#children sometimes just pop up into thin air

[sing-me-under]

I like to think that all the people of the DSMP are functionally immortal until fatally wounded, it’s just that Phil just happened to survive the longest.

Like, the then-minors are all young in comparison but they’re still older than what our reality labels children. They all age and develop at wildly different rates, with Tommy being the youngest physically, mentally, and literally. Eryn is possibly the only other person to compete for youngest, but no one really knows for sure. They were childhood friends though.

Basically, this is me pushing the “Reality Has No Bearing On The DSMP”

[heartfullofleeches]

Could we maybe see the first meeting between fast food worker reader and the handpit

"Y/n! Some kid lost his teddy in the ball pit!"

You peel yourself from the breakroom chair with the minuscule amount of energy you had regained from it. You learned the first week on the job to never expect a moment of rest, but that didn't make losing precious break time any better.

The ball pit had been a pain since its reopening a full week back. Customers loosing precious items, child claiming to have been scared out of the pit by a scary monster. In defense of the first thing it probably isn't the greatest idea to wear great grandma's wedding ring to a restaurant where the police leaves the phone on the receiver when they call in.

You enter the main area. A parent shouts at the cashier while clutching a sniffing child's name; a glimmer of hope in their eyes as you walk out.

"This is exactly why I don't let my children into those disease pools! If you don't bring my son, his toy this entire franchise is going under!:

Your coworker's eyes water. You throw them a thumb's up as you pedal to the playarea. It's common knowledge you're in this nightmare together so most helped one another when they could.

The play area was your average child's environment. Overhanging tubes leading to a twisting slide. Colorful walls and statues of the mascot looming in watch. The ball pit. The windows to the parking lot had been painted over after similar reports of odd behaviors outside.

You walk over to the wall where the net for such occasions was stored, but it's gone. Figures. Nothing's easy around here. You pop your shoes off and squeeze them into a cubby as per comand of your commerical marketed overlord. You fish around at the top before doing as expected and climbing into the pit when you can't find it on the surface sweep.

The balls come up to your waist, but you can feel they go further than that as you kicking through them. The ball pit was as big as your average swimming pool, so you definitely had your work cut out for you. Better than being screamed at by customers from hell you suppose.

The search is gruelling. Each ball you push out of the way is replaced by a tidal wave of more. You unknowingly sink down to your chest as your frustration rises. It feels like the pit hasn't been cleaned in ages either. Some of the balls sticky and wet, and you're poked and stabbed at by objects were too thin and hard to be a plush bear-

What was that?

You freeze. A pocket forms in the sea of balls to your left, sucking the plastic orbs into themselves like a technicolor sinkhole. You figure its because you had previously just lift that area and swim forward. Something tugs on your pant's leg mid stroke, but your other foot kicks it away as you move. As the lights flicker you get the feeling someone is messing with you.

"Not funny!"

So much for being a team player. You better hurry and find this thing so you can head out early today. About tew feet in front of you, the bear's button eye watches your struggle. Stopping it, you dart towards it, but it sinks into the pit. It then reappears another foot away.

"What the hell.... This really isn't funny.."

You try again. It disappears. This time it teleports behind you. Stagnate in the spherical waters, you watch as the bear disappears and pops back within view in a different location. Sometimes it's at the end of the pit, sometimes it's mere inches away. This definitely isn't right. You need to get out of here. As you swim for the ledge, something drags you below.

You kick and flail, a scream fighting its way up your chest that you shove right back down to save energy. You can't breath. Your body feels weightless like you're swimming in a lake, yet the same air as falling out of the skin. Hands grab at various parts of yoir body. Items flash by as you're dragged further. Ancient photos, priceless watches- name tags.

As a hand wraps around your throat, you scream.

"You..."

Your plunge takes an abrupt stop.

"We did not recognize you at first, but that voice. It is unforgettable."

The hands turn you over. You can't tell if it's onto your back or your stomach. All you really can see is the plastic balls, but if you squint you can make out two white dots in the endless sea.

"So this is your face. We have only seen it in passing from your memories. How peculiar is man that in our eons of evaluation, your cerebrum is the single power that has twine our minds into one? In this "pit" of all things."

The hands stroke at your face; force your eyes to remain open. They carcass your tense form, easing your body but not your spirit. You want to cover your ears, but you can't. The voice is so loud; what feels like millions cramming into your small brain at volume which makes your teeth rattle with each syllable. In the same vein, it is the softest melody you've ever heard - splitting your fragile mind in two and sewing it together again with its gentle hush.

"You are different. You cannot enjoy us. The honor of being your new home would be wasted with your mind lost to the masses. You are to remain in this establishment until we decide what to do with you."

The hands center on your torso and push you upwards. Light pokes through the spaces between the balls as you're forced to the surface of the pit. The teddy bear lays on your chest as you surf atop the balls, staring down as if it's wondering the same thing as you.

What the fuck just happened

[lynnuvo]

✧*̥˚ Tag-Along! *̥˚✧

Characters: Tomoko Aimi (OC), Homura Akemi, Madoka Kaname, Sayaka Miki, & Kyoko Sakura (Commissioned/Requested ♡ Thank you! I did my best with the provided information. I still have some things to learn about the Madoka Magica Universe, so it was an adventure to research while making this. I hope you like it!)

In the vast world of possibilities, many theories exist in attempts to explain how life worked. Was reincarnation real? Was there really a concept of Heaven and Hell? Was there only one version of the universe, or did a multitude of timelines exist?

In the world of Madoka Magica, it happened to be that timelines were how the universe could sort varying actions and circumstances that could be brought up at any time at any place.

It also happened that in just about every timeline, Tomoko Aimi drowned to death.

About 13 to 14 years of age, Tomoko Aimi was a girl who some wouldn't have expected to make it far in life--not because of potential but rather the situation she was in. After all, it wasn't easy for orphans to gain an upper hand over other children. Merely surviving was a struggle, for she lived alone in a small apartment complex. Job searching came out fruitless; not many companies or even family-owned shops were willing to consider such a young candidate for employment. Money was, therefore, tight, and it got even tighter as time passed. To avoid authorities, Tomoko's state of living remained under wraps, but like money, support was little.

Despite these struggles, the girl was a child at heart. Laughter rang in the classroom in her reaction to a classmate's joke. Her smile brightened her teacher's heart whenever she was praised for a correct answer. Whenever she fell for a prank (and believe it or not, she always did), she chased her companions around and plotted revenge (sometimes they failed; sometimes they didn't). When classes weren't in session, she could be seen in the fields with those same companions skipping rope, blowing bubbles, or playing imaginary games. Although home was little to smile over, it was these moments with people she cherished that made life worth living.

Most notably, two people who come to mind when Tomoko thought about who she cherished met her in the most unexpected of ways. It all began when Tomoko stumbled upon the strangest cat she had ever seen on a shortcut to her favorite lunch spot.

The cat of white and pink eyes stared at her as she made her way closer. When the distance closed in, Tomoko bent down on her knees with eyes of wonderment. "Woah, you look cute. I want to take you home!"

With a blink, the cat ran off.

"Hey, wait!" Tomoko tightened her school bag on her shoulder and chased after the creature. "Hold on! I'm not that scary, right?!"

In pursuit of the animal, she watched as the alley she was just in transformed into a strange labyrinth. She stopped in her tracks once her entire environment seemed to expand tenfold. Her heart beat faster as a tall, dark lady built like a skeleton rose from the ground while music played out of nowhere.

The creature stopped running, blinked at her again, and leaped at her. Tomoko let out a small shriek and allowed her reflexes to catch the cat, who remained passive. When a fuzzy ball with legs popped out of thin air not so far ahead of them, the girl stepped back. "What did you get us into...? What in the world is THIS?!"

"STAY RIGHT THERE!"

Tomoko's eyes darted to the shout of the feminine voice to find its owner flying the air, scoping at the towering, skeleton-like lady with a musket. A loud BANG! echoed in the air. Tomoko flinched and recovered herself to see another girl flying her way.

This one was adorned in a dress of pink and white, with matching messy pigtails. She rested a hand on Tomoko's shoulder. "Don't be afraid. We've got this."

A tear ran down Tomoko's eyes. "I am so scared right now..."

WHOOSH! Another girl, this one with red glasses and a black and purple outfit, appeared to Tomoko's other side. She offered a small nod and a smile. "Trust us. Mami-san and Kaname-san won't let anything bad happen to us."

And so, Tomoko watched in awe as the two girls left to join their other companion in a battle that Tomoko thought she could only see in movies. The defeat of the skeleton-lady came with a crash. The world around her wobbled away to reveal the alley again, but the three girls remained.

