#and how ugly colonialism is

[library-fae]

as someone who is consistently seen as ugly by society (im fat, physically disabled, mixed with textured hair, trans, non-eurocentric face, ect.) yet my boyfriend is attracted to me and ive also had a lot of people tell me they find me beautiful - i am proof that beauty and ugliness is subjective and that objective societal ugliness doesn't take away that people will find you beautiful

[virtue-boy]

Oh man just when I thought I've seen it all here I come across a bunch of pro-isreal blogs calling the Irish juddenhassen and characterizing them as "drunk football hooligans cosplaying as Palestinian" ... Talk about having a shallow and deliberately dismissive understanding of a country's history. I can't possibly imagine the history or conflict that makes Palestine relatable to the Irish. Also the 'cosplaying' dig is hilarious because you definitely wouldn't respect them more if they were actually Palestinian!

[vlindervin7]

for some reason this comment sent me in such a rage this morning and that is not an easy thing to do. girlie?? GIRLIE?? (a man wrote this btw) this is so fucking patronising omg and i did look it up, a conlang is literally just an artificial language used in fiction or for linguistic exercise or whatever like do you think i’m stupid??? that is not the gotcha you think it is, obvs i was talking abt languages that are actually used in real life why would i care abt made up languages that literally defeats my entire point abt how languages are beautiful BECAUSE they are so incredibly integral to the human experience shut uppppp

[locria-writes]

i'm not religious, but i'm starting to see the appeal of blaming shit on god because i really wanna fight the dingbat who designed the human body

[suga-kookiemonster]

Real life and online is just so funny to me. I’m at work and basically everyone is shock by news and sad that the queen is dead (im Caribbean so idrc) and i go online and expecting the same thing but they’re dragging the old lady 😭💀

listen, black twitter has been brutal. and irish twitter too, apparently. the colonized in general have been cutting up, and i'm not strong enough to not laugh at the jokes LMAO

[cparti-mkiki]

minor point/takeaway but this kills me because whenever they try building stuff in like, famous past styles it often just ends up looking really tacky. fascist disneyland school of urbanism, only style allowed from now on lol. i guess i say often because a lot of big famous ye olde landmarks have been yassified in some measure in the past 200 years and philosophy of restoration issues aside it generally looks fine to great (to me idk) but when it’s dubiously done boy is it an eyesore

anyway do you know how cheap and out of place an attempted pseudoduomo in a random city would look? you know they would give it to the absolute lowest bidder, right. im being disingenuous acting like this guy wants duomos everywhere when he is simply referring to “vague fancy west euro architecture” in general but still i think point stands. tradguy do you have a proposal to convince firms and governments to superfluously spend billions of euros on puy du fou sets or are you content to just whine about modernity online

[ahaura]

i saw someone point out the frequency with which liberals back social justice movements... how, for instance, when ferguson happened under obama it was not popular and there were many, many liberals who found the blm movement, in a sense, "in violation of [liberal] sensibilities" (when liberalism as a rule does not challenge the status quo, only maintains it and sees any call for revolution or real change as disruptive or 'bad for optics' and therefore not acceptable) but then when trump became president and he opposed blm a lot more liberals decided that the blm movement had merit because they viewed it from a team-sports perspective rather than a worldview based on morals and an understanding of the systems in place in the U.S. - that it was more comfortable for them to operate from a "trump bad" basis rather than "the american justice system and the police are inherently white supremacist, which are inherently, automatically, and always violent"

+ that, if trump was president while israel is carrying out its genocide, liberals would have NO problem denouncing israel and demanding for a ceasefire because they're comfortable operating from the 2-party system basis, NOT from a framework based on material conditions or factors or any acknowledgement or analysis of imperialism, colonialism, or capitalism. but because biden is a democrat, and democrats are supposed to be "the decent party" "the lesser evil" "more respectable" when, in functionality - in real practice, they don't want to disrupt the status quo. (internally, maintaining systems of white supremacy and capitalism; externally, furthering U.S. imperialism by maintaining hegemony and continuing the practice of exploitation and extraction of labor+capital+resources from the global south)

which is why we're here, a month into a genocide, and liberals are so cowardly and gutless that, in the face of our democrat president allowing and funding the genocide of palestinians in order for the U.S. to maintain its military base in the middle east, liberals IMMEDIATELY jump to "well, you HAVE to vote for him still, because trump will be worse!" and go "well im powerless there's nothing i can do", immediately folding like a wet paper bag in the face of the american empire rearing its ugly head in the most blatant, naked way in years, instead of thinking "this is unacceptable, i should pressure my elected officials and do everything i can - be it combating propaganda, contacting my congresspeople or senators, protesting, or engaging in direct action - to ensure this stops as quickly as possible".

there are liberals STILL IN MY NOTIFICATIONS who go "well you'll be electing a fascist if you vote for trump" not realizing that YOU CAN'T SIMPLY VOTE FASCISM AWAY. (which is not to say you should vote for republicans; that's not what i'm saying. none of us have said it.) we're pretty much already there. it's 2003 all over again, with the patriot act and all. the american war machine is pumping out racist, orientalist, pro-colonial, pro-genocide propaganda on behalf of the ethno-state america and its allies have backed since the so-called state's inception. people are being doxxed, fired, harassed, and attacked for visibly supporting palestine/opposing israel. islamophobic hate crimes are on the rise; a 6 year old boy was murdered not one month ago, an arab doctor in texas was stabbed to death. antisemitism is on the rise as well, thanks to the conflation of antisemitism with anti-zionism (which nazis have and will attempt to co-op in order to 'justify' + then act on their antisemitism, racism, and genocidal worldviews). our government is silencing people, brutalizing protestors, and arming and funding an ethno-state committing genocide - everything that would have been called fascist if it was under trump. but because it's a *democrat* liberals place "vote blue no matter who" and "optics" over the extremely basic moral stance that "genocide is wrong and people have the right to self-determination, autonomy, and life". arabs and muslims are already so dehumanized in the west that liberals (whether they consider themselves liberals or not) consider it an inconvenience to talk about the ongoing genocide that is happening with the blessing of OUR government. in this they expose their selfishness, the shallowness of their morals, their chauvinism, and their racism/orientalism/islamophobia/et cetera.

for example, if you see israeli troops waving a gay pride flag and the israeli state touting its support of gay people while said iof soldiers are murdering men, women, and children en masse every single day and you somehow????? think that because gay people are the ones doing the killing or a state claims to support gay people is doing the killing is ok then 1) you have fallen for pinkwashing propaganda and 2) that you find the murder of palestinians, or any people, permissible by a colonial force that uses causes liberals may genuinely care about in order to disguise, whitewash, or "lessen" the severity of the injustices it does unto usually black and brown people outside of the U.S., then you are just as bloodthirsty and depraved as anyone you would personally assign those descriptors of.

once again, it goes back to resorting to a team-sport understanding of the world rather than approaching it from a material one.

[lesbianchemicalplant]

“anti-Zionist diaspora Jews are all just Privileged but we also will never be accepted by goyim around us. in fact we're actually So Unsafe around those goyim, which is why we need our own settler-colony military fortress to go safely be genocidaires in Palestine. but the Isr*eli settlers are also just so terrified and unsafe, and privileged diaspora Jews need to stay out of this because it's not about us. but it suddenly is about us when anyone in the world opposes Zionism, that's actually an antisemitic attack on all Jews everywhere, all of those demonstrations around the world in support of Palestine are literally antisemitic pogroms in the making, which is why diaspora Jews are so Unsafe and we need to go live in stolen Palestinian homes in a “homeland” settler-colony built on Palestinian corpses. but we're not in the “homeland” so we don't know just how frightening and unsafe it is there because we're Privileged and Safe and it's not about us. except when Zionists need more settlers or need us to be a convenient rhetorical meatshield for slaughtering thousands and thousands of Palestinian civilians in an open air concentration camp, blockading all aid that could potentially keep Palestinians in Gaza alive, bombing hospitals and refugee camps, dropping white phosphorus, destroying telecoms and water treatment facilities and schools and bakeries and fishing boats, exterminating entire families, killing and dispossessing more and more Palestinians in the West Bank all the while, because Isr*el is “The Jewish State” so it is in fact literally In Our Names. but it actually has nothing to do with us and Zionists don't need us and we're ugly. but Zionism literally exists for us which is so beautiful and that's why opposition to Zionism is just Antisem—”

[leqonsluv3r]

picnic date with Leon 🥺

love

re2!leon kennedy x f!reader

— a oneshot (request)

warnings: so much fluff it’s kinda gross, a little touching, mentions of sex, reader is female and uses (she/her) pronouns, leon is the best boyfriend ever and we love him for that, no physical description of reader except that she has hair, pet names (baby, sweet girl, etc.) based heavily on love by lana del rey (leon is lana coded bc i say so).

“she didn’t know what else to expect to her already worse work week, besides the papers that always seemed to pile up on her desk and swarm her like a colony of hungry bees. she hated her job, wanted to slap her boss and her co-workers. so how could this week get any worse? she thinks it will when her phone buzzes with a text from leon, only to find out if she wants to go on a picnic date this weekend. suddenly, her week just got better by a thousand percent.”

— or reader is having a terrible week and leon decides to spoil his favorite girl

an: thank you for the request, i loved writing something that wasn’t pure smut for once. did include a little seggsy tho (i can’t resist). gave my overworked brain a little vacation lol. i took your idea and ran with it, hope you enjoy <3

masterlist taglist

she actually hated her boss. hated him.

aside from spilling coffee on herself this morning before she left for the office, she had a thousand reports on her desks and emails flooding her work inbox. her boss went on a rant about her work performance and the fact that he was almost using his superiority as a manager to make her feel belittled was enough to send her blood pumping through her veins.

but mindlessly, she tried to get through her day. taking deep breaths and trying not to freak out on her boss. only did her day get worse when she overheard gossip in the break room.

“i hear she’s like some prude. her boyfriend only touches her when he’s drunk.”

she listens in on the gossip, pouring herself some coffee that hopefully won’t make its way onto her pencil skirt again. she wondered who they could possibly be talking about so openly in the middle of the day in the break room.

the other voice goes on, one of her coworkers that she knew from working here so many years, “that’s not true. i know her personally. she told me she’s waiting for marriage.”

her ears perk up at this, all the blood draining from her face, she knew they were talking about her now. her worst fears have been confirmed. she should’ve never stupidly trusted someone she worked with to keep such information about her relationship with leon, private.

she felt so stupid. but they kept going and she kept listening. the other women who she didn’t know opened her mouth again, “still, how much of a prude do you have to be to wait until marriage? like just fuck and get it over with already. unless he’s ugly…”

she feels anger rise in her like tsunami. leon? ugly? he could never be ugly. he was so fucking beautiful. how could this random woman even say that about her and her relationship without even knowing her? she kept her back turned and waited for the coworker she was more familiar with to say something.

