, you hummed, and Dabi felt tension melt from his shoulders. That was an affirmation if he’d ever heard one, which gave him permission to run both of his hands down your sides to take their sharpened places at your hips. He pulled you against his hardened groin and let himself grind his strain courteously into you.

“You know how hot you are, babe? You know how much I missed having you wrap around my cock?” God, he wanted you. He wanted to be inside of you. He wanted to kiss you, and mark you, and love you, and-

You let out a little, “uhh,” from the very back of your throat. Dabi could have damn well nearly melted into you from that tiny noise. He could only imagine what squeaks and squeals you had saved up from him when you woke up.

For a moment, he thought that he would break his resolve to not fuck you—you wanted him to anyhow—and honestly, he probably would have, had it not been for your phone lighting up, snapping his attention to your side table. It buzzed twice, which he could have ignored, and then two more times, which made Dabi grab it, reading the I.D. tag, ‘Daddy.’

Dabi scoffed and used your thumb to unlock your phone. He found that it was your father that texted you, asking about a visit to the doctor’s you made. Dabi kicked back on your bed and decided to dive into the depths of your phone, check your social media PM’s, calls you’d made, etcetera.

There were quite a few messages from boys in there. Some of them were coming on to you, others were asking when they’d see you again. Dabi’s jaw clenched when he read those messages, but he was pleased to see that you’d left all those jagoffs on read, even the ones who were more persistent. Dabi would be lying if he said he didn’t go out and sleep with a couple chicks while you were there ignoring him. You couldn’t blame him. He was a man with needs. But he never called them again. None of them mattered like you mattered, and by the look of things, it seemed like you felt the same way.

Dabi checked your photo album, finding nothing more interesting than the racey selfies you took of yourself, probably trying to feel good about yourself (Dabi sent those pictures to his own phone, before deleting the evidence). Then he went to your search history, smirking at the very specific websites you visited.

“You’re absolutely filthy,” he chuckled in the middle of watching a video you seemed to frequently visit. He couldn’t wait to try this out on you—a little make up sex surprise. In response, you turned in bed, throwing your arm around Dabi’s lap, your elbow just a few centimeters from his erection. Dabi frowned down at you, and clicked out of the video, knowing that it was just gonna spur him on. He decided to look back to see what you searched when you’d last saw him—see if you looked up anything close to ‘sex with a villain’ or the like. But he didn’t find that. What he found was weird. What he found made a pit form in the bottom of his stomach.

‘how to deal with heartbreak’ first caught his eye. Dabi thought that this could have been about him but this was about seven weeks after he’d last seen you. As he kept scrolling, it only got worse.

‘depressed after termination’

‘how to stop the pain without taking medications’

‘best ways to clean blood off of linens’

‘discrete doctors near azabu’

‘should i tell the guy im not dating about pregnancy?’

‘is there anything i can eat to not be oregano?’ (Dabi couldn’t even sneer at ‘oregano.’)

‘top 10 signs you are pregnant’

Dabi’s chest constricted. He nearly dropped the phone on your arm, but that would definitely wake you the hell up. “Pregnant?” He whispered out loud. It only made sense. Dabi never wrapped himself up with you like he did with other girls. There was something so fucking dirty about you taking him raw when he knew you didn’t want to. He knew you were clean because you didn’t fuck around—at least, not before him, which made his frown deepen.

Fuck. Despite the unusual shattered feeling Dabi felt deep in the pit of his stomach, he was still so fucking hot for you. He turned you over so that you were on your back again so he could examine your belly. He kissed you below your navel, wondering that if you hadn’t been ‘depressed after termination’ would there already be a little bump there?

There was a brief flash of a little hand pressing against the swollen stomach of a white haired woman, but Dabi quickly shook that memory away.

“Why, babe?” Dabi kissed your stomach again. Seriously, why? Did you think Dabi would be a shit dad? He probably would be! But he’d still be a dad, if he were raising a kid with you. Did you not know that? And it wasn’t like you didn’t have the funds to raise a healthy child with everything it could ever want and more! You were a spoiled brat and you would’ve raised an equally spoiled brat, and Dabi would’ve loved the hell out of the kid! What the fuck?!

Dabi’s mental fit was interrupted from a little bleep! chiming from your phone. It was from Snapchat, of course, because you were a little social media whore. Not even caring how it could look once you woke up, Dabi opened the snap to see a picture of city lights taken from high above with a little tag that read, ‘wish you were here.’ The user who sent it was nicknamed ‘K’ and their username was something indecipherable. Probably just another one of your rich-bitch friends, showing off the view from their penthouse apartment.

Dabi discarded your phone on your bed and brushed his hands through his spiky hair, cursing softly. He decided to leave then. He needed time to think and reflect. He’d have to bring this up to you sooner or later...if not, he’d figure out a way to work himself back into your life. You probably hadn’t called because you were feeling guilty, rightfully so. That didn’t mean he didn’t want to have you anymore. In fact, he wanted you more than ever before.

Jumping out of your window, Dabi decided then and there that he’d be back. He’d make you talk. And he figured that if he could get you pregnant once, he sure as hell could do it again. Easy peasy. He’d have you calling him daddy again in no time.

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