The tallest pushed her princess curls out of her face and picked a small item up to pocket it away. She strode over to Tomoko and gave the creature still in her arms a stink eye. It jumped away and ran to the pink-themed girl, who yelped with joy. The tall girl rested a hand on her chest. "I apologize for the scene you just witnessed. I'm guessing Kyubey wants you, though, if you haven't fallen under hypnosis by the witch and could see it and us."

"Witch?"

"Are you hungry? I can explain over lunch. My name's Mami Tomoe."

"Lunch?! I'm so hungry, yes please!" The pink-haired girl exclaimed with a jump. "I'm Madoka Kaname, pleasure to meet you!"

The black-haired girl stepped forward, hands clasped in front of her. "I'm Ho--"

Tomoko gasped. "Wait. I've seen you before in the halls, I think. At school. Do you go to Mitakihara Middle School?"

"I do. We all do, actually," the black-haired girl replied with a blush. "I'm Homura Akemi. We fight witches of pain and despair, though I'm much newer at it."

"Woah, magical girls?!" Tomoko leaned forward. "I wanna hear me!"

Mami chuckled. "Then, let's hurry. We were just headed to this cafe I found last week. I hope we'll like it."

Over a hearty meal, Mami--the oldest of the group--shared the purpose and history of Magical Girls while emphasizing the risk they had to take in their everyday lives in order to keep the universe safe. It was quite a shock to hear that such otherworldly beings blended into normal civilians like her. Mami also shared that the cat (who lounged on the table) Tomoko caught is an Incubator named Kyubey. It granted Mami and Madoka their wishes, and Mami joked it was only a matter of time before Homura and Tomoko made their wishes as well.

After cleaning up, the four left the cafe and stopped walking at an intersection before parting ways. Mami reached her hand out to Tomoko. "If you'd like, you could come with us to fight witches before making your decision. It is quite literally life or death, so it's best you be informed of what you're getting into."

Madoka rushed over and took ahold of Tomoko's hands with a smile. "That would be awesome! We'll keep you safe, I promise."

Pink dusting her cheeks, Tomoko smiled back. "Sure!"

And so, for the following month, the four journeyed through a multitude of labyrinths whenever Tomoko had time. Mami, as the unspoken leader of the group, was always at the front of these fights, so Homura and Madoka spent much of their time closer to Tomoko in the labyrinths protecting her while battling. As a newcomer, the girl looked up to them so much. Even outside of Magical Girl activities, Tomoko spent some time with her new friends, though mostly the two who were in her grade level. She followed them around in school and asked them to play with her whenever something excited showed up. Once, she convinced Madoka and Homura to join a merry-go-round with her. It was easy for an outsider to tell who had the most childlike joy in the trio.

Tomoko, unlike two others in the quad, didn't have an obligation to go witch hunting since she hadn't contracted yet. Despite not having a family waiting for her at home, she wasn't quite ready to commit all of her time to the life of a Magical Girl. She still needed to find food to bring home, after all. It was already enough she was hoping someone would bring up eating out after every battle.

"Can I please have this one? I'll pay you back again as soon as I get the money!" Tomoko pleaded while pointing to a bowl of ramen at the current restaurant's menu. "I already paid you back for the ice cream I ate last time, remember?"

"Tomoko-chan, must you always be indebted to me?" Homura chuckled before she ordered the desired meal.

When they returned to the table where the other two sat, Mami smiled. "Did Homura get you something again? She's kind, but it's not good to take advantage of your friends."

Tomoko's cheeks exploded in red. "I'm not! I swear! I paid her back for everything eventually. I normally don't have money on me when we go on these trips. They come up so suddenly..."

Madoka laughed. "You'll definitely benefit from a wallet, then."

"I think keeping her money on her would enable her to spend much more than she already is, don't you think?" Mami winked.

Tomoko pouted. "Hey!"

Other than searching for food, Tomoko spent time with her other companions at school. She enjoyed playing with them any chance she got, which was usually more than once a week. They distracted her from the struggles of an orphan and made her feel less alone in the wide world. With every laugh, she imagined growing up and going on more adult hangouts with these people. Although she didn't have a biological family to chase her until she was caught for an onslaught of tickles, she felt she had finally had some sort of found-family.

So why was it that Tomoko's breath was extinguished underwater?

One moment, she was playing Hide-and-Seek while drinking juice with her friends. And the next, the instinct to live shot her awake as her feet and arms flailed for some sort of surface to hold onto or stand on. She couldn't even open her eyes without water flushing in, blocking her vision.

Where was she? Where were her friends? Why weren't they saving her? These questions, unfortunately, would go unanswered. With no way to get to safety, Tomoko succumbed to the pitch black.

Or at least, that was until white light spread from the center of her "vision." A sparkly path of purple immediately grew from the center and winded its way towards Tomoko until it was out of her vision. Arms emerged from the center of the bright light until the body of a girl in a three-layered, white and pink frilly dress came into full view. The dress was unlike any she'd ever seen: longer than the girl's own feet Pink hair as long and shiny as that of a princess and sleeves as wavy as a summer breeze, she opened her arms in one graceful motion.

"Tomoko-chan," she spoke in a crisp voice and a smile. "I've come to save you."

Madoka....

She watched as Madoka took her hand, a strange view since Tomoko couldn't see the rest of her body or even control the part visible. Madoka rested one of her own hands on her chest. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there when you died. So much has happened since you left us, but I'm here now. A friend of mine is here to explain everything. Please, if I give you life, will you watch over Homura for me?"

Was that even a question?

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"Hey? Hello! HELLO!"

Gasping for breath, Tomoko slowly opened her eyes to see the face of a girl with short blue hair so close to her that their noses almost touched. Eyes widening, the girl backed away to reveal her royal heroine-like outfit, with the top and skirt of her strapless button-down top the color of a deep ocean while the torso was donned in white.

Her hands rested on her hips as she wore a slight frown. "Hey, are you okay? Madoka said you might be a bit disoriented. Do you remember her?"

"Madoka-san..." Tomoko pushed her lethargic body up as much as she could, though her hands almost slipped on the sleek colorful floor. The mysterious girl rushed over to help her sit up. Tomoko held her hand weakly and looked around at the wide expanse of her location--a building that was void of even objects. "I do. I remember drowning--I think--Madoka-san came to save me. She looked kind of different--like a princess."

"Do you remember what happened to you and Madoka before you died?"

"Um. She wasn't there right before I died, but I remember her. Her, Homura-san, and Mami-san, actually. We were going on adventures fighting witches, except Homura-san and I didn't make our wishes yet. I needed to see if I was ready for that life. I guess I died before I could even think of a wish though...

The girl blinked before letting out a sigh. "So you do remember. Thank goodness." She suddenly stood upright, smiled, and placed a hand on her chest. "The name's Sayaka Miki. What's yours?"

"Tomoko...Tomoko Aimi."

"Well then, let's stay here for a bit while you recover, Tomoko-chan." Sayaka sat down beside her, knees to her chest and arms spread behind her. "Let's see....where should I begin...? I guess I can start with Madoka. This is going to be a lot."

Sayaka's long explanation began with sharing that Madoka was able to revive Tomoko through the Law of Cycles, a concept created by Madoka's wish to erase witches before they are born. Sayaka herself was also saved by Madoka after her death as a witch. Since Tomoko hadn't gotten the chance to make her decision, Madoka chose to offer grace: Tomoko could become a Magical Girl in another timeline in exchange for life.

"Are you not coming with me, Miki-san?" Tomoko questioned when Sayaka told her to get up in preparation for the outside world.

The girl shook her head with a smile. "I've had my fill of fighting witches. It's your turn, now."

Although hesitant to leave without her, Tomoko nodded, turned around, and walked towards the door. Before she could reach for the knob, the building around her wobbled away until she was left in a familiar alley--the same alley she had first met Madoka, Homura, and Mami in. Speaking of the three, where were they? Did they even exist in this timeline? In search of answers, Tomoko sprinted towards Mami's apartment.

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"Madoka...? Who is that?"

Tomoko gaped. "You don't remember Madoka-san? Our friend?"

Mami tilted her head. "No...? Is this someone we've met before?"

"Yes! We've fought with her and--!"

Homura, who had been silent since Tomoko's arrival into the apartment (other than a simple greeting), rested a hand on her shoulder while maintaining eye contact with Mami. "Tomoko, I think you're feeling unwell. Your nightmares might be acting up."

"Huh? I didn't--!"

Homura squeezed her shoulder.

Tomoko pursed her lips. "Okay. Maybe I have...; I've been sleeping late recently."

Mami set her cup of black tea down with a hearty chuckle. "You worried me there for a moment! I couldn't imagine forgetting a fellow Magical Girl, nonetheless one who is our friend." She glanced at the clock in her room. "Since you have been sleeping late, it's best you head home now for bed. I wouldn't want to worsen your sleep quality."

Homura stood. "I'll take her home. I don't trust her to get there safely alone."

"Hey!"