“he’s actually quite a looker. shame she got her hands on him, if i had a man like that. i would fuck him until he couldn’t see straight.” she fisted her porcelain coffee cup with white knuckles, almost fuming and waiting for steam to pour out of her ears. jesus, she wanted to smack this woman silly, she considered them friends and now she was just so openly bragging to another woman of the company…that she wanted to fuck her boyfriend of two years.

she fumed and briskly left the break room with her coffee, slamming the door to the room shut behind her as she briskly walked back to her office, trying to keep up a demeanor that was professional and meanwhile she was seething on the inside.

she finally reached her office and went inside, slamming the door as she rounded her desk and sat her cup of coffee down on it. she leaned her elbows on her desk, burying her hands into her hands.

she wanted to cry, this week had been terrible and today was one of the worst out of all of them. and she needed to manage to get through it until after tomorrow.

thanking god it was thursday, one more day and she wouldn’t have to think of this place for a solid 48 hours. she took shaky breaths, trying to calm herself so she didn’t cry at her desk at work. she was still fuming from hearing that conversation in the break room about her personal life.

eventually, her phone buzzed on her desk and she looked down at her phone. she sighs and shakes her head, praying it’s not another report or upset client. she can’t handle anymore of that today, or this week for that matter.

she grabs her phone and looks at the contact, it was leon, she sighs in relief and smiles as she opens the text thread, looking at the screen.

LEON <3 : hey baby, just wanted to check in on my break. hope your doing okay, know it’s been a rough one for u.

besides wanting to cry at my desk all morning. first my boss says my reports are useless and utter shit. then i hear two of my coworkers gossiping in the break room about me like it’s no big deal. i hate this place, this week has sucked :(

LEON <3 : whoa, what? oh my god. are you okay? i know that’s so stupid to ask considering everything u just told me but…god. i’m so sorry.

no, i’m humiliated. i feel like stabbing my eyes out with my pencils at my desk. i hate this place, i hate everyone. minus u ofc <3

but seriously, i can’t wait to get through tomorrow and just be done with this place. even if it’s for two days.

LEON <3 : hmmm, that reminds me. do you still plan on coming over on friday night?

uhhh, yeah. considering i haven’t seen you all week. unless your canceling on me. which just makes me wanna cry more :,)

LEON <3 : oh god no, fuck that. i would never cancel on you baby. i just have an idea. and i was wondering if you would like it, considering how stressful and overwhelming your week has been.

i’m listening….

LEON <3 : you still come over on friday night, you pack a change of clothes and we go for a picnic on saturday. i know a good spot. and plus, im a good cook.

you don’t have to…

LEON <3 : but i WANT too. i wanna make my girl happy after having such an awful week. you need this baby. don’t bother arguing with me >:)

fineeee i suppose i could pack an overnight bag, stay the whole weekend at your place. go on a little picnic and ACTUALLY enjoy myself for once.

LEON <3 : that’s the spirit my love :). don’t worry, i’ll take care of you this weekend. don’t stress and don’t worry. trust in your amazing boyfriend ;)

you are an amazing boyfriend. don’t let that boost your already enormous ego though lol. god, i miss you so much. i can’t wait to see you. :,)

LEON <3 : you only have a little less then 48 hours to go before you see my handsome face again. don’t worry your pretty head baby, i’ll make you forget all about this week. spoil the absolute shit out of you. <3

okay, i gotta get back to work before my boss comes in to belittle me some more about phone usage at work :,). i’ll see you soon babe, i love you.

LEON <3 : see you soon beautiful girl, i love you too. gotta go bust some criminals lol. ttyl :)

she sighs in content, a lovesick grin on her features. she felt so much better, just talking to him through text even. it was enough to make her heart swell with love and forget all about the incidents this week.

she couldn’t wait to see him on friday night, then go on a picnic on saturday like he promised. she needed him like air sometimes. and he had been pulling shifts so frequently at the station that she barely ever saw him.

it sucked, yes. but when they did get to see each other it was absolutely worth it. she knew that he was gonna stay true to his word like he always did. make her happy, spoil her and make her forget all about her sucky week at work.

she loved him so much, it was almost consuming sometimes. overwhelming to think that before she met him two years ago, she had never known love or that men like him could even exist.

god, she was praying for this weekend to come sooner. and hopefully, it would.

eventually she made it to friday, she managed to get through the day, working as hard as she could. she dealt with clients, dodged the lecturing of her boss and the gossiping of her coworkers.

she slipped out early, not really giving a fuck because all her work was finished as far as she was concerned. she had better places to be. like leon’s apartment for example.

she had packed an overnight bag that morning, watered her plants and made sure she had everything. she had kept her overnight bag stored in her car just so when she got off work, she could head straight over.

she sent him a text that she was off and she was heading over early, putting the car in reverse and leaving her works parking lot.

she drove down the familiar streets and roads until she made it to leon’s apartment, parking her car in the guest parking spot. she got out, grabbing her overnight bag and everything else she needed as she locked the car behind her.

she walked over to the gate to enter the complex, typing in the numbers and once it buzzed, she opened it and let herself in. she made her way up to the second floor, walking over to where his apartment was. she slipped her key to his apartment, unlocking the door and slipping off her shoes.

“baby? you home?” she calls out as she drops her overnight bag by her shoes, dropping her keys on the coffee table. she looks around, she feels a buzzing in her hand where her phone is. she looks at the text from leon saying he was on his way home from his shift.

she sighed and looked around his apartment, looking down at the coffee table where she sat her keys in front of his couch. she saw something sticking out from in between the pages of a book he was reading. “what the…?” she opened the book and looked in the book.

a piece of paper with scribbled writing over it, leon’s from what she recognized. she started to read the crumpled up piece of paper.

[READER],

ever since i’ve known you, i’ve loved you. i’ve never wanted anyone more then i’ve wanted you. i’m not just doing this in the hopes you’ll say yes, i’m doing this with the intention that you’ll let me love you for as long as we’re both alive.

i’m not doing it like this to be cliche, i know how much you think im corny. how hard i try to make sure you’re not laughing at me (even though i love your laugh more than anything.) i want you to know that i love you. i always have, i always will.

with that, will you please do me the honor of being my wife?

it would be my greatest achievement as man, as your boyfriend and future husband if you’ll let me.

she feels her eyes well up with subtle tears, wiping at her eyes as she looked down at the crumpled up notebook paper with a small smile, even though the letter didn’t say much, it said enough.

this was just more then a simple picnic, she knew now. why he was so keen on taking care of her this weekend. taking her out for a picnic tomorrow. she can’t believe he wanted to marry her, she wasn’t shocked but she was…she wanted to cry. it was almost like a dream come true.

she was about to re-read the note to make sure she wasn’t dreaming until she heard the lock on his front door click. she scrambled to put the crumpled up piece of paper back into the book where she found it, effectively slipping it in and standing up straight just in time as he entered the door.

“hey, honey.” he says with a small smile, kicking off his shoes. he wore his police uniform still, all pristine in pale blue and navy. she swallowed and wiped at her eyes, “hey.” she shuffles towards him and wraps her arms tightly around him.

he noticed the sniffling and the watery eyes, he craned his neck down to look at her face that was pressed into his chest, rubbing his hands up and down her back in a soothing gesture.

“are you okay? your eyes are red.” he says softly, his voice dripping with such concern it just almost made her heart melt in her chest. she nods and squeezes her arms tighter around him, “i’m okay. i just missed you.” she lies a little, she did miss him, but that wasn’t the true reason for the red eyes.

“okay, baby. it’s okay though, we’re gonna have a good weekend and your not even gonna think about work.” he says softly as he continues to rub her back up and down in a gentle gesture, smiling down at her with a soft grin. she nods, “okay, i’d like that.” she says with her cheek pressed against his chest, sniffling.

she knew she wouldn’t think about work, work was the furthest thing from her mind right now. the only thing on her mind was the picnic tomorrow and the note she had found.

she knew he was going to purpose, she wasn’t even trying to snoop, but now she knew. she loved him even more for it. if that was even possible.

the next day, the morning light would peak through the curtains of leon’s bedroom window. it casted both of them in a glow that was more then just a simple glow of the morning but a new day.

she loves waking up beside him, especially today when the promises of their future hang right over her head. a promise that he’s intending to keep.

she rolls over onto him as he lays on his back, giggling as she does. she presses a small kiss to his chest and then makes a path up to his collarbone, pressing a kiss to his neck. she felt herself growing more aroused by the minute.

she wasn’t a virgin, she had dated plenty of shitty guys before leon. and it isn’t like she didn’t not want to have sex with him, they just decided to wait until marriage. but now that she knew he was going to purpose today, she forgot all about that little promise she made with him.

she presses her lips to his jaw, hearing him mumble something sleepily as she grins against his skin. she leans towards his ear, “wake up.” she mumbles as she moves her hips to sit on his covered dick in his boxers beneath the sheets. her panty clad frame gently moving her hips lightly against his as she adjusts.

she feels him slightly move again, moving in his sleep so she moves her hips more firmly on him again, feeling him grow harder against the fabric that separated them. he mumbles something and she pulls her face out of his neck, bracing her palms flat on his chest.

he slowly opens his blue eyes to meet hers, his dirty blonde hair messily on the pillow. she smiles down at him with a small grin, “morning sleeping beauty.” she chuckles as she leans down to his face and presses a kiss to his lips.

his half-asleep frame is still waking up and trying to wrap his mind around everything. “what are you doing?” he chuckles with a lazy opening and closing of his blue eyes.

“what does it look like im doing?” she says with a small smirk, moving her hips again. he had no idea where this was coming from, they had agreed to wait until marriage and now…

she was straddling his waist, her wet core on top of his morning wood, there were the barriers between them but still, he could feel everything. she tilts her head innocently at him, his blue eyes looking up at her, “why are you so…? what’s gotten into you?” he says with a small furrow of his brows as he leans up on the bed, his elbows propped up behind him.

she bites her lip and looks at him, “why am i what?” she says as she bats her eyelashes at him, feigning innocence. he struggles and takes a shaky breath, “why are you like…all over me? like, we didn’t…i thought you wanted to wait.” he manages to get out with another shaky inhale.

she sighs and rubs her palms over his chest, “i want you, i’ve waited long enough. married or not, i want you.” she says with a small look, letting his blue eyes latch onto hers. she needed him to know she was serious, that this mattered.

she knew he was going to purpose soon anyways, so what was the big deal? that’s what she thought anyways. she didn’t see it as this huge thing, it would be their first time together. but…she was ready.

“unless…your not?” she says with a small sigh as she looks down at him, her palms pressed flat on his bare chest as she looked down at him. he shook his head so fast, his hair flopping as he did, “no, i want it.” he replies as he looks up into her eyes.

“anything that you want from me, i wanna be able to give it to you. even this.” she hears him say as his blue eyes never stray from his gaze on her. she smiles widely and sniffles, “god, i love you.” she whispers as she leans down and presses a kiss to his lips.

it starts slow, his hands holding onto her waist as the kiss grows more intense and passionate. her hips moving against his erection. she doesn’t fear it now, not when she knows what will happen.

not when she can trust him. she knows he’s different, he’s not like the others. she wants to give him all of her, every single part. she wants to give him marriage, her soul, her body. she wants him to have it all.

so as the kisses and the touches escalate, she feels herself trusting in him, letting his love consume her body and mind in a way she had never known before. his kisses were like rain, falling on her skin and soaking there. his touch was like fire, spreading over her body.

it was beautiful, she couldn’t wait to have him with her forever.

the picnic was beautiful.

leon, really knew how to make her forget about her shitty work week. whether it be a picnic, their first time having sex together earlier that morning, or the proposal that has yet to happen.

he really outdid himself. just like he promised, he had cooked and packed a lunch for them by a small pond in a park. it was about a 20 minute drive from his place, how she never knew it was there, she had no idea.

it was beautiful, some swans were in the pond swimming around with their babies, made her smile and think of how leon had made this so perfect without even trying. he spread out a blanket for them, sitting the food down in the picnic basket.

she brushes her hands over her purple sundress, looking at him as he sat down and began to spread out the food for them. “wow, baby. you really thought of everything didn’t you?” she chuckles as she sits down next to him on the picnic blanket.

“of course, anything for my girl.” he says with a sweet smile in her direction as he gets wine out of the basket and two glasses. my girl…jesus, if he’s trying to make me melt, it’s working. she thinks as she watches him uncork the wine bottle, and pour them both red wine into the glasses.

“i know, you spoil me, leon. but still…” she trails off as she looks over at him, she reaches over the blanket and grabs onto his hand. she watches as the subtle breeze blows his dirty blonde hair over his blue eyes and his forehead.

he rolls his eyes playfully and scoots closer to her on the blanket, squeezing her hand back. “don’t argue with me. it’s in your best interest.” he says with a small lopsided smirk as he hands her one of the glasses of wine. she accepts and smiles back at him, sipping on the wine in her free hand.

“fine. i won’t.” she says with a small roll of her eyes, grinning at him as she swallowed the wine. letting it slide down her throat. they stayed in silence for a while, just enjoying the sounds of nature, the breeze that blowed softly and made the leaves rustle in the trees above them.

she let him dote on her a little more, still feeling that anxious bubbling in her stomach that had been occurring since last night. the note, the proposal that had yet to happen. she felt her body get amped up and she was trying not to give her hopes up.

she sipped on her wine, looking over at him as he stared off into the pond a little ways in front of them. she admired him like this, when he wasn’t looking at her. he was deep in thought, in his head and she could almost see the gears turning in his mind.

“thank you, leon.” she says as she snaps out of her daze of staring at him. she didn’t think she could ever not want to stare, admire him like a piece of art in a museum. he lets his head turn her way, looking directly at her, a gentle smile on his boyish features.

“no need to thank me. i wanted to do something special for you.” he says as he reaches across the blanket and rubs his hand over her bare knee. she nods and swallows more nerves, “i don’t need to thank you, but im going to anyways.” she giggles.

he just shakes his head with a teasing grin on his face, he doesn’t mind this. sitting here with her and knowing where it’s going. he almost feels like this can’t be real, sitting here with her. the weather’s perfect and this day is even better.

they continue to just sit together on the picnic blanket, eating and sipping on their wine. they just talk and snuggle up next to each other on the blanket.

eventually the sun starts to set, painting the sky in a beautiful pink and red hue. it almost looks like a painting and she watches it with almost admiration. he knows this is the time, the ring in his pocket burning a hole through his jeans.

she keeps her gaze trained on the sky, not even noticing that he’s staring at her with admiration. he swallows his fears, his nerves and everything that could potentially stop him from doing this.

“your so beautiful, you know that?” he starts as he looks over her features. her gaze only temporarily looking over at him, a blush coating her cheeks. this isn’t how he had planned it, but he’s gonna do this differently.

“of course you know that, i tell you all the time how amazing, beautiful and sweet you are. even to people who don’t deserve your kindness.” he says as his blue eyes stay trained on her, she smiles and bites her lip in bashfulness.

she knows something is happening, but she lets it happen. she doesn’t care…not if it’s a promise to make her happy for the rest of their lives.

“your the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he continues as he looks at her, turning his body a little towards her on the picnic blanket. the ring feels like an anchor in his pocket, keeping him tethered to the moment here with her.

“and i don’t think i’ll ever find anyone better then you, that’s honesty. your the best that’s ever going to happen to me.” he says as he looks deep into her eyes, her eyes blinking back at him as she feels her heart start to pound in her ribcage.

“and i would be a fucking fool if i went on another two years and didn’t show you how much you mean to me.” he says as he fists the ring in his pocket. she feels her heart swell and her eyes water. the smile spreading on her face is the rare kind.

“what are you…?” she says with a small look of disbelief on her face, her smile widening and the crystal of her eyes staring back at him.

he smiles with a small blink of his blue eyes that are now crystallizing over as well, he pulls his palm out of his pocket, opening it up between them to brandish a engagement ring.

she blinks her tears away, raising a hand over her mouth, trying to somewhat hide her shock. “leon…” she looks between the ring in his palm and then his eyes. this was much better then what was written on that crumpled sheet of paper.

“i love you so fucking much, i would do anything for you, to you and with you. only if you’ll let me, forever. please marry me. let me love you forever, let me wake up to you every morning. it would be the greatest honor i could ever have.” he says as he gestures the ring in his outstretched palm.

he looks at her with hopeful and love filled eyes as he does this. she doesn’t even have words, she expected it. but not like this…

this was definitely better.

and he was the love of her life, she couldn’t say no to him, not in a million years. she couldn’t dream of turning him down. of declining his proposal because he’s her happiness. even from two years ago when they met to now…

her body and mind want him the same, love him the same. she knows it will never change. not when it comes to him and just everything he does for her.

“yes…” she says as she sniffles away tears, feeling the breeze in the park billow her hair. the swans swimming idly in the pond in front of them. the sun setting in a beautiful sunset that paints the sky. he blinks at her, he doesn’t think he heard her right for a second.

“did you say…?” she laughs and looks at him, “i said yes. i’ll marry you.” she says as she feels more tears leak down her flushed cheeks. he smiles widely and grabs her hand shakily, his face coated in tears of happiness too.

he slips the ring onto her ring finger and strokes his thumb over her knuckles. he slides his free hand up to cup her jaw, rubbing the tears that slid from her eyes. “oh god, i love you.” he says in a trance as he looks at her.

“i love you too.” she says back to him, catching him in his trance of looking at her. she feels the ring on her ring finger, making its home there. she feels like she’s on cloud nine right now. he pulls her face towards him and presses a kiss to her lips.

she returns it and kisses him back, her hand, now ring clad, holds onto his face as she deepens the kiss. she doesn’t think she could ever be happier then she was right now.

in this moment with him. not a thing matters and her mind and body are full of him. she feels so consumed by him and his love that she can’t even explain it.

she’ll be wrapped in him forever and she can’t bring herself to care if she is. because at least she’s happy, happy and in love.

forever.

leons letter:

taglist: @heartsforvin

(go to this post to join the taglist, pls reblog and follow for more, my asks are open in my bio. i love you all <3)

[punksocks]

Birthday Observations (Capricorn Placements)

*Just based on my observations, only take what resonates

(Today’s my birthday -woo- so I thought I’d put together some observations I’ve noticed about Capricorn placements)

-Capricorn in the big 6 (especially moon) are forced to grow up so fast. Usually, because they’re born to a family with some sort of immaturity in the adults. Because of this these placements usually have to reparent themselves at some point, and this can be why Capricorn placements tend to have more fun in their lives after 25-30

-Sometimes I feel like we forget that in old astrology Aquarius and Capricorn have the same ruler, Saturn. I believe this is why Capricorns can find themselves innovating or even find themselves being stand out loners

-Speaking of Saturn, Capricorn heavy people tend to have to break generational curses or they’ll end up victim to the same circumstances (but they can fall into the same patterns easily)

-Capricorns tend to have such a dry sense of humor because humor is how we cope with all the stress and madness. When things get more lighthearted (and when developed) Capricorns can be much less serious and heavy individuals

-Capricorn mercuries may struggle with expressing themselves in their youth, and even as they get older they may have a hard time opening up and sharing details about their thoughts.

-I think the constant theme with Capricorn placements is taking time and being very deliberate in their processes. Capricorn Asc tend to be a bit slow paced in how they act and react (not in a lacking way, just very deliberate). Capricorn suns grow into their identity and how to express it often after their early 20s, Capricorn moons need time an space to understand and process the emotions they’re feeling, Capricorn mercuries need time to respond and often carefully consider what they’ll say next, Capricorn venuses often don’t fully embrace their beauty until after their mid 20s and they tend to have better luck in love and relationships after this point as well, Capricorn marses tend to need time to achieve their goals, even when they move toward them with consistency, etc

-Underdeveloped Capricorn placements can be super competitive and try to out pace you in everything that you do better than them. (Capricorn suns will try to undermine your achievements and attention, Capricorn venus will try to make you feel ugly and try to throw shade on your style/friendships/romantic options, etc)

-Capricorns don’t enjoy inefficient behavior, they may complain about a process that doesn’t seem to be logical in all steps and may streamline the process if they can.

-The biggest lesson I’m trying to learn as a Capricorn is when to rest. There’s always more work that can be done and it’s hard to mentally step away without feeling guilty or unproductive.

-I always felt some kinda way about The Devil tarot card being for Capricorns— but I will say it is a sign that is commonly tempted to chase after means (like Capricorn venus dating someone for money). Capricorns love respect and security so they can sell out their soul for this if they’re not self aware.

-I just barely started reading Alice Sparkly Kat’s Post Colonial Astrology book, but there and on her blog she makes a great point that “Capricorns have never been corporate”. I have a theory that conformity can be a great detriment to Capricorn placements (even if just on a spiritual level). But Saturn repeated his father’s ruthless attitude around power and was cut down by his sons. Capricorns can find themselves succeeding down these conventional paths and then they end up suffering personally. Or, as was my experience, these conventional paths never quite open up to you and you face more and more challenges in this route and can never quite match their progress to their ambitions. Capricorns tend to benefit much more when they create their own path (I’ve found that this true for business as well as other areas of life).

[comfortless]

This Time Around

König + fem! house sprite reader

content/warnings: reader wears dresses, König is soft and lonely, pining, comfort & fluff.

notes: @deltrese put the thought of König inheriting a little dollhouse from his grandmother in my head whilst i was watching Arrietty and… yknow. likely not anyones cup of tea but the idea was too cute to not write out eheh. not proofread, apologies! wc: 8.5k.