Mami laughed and waved the two farewell. Once she shut the door behind them, they walked side by side down the apartment stairs and began in the direction of Tomoko's apartment in silence. Awkward was not something Tomoko was good at dealing with, and neither was the quiet. She peeked at this timeline's Homura. It was odd to see her friend without glasses, and it was even more so that Homura's aura gave off a much colder impression than her previously shy, ditzy self. Her free-flowing long, black hair made her appear much more mature than her old braids did. While Tomoko felt it suited how she saw Homura, actually seeing it in person just didn't feel right.

Homura caught her gaze. "How do you remember Madoka?"

"Huh. Oh. Um--I just do."

"No one here remembers her. She doesn't exist."

"What? That's not possible..."

"Tell me." Homura stepped closer to her. "Do you recall a god-like Madoka? When was the last time you've seen her?"

"I-uh-I...." She wasn't sure if the truth was meant to be a secret, but Homura's eyes would have forced it out of her anyway. Tomoko bit her lip and nodded. "I just saw her. I'm not sure how, though. I just appeared somewhere around here. Did I still exist before I came? The me right now, I mean."

"I see. Yes, you did. Me, you, and Mami fight Wraiths, what grief embodies into."

"Wraiths? What happened to witches?"

"They don't exist here. You're not supposed to remember that." Homura took out a circle shield. "According to your story, we were friends in your timeline. We are friends in this timeline as well. We should act as such. And as a friend, I request you give me any possible lead that will bring me to Madoka."

"I--sure! Yes! Of course!" Tomoko exclaimed, lifting her arms to her chest. "I actually don't really know much. All that really happened was that I met this blue-haired girl named Sayaka.....Sayaka something. I think her name was Sayaka Miki, but I can't remember."

"Hm." Homura started towards Tomoko's apartment again. "She's no longer with us. No matter. I will drop you off at home and meet you here everyday before school starts. I will message you about anything else. I ask you to keep Madoka a secret from the others."

"Got it!"

Although nervous at first, the two began hunting Wraiths together with Mami--sometimes without her if Homura wished or they stumbled upon one alone. It was a surreal experience getting used to Homura's abilities, especially her onslaught of armory. Even her strategies gave her spine chills. They were much more calculated and daring. Most of the time, Homura was the one aiming for the Wraiths while Tomoko fought off the minions. It took a while to get used to Tomoko's own abilities. The first couple battles, Homura excused themselves from Mami due to illness so Tomoko could practice. According to the purple-haired companion, it would be suspicious if Tomoko suddenly lost her skills. Once she gained them back, however, she felt so powerful and weightless. It was no wonder Magical Girls had a type of confidence normal civilians didn't.

One day, after fighting a witch, Homura treated Tomoko to ice cream. Holding her cone, she sat beside Homura on a bench and licked her sweet treat. "Homura-san, did you find any leads on Madoka-san?"

The girl furrowed her brows. "No."

"Oh." Silence ensued for a moment as Tomoko continued licking her ice cream. "What did you wish for to become a Magical Girl?"

"I...I wished to redo my first meeting with Madoka with the power necessary to protect her."

"Really? What happened to Madoka-san for you to wish for such a thing?"

Homura stared up at the night sky. "In another timeline, she saved the world from an incredibly strong witch named Walpurgisnacht. I couldn't bear the thought of my dear friend leaving me in such a sacrifice. But she is too selfless for her own good. No matter where I went, no matter what I did, she refused to live without interfering with the way Kyubey's world worked. Finally, she made a wish that saved Magical Girls from becoming witches at the cost of her own existence. I need to find her again."

Homura looked at Tomoko and pulled out her shield. "I'm sorry, Tomoko-chan. I need to leave."'

"Where are you going?"

"To another timeline."

Tomoko's eyes widened. "Wait, you're not leaving me here, are you?!"

The gears in the shield whirred alive. Homura's eyes darted away. "I'm sorry."

"WAIT! DON'T JUST--!"

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As if fate played some silly game, Tomoko awoke as a familiar standing by Homura. She could barely talk, only making some noises. She wasn't sure what witch she was a familiar of, but what was unusual was that she was the only creature there.

"Are you really here again?" Homura muttered, staring at her.

"AODAOIDAOIDWDIJIA?!"

"I told you last time I'll end you at your witch. Why must you keep trailing after me?"

Huh? What did that mean? She didn't recall being associated with a witch or even receiving a disapproval to follow Homura. If anything, Homura requested it. Could it be that Tomoko's subconscious awoke in another version of her? It made sense, the longer her mind dwelled on it. In the previous timeline, she didn't remember fighting with Homura and Mami as a trio of Magical Girls. That Tomoko existed before this Tomoko took over. It could very well be the same case in this universe.

Homura pulled out a gun from her skirt and pointed it at Tomoko. "Thank you for your company, but I can't risk explaining my mercy towards you to other Magical Girls. It will give them ideas. It's already concerning that Kyoko almost caught us."

"AIDJWID?!"

BANG!

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Oh great. Another life as a familiar. At least she was a more cute, humanoid looking one!

Tomoko lifted her head from the puddle she was staring at. Ahead of her was the end of the dark alley she had appeared in. There was no way she could travel to Mami's apartment in this state; her head would be blown off again. Without a clue for where to go, the girl--er, familiar--wandered the streets. The way normal civilians ignored her presence sent a sinking feeling in her gut. Her heart panged watching other children blow bubbles without her.

As she wandered closer to an arcade, the environment around her wobbled alive. Startled, Tomoko spun around to watch as familiars unlike her came alive. A huge cotton-ball creature with dolls as eyes erupted from the ground with a howl.

What do I do?! I can't fight that thing as this!

"Perfect! I was just in the area!"

Out of nowhere, a girl with messy red hair flew from the right and launched straight into the monster. Tomoko stood, mouth agape, as the girl jumped away while red liquid gushed out of the creature, who roared in protest. Its familiars charged towards her, but her spear broke apart into bars chained together. She flung the bars around, knocking the familiars into oblivion. With one ferocious attack after another, it didn't take long for the labyrinth to wobble away.

The girl strode towards a grief seed, picked it up, and held it against her soul gem. "Hehe, yes. Just what I needed."

Tomoko stared at her back. She wasn't sure how the girl didn't spot her. Maybe she was invisible? Her case was unique, after all. Still, it was best to not be seen. Thankfully, the color scheme of her being allowed her to blend into the alley behind the arcade well. She didn't have much to do and not much caught her attention outside of what just happened, so Tomoko followed the mysterious girl as she walked away. The girl walked into a supermarket, bought nothing, entered a bookstore, bought nothing, ran across a park, entered a bakery, and sat down. Tomoko slid into the booth chair opposite of her and watched as the girl read the menu.

Once she ordered a dish loaded with toppings, she fanned her face with the menu and looked straight ahead. "Why are you following me?"

So she could see her?! Tomoko's figure trembled in confusion. "AIDOADADODJA!"

"Yeah, I have no idea what you just said. It's weird you aren't attacking me. And you don't look like that witch's familiars, either." The girl pointed her menu at Tomoko. "Did somebody send you?"

"AOIJA!"

"Uh. Okay...; I have no clue what that means either." She tossed the menu to Tomoko. "I'm too starved to think too much right now."

Tomoko stared at the menu, but her thoughts turned elsewhere. How could witches exist here and not the other timeline if Madoka had rid of them? Was there something in the Law of Cycles she had misinterpreted or missed altogether? Or could it be that witches who already existed before Madoka made her wish were able to live?

A piping hot batch of pancakes loaded with syrup, whipped cream, parsley (who in the world orders pancakes with parsley, especially in a bakery?) arrived with five huge strawberries hugged by small blueberries.

Pondering about the logic of the universe could wait another time!

She watched in absolute envy as the girl started eating the delicious meal. If only she was in that position....

The girl peeped up at Tomoko and swallowed. "You can't actually eat, can you?"

"AADWDIJ?"

She pushed the plate towards Tomoko. "Try it."

With ease, Tomoko picked up a spoon and dined away. The girl glanced around, but no one seemed to care. In fact, it didn't look like any of them could spot a floating spoon. After another bite, Tomoko pouted as the plate was taken from her.

"Okay. That's enough for you. I don't know what kind of familiar you are, but if you can eat and understand me, that's weird enough. Weird in a cool way." The girl stabbed a pancake and grinned. "The name's Kyoko Sakura. What's yours?"

"ASIDJW ADIAWDW."

"Er....okay.....; you know what? We can head over to my place after this so you can get a pen. You're not going to stab me in the back later, are you?"

Tomoko shook her head violently.

"Hah. That's sick! And you can see me fighting the witch."

Tomoko nodded.

"You got anywhere to be?"

Tomoko shook her head again.