She survives on drops of honey, dew trickling from the asters springing up along the brick skirt wrapped around the lower level of the house, sips of canned soup and crumbs of bread when he forgets to clean up after a dinner prepared far too late into the night. He’s far from a messy man; he keeps his house in lovely shape, but he’s weary, more tired than any of the mice undergoing torpor she’s crossed paths with in the attic.

In her own way, she’s grown fond of this giant. Not fond enough to reveal herself in full, but she’s polite enough to sweep his crumbs from the table after he’s gone to bed, spend a day patching up an old shirt of his with a tiny thorn and scraps of thread if she notes a tear in the fabric of some ugly, dark thing he wears. She’s always amazed when he notices her busywork, too. The way he will hold the shirt in front of his face with a boyish grin after taking notice of how skillfully it’s been repaired, the way he calls out, “Danke freunden!” in that soft tone of voice that reminds her of a breeze passing through a windchime.

She knows that he doesn’t truly think that anyone else is here at all; that’s just how humans were— silly things. Something strange happens and they’ll try any way that they can to rationalize it or personify whatever may have caused it. König looked the part of a rational man, but her heart seems to swell when he gives away just how superstitious he truly is.

He’s ritualistic in some ways; covers his mouth when he yawns as though fearing that the Devil himself will come scurrying out of his windpipe, the wind chimes he has hanging up on his front porch, even knocking on the wood of the dining room table as he passes through lost in thought about something. She might be, too, because she always whispers her wishes of good favor to him when she knows he’s heading off on some grand adventure in the world outside.

She likes that she can make sure he feels less alone.

The man never has any visitors, and more often than not, he’s away. She likes to imagine he visits beautiful places, climbs mountains she will never in her lifetime see the peaks of, runs his calloused hands over the sharp edges of leaves and plucks dandelions puffed with seeds to blow wishes into. She pictures him having sweet, doting friends, all smiles when he’s around. Though, she is almost certain that the reality is nothing of the sort.

She’s seen him come home with fresh wounds, blood seeping through gauze haphazardly wrapped around his side. She’s seen the look in his eye when he stares blankly at the lifeless wall for what feels like hours, breathing out long sighs as his fingers curl and loosen in repetition at his sides. Regrettably, she’s fretted over the sight of tears welling in his eyes to the extent that she’s almost dared to come out of hiding, to console him just a little.

He’s hurting.

She’s alone too, here. There are others like her, of course. Groups of them cluster in lived-in homes chattering all throughout the night, getting into any mischief their tiny hands can fall upon to prepare. Often times, when a little sprite such as herself chooses a place, the others come flocking, too— making merry, stealing from their humans in ways hardly worthy of a second glance and starting colonies in the rafters, far out of sight.

But no one else will touch this place.

The house is a beautiful thing, meant for a family. There were so many rooms that she had yet to even explore herself. Not a pet in sight to chase after her and swallow her whole. The floors are soft carpet she often beds down in on nights she can feel he won’t be returning, plush and soft and so unused to human traffic. She loves it here, even if her kind do not. She might even understand why, too. It’s so melancholic, haunted by this miserable giant with heavy footfalls and tears perpetually unshed, held back by the grace of quivering hands in a body with too many scars.

She’s tried to count them before, once, whilst he was changing in his room. She wasn’t trying to steal a glimpse of his body, no, she only wanted to see what stories he was hiding, written on flesh. Perched on a bookshelf, she watched the giant as he pulled his shirt over his head, some tight, black cloth that didn’t look cozy at all. He had a cut running from his navel to his chest, a few penny sized keloids along his ribcage. The giant’s body was pale, as though he had never at all caught the eye of the sun, the only thing making him look still-alive and healthy were the layers of muscle across the chest, bunching down to his abdomen.

A pretty sight, undoubtedly for women similar in stature to him, but to her she sees only his fluttering pulse in the vein along his neck, the shaking of hands too large, and those horribly sad eyes that shatter her heart with only a glimpse.

She had nearly been caught then, with her palm splayed out over her chest in open awe and sympathy for this poor, cursed beast. His gaze had snapped over to the appeal of small movement on the shelf only to find nothing at all; she had tucked herself behind a copy of a Ungeduld des Herzens.

That was two months ago.

He had left the following morning, a black duffel bag thrown over his shoulder as he meticulously walked through the home shutting off lights and closing doors. Except… he left two lights on this time; the kitchen and his bedroom were cast in a white glow. She thought, assuredly that the artificial suns in their glass casings will burn out by the time that he returns. She also realized how strange it is that he would do such a thing at all. The man was prone to his habits, and it welled her up with dread to think that perhaps the book hadn’t entirely concealed her shape, that he had seen her peeking out between old pages covered in thin layers of dust.

She occupied her time scrounging around for anything that may have suggested his cerulean eyes had fallen upon her, When a human catches sight, it’s best to leave as though a house sprite had never been there at all; she certainly didn’t care for uprooting from this cozy, quiet life in the presence of a man that she harbored a fluttering, sympathetic heart for.

To her relief, she found nothing of note.

— — —

It was rare for him to be gone this long. She’s lost track of the days after a quaint seventy-three. A decent meal is harder to come by when he isn’t accidentally feeding her; the cabinets and pantry are shut, and there’s absolutely no hope of her small hands prying open the big portal leading to a perpetual winter that humans referred to as a refrigerator. Dew drops, wild strawberries and blackberries get tiresome after a while, and sneaking outside is dangerous, anyway. The birds don’t think her anything more than a bug, something simple to descend upon and scoop into a hungry beak.

She gathers up a thin piece of thread and, after tossing it into the air an innumerable amount of times only to have it land in a heap at her feet, she finally manages to hook it onto one of the knobs of a cabinet where she knows he keeps brightly colored packages of store bought cookies.

Those were for rougher days, always in date because god knows the man probably had never had a day that wasn’t somewhat harrowing. She’s seen him drink jåger and munch cookies while watching the television late into the night more times than she can count.

She pulls the thread tight and takes steps backwards to fling the cabinet door wide open. It takes a lot of effort from her small size, but she prides herself on managing even without a cluster of other sprites to help her along. Her stomach rumbles when the package comes into view and she readily climbs into the cabinet, up a few cans and boxes to reach the second shelf.

The package is opened with careful precision. She’s diligent at emulating the rips and tears she’s seen on similar ones to make it look like an accident occurred on some storage room shelf. Her heart swells in utter delight as the sweet smell of sugar and cinnamon wafts up her nostrils, her mouth watering by the time she pulls one of the baked goods free from its confinement as she seats herself on the thin wooden board of the shelf with the treat in her lap.

It’s when her lips part and she lowers her head to take a bite that her ears prick to the sound of the front door opening. She missed the sounds of the turning lock, likely whilst fussing with the plastic and now… now it’s simply too late for her to haul off her spoils, shimmy down back to the linoleum floor, manage to unthread her makeshift cabinet-door-opener and shut it, leave it as though it had never been touched.

She’s never made a grave error like this. There have been close calls, certainly, but never one that set her off with the alarm of certainty that she would be discovered.

The lock clicks back into place, and there’s the sound of heavy boots being dropped to the floor before soft footfalls could be heard against the plush carpet.

… Headed straight in her direction.

Don’t come in the kitchen. Do not come in in the kitchen!

She finds herself in a tossup between petrified by her own fear and utterly entranced by the idea of being caught. Finally, after years of watching her giant from shadows and covered perches. The idea that he might crush her like a bug or capture her to marvel at like a pet crosses her mind, certainly, but a part of her wants to believe that her fondness for him wouldn’t be entirely unreciprocated.

From her perch, she can see the dark camos, the looming shadow as he trudges into the room only to stop, immediately, when he notices the little door flung wide open. He’s wearing that hood he wears often when he returns, a scrap of bleached fabric with eye holes torn out. She’s taken to stitching it more times than she can count, breathing in the scent of sweat, of strange lingering smoke as she works to fix the threading along the eyeholes. It’s difficult to make out his expression like this, but his blue eyes dart from the open cupboard to the rest of the room before landing back there.

He grunts out a noise of confusion, and she can almost hear his thoughts. He wouldn’t have left it open. The lights had been intentionally left on. That was a sign she had foolishly overlooked.

He takes careful steps toward her, so close now that only the fabric of his tight-fitting trousers filled her view. To her horror, her amazement, his knees bend and he kneels down slowly. This wasn’t the way that things should have went, she should have been more cautious. The hood comes into view all too quickly. Blue eyes widen as they land on her with that big cookie still in her lap.

“Hallo, little one.”

Ohgodohgodohgod.

He’s speaking directly to her. He sees her. He’s not afraid, yet her heart is burning with the icy touch of pure dread.

She clutcheds the pastry tight to her chest, lips pressed into a thin line as she takes a tentative step back into the shadow of the cupboard. So tense, so uncertain. She didn’t want to leave, silently willing him to close his eyes, turn away, forget about the tiny thing he happened upon stealing his food.

Instead, he stares down at her as though he had just found a will to keep living, a reason to stick around despite his bloodied wardrobe and the ever-present loneliness.

“Kleine engel… you are safe, please don’t look at me like that…”

He’s so much kinder than she had ever anticipated, his heart laid bare between the red rings of flesh lining his eyes. Her giant is nothing but gentle, cooing at her in such a quiet voice as though she were a wounded baby bird. Those eyes were filled to the brim with such wonder and hope that she couldn’t turn away now even if he was some rotten carnivorous animal.

“Please don’t look at me.”

The words fall from her lips despite her defenses lowering, shoulders relaxing and her eyes filling with that same look of hope he held.

It’s strange, how someone so massive doesn’t seem to send her scurrying for the hills. He’s huge, but that tenderness in his eyes that makes her feel comforted, reminds her of the gentle lull of streams and the sky filled with puffy clouds like castles in mid-morning.

“Ach… But you are so…”

Tiny, strange, a myriad of words hanging on his tongue, and she feels every one of them with each flutter of her pulse.

“… so pretty. Kleine puppe.”

She drops the cookie at that and it falls to the floor of the shelf with a soft thud that makes her jump in place.

The other sprites have their stories. It’s nice to sit and listen from the comfort of a canopy of grass when another passes through. They speak of the humans that they’ve encountered just as they speak of beasts, keen-eyed cats with sharp claws bared ready to feast upon those like herself. Dangerous things not meant to be associated with. Not one of them has ever mentioned encountering one that looks at them like… this, as though they were something breathtaking, something to be protected.

He huffs out a laugh at her shocked expression, his fingers drumming upon his knees as he watches her.

“I am not a ‘puppe’.”

“A fairy, then?”

She sighs, heavy and exasperated as she sorts out her dress and bends down to retrieve her meal. A pretty thing she had sewn herself from a vintage napkin, blue blossoms and thin lace.

“Are you going… to tell anyone?”

Her giant shakes his head with a laugh, and of course he does— who would he tell?

“I will keep you a secret, puppe.”

“Good, or I’ll curse you!” She warns, trying to puff her chest to seem bigger, more intimidating. She’s too cute to seem anything more than a frightened bunny, and his eyes are swimming in mirth at the sight of her. He’s like a giant child, finding out the fairytales in his books were true all along, only… not the ones about boiling folks like him down to bones to teach a lesson, just the ones where true love and sweet princesses existed.

He asks her a million things in rapid succession then— where she came from, how long she’s been here, what she’s doing, why she never came out before, how she can even exist. They make her head swim and she doesn’t answer a single one. He makes no move to touch her, doesn’t move any more than his nervous fingers and his beautiful eyes. They crease at the outer corners with each wide smile he undoubtedly has beneath that hood and her heart stutters each time like the flapping of little bird wings desperately seeking safe wind to coast in a storm.

She decides that she likes him as she brings herself to sit on the edge of the shelf, nibbling at her cookie whilst he tells her his name, that he works as a soldier— a colonel, sounding prideful despite the fact she has no clue just what that entails. He speaks to her in an energetic whisper, drops his shoulders and lowers himself further as though trying to appear her size, despite the vast disparity between their statures.

“Do you have a place to sleep?” König asks her suddenly, glancing over his shoulder as he looks out towards the den with a pinched brow. It was almost as though he expected a castle fit for her to appear from thin air, white gates and a shimmer of fairy dust surrounding it all.

“The floor is soft… sometimes between the sofa cushions, too. You’ve nearly sat on me before.”

“Nein. That will not do.”

He stands to his feet before she can protest and leaves the room. A part of her still teeters on the edge of running off, escaping before they became too familiar, and yet a more impulsive part wills her to wait as she hears the creak of floorboards beneath his feet whilst his footfalls ascend up into the attic.

She pictures the mice scurrying away in fright, just as she should, while she kicks her feet and waits patiently. The taste of cinnamon and sugar remains on her tongue as she places the remnants of the cookie aside and licks her fingers clean of sweet dust.

König returns a few moments later, a large box cradled in his arms.

“Close your eyes, puppe.”

It doesn’t make sense for her to leave herself vulnerable so soon after their impromptu meeting, and she doesn’t want to, but she does as he asks anyhow with a soft smile on her tiny face. Feels her chest pool with a mixture of excitement and fear as she hears him shuffling about the kitchen, the thump of something heavy being placed on the counter encourages her to flinch. She can hear small objects being set down carefully, the water running from the tap for a moment before the sound of something soft meeting wood fills her ears. It all quiets after a moment and she feels a gentle nudge at her side.

Her eyelids flutter open to see König’s finger gently pressed against her waist, his blue eyes beneath the dark hood fill her vision entirely. He’s so close, too close. As if sensing her apprehension, he raises his head back to look down at her instead.

“It is alright. I have a gift for you.”

König nudges her once more before she realizes that he’s inviting her to climb onto his massive hand. Her breath catches as she glances from the calloused flesh to his eyes and back.

Her kin would scold her severely if they were here, tell her she’s gone too far that there’s no way she will ever come back from this if she accepts. She stinks of human already. That’s how she justifies the way she climbs into his palm with her hands folded into the lap of her dress. His other hand curves around her, not touching, but hovering closely enough to keep her in place as he slowly rises to his full height and carries her over to the counter where he immediately allows her to clamber off before dropping his hands to his sides again.

The sight she’s met with dissolves any lingering fear she had harbored against him.

On the counter sits a wooden dollhouse, painted a lovely shade of blue, the roof a quiet shade of gray. It’s a stately thing, speaking of yesteryear’s Victorian styled homes with its vaulted roof, even a small turret beside the upstairs balcony. Expertly crafted and far too beautiful, perhaps even prettier than König’s empty home. Her eyes are welling with tears as she slowly ascends the three sturdy steps to the front door.

“You like?”

She can’t bring herself to respond immediately. She’s too caught up in this, opening the door with a gentle pull as she wanders into the house. It’s furnished in a hurry, some of the furniture misplaced, but… everything is here, as it would be in a normal, human home. A couch that seemed almost tailored for her size sits beside a little rattan shelf, a small table before it, a little hearth, a full kitchen and upstairs she finds a bedroom complete with a canopy bed. The curtains hanging off of it are blue like the outside, like the floral wallpaper adorning the dollhouse. She tests the bed with a gentle hand, marveling at how soft it was, how the sheets bunch beneath her palm.

Then, she approaches the window in admiration of all of the small details, little etchings of plant life carefully scrawled along the wood. The lock even clicks open as she pushes the little sheet of plastic framed by white to rise.

“It’s perfect,” she chirps out to her giant. “It’s so beautiful…”

“Oma gave it to me when I was a boy.” König’s reply sounds bittersweet, but his eyes are shimmering, as though the fact he had made this small woman so happy had been the height of his year, perhaps even an entire decade of his life. She’s seen him quietly weep to himself long into the night, only a breadth away from him as she tucks herself further into couch. He’s seemed gentle, less of a titan and more battered then, but he’s never seemed this sweet. “And now I am giving it to you.”

— — —

Sleeping in a bed is different. It’s quiet and soft with no worries of getting crushed by a heavy boot or threats of having a presence too large finding out about her existence. Those things do absolutely nothing to lull her to comfort as a dull the throbbing in her chest blossoms and continues all throughout the night ceaselessly. She tucks the blanket a little tighter around herself as she tosses and turns on the small mattress.

Mornings are different now, too. When König wakes, he taps at her front door to pull her from her restless dreaming. He has a ritual, expecting her to come out in one of the dresses from the dollhouse’s wardrobe rather than her scrapped clothing with a small mug and a plate in hand. He gives her a drop or two of coffee and food from whatever breakfast he’s pieced together. Sometimes it’s a cookie from the cabinet. She feels like a contented housepet these days as he leans over the counter to speak to her.

It’s painful how attentive König is. His eyes don’t leave her when she speaks and he consistently asks her if she needs anything, if there is anything that he could do to make her feel more comfortable as if he hasn’t already provided her with refuge and companionship, things she hadn’t even realized she had been longing for. As if he hasn’t already made her feel things for a human that no sprite should! Really, the way he loiters about with the stupid grin plastered across his face while she stumbles out of her abode to greet him does nothing to make the flutter in her chest feel warranted. It’s there no matter how much she turns her head away from him and barks out her warnings of curses and other mischief; gnaws at her every time she hears his laugh or he tells her yet another stupid story of things she knows nothing of.

She listens, anyway, utterly mesmerized when he speaks of rescuing hostages or tearing through men like a rampaging bull. He explains to her what guns are, shows her and lets her run her tiny hands over polished metal. She should think him violent and obscene, but the way he looks at her as though she’s all he has stifles any judgements before they can leave her lips.

It quickly froths to a point that she realizes she’s come down with a terrible crush. She worries for him after hearing his tales each time he steps foot out of the house on another deployment, rushes from whichever corner she’s occupied with hurried little steps to greet him. She lets him carry her around on his shoulder sometimes, even leans over his arm when it’s stationed on the counter just to feel him near.

She knows better, which is why she finds herself skittering through tall grass to seek another of her kind. Hoping for a reminder that she’s making too many mistakes. The trip is a short walk for a human, but takes her from morning to sunset to reach her destination, a narrow alder tree full of knotholes with sprigs of dandelion surrounding it.

“You what?!” Bellis exclaims, the very second she’s managed to spill her story and slump against a ruggedly crafted table within the trunk of the tree. Bellis’ voice was like the chirping of little nightingales, and she looks cute when she’s surprised— the other sprite’s brown eyes twinkle in such a way that it makes her think of stars falling into pools of honey.

“Yes… we spoke,” she huffs, curling her arms around her waist, her face feeling hot and her eyes dreamy. Bellis knows the look well enough, the other sprite has it every time she locks eyes with her wife, another sprite far too pretty. It’s affection, one that she graciously spares her friend from commenting on.

“It’s alright, you know… just be safe.”

“Of course…”

She anticipated some long-winded lecture of dangers, to be beaten by words targeting her own selfish wants.

Instead, Bellis only offers comfort and the hope that her feelings are not a lost cause.

“You aren’t the only one who has ended up falling for their human, you know?”

“I thought we were supposed to avoid them, not dream of them.”

Bellis giggles and drapes an arm over her shoulder as she prattles on about sprites and glamours that could make them bigger. She tells her of a couple only a weeks travels away, a male sprite and a human woman, how he feasts upon wild berries and golden herbs under each new moon to keep himself human-sized day and night for the woman that he loves. Bellis reminds her that the other sprites frown upon it out of fear for their own safety, but she also reminds her that she’s damned to live a life far longer than the object of her affection, anyhow, and that if he already knows of her existence then what’s the harm in it?

Those words fill her with fantasies about a happy life, where she can hold her giant properly in an embrace, rather than wrapping her arms around his thumb to satiate the burning affection running rampant through her.

They also damn her to heartbreak when König returns.

He comes home after two short weeks this time, rather than months and she rushes to greet him as always. König bends down on a knee, scoops her up in his palm and brings her over to the sofa where he sets her on the opposite end from where he sits.

“How was your trip?” She asks him sweetly as she plops down onto the pillowy cushion below, fidgeting with the hem of her dress in excitement. She knows what she knows now, and she truly could not wait to tell him, to give life to the newfound feelings in her chest. She wonders what König would say; would he take her on dates? Would he dance across the room with her as she’s seen sprites in the throes of courtship do before? Would he kiss her? The thought makes her feel warm again.

König, on the other hand seems perfectly composed and lost in thought. His hands are fidgeting, but this time, not with themselves. He’s holding a device she doesn’t recognize, tapping at the little screen with the same look in his eyes that she reserves solely for him.

“It was fine.” He mumbles, and for the first time he doesn’t elaborate. She looks forward to his stories. Time away from him is difficult now. It passes slowly without their morning chatter, without his stories, without the films she watches with him late into the night. He’s taught her to use the remote, sure, but it’s not the same without him towering at her side.

“What is that?”

“A phone.”

She listens intently when he explains what this strange object is, even shows her the bright screen and lets her tap her hand against it a few times as she looks at the shifting colors with wide eyes.

“I visited a friend while you were away.”

He rests his phone in his lap and looks down at her then, his interest piqued.

“There are more like you?”

“Yes, lots.” She giggles. She tells him of Bellis who lives in the alder with her wife, of how her dark hair curls and her voice sounds like the chirping of birds. König pays rapt attention as she speaks, belays his curiosity of the prospect of there being many more like his little housemate with a tilt of his head.

“I made a friend while I was away.” He gestures toward his phone with a smirk. “Pretty, like you, but bigger.”