"Nice, nice." Kyoko's eyes brightened. "Let's go fight more witches! I need to collect more grief seeds to keep them on hand. Actually, I don't know if you can fight, but I can show you how cool I am while fighting. And if I get hurt, I guess you can find some other Magical Girl to come get me, right?"

Tomoko nodded eagerly.

"A familiar on a Magical Girl's side, wow. I'm totally blaming myself for trusting you if you backstab me. Here, let me cut you a piece of this pancake." She turned around. "Excuse me, miss! Can I have a small plate? I like to portion out my bites."

Tomoko watched as Kyoko cut a slice of her pancake and offered a couple berries. At last, the familiar let out a sigh that somehow went inaudible. That was probably something she'd have to understand about familiars. She'd have to understand so many new things, actually. And she'll definitely have to find Homura eventually, though she guessed the black-haired friend would eventually appear since she mentioned a Kyoko previously.

All of that can be accomplished another time, however. For now, she'd enjoy a sweet treat with someone who could possibly become her new friend.

[oftenwantedafton]

stay - dave miller x female reader

words | 3k

rating | explicit

cw | sex, breathplay, implied/referenced abortion

ao3 link

They call it La Verkin Motel, but the residents living there call it Last Chance Motel, because that’s exactly what it is.

The last place the unwanted dregs of society end up, the last stop on the road to hell. You don’t think it’s entirely fair you’ve ended up here because of one mistake, one error in judgment made in your youth, but that’s the way the world works and you’re mature enough to accept that now.

Your next door neighbor in the cheap housing is a man named Dave Miller; at least, that was what he calls himself. You think it’s an alias, like most of the names the folks around here use. Still, that’s the one he’s chosen and that’s what you address him as, when you have the occassion to, but that doesn’t come right away.

The man keeps odd hours, sometimes working during the day and sometimes in the middle of the night. Nothing too unusual about that either. It’s an expensive life, even for one as cheaply priced as this. Many of you work two jobs, minimum. You divide your time between waitressing and cashiering at the local mom and pop grocery store. Dave is employed at an auto body shop and pulling security duty at the restaurant one town over, that children’s place with the creepy robot animals that could talk and sing and move. It’s closed now, after so many kids had gone missing on the premises. A lot of people in that Southern Utah community seemed to think the owner was behind it, even though no evidence of foul play had ever been found. Not a single trace, just like all those children who had vanished into thin air. It doesn’t entirely make sense, paying someone to look after a shuttered building, but apparently the guy who owned it just wasn’t willing to part with it. You don’t have much of an opinion on it either way. You’d never been there. Now you never would.

You first speak to Miller not at the motel, but at the mechanic’s. Not everyone living at Last Chance is fortunate enough to even own a car, so although yours is no prize, at least it’s transportation. Unfortunately someone had hit it while it was in the parking lot outside the grocery store you work at. You’re not fussed about cosmetic damage, but there are other things that need mending, namely the shattered headlight and the bumper that has been partially knocked loose.

You watch the man run his hands over the damaged vehicle and it strikes you how large they are, yet how elegant his fingers look, even caked in motor oil. The estimate sounds reasonable and you agree to the price. At least your insurance was footing the bill.

Dave pulls out the more minor dents and fills the larger ones, repainting the touched up spots. The bumper is repaired and the light replaced. More than you’ve asked for, but you’re not charged any extra. The job is so neatly done you can barely tell anything untoward had ever occurred. There’s a flicker of pride in the man’s eyes when you return to pick it up, taking the city transit to get there. That’s when you first have the sense that this man, this tall, slender creature with his dark messy hair and piercing gray eyes, had been something more once; much more.

“I heard you work at Freddy’s, too,” you say by way of making small talk as you pay at the register, the envelope of cash from the bank just picked up on the way over after you’d cashed the check from the insurance company. Miller’s eyes lift and he studies your face. You feel yourself scrutinized so intently it actually makes your skin itch and burn.

“Yes,” he replies. He punches some keys on the cash register and the drawer slides open.

“They say it’s haunted. Is it true?”

“People say a lot of things.” He drops your change into your waiting palm and shoves the drawer shut. “Only by me,” he adds, answering your second question.

***

It’s hot in La Verkin; hot and dry, like everywhere else in Utah.

You sit outside at night after work, hoping for a breeze, for something to cool you down after a soak in the tub. Your neighbor is home this evening, wearing long sleeves despite the weather. This has become a routine of sorts for the two of you. Sometimes you’ll sit and have a drink or smoke a cigarette. Dave doesn’t talk much, so it’s on you to keep the conversation going. More often than not you just sit in amicable silence.

You can’t tell it when he’s wearing his work clothes, but his regular ones do not fit him well. They are overly large, baggy. You think he must have lost a considerable amount of weight. He was certainly thin now, with that sharp nose and chin, those gaunt cheeks and lean frame. Was it poor finances that had unintentionally aided him in shedding extra pounds? He looks like he could do with a good meal. Many good meals. Perhaps you’ll offer to cook for him, one of these nights.

You’d brushed his hand by accident once, passing over a cigarette, and he’d actually flinched like a whipped dog expecting to be beaten by a cruel owner. Unused to human contact. Or shunning it. You understand. You’d changed, too, after you’d given up…you don’t want to think about that tonight. No maybes to consider. You’d made your choices; made your bed and now you’re lying in it.

But old habits die hard. That curse of your species, the need to seek companionship, still taints you. Someone had left behind a case of beer in one of the rooms before they’d moved out (or gotten evicted, more likely) and that’s not the kind of free gift you squander. Dave clearly isn’t accustomed to drinking this much, or perhaps it’s because of his new physique that he’s more of a lightweight. In either case, the man becomes a lot more talkative. He loses the southern drawl and you hear a different accent layered beneath. He mentions being married once, having children. He says their names and digs the heel of his hand against his eyes. A bit weepy. You scoot closer. There is no patio furniture here. It’s the cement slab you both occupy, cracked and dusty like every other miserable thing here. Broken, like this man sitting beside you.

Your hand settles on the middle of his back, finding it damp with perspiration. You can feel the actual outline of his vertebrae through the thin material of the shirt. He’s wearing long sleeves as usual. He doesn’t push your hand away, just looks at you with those intense, pale eyes, and you find yourself lost in them, drowning, welcoming that descent into the abyss.

Then he lurches to his feet and returns to his room. You tip your head back and sigh. You’d crossed a boundary you shouldn’t have.

Back inside your own room, you’re reminded of just how stuffy and sweltering it is. There is a soft knocking at the door. You’re in your pajamas now. Camisole and shorts. Faded and threadbare. The cheap fabric pilling. Not something you’d normally choose to have someone else see you in. You crack open the door, the chain restricting it from opening all the way.

It’s Dave. One arm is braced against the outside door frame. “I wanted to tell you,” he begins. His voice is very soft. You have to strain to hear it. “What this is, and what this isn’t.”

You shut the door and slide the chain across, then reopen it and step back, gesturing for him to come inside. He shuts the door and locks it. No one living here would dare leave their doors otherwise. Too many thieves. Shady, unsavory people. You fold your arms across your chest, waiting for him to continue.

“I haven’t…been with anyone in a long time,” he begins hesitantly.

“Neither have I.”

“I don’t want to feel…don’t want to hurt you…” The words come out in fragments, his thoughts splintered. It’s difficult for him to express his feelings, you think. Not just stumbling because of the alcohol. He’s not used to confiding in anyone. Trusting anyone. What happened in his past, to make him this way?

“I don’t have any expectations. You’re not obligated to say or do anything you don’t want to.” You respect his privacy. You won’t push him to reveal his secrets. You don’t want to divulge yours, either.

You hear him sigh, a heavy, relieved sort of sound. He’s made no movement once he’s locked the door. It’s up to you to close the distance between you.

His hair is greasy and he smells like sweat and that unmistakable masculine tang of musk that stirs a memory you don’t want, pushing you closer than you might otherwise have moved. You touch his pale cheek, tracing along the arch, following it down to the corner of his jaw. There’s a kind of stark beauty in his features, as harsh and sharp as they are. Something almost otherworldly and ethereal in his aura. His generous lips compel you to stroke them, your thumb dragging across the plump bottom of that pairing.

His head bends and you stretch to meet him, suddenly on tip toes, a little off balance until his arm curls around your waist to steady you, dragging you against him. Your mouths greet each other politely, at first, tentative kisses that grow more confident, more heated. He tastes of ash, the sour tang of fermented hops. There is a needy sound in the back of Dave’s throat that plucks at your core.

He pushes and you pull and he ends up on top of you on the bed. Lying horizontally, but you don’t think it matters much. There is still weight to him, a heaviness from being male, naturally comprised of more muscle, pressing along your soft curves. You like the crush of his body, of his mouth on yours. His hands fumble beneath the waistband of your shorts. He does not linger on your sensitive bud, instead seeking your entrance. Searching to see how prepared you are for him, how wet. Perhaps not quite slick enough. You’re nervous.