König explains to her what a ‘dating app’ is with a look of pure glee on his face. She’s never seen him so happy, not even when he first met her. It’s not a concept she can wrap her head around, her kind just happen upon one another, sing and dance and feast together until love blooms between them. There’s no need for little, lighted rectangles when it came to courtship.

“She’s coming to visit soon.” He pauses as his phone lights up again, his eyes scanning over the message on screen as a grin spreads over his thin lips. “I will have to hide you.”

Her face scrunches in disdain at that as she rises to her feet to pad a bit closer to the hill of his thigh, spread over into the next seat. She places her palms against the rough fabric of his pants, looking up at him with an expression of sheer bewilderment.

“But I don’t wanna hide anymore — we are friends.”

The man’s smile falters a bit then, as he nods his head in agreement.

“Ja… but she will be more.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I am taking her on a date.”

König seems so happy, and yet she feels as if she’s being bitten by a viper. All of that talk with Bellis was for naught, because the human man that’s won her heart by telling her of his creature comforts, of war and sharing his meals with her has left her to have his heart stolen away by another.

Despite the way it hurts, she doesn’t find herself upset with him. He isn’t like her, and he’s been alone for far too long. She reminds herself that König deserves to be happy, especially after all that he’s done for her.

She only lets herself cry when he brings her back to the dollhouse and she sinks into the sheets of her bed.

The following morning comes and she wakes feeling refreshed before König even begins his tapping. She bathes in the little plastic tub filled with lukewarm water König had graciously fetched for her the night before from the faucet, clothes herself in one of the many doll dresses found in the little wooden wardrobe of her home. Dainty florals like the wallpaper in the little wooden house, only this time pink rather than blue.

When König taps at her door, she’s already prepared with her tiny mug and plate in hand, a smile on her face.

“Guten morgen, puppe.” He greets her with a lazy grin as he opens his palm to take her dainty kitchenware. His yawn is cute when he turns away to begin filling the liner of the well with coffee grounds. She follows after him across the countertop with hurried steps to match his vast strides.

As he prepares their breakfast, they speak endlessly of dreams, sweet syrupy things. He tells her he dreams of flowers sometimes, like the ones on her dress, and she tells him she dreams of exploring the world outside with him.

“I will carry you to the top of a mountain one day, little one.” König says sweetly as they both sip at their coffee. He doesn’t prepare it black as often anymore, often adding sugar and milk simply because he knows that she likes it better that way.

She tells him she doesn’t need to see the tops of mountains, because she already gets a perfect view when he carries her.

— — —

“I’ll be back later.”

König is dressed strangely, she notes as she watches him from the arm of the couch. He’s dressed casually, more so than she had ever seen him, which is a large statement considering the man normally roamed around his abode in nothing more than a pair of black sweatpants. Tonight, however, he’s chosen a black t-shirt with some text scrawled across it that she can’t quite read and tough denim. It’s an odd sight when she’s grown so accustomed to the bare flesh of his scarred torso and gaudy military camos unsuited for cozy, indoor wear.

The giant crouches to lace up his boots with one hand while the other holds his phone. There’s that smile on his face again, but she easily takes notice of the way his hand shakes with it in his grip. He’s nervous, but never so with her.

It’s strange that he’s more comfortable with a little creature in his home than he is with his own kind.

“Oh… your date,” she murmurs, standing up to her full height, despite how small it may be.

“Ja, my date.”

“Can we watch another movie when you get back?”

König nods his head as he approaches the couch, slipping his phone back into his pocket before gently stroking the top of her head as though she were just a small kitten.

She doesn’t like the fact that he doesn’t see her as anything more than a cute pet any longer. Sprites didn’t keep track of their ages as humans do, celebrating the day they were born into the world with silly parties and gifts, but she would hazard to guess she’s at least a century older, maybe more. This wasn’t her first home, only, in the last she had watched that family wither away to an endless rest.

König was different; she wanted him to stay, thrive, live forever here with her. A selfish, silly wish.

When she leans into his touch, she thinks of the couple Bellis spoke of— a sprite and a human woman. It could be the same for she and König, if only he saw her for what she truly was, what she was capable of being.

“Ja, little one. As many as you like.”

She watches as the door closes behind him with her heart in her throat.

König does not keep her waiting long. If she had to hazard any sort of guess, she would assume that the moon hanging in the sky had barely moved by the time he returns. She hadn’t even left the couch, lying on her back staring up at the ceiling when the front door is flung open.

If it were possible for him to somehow look more pitiable, he does in that moment as he kicks off his boots and rests his phone and keys on the table by the door. She knows without a word exchanged that she should not ask him what’s happened. The broad shoulders were slumped, his face somehow paler. In that moment, her giant seemed even smaller than her.

She sits up and presses the buttons on the remote with her entire hand as König had shown her how to do, loading up some Austrian film he had told her was his favorite when he was just a boy. He offers her a lazy smile as he carefully places himself a respectful distance away and leans back into the couch. The movie plays while she occasionally speaks up to ask him what certain words mean, and he patiently teaches her, seeming thankful for the distraction she eagerly provides.

She doesn’t wake in her small house, in her tiny bed, this time, instead pressed against his thigh with his hand draped over her in the world’s heaviest blanket. When she raises her head up to look at him, peacefully resting with his head tilted against the back of the couch, jaw slack and dark lashes fluttering she makes a firm decision.

The golden herbs and berries Bellis had mentioned were on the far side of the forest. A long, dangerous trek, especially for someone who didn’t know the way. Rousing a mouse to treat as a steed could work, but the urgency caused her to fret. She wanted to meet his gaze and not fear stumbling back with each exhale of his breath, to be strong and capable enough to make her giant somehow feel as safe as he made her feel. There was no time to befriend a mouse and train it proper, not if she intended to do this before the new moon came and went.

She slips from beneath König’s limp palm, off of the sofa and out the small gap in the window to set off.

— — —

The early morning is alive with the chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves and calls of strange animals a distance away when she makes it outdoors. She shields herself beneath a broad fallen leaf, hunkering down to soil any time anything soars or wanders too close for her liking. Morning dew chills her to her bones, and she has herself convinced that after all of this she will most certainly craft herself a coat, perhaps one made out of a sleeve from one of König’s old shirts. He would allow it, she’s certain. The thought of him even wasting a day away to help her fills her up with another warmth to carry on.

Her little dress is filthy before she even makes it out of the yard.

Tall grass quickly morphs into a forested trail, the trees so vast and tall, filled with the chattering and singing of others. She waves to some of them, turns her nose up at a few that beckon her to join their little communes hidden beneath layers of tree bark and moss. She spots a red fox chasing after another in the midst of play, they chitter and whine as they topple over one another before bounding off into the brush.

When the sun completes a lazy crawl high up into the sky, it’s rays of warmth beaming down on to the back of the leaf, warming her fingers as they curl over it to keep it in place, she knows she should stop and rest. Tucked away in the shade of a small mulberry bush, she shoos away a vibrantly colored caterpillar before cleaning off one of the berries with a handkerchief she finds in the pocket of her dress. A small lunch that simply leaves her wishing for König’s breakfasts instead, always warm and filled with moments of soft laughter.

She wonders what he’s spending his time doing now, almost feeling a pang of guilt for leaving him after what had assuredly been a terrible outing with a woman he had admired. Did he miss her? Was he thinking of her, too? Searching through his bookshelf and beneath his couch in an effort to find her? She hoped so.

Her journey ends when night finally comes about. The moon above is a mere sliver, but it’s enough to frame the clusters of goldenrod in a soft, white glow amidst a sea of inky darkness. She cheers in utter delight when she realizes she’s made it, that despite no map or guides her senses were keen enough to carry her on the right path. She carefully gathers a few clippings, dropping them into a neat pile before seeking out the strange berries Bellis had told her about. Her thoughts are flooded by the idea of how she and König will dance, how she will tell him in a voice as loud as his own that she’s fallen head over heels for him and that perhaps, he can even teach her to use one of his many weapons before they clamber onto the couch snug and warm to talk throughout a film.

Those thoughts keep her warm when she beds down in a nest of wild grasses.

The next night fills her with excitement. The sky is darker with the new moon hanging up above, only pinpricks of starlight break through the dark. She pictured herself human sized as she performs her little ritual, feasting on berries and swaying with a sprig of goldenrod in a little dance before she bites down into it to. There are other sprites here, doing the same. Some get bigger to move or for silly things such as being able to shop in human markets or taste meat for the first time. They sing and giggle just as she does, and she sees the face flush with love of the one she knew Bellis had spoken of. It lasts the entire night, and she’s far too excited to sleep or stay out when all is done.

She doesn’t know when she’ll change shape, not having thought to even ask, but the sight of the other sprites had solidified her belief that it would come to pass.

The way back feels far shorter than the way forward. She finds herself back in the yard just as the sky settles into mottled purples and orange and puffy white clouds. The smile on her face makes her cheeks hurt, and her chest and legs ache from exertion, but she treks on until she meets the brick foundation of the house. With and arm raised and a foot dig into the firm clay, she begins to climb up towards the window still left slightly ajar.

Only, she feels a warmth at her side that tosses her back into the grass steps away. It pulls her breath from her lungs and it takes a moment for her to force herself back up into a crouch and her vision to cease its swimming. She’s always found cats to be cute from a distance away, all soft fur and pleasant sounds. The one before her, however seems menacing, its claws are bared and its pupils blown as his mouth hangs open to scent. The orange of its fur is like fire, the yellow of irises like the sun itself.

This thing was going to kill her, she knew it before she even caught sight of the way claws had slashed through the side of her dirty dress leaving shallow gashes in her flesh.

The cat rears back, shifting on its haunches in preparation to pounce as she wails out König’s name in a near-silent prayer that he would come rescue her from this adorable little murderer.

The cat is caught in arms the size of trees mid-leap. It yowls for a moment before a hand gently begins to stroke the fiery fur behind its ears. Her giant coos to the little beast, and the vibration of a soft purr could be heard as she dusts herself off and stands.

“Are you alright, little one?”

His voice is sweet as he carefully sets the cat back into the grass and scoops her up instead. She looks pitiful— dirty, injured and panting as though she’s just escaped Hell itself. König’s expression grows horribly concerned before she can even catch her breath enough to respond.

“I’m okay,” she mumbles as she rests her weary head on the palm that feels more like rough stone than living flesh. “I was only gone for two nights, did you have to get a pet?”

König laughs at that, shaking his head as he takes her back inside the house with metered steps.

“Nein, I did not. He’s the neighbor’s.”

He shuts the door behind him, taking care to ensure the scruffy feline didn’t sneak inside.

“Let’s clean you up, hm?”

The man offers her a human bandage for the scrape along her waist before she wanders into the dollhouse to bathe, dress the wound and change into something less dirty.

After everything, she finds herself utterly exhausted. She tells König good night wishes, but her giant is hellbent on keeping her in his sight. After a close call like that, she doesn’t protest when he tells her they should sleep on the couch again instead. It’s safer, and after two days apart there’s little more that she wants than to be close to him, tucked under his palm eternally safe. König only gets through the start of a story before she’s fallen asleep curled against the side of his thigh. It doesn’t take long for the giant to follow suit, either. His soft snoring is present in her dreaming, a gentle sound accompanying the breeze of wind through a field of lavender where they sit hand-in-hand.

— — —

König does not wake her with gentle tapping the next morning. Instead, it’s a bark of surprise that jolts her from her sleeping. Her vision is blurry when her eyelids flutter. She can make out the view of the coffee table, the television beyond it, and somehow it feels wrong. She was accustomed to straining her neck to look up at things, yet seeing them now she doesn’t need to at all. In fact, it feels stranger when she notes her head is no longer resting on the cushion of the couch below, but on a broad shoulder layered in muscle instead.

König is staring at her as though he’s just encountered a ghoul. In fact, he’s trembling too. His reaction is enough to prompt her to shrink back, away from him and retreat to the arm of the couch. Only, she can’t fit the entirety of herself there as easily as she had many times before. Her legs are much too long, and making her ascent only brings her hands into view. She holds one to her face and marvels at it before her gaze trails down, down and she notices she’s nude. The little dress she had been wearing was no more than a tattered and torn mess on the couch beside König, who’s still gawking at her.

He turns his head away rigidly after a moment while she sits bewildered by her change in shape. The man returns after a beat with a large t-shirt and a pair of his boxers in hand, thrusting them towards her graciously as he keeps his face turned away. She can make out the red tint on his cheeks, the way his lips part only to slam shut when words fail him and she laughs full and giddy as she slips his clothing on and stands up to twirl about the room.

“It worked!”

Her voice sounds strange even to her own ears now. Shouting from her regular stature still resulted in a mere whisper, yet this… along with seeing all she can hear all. Just as he does, she sounds of rustling wind chimes.

She reaches for his hand to pull him along in her rhythmless swaying, and he obliges with a sigh and a shake of his head. König’s grinning, though. Even more so than when he wasted his time tapping away at the phone screen. He looks happier than she’s ever seen him as he clumsily shuffles with her.

“Little one… what did you do?”

He’s still a fair bit bigger than her, but she stands the height she feels as though she should. Her giant is still a giant no matter what silly magic she uses, but it’s fine, because he’s not looking at her as a tiny doll anymore, but in utter amazement instead. The way his pulse races and his pale cheeks burn crimson isn’t lost on her.

She explains to him just what the other sprite told her, tells him about the one she saw so in love with a human woman he did the same each month to keep himself more her size too. König halts her movement as he tugs her against him and pulls her into an embrace, the very thing she’s yearned for since the afternoon they began to speak. She knows he’s confused and entirely confused, but he bends to rest his chin on the crown of her head and squeezes her so tightly that she knows he’s grateful for this small miracle too.

She helps König prepare breakfast this time. Having watched him ready his coffee pot dozens of times by now, she knows how to operate the small, black machine. She prepared the toast too, with a gratuitous sweep of jam over each slice of the warm bread. König is still overly gentle with her, keeping his distance and not resting his hands on her unless it’s required or she prompts it. She does, often intertwine her fingers with his even as they eat, which earns her a shy smile and a gentle squeeze each time. Her giant isn’t nervous with her, their conversations are the same. He tells her that she’s pretty as often as before, cups a steady hand on her shoulder when she reaches out to embrace him after their meal.

She thinks ahead and leads König into the forest to gather a plethora of golden herb and berries to stuff into the winter box for the next time she will need to perform her little ritual, and he swears to her that he will stay up the entire night to watch over her then. The walk is so much shorter from her height now, but she doesn’t forget to tap at Bellis’ alder and flash the sprite a little smile and a wave when König has his back turned on the way back.

He still has his work, and she waits at home for him like a doting housewife. Only now, he returns with gifts. His closet is no longer dark green and black— there are patches of soft colors and whites between, floral fabric and lace, dainty things that seem comical amidst the tactical articles and denims she knows he’s scrubbed blood off of a few too many times.

They don’t share a bed, but they still cuddle against one another on the couch. Hand-in-hand as she’s always dreamt of. In fact, most nights it’s his bed that she sleeps in while he rests elsewhere, and he doesn’t mind it at all. He even tucks her in and presses a kiss to her cheek that makes her so giddy that she can’t find sleep until a half-hour afterwards before he flicks off the lamp and leaves her to her dreaming.

— — —

She’s better at keeping track of time after adjusting to a more domesticated life. König’s been out for fifty-four days, but she doesn’t have to miss him so much. He’s gifted her a phone, sends her letters with his stories scrawled out in black ink. The calls are frequent, and she finds she loves them most of all. They’re at odd hours often, and he always breathes out an apology for having woken her that pulls a giggle from her, because they both know she wouldn’t have preferred to wake any other way than from the sound of his voice.

“I miss you.”

He sounds tired when he says it, and she imagines that he is. Those weary looks from before they had ever even spoken weren’t unwarranted and she knows well enough now. His tales of his heroics were not all spoken to simply boast.

“I miss you too, König.”

He huffs out a laugh into the phone, and she imagines his smile reaching the bright eyes that she loves, twinkling in mirth.

“I should let you sleep.”

“No, it’s fine.” She pauses to chew on her lip, heart sailing up into her throat. “Will you be coming home soon?”

He grunts out his confirmation. “Tomorrow.”

“I wish to take you on a date then— a picnic, maybe. I can bake a cake.”

König falls silent for a moment, and her breathing halts entirely as she slumps back against the bed— his bed— feeling as though she were still just as small as before. Surely… she could not have misread all of those little looks, the warmth and his fluttering pulse she felt as she rested her head on his arm so many times before. She parts her lips to recant her statement, but there’s no need. The contented sigh she hears in response is all of an answer that she needs.

“Ja, please. I would be honored.”

[yourlocaltreesimp]

Heyo! Can I request how the boys would react to the reader/their crush complimenting them?

- 🥣 anon

Yes you may, and welcome to the Anon list officially, officially!

PT 1: Time, Twilight, Wild

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Chain getting complimented by their crush!

Time

Stone faced on the outside- buts that’s because he’s a windows error page

But when he resets it’s literally just him melting with adoration.

He’s thinking about that for the next week, whenever you’re next to him, whenever his mind gets to quiet, whenever he’s close to falling asleep.

“Hey Time?” Your curious voice was hushed as most other members of the chain were sleeping, and judging from your own sleepy voice, you weren’t too far.

“Yes?” He shifted over slightly to get a better look at you, sprawled out over your bedroll and propped up by an arm. The fire’s glow did you well, painting your in warmth and gold.

“That’s it- I just wanted to see your face. G’night” And just like that, you were peacefully asleep. He, however, could do anything but. He was unaware of courting in your universe, unaware of what that ment for him and his yearning for which he thought was one-sided. But he was glad the others couldn’t see the smile he let crack his face, hand the way he carefully tucked you in.

Twilight

He skips the mental reset and goes straight to panicking.

Look, he was down bad before- he’s worse now.

Twilight couldn’t find anywhere else to rest his eyes except on you as you sat, a colony of stray ordon cats gathered around you. You tried your hardest to give them all equal attention, much as you did the group, but one crawled it’s way into your lap, garnering your attention. He didn’t know he could be jealous of a cat.

“I love being here.” His head soared to hear that you to loved his home, its charm outweighing any possible doubts you had in your mint

“Glad to hear that” He so badly wanted to say more as the silence lingered, but your content smile persuaded him into simply letting it be.

“I wanna live somewhere like here someday. Hell- I even might stay here if you aren’t sick of me by the end of all this” You looked up and his heart caught, he managed a shy smile as he wringed his hands out nervously. As if he could ever be sick of you- the mere thought was atrocious. “I wouldn’t mind staying here for you” If his cheeks weren’t red before, he could guarantee they were now.

Wild

There’s a few things you compliment him on that he’s suave af about. His scar, however is not one of them.

It makes him feel lesser. Reminds him of his shortcomings

Compliment that and this man is sold. Not only are you interested in him, but you’re interested in all of him. Not just the champion that he was dubbed

It was the forth or fifth time he caught you staring, your eyes lingering on his face. Now that’s not so say he didn’t like your attention, no, but he was starting to wonder.

“Why do you keep staring at me”

“I’m not staring at you” Your unassuming response gets an amused huff out of him “I’m admiring” The way you stressed the word made adrenaline deep into his blood in a way he was familiarly unfamiliar with- something only you could do to him.

“What is there to admire?” He looked down at himself, he was in his usual ensemble of clothing, his hair done the same way as usual, so what was it that caught you?

“Your scar” Oh? Oh. His mind was quiet, you were quiet. Of course the most radiant thing to walk the earth finally noticed his normality. Finally noticed his insufficiency. Finally noticed he’s a fa- “I like it” What? “It’s so… you. I hadn’t realised how well it fits your face. I wish whatever happened didn’t happen, yeah…” Your voice trailed off in an enraptured trial. Enough to leave his mind drawing blanks “But I think I like you more this way” You smiled, satisfied with your words and went back to what you were supposed to be doing while he could do anything but. The most precious person he’s met not only appreciates his most ugly and unworthy parts, but loves him more because of them… That was a concept he’d need to ponder.

[feybarn]

And I return with some ghost Obi. Thanks @queenaelinwildfire!

Spinning off of Sparky, ghost Obi haunting Jango Ooo bonus points if it’s smol obi wan

When the boy first appeared, Jango had been sure it’d been the spice. Hallucinations were hardly new and the young boy who stared at him with frightened eyes was hardly the strangest thing he saw. In fact, the boy who whispered warnings about when the slavers were coming, and told him that Neeva—the young togruta girl a few slaves down—was dying, and told him stories about men in white armor who died forgotten heroes, was perhaps the kindest hallucination that Jango experienced.

Except the boy didn’t go away. Not when Jango killed the slavers. Not when Jango detoxed. Not when Jango left behind all but the scars of his time with the slavers.

Jango hadn’t quite believed in ghosts before, but he had no other explanation for the boy that followed him unerringly from the slavers’ ship to Concord Dawn to the ugly, worn down ship he eventually acquired.

“You have a reason for haunting me, kid?” he asked.

The boy frowned. His hand came to his neck where a collar rested.

Jango had tried not to think about that particular accessory too much.

“I don’t know,” the boy admitted. “I… I don’t remember how I got here.”

Jango was going to guess that the answer included ‘dying’. “You need help moving on?” Jango asked. Though he had no idea how he would help some ghost move on. Jaster would have, though.

Jango blocked out the thought.

“I don’t know,” the boy admitted. “I don’t think so. I think I’m here for a reason.”

Great. A reason. That explained so much. “What’s your name?”