He slips his fingers—the same pair that has just been teasing the opening of your pussy—between your lips, urging you to suck, to coat them with saliva. They taste like metal, like the oil he seems to be permanently stained with. They reach far back across the carpet of your tongue, nearly gagging you. His eyes never leave yours, watching you work your mouth over his offering. In a joint effort you manage to shove your shorts and panties down, leaving them dangling from one ankle in your haste while he unfastens the fly of his pants. You try to divest him of more of his clothing, reaching for the buttons of his shirt but he halts you, pinning your wrist near your face. At last he withdraws his saliva coated fingers, smearing the clear fluid over his cock—you’ve only caught a bare glimpse from this angle, and it looks large, intimidating—and then he wedges that same hand between your legs, indicating he wants them parted, opening yourself up to him.

He thrusts inside of you in one go, slamming right to the hilt in a single breath stealing push. You have not been filled in a very long time, and never this full. Dave stretches your canal, reshaping it, forcing it to accommodate his prick. You pant, little punches of air expelled from your lungs each time he thrusts, mercilessly driving back inside over and over. His eyes are still locked with yours. It hurts, yet it feels good. Mingling somewhere on that pleasure-pain border. You feel raw. Aching. You’ve never orgasmed from intercourse before but you know you’re going to now. His hands shove your thighs back further and he somehow manages to penetrate you even deeper. He grinds you into the mattress and you roll your hips along his. Your nails dig into his shoulder. There is a vein standing out at his temple, pale blue and kinked, pulsing beneath the skin. “Where do I…”

You somehow understand what he’s asking. “Anywhere. I can’t get pregnant.” His lips dip to capture yours in what almost feels like an apology, an exhibition of sympathy, a tenderness at odds with other parts of his body. He keeps kissing you, each one wetter and wetter until it’s like a dam bursts inside of you. You shake violently, a shallow cascade of fluids leaking out of you. The briefest look of surprise, Miller’s lashes lifting before his fingers clamp like a manacle around your wrist at his shoulder, shoving it towards the midline, to the throat exposed above his fastened shirt collar. He grits his teeth, growling until you comply with his request, the fingers pressing into yours guiding you, demonstrating what he desires. You squeeze around his neck with no further prompting and his hand falls away. You feel the struggle of the cartilage beneath, the wad of spit he’s attempting to swallow unable to travel down his esophagus, hear the harsh whine of air that whistles through his compressed trachea. The hand still clenched around your wrist pinned to the bed mirrors your movements, growing tighter and tighter. You think it might snap, your bones shattering into splinters. There is a thin trail of saliva leaking from the corner of his mouth. You want to stop choking him, and yet you can’t. You can’t until he finishes; until he fills you up with that same fluid that ruined your life all those years ago.

Miller’s eyes roll back and he bites his bottom lip and he cums, hard. You feel the blast of it, molten, a great quantity of it, shot deep inside. Your fingers instantly loosen their grip, aching and cramped, and he inhales deeply, like a drowning man seeking air after being submerged underwater. You’d thought him damp before but it’s nothing compared to the sweat that soaks him now, saturating his skin and clothing.

There is that awkward moment that comes immediately afterward, when the merged intensity experienced moments before suddenly shifts into hasty withdrawals, into regretful partings. At least, that had been your previous experience. Dave does not look remorseful. He looks sated, satisfied. He drops down beside you, his long legs dangling over the edge of the bed, and rakes a hand through his damp hair, wiping the sweat he collects on the front of his shirt.

You stare at the ceiling, at the brown stains that speak of water damaged tiles, and recover your breathing. You tentatively flex the wrist he’d pinned down so harshly and find it’s not broken after all. Very red, though. You’re willing to bet there will be bruises there come morning.

Residual tremors still course along your thighs. You can feel the older man’s seed leaking out of you. You want another bath, and you’re willing to take it alone, but you want to invite Dave to join you. Still curious about what’s hiding beneath those clothes.

When your eyes shift to his face, you find him watching you. He’s quiet again. It will take effort to pull more words from him. You touch his cheek. “Want to take a bath with me?”

He nods, surprising you. “Okay,” you say, shifting to kiss his mouth gently.

***

You see the reason Dave has shielded his body the instant his shirt is removed.

He’s covered in faded pink scars, strange markings that seem too stylized and symmetrical to be entirely random. They cover him from the base of his neck all the way down to his ankles, sparing only his sex organs.

You try not to stare, but it’s obvious in the air between you. “Accident at work, a long time ago.” The only explanation he offers, and you accept it. It’s none of your business. Not really.

You sit at the rear of the tub and he sits in front of you, between your legs. There isn’t a lot of room but you make it work. The cool water feels soothing. You use a plastic tumbler to wet his hair, lathering shampoo into it and then bidding him to close his eyes before you repeat the process to rinse the suds away. There’s something comforting about washing the man, gentle strokes of soap and douses of water, your lips pressing kisses along his shoulders, at his neck. Your breasts press into his spine as you reach around to wash the front, stroking over the sparse patch of dark hair on his chest, following the trail that leads to his groin. You wash that, too, a brisk scrub over softened member and scrotum and he makes a little huff of sound. Still sensitive. You wrap an arm around his shoulders and pull him back as you recline, the soapy water sloshing around in the tub, some of it spilling onto the floor. Your fingers comb through his hair and you enjoy the silence between you. You’re comfortable, content. Maybe you would have been a good caregiver after all. A decent mother. But it’s too late to decide that now. Much, much too late.

You remain in the water until your skin is macerated, your hands pruning up, shriveling. Dave towels you both off, ending on his knees in front of you, making sure your feet are dry, sopping up the water you’d spilled earlier. He looks up and you look down and you wonder if this is how it was, all those years ago, when he’d proposed to his wife. If there had been tears of joy and radiant smiles and a breathless yes of acceptance. What had life done to him, to make him this thin apparition of a man, scarred inside and out, yet still starkly beautiful, with his shadow smudged eyes and his pouting lips and those clever, deft fingers?

He’s dressed again, the symbols marring his skin obscured from view once more. At your door, now unlocked and open, and even though you’d said you’d had no expectations, that there were no obligations, you cannot help but want more. You clutch his sleeve and he looks at you. Looks into you with those glacier orbs and you find yourself falling deeper and deeper.

“Stay,” you implore. You do not want to sink down into that mattress again, alone, with only the memories of him to comfort you.

You see the hesitation. The want. Conflicting emotions. Was it kinder to leave? Crueler to indulge you? Or were

those reversed?

“Please stay.” Your hand slides from his arm, dropping down, defeated.

Dave shuts the door and locks it, the chain sliding into place with a sharp snap before he turns back to you, gathering you into his arms.

[okmissgirl]

Absolutely Normal Nonsense

Lil' brainless ficlets about Chrissy and her himbo Edward

Next Nonsense ->

🛼 Skating 🛼

Chrissy’s ass looks like a fucking dream when she’s wearing rollerskates. 

At least, that’s half the reason Eddie bothers to take her and Red to the skatepark on the weekends. Sometimes they convince him to skate with them, but he usually maintains that he's better off watching to make sure they don’t break themselves while rolling around. Max even likes to bring Hopper's kid with her sometimes (more like sneak actually, the girl pops out of fucking thin air) and that just adds to Eddie’s anxiety, frankly. The Chief would fry his ass if he found out his daughter got injured and he didn’t do jack shit to stop it, so there’s clearly a need for Eddie to stay the lookout. Inevitably one of those girls will fall, and Eddie’s in charge of having the first aid kit on hand. 

Chrissy is a lot better at cleaning cuts and putting bandages than he is though. She even gets the cute character prints that Max will grumble about wearing until El points out that the unicorn one on her elbow looks cool. Max will kinda smile, in that way where she wishes she wasn’t, and Eddie will watch her glare down at the band-aid box as she takes a few more home with her. And then she’ll glare at him because she’s probably required to do it or something. 

All of these skating trips they take eventually get out to those idiot sheep of his, and soon Will’s tagging along with his sister, then Lucas and Erica get wind of it from Max. Mike gets pissed that he wasn’t invited and then Dustin tags along to annoy the shit out of Eddie by picking apart the next campaign. Chrissy manages to sneak her little brother Curtis out of the house one day and then bam! Lo’ and behold, these little skate trips are now a bimonthly thing that they coordinate over walkie talkies, and because Eddie can only fit so many children in his child-unfriendly van, Harrington begrudgingly picks up the slack. With Harrington comes the rest of the breakfast club, (a term Eddie resents wholeheartedly) but he’s honestly grateful for the company, if only to keep track of all the gremlins running around. 

One scorching July day, Robin brings one of those big packs of double popsicles to the park with her. Everyone’s just lazing around under some trees or sitting on the benches, licking away when Robin nods at Chrissy. 

“You know, I never said it before but your roller skates are killer, babe.” 

Nancy nods. “Yeah those are absolutely adorable, Chrissy. Where’d you buy them?”

Chrissy lights up and scrambles to stand, rolling around while licking her orange popsicle.

“They’re nice right?! I got them on a discount and they fit perfectly. They’re also really functional too because some of the other skates don’t have good stopping mechanisms so it's a lot easier to… “ 

Robin smiles and nods while Nancy asks more questions. Chrissy continues to skate around happily, doing a couple twirls to demonstrate her agility.  Robin knocks Eddie out of his trance with a nudge of her leg. 

“I bet you love those little skates even more than she does, Munson.” 

Eddie tries to shove the girl off the bench but she’s laughing at him the whole time. 

Because he can’t exactly say no, can he? 

⭐️⭐️⭐️

(going crazy trying to find the fanart with Chrissy and her lil skates. Saw it once and never again 🥲someone help)

[doorrobloxstuff]

Yea no title here because it contains serious stuff. [Stone Figure]

The soft tapping of rain. The gentle whistling of wind filled the air along with soft coos from a sleeping Figure.

A curious eye blinked open from a crevice in the dark cavernous wall.

It scanned the cave for a few seconds as a dark black liquid began to seep outwards and form smaller cracks eroding just tiniest bits of the cave’s wall.

Small pebbles from the newly emerged crack tumbling to the cave floor with a small ‘skksksks’.

The Figure slowly felt its consciousness wax as it let out sleepy “cccht..?” Before giving the air a sniff and letting out a trill of annoyance and lowering its head down unto its nest. “There’s an entrance you know..” it murmured.

Seek’s mass spilled downwards to form a puddle. A few eyes poured out of the wall and the large one one that originally peeked in squeezed its way out of the crevice with a ‘pop’ and joined the rest of its eyes in the large puddle Seek made for itself.

“Mm..no, this way is much more convenient for me..” It said as its body began to take shape into something more recognizable.

“Your wrecking my cave, you fool.” Figure hissed before pressing its head into the softness of its mossy nest once more.

“I have no ill feelings towards your cave! I simply need a connection between my city and your den!” Seek retorted. “Besides, your ‘entrance’ if you can even call it that is a thin crack in the earth concealed by many, many trees. Not an easy find.”

Seek took full humanoid form and sat down nearby, while Figure grumbled an expletive and dug it’s muzzle deeper into its nest. Seek came in slightly closer for a moment.

“I’m trying to sleep.”

Seek reached behind its large eye and pulled out a small green box with golden trim and flowering vines that encircled it.

“I come bearing gifts-“

“I don’t need anything.”

“It’s from Snare.”

Figure perked up slightly and raised its head. ‘Staring’ for a moment. “Give it to me.”

Seek carefully set the green box down on the floor. One of Figure’s oversized arms reached over and felt around for a few seconds before slowly picking up the box cradling it on its chest.

It leaned forward and pressed its muzzle against the box and sniffed before letting out a purr. It gently unwound the vines and opened up the box before reaching in to feel a small pile of seeds.

Seek watched as it trilled and cooed as it got up and encircled the little box. Seek couldn’t help but ‘smile’ a tiny bit. “I take it you like your gift?”

Figure took just a tiny bit and sprinkled some on its tail. “Treasure it.” It softly murmured.

Seek quietly sat down and watched as Figure gleefully paced around the box for a few more moments before lying back down on its stomach.

The plants on its back bristled in the in the soft breezes of cave. Along Figure’s back grew various flytraps, asphodels, poppies, amaranths and even a bouquet of lavender around its head.

“I didn’t know you were a living botanical garden.”

“Let me die in peace.”

“I am obligated by our children not to. But humor me: What’s with the garden?” Seek scooted even closer toward Figure who grumbled raised its head to acknowledge Seek.

“These plants serve a purpose like those silly needles. They keep the bugs away and the ones around my head.. keep me…calm.” Figure gave a hesitant thump of its tail and it pulled the box closer to its chest.

“They all come from different places I’ve wandered…So they need different things..I have to nap on different parts of the cave so they can be cultivated better…Sometimes, I can even get them to bloom all at once and it’s very satisfying..” Seek could see a rare smile grow on Figure’s face. It couldn’t help but look on in mild interest itself.

It stayed silent for a few moments before speaking again. “So they’re from your travels..?”

Figure nodded. “I’ve been places.. hot places..cold places- Smelly places.”

Seek chuckled a little at that last quip and pressed just a tiny bit closer to Figure.

As Figure continued to talk about its plants and of its travels with a now completely engaged Seek, who gradually pressed it for more and more details. One of its eyes drifted towards the cave floor below it, taking in the various cracks, glowing crystals and all the beautiful sight surrounding them.

..This was bliss.

Author’s note: if you want to end it here, you can and are valid for doing so.

Warnings for: Self harm. (Seek discovers scarring from when Figure attempted to rip the rocks off of its thigh.) Seek takes notice, and invites Figure to stay with it for awhile. Figure accepts.

I’ve struggled with similar things in the past. Please take care of yourself and know you aren’t alone. Stay safe, Stay hydrated. I love you. /p - Warden

As it continued doing so, the eye snapped to something pinkish on Figure’s lower thigh. As it scrutinized the part much more intensely it realized what it was looking back and pulled away.

Scars..many.. many bite scars surrounded the rocks on its thigh. Some of them were even lodged deep into the rocks themselves.

.. And then bliss turned to sickness.

Another thing it didn’t notice.

Though they weren’t recent, perhaps even a few years old they were still quite..no..painfully deep in Figure’s flesh and was very much..

Concerning.

“You still care, ya know.”

“I know you won’t say it. But please, at least show it.”

“Things can be as they once were if you want it to be. It still loves you too.”

Those words echoed around Seek’s head like a small voice in a vast lonely cave.

Cave..A lonely cave..this place was beautiful, yes. But..it could be quite isolated…

..

Figure had been as silent as long as Seek was.

Had it done something wrong? Did it say something offensive..?

Did it..see something it didn’t like..?

“Figure..?” Seek finally spoke, a distant look in its eye.

Figure tilted its head slowly, trying sound as relaxed as possible. “Yes..?”

“..Do you want to stay in my city for a few weeks?”

[excalibent]

Good Omens

I saw a post about Good Omens, so I’m making a post about Good Omens, and none of you can stop me.

Not that you would, I guess.

Spoilers for Good Omens, and slight spoilers Making Money, and Going Postal.

Searching out something in the text to have a say on is a bit difficult, given that it does an extremely good job of presenting complicated and important ideas in ways that are damn near impossible to miss when you come at it with a sledgehammer and a magnifying glass. I’m not overly familiar with the works of Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett, but I’ve read Making Money and Going Postal, and loved them both to bits.

The kind of symbolism that seems to hang about in the background of Good Omens is stuff like the part of Making Money where - beyond the explicit, direct, unapologetic claim that money is a representation of value rather than value itself - a character pulls a lever in a simulation of the economy, and literally makes a bunch of gold appear out of thin air. The statement is clear: money is fake, and value is fake, and the only reason valuable things exist is because we made up that value from literal nothing. We just looked at it, thought ‘hey, that’s valuable’, and so the inert, shiny chunk of rock became valued. Then, the part of Going Postal that actually planted this idea of value being linked to things with qualities beyond their material properties, that the letters themselves were indescribably valuable to the people that received them and some could have been traded for hundreds of dollars for the simple fact that they were so valued, and in this, the revelation that stories can and will impact the people that read them - not just in general, but especially if it’s a story that they were meant to hear.

Where can we find these moments of stark, important - yet, in some way, abstract - statements in Good Omens?

Frankly, they’re all over the place; there’s the idea that you don’t win if you don’t fight, and if you truly believe in your principles - healthy food, peace, a cleaner earth - you can fight, and even win. But winning doesn’t last forever, and you can’t fight forever. You’re only human. It’s a point that Death underlines, in the end; creation doesn’t mean anything without destruction. As much as we value things that are, we also need to reconcile that these things are also defined by everything that they are not. And, additionally, if you are going to ‘win’ in any meaningful way, it has to be because your children fight for that future, too. The point that, in the end, the anti-christ is human above all else, the idea that celestial beings - in the realm of human experience - are interchangeable, that fate is a book that was written centuries ago that doesn’t even end when the end of all time arrives, it’s all very interesting to think about, but it’s hard to really describe without stating what feels obvious. Again, Good Omens was very good at getting its ideas across.

The thing I’d like to look at with a more critical lens is probably a theme that does pop up explicitly, but sometimes only in the background: you reap what you sow.