The boy’s brow furrowed. “I… I don’t know.” The boy sounded alarmed, as though he’d just realized he didn’t have a name.

Well, there went trying to track down where the boy had come from. All Jango had to go on was the rough mining clothes the boy was wearing, several sizes too large for him, and the collar around his neck.

Mining colonies weren’t exactly sparse in this galaxy. Even narrowing it down to mining colonies that used slavery didn’t help.

The Republic might claim that slavery was outlawed, but that didn’t mean much, Jango had discovered.

“Do you have a name you want me to call you?” Jango asked, because while Jango could keep calling him ‘the boy’ it seemed…

Wrong.

If Myles were here, Myles would have already named the kid. It’d probably have been something meaningful and well thought out.

If Silas were here, he’d have helped the kid come up with a name on his own. He’d have turned it into a game, until the kid didn’t even remember he was upset.

If Jaster were here…

Jango tried not to think about what Jaster would have done.

The boy frowned and Jango could tell he was thinking. “Obi,” the boy said finally. “I think… I think I like Obi.” 

“Obi,” Jango agreed. He wondered if it was the kid’s actual name, hidden in the depths of his mind. “You going to keep following me around?”

Obi tilted his head. “I think so. I don’t want you to be alone.” Obi’s gaze was piercing. “Are you going to go home?” he asked. “Now that you’re free?”

Jango swallowed. “I don’t have a home to go to.”

Obi’s eyes echoed with a terrible sadness. “You’re afraid.”

Jango closed his eyes. “You wouldn’t understand,” he said, words coming out short. 

“Sometimes I dream I can’t go home either,” Obi whispered. “In the dream, I want the desert sands to strip me to my bones.”

Jango flinched, but added the piece of information to the possibility of where Obi had come from. Though, there were a spare few mining colonies on desert planets. The combination was rarely conducive to the most valuable of mining operations.

“It’s not the same kid.”

Obi stared at him. “I think they’d want you to come back.” His hand rubbed at the metal collar around his neck again. “Wherever home is. They… they probably miss you.”

Jango scoffed. He’d gotten so many of their people killed, the ones that remained could hardly want him back. “Not likely, kid.”

“In my dreams, they died because of me,” Obi whispered.

Apparently being a ghost made the kid telepathic. Jango was not a fan. But it was… it was a kid, a dead kid. Jango didn’t have the heart to try to get rid of him, unless it was to bring him home.

“Just a dream, kid.”

Obi looked away. “What if it’s not? Do… do we never get to go home?”

Jango sighed. “Come on, let me teach you how to navigate in and out of hyperspace.” He’d noticed that the kid looked like he enjoyed watching Jango in the cockpit. Sure, the kid would never need the skills himself, being dead and all, but Jango didn’t know what else to do with the dead kid that was stuck with Jango.

Obi nodded, following Jango back to the cockpit. It was the end of the conversation.

Or it should have been. 

The question haunted Jango as the months passed. Would he ever get to go home? With the sins that weighed so heavy on his shoulders? It’d been years. Years as a slave and now nearly a year free.

He looked at Obi, who hadn’t aged since the day he’d found Jango in the hull of the slave ship. Just a kid. Always a kid. A dead kid that couldn’t go home. Whose closest thing to home was Jango and Jango’s ship.

Jango had been determined not to think of it, of what he’d lost, of what was gone, of what he could never allow himself to have again.

Do we never get to go home?

Was that why the kid was stuck as a ghost? Had he told himself he was never allowed to go home? Had he trapped himself in some sort of eternal punishment.

Jango had never heard of it happening before, but he wasn’t a scholar, and this universe was full of things stranger than Jango could believe.

Do we never get to go home?

Was that why the kid had found him? Because he saw Jango’s punishment as his own?

Because this life Jango lived now, constantly chasing the next bounty, with nothing but a ghost at his side… was it a life? Was Jango just as much a ghost as the dead kid that haunted him.

“Where are we going next?” Obi asked when the next hunt finished.

Jango stared at the controls on the cockpit’s dashboard.

Do we never get to go home?

Did he? 

The kid needed a home. Jango… Jango couldn’t give him the one he’d been taken from. But…

“Concord Dawn,” he said.

“Where’s that?” Obi asked. “Is there a hunt there?”

Jango shook his head. “No, kid. We’re going home.”

[maareyas]

Comet's Log: Chao Garden

"I found what I think are like those dirt gardens that I’ve seen some Surfacers have back home. This one seems fancier though. There’s a rock formation with water just pouring out by itself, no pipes or anything; as well as some pretty plants. But, what’s really interesting are these tiny creatures that are living here. They have big heads and weird eyes that are kinda ugly (in a cute way)! They seem friendly enough too. Like, a few of them had sharp teeth, but nobody bit me or anything. Didn’t even really pay me any mind at all. My stomach rumbled real loud (I forgot I hadn’t eaten since before I got here!) all of a sudden. Then one of the little guys, a blue and yellow one, walked over with this weird fruit(?) in its teeny-tiny arms. It was trying to give it to me! How sweet! Unfortunately, I didn’t want to eat it because it might be poisonous.  I tried to communicate that I didn’t want it, but the little guy insisted. A few more of them noticed and came over to see what was going on. I panicked, so…I just flew away and didn’t look back. I still feel kind of bad about it."

Extras below the cut:

I've decided to make the raw .clip layers available for download [HERE] for educational purposes. if y'all want it <3

Also! the purple chao is @genotaurus' Cloudy ✨

Some Edea lore notes:

Chao don't exist on Edea

Since she grew up in a space colony, Comet is only familiar with hydroponic farms/gardens. Dirt farms only exist on Edea's surface.

Also because of growing up on Ark Elysium, Comet barely has any experience interacting with "wild animals" or even pets in general.

[meili-kese-anyaleko]

are you ugly or have you just internalized white beauty standards?

are you stupid or have you just internalized white intellectualism?

are you lazy or have you just internalized white ideas of productivity?

reframe how you think of yourselves and each other outside of capitalism and colonialism

[sepublic]

Expanding on my Irish Clawthorne reading; That just adds to the whole story and the colonialism aspect and how the Wittebanes are of British descent, and the British colonized the Irish while declaring them 'savages' and the like, sound familiar?

Big orange hair is such a thing for the family; Eda's hair can store objects in it, Lilith's was curly. And I dunno just; It's not just the angle of white folk colonizing America, it's also the Irish and we have Caleb learning to love Evelyn, whom people like to portray with orange hair. The consensus is that Dell, a ginger, is their direct descendant.

So there's also something to be said about Lilith as someone who was made to assimilate; In the Emperor's Coven, she was deliberately cut off from her family. She was 'taken in' by an older relative ashamed of his brother's fraternizing, who resented Lilith on multiple levels for her identity and for eventually scarring his face (in retaliation to manipulation and attempted murder).

Lilith was so blatantly abused in the Emperor's Coven, and there's a sick joke in how she wanted to be a historian, yet was made subordinate to Flora, who bastardized history on Belos' order, and also belittled Lilith. Lilith was constantly made to feel inferior and with how she was always more of a desk job than a field agent, unlike the coven heads, and it really feels like she was elected as a stunt, a prop to show off with; Look, see! Even a common wild witch like Lilith can rise to the top!

But Lilith still had to assimilate, she had to conform; People like her can still fit under the coven banner, so long as they fit the mold and cut away those 'ugly' bits. So she straightens and dyes her hair a dark blue, cuts it down. Lilith hides herself, even her own Palisman is forced to constantly stay in staff form; A reminder that nature can only be allowed to exist as a tool, nothing else!!! And that's also dark because the Clawthornes are palismen carvers.

So yeah, we have Lilith trying to engage with her past and heritage, yet being deliberately blinded from it, made to participate in her own ignorance and erasure. Forced to hide physical aspects of herself to blend in, mistreated as more of a prop to show how any wild witch can be 'tamed', to prove a point to Belos himself. His own sick victory against Evelyn; A trophy seized from the locals, separated from her family and trying to pull them in with her because that's the best Lilith can have, even as she belittles them and thinks she was improved herself.

Lilith obviously has personal agency and thus blame regarding the curse, and the finale's themes do assert that, as does Lilith’s effort to atone; But it was Belos' coven system that helped pit Lilith against her fellow witches and even family members, and estrange herself from them. Lilith WAS legitimately interested in magic, too... But because of the system, she cursed Eda.

And Lilith didn't use any old curse, she used one created by the Archivists, who came from another world to 'tame', that itself had reduced another wild, native creature to just a prop. That curse was used to dehumanize and delegitimize Eda's stance against the system. It reduced her connection to her bile magic, something also important to witches and Clawthornes, and especially Eda who loved and was great at it; And to mitigate the curse and take responsibility, Lilith also lost her bile magic.

But at the same time, she and Eda re-established contact with glyphs, thanks to Luz; And Lilith made the breakthrough of rediscovering glyph combos! So there's an ancient practice, older than even the Deadwardian Era she obsessed over, that Lilith found and brought back, for a time at least; But that will still apply once King's glyphs so in full-swing. And Lilith even got to visit the Deadwardian Era, scar her abuser after he scarred her and so many others, and come to a better understanding about her own ancestral past, something that continues with Lilith’s self-actualization as the historian she always wanted to be; So now she’s helping everyone better understand their past and origins!

Lilith and the Clawthornes as a whole are still cut off from knowing about Evelyn and Caleb, and they may never know; But at least they got back Hunter, whom Lilith was also pitted against in the Emperor's Coven, which really divided Caleb and Evelyn's descendants. And what tops it all off is Lilith having parallels to Philip, what with the Wittebanes and Clawthorne sisters; One more open-minded and outdoorsy, going against society, while the other is bookish and bitterly insecure and absorbs prejudice to feel better about themselves. Even their names are structured similarly!

They both wear blue coats and hurt a sibling they cared for but also resented... But Lilith grew beyond all that. She went above the hatred and jealousy. The system was more prevalent in her life, yet Lilith still chose to go against it, taking the chance to stop when it came and work for real happiness. She stopped needing to put down others to feel better about herself, Lilith made a friend with someone as strange as Hooty, who was once connected to the Titan and also forgot his past, but is now connected to Dell's old tower; Abandoned but given new life by Lilith's sister Eda. So the past is still lost to some extent and unrecognizable even, but it still lives on anyway.

Anyhow, Irish Lilith Clawthorne who is a victim of assimilation by British colonialism and that tried to erase her Irish features and make Lilith conform by cutting her off from her heritage and feeding her a bastardized, demonized version of her own past, while turning against her own people and culture and thinking herself superior for climbing up the ladder she left others at the base of; A promised justification of imperialism. But then Lilith breaks free from all of it and reconnects and re-embraces everything she lost, including her family and heritage, and just gets to be weird with other weirdoes like herself, so there's both blood and the covenant (not THAT type of coven tho).