For Crowley, this happens explicitly when the entire highway bursts into flame because it resembles the sigil of the great devourer of worlds. As per the text - “Crowley had built it, and now he was stuck in it.” This also hits Aziraphale; his bookshop burns down because of the candles that he lit. Obviously, he didn’t intend them to burn it all down, but the consequences of our actions are rarely apparent until you come back to see where the kindling was.

And what’s more interesting, above all, is Adam. He builds a circle of friends, and as he comes into his power, he starts trying to control them, to reshape them from the group he had lead into a group he could lead into Armageddon, but they don’t agree with any of it; regardless of the greater circumstance, Adam and his friends had assembled because of like minds, more or less, and that’s exactly what he got when his powers came to him - people that cared about health, peace, the world around them, that would really rather not burn it down - and when he rejects his powers, they return to him, because as he had chosen them, they had also chosen him. There wasn’t a greater hand moving pieces into place, it just kind of happened, and the friendship that they had was overwhelmingly more important than staying angry after Adam started going all funky in the head, when it turns out that he falls down and might be hurt.

They’re right to leave when he had taken away their freedoms, but the kindness they gave him when he needed it more than anything else was probably the most important part of the story; the people around you will support you when you treat them well.

(Obviously, Heaven and Hell had not treated Aziraphale and Crowley very well; sure, they only brought down punishment in the end, but all throughout, aside from being treated as menial workers poking about on Earth, their disagreements were entirely dismissed out of hand the moment they - Aziraphale, mainly, and repeatedly - meant to bring up whether what they were doing was what they should be doing, besides.)

[dark-horse76]

Warlords of Appalachia

The comic book shop I went into the other day was having a 3 for 2 sale on Boom! comics.  How could I resist? xd

I don’t know any of the comics published by this company, but the ones on sale were, fortunately, all TPBs (or whatever the correct word for it is), so at least there was a blurb on the back to give some info. 

Warlords of Appalachia is one of the ones I picked up.

I’m down for reading about some pop pseudo-warlord fighting fascists (and honestly it kinda reminds me of one of the most popular Witcher fics, The Accidental Warlord and His Pack xd), so I guess this may just be a plotline I like lol xd. That and the fact that it’s set in Appalachia, which is a wonderful place and near to the places I love.

He’s got a bow and arrow, so I think we’re off to a good start xd

Love the landscape artwork (and the colours generally). Stirs up a longing for those mountains. I lived for a time in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, and sometimes that area feels more like home than the place I’m actually from.

The US soldiers killed the protag’s…not quite sure what she is, exactly, but they call her Aunt (but, you know, as happens with the south, she’s called ‘aunt’ by everyone xd)…family member, and this is the soldiers' response. I like the fascist elements they’re highlighting: making sure you have a scapegoat for things going wrong; arresting people you find dangerous before they become more of a problem for you - and just pulling the charge(s) out of thin air; controlling the media narrative as much as possible; “auto crowd suppression system” (I believe it was automatic weaponry mounted on drones...) (discouraging crowds/protests/rebellions/etc). I think the aspects they chose to include highlight how some, if not all, of these things are already present in our society.

Calling @bladeverbena. Look at them pointy teef xd. You're welcome xd

Each issue opens with sheet music. I really like that. I’m gonna have to play them.

Another for my “comic artists have never seen children” file.

This guy (the president) looks like he was based on Trump. Like if Nixon and Trump had a baby. Although, he's also reminding me of someone I can't quite place. Limbaugh, maybe?

Funnily enough, I found out in the afterword that the first issue of this comic came out before Trump was elected.

This rhetoric isn't familiar at all *nervous laughter*

Anyway, I wish there was more. There were only 4 issues, and nothing has been resolved, everything is a question. I think I liked it, but I also kind of feel like I need more before I can actually decide that.

I also want to know more about the religion that has sprung up in the mountains, more about what's going on with the 'Blueboys' (kinda zombie-esque, I think, caused by a homebrewed drug), and more about what's going on with the US and all that.

But, yeah. The story does not at all feel complete to me, but I think it's supposed to be, which is disappointing. I think there could definitely be a prequel and a sequel at least lol.

[moreaugriffins]

The Uneventful life of Silas

part 1

part 2

part 3

Bet y'all weren't expecting to see this pop up again (and neither did I tbh) but here is an update over a year later

---

18 years ago (7 years), Silas started helping out with the farm. Eliana begrudgingly allowed Silas to help out with picking out the weeds, and watering the plants. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy having an extra pair of hands to help around the place, but Silas had the tendency to get distracted, and be a major distraction. This time was no different. “Mum.” Silas chirped, as he ran towards her. She ignored him, as she dropped the logs in her arms, with the rest of them. In her defence, she was concentrating on the chores, and he had pestered her several times that day. “Mummmmm.” He continued,”mum mum mum mum mum-” “What is it now, Silas?” She sighed, looking at her son, bouncing on the balls on his feet. Gods save her, he was covered head to toe in mud, and had grass stains all over his clothes, and - was those some bruises? How on earth did that happen? He was meant to be simply picking weeds and watering plants, for crying out loud,”silas, why are you so dirty?” He shrugs,”it doesn't matter. Here!” Silas handed her a collection of flowers. No, not a collection, an arrangement. It was a small bouquet (big for a tiny child like him, of course). He grinned wildly, proud of his work, so sure that his mum would love it - and to be fair, she did. Daffodils were her favourite flowers, and mixed with some pink roses, and some flowers she couldn’t identify, it was certainly a good attempt at a bouquet. She didn’t have the heart to tell him, however, that the flowers were half crumpled, at least a third of the petals were gone, and that they clearly came from Theron’s garden.. Those flowers weren’t meant to be plucked. Oh well, she’ll talk to her partner later. Eliana smiled softly, and bent down to kiss his forehead. “Thank you, fy mach i.” She said,”You’ve certainly got an eye for flowers. The bouquet is beautiful.” “I read it from one of ren’s books.” “Oh?” “Well, ren read it to me. There were lots of big words, so I just looked at the pictures. Knew you’d like it!” And before she could say anything else, he sprinted back to the house. She shook her head to herself, and laid the flowers on the ground, before continuing with the chores.

17 years ago (8 years), Silas came home from school, with a skip in his step. It wasn’t that Eliana and Theron weren’t happy that their child was happy, but it was certainly an odd sight to see, when Silas is most often known for rushing home, relieved to finally be free from boring old school. He walked through the door, and Theron noticed that Silas was humming a small tune to himself, as he took off shoes, so as to not bring any muck inside. “What tune are you humming, buddy?” They asked, curious as to what the unknown tune was. “Hm? Oh, some song the teacher sang today. Catchy tune.” “How fun! Maybe you could teach it to me sometime.” 

Silas smiled, somewhat nervously, at the idea,”yeah, maybe.” Theron and Eliana shared a look, but didn’t press on the hesitancy. He was allowed to say ‘no’ if he wanted, but the village had some.. Odd stories they’d like to tell the children, which they weren’t a big fan of. They had seen the effects of these stories, on their son, how restless he was at night, and his nervousness when he believed he forgot to be polite. 

“So.. How was school?” Eliana asked, changing subject. He brightened at that. “I got top of the class in the maths test!”

17 years ago, Silas was visibly shaking, his breaths short and shallow, and quick, as Eliana examined the injuries on his left arm and leg. Theron, in the meantime, rubbed their son’s back, telling him reassurances,  though they doubted he could hear, since he was muttering  ‘no no no’ over and over. Silas was always a clumsy child. He would bump into any object, or knock over a number of breakable items - he even tripped over thin air, several times - so he was no stranger to getting injured. However, he had been growing steadily more worried about getting injured, for reasons unknown to his parents. It broke their heart to see their son get into such a panicked state over simple scrapes and scratches, and, honestly, they felt guilty for not noticing this change sooner, for not helping sooner. If they had, then maybe Silas wouldn’t be in this state. Eliana watched as Theron coached their son through some breathing exercises, calming him down enough to focus on his surroundings. “fy ngwas i?” Silas looked at her, with tired, and tearful eyes,”It’s but a few scratches. You’ll be ok, nothing you can’t heal from.” He seemed to relax slightly at that, but gave a look of uncertainty. “Will.. Will it leave a scar?” He asked. “As long as we clean the wounds, keep them covered, and don’t pick at the scabs, they shouldn’t leave a scar.”

 Silas let out a sigh of relief, finally leaning onto his ren. 

“Was that what you were worried about?”

He nodded. “Can’t have scars.” Theron looked at their wife, confused, as if she wouldn’t understand what Silas meant. She just shrugged back, equally confused. “What do you mean by that, buddy?” Theron asked. “Scars mean you’re bad.”They frowned,”Who's been saying that?” “Others.” “That’s utter poppycock. Your ma has lots of scars from all the farming, and repairs she does. I have a few even, though, admittedly, they came from rather silly accidents.. Do you reckon we’re bad people?” Silas shook his head, even seemed a little offended by the question. “Well there you go littlun. Some proof that scars don’t come from being bad people.” Eliana and Theron could see that Silas seemed conflicted, an argument on the tip of his tongue, but decided not to voice it out loud.

[srusjust]

Oj simpson chopper 2

He may not have realized it that night in 1970, but Foster was flying into a new American future.ĭown below, the tract houses and swimming pools gave way to the open desert. His airborne exploits not only turned him into a kind of cowboy folk hero-that mythical gallant figure who negotiates the border between nature and civilization-but also helped create the modern idea of search and rescue and always-on, instant-access news. The stories of his derring-do, saving lives and stopping crime and thrilling school children are still legends to those who remember. This was the time of an unexpected fusion of new technologies, and Foster, with only a 10th-grade education would play a crucial role in this fusion.Ī little more than a decade later, all through Arizona, Foster would be called the King of the Wild Blue Sky. With this upheaval, and because of it, there was also a coming together, a reordering of things. The talk at the corner grocers and the gas stations was of race wars and outlaw biker gangs and drug-fueled (was there some other kind?) sex orgies. The Summer of Love had collapsed into the horror of the Manson family murders. You could almost feel the tectonic plates of the culture shifting as the Beatles broke up and the Black Sabbath hit the charts. Suburbs like this were on the march all across the US, colonizing farmland, marsh, and down below, the most punishing part of the West. The backyard lemon trees shuddered in the wake of Foster’s chopper as he zipped over the moonlit landscape of ranch houses with their mandatory swimming pools. Picture it, because this moment was fateful. Twisting the throttle to maximum speed, Foster zoomed away at 90 miles per hour, the ground below turning into a blur. It was a simple machine-basically two chairs on skids with a thin boom sticking out the rear-and to watch the pilot ensconce himself in the tiny transparent pod, jerk suddenly 10 feet off the ground, and then pop up 20 more, made it seem that he himself was just floating in air. As dawn approached, Foster fired up his Bell 47. He had a reputation around the airport sheds as cocky, sometimes even feisty-a bit of a brawler and a mouthy hotshot. Foster was a trim guy with deep, wide eyes set in a triangular face topped by a mop of ’70s brown hair. But he was a helicopter pilot too, at a time when civilians were pioneering uses for a machine known mostly for its military use. He worked for a charter company on the edge of Phoenix and spent most of his flying hours shuttling executives around in a plane. Into this slow-motion emergency, a 30-year-old helicopter pilot named Jerry Foster sprang into action. And besides, it was 1970: There were better highways, jets streaking across the country on the hour, and modern television connecting us all. But this was four little kids and a grandma. Everyone knew the desert was a dangerous place, and plenty of people got lost out there and died. There is little shade other than an occasional mesquite tree and the saguaro, those behemoth cartoon cactuses that loom like giant tridents.Īll over Arizona, people were upset. Slight hills, 10 or so feet, swell up and slip away frequently enough to make spotting anything beyond a short distance nearly impossible. Others were searching the desert itself on foot, but it was frustrating. The police had been searching in their cruisers and four-wheel drive vehicles, and they kept a roving eye on the local dam road in case the grandmother and the kids headed toward it. After Gibbs explained all he could, he broke down, so distraught that the authorities kept him under sedation. That was Wednesday now Friday morning was soon to dawn. Then he walked off to get help, leaving his wife Ann and four little grandkids-Darlene, Scotty, Linda, and Michelle-without water. He had used all their drinking water to cool the engine in the hopes of getting it started. Gibbs said he had gotten the family car stuck in a sand wash. When he was found the next morning, he was able to tell enough of his story for people to realize this was a ticking-clock crisis. Dehydrated and confused, he’d fallen asleep in the back of a pickup. The grandmother’s husband, Bud Gibbs, 53, had gone looking for help and after walking for miles through the desert, stumbled into a gas station in the early evening. They had last been seen near a little town called (it almost felt wrong to say it out loud) Carefree, Arizona. In August 1970 a lost grandmother and four young children had been wandering in the desert outside Phoenix for four days, and the massive effort to rescue them was stalled.

[forgwater]

Introducing: Laur Dafin!

"You seem to be up to something. Mind if I join you?"

Close Up

Information

Personality

Laur is more of a laidback kind of person. He spends most his time exploring the campus, reading and watching people get into trouble. Who knows, he might even join them!

Laur enjoys joking and messing around with people! Sometimes he’ll just pop up out of nowhere just to scare his friends… or as a warning to whoever might be on his “enemies” list.

Beware of the well in the courtyard! Way too many students went there to make a wish or enjoy some peace and quiet only to be met with a certain fae.

Laur is also willing to help out students that might be bothered by other students. Might be a one time kind of occurrence, but if one befriends him, he will take them under his wing and make sure no one messes around with his friends! And if someone does… well all he needs to know is who dared do something like that.

Unique Magic

Incantation:

If a treasure’s what you want,

My conditions you must follow

If you’re able to withstand.

Otherwise… It’s all Fool’s Gold!

Laur’s unique magic only works in creating inanimate objects. The way the spell works is similar to a bet. The requester only forfeits the price for the created objects if they fail to follow the conditions set. The requester’s failure also causes the objects to disappear into thin air.

After the request is made and the terms and payment are discussed, Laur begins the incantation. As he does, a lock, key and a chain appear.

The lock is closed using the key and the chain reaches towards the requester. These objects disappear once the incantation is done and the requested item is provided.

The amount of magic used is highly dependent on the number of objects conjured and/or the size of the object(s).

Laur’s Unique Magic is hereditary, being passed down through the generations.

Background

Mostly inhabited by fae, with the occasional human village, the Iron Gates are located in one of Briar Valley’s…well… valleys. A huge river flows though there, parting the province in two. Sheer forests can be found on both banks. Territories there are under the protection of many different kinds of fae, sometimes humans too.

In times past if a human happened to end up there, they would be subjected to many a fetch quests. From the sky to the water below you wouldn’t have been able to find even one small corner where a fae wasn’t trying to trick a human into doing something for them. Some of the more magical residents would even help along the way.

Hey! Don't humans always tell stories where the protagonist goes on a "hero's journey"? Well, why not try one of your own if you ever visit? At this point in time it is a bit of an inside joke between the residents, who many times send their own children on those “journeys”.

Usually people just do their own thing in the province. Though, the Dafin family is regarded as minor nobility and as some sort of rulers, mostly only stepping up as leaders when needed.

Laur’s home, better said castle, is located in the river flowing through the valley, in a similar manner to how Octavinelle is located underwater.

Extra

Why does Laur hate chewing gum? Have you tried chewing gum with shark-adjacent teeth? Not a fun experience.

Laur is ambidextrous, though there are things he can only do with one of his hands and not the other. For example, he can write only with his right hand.

When something happens to his detriment it usually gets resolved pretty quickly and favorably. Things just work out for Laur.

He’s only 176 cm if you count his horns, otherwise he’s around 170 cm tall.

Although he’s in Savanaclaw, Laur doesn’t have much of an interest in the physical activities his dormmates engage in. And no, he’s not waking up at the crack of dawn for Spelldrive practice. If you want him on the field you’ll have to drag him the whole way. And even then, he’d just perform poorly or not at all just so he can get kicked out of the game.

Laur hates hot weather because his scales feel dry when the atmosphere gets suffocating. So, he wasn’t exactly thrilled to be sorted in Savanaclaw. That waterfall is a lifesaver.

Laur’s dislike for salt water stems from it being very uncomfortable for him. Just like hot weather, salt water makes his scales feel dry but also sticky. Breathing in salt water is also very hard for him.

Laur, has been able to stay underwater (freshwater) for a whole day at most! He’s quite proud of that.

Fishing is just a nice, chill thing to do. Laur makes and scavenges for the bait he uses.

Laur is a semiaquatic draconic fae.

As an only child he is expected to take over his father’s role in the province.

[thetravelerwrites]

Albian (Unicorn Centaur)

Rating: Teen Relationship: Female Reader/Male Unicorn Centaur Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Centaur, Unicorn Centaur Series: Shelter Forest Words: 4681

A multi-part commission for @sammiesamr​​! A young woman from a nearby town runs across a centaur stuck in a bush on her way to Declan's farm. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler’s Masterlist

Your parents did a lot of business with the family in the forest, an odd collection of humans and non-humans alike, led by a gigantic bat patriarch named Declan. Your parents owned a general store in Tandale and your mother had been trading with Declan’s family since before you were born, and you’d grown up with their kids in the same way as the kids from Tandale, your hometown. There was a strange separation between the two that was lost on you sometimes. It was almost as if most people didn’t have a secret stash of friends living in the woods.

Declan’s large clan was an open secret in most of the surrounding villages; everyone knew about it but they didn’t talk about it in the open. There was an unspoken understanding to protect the little haven in the woods, especially considering how much help they had given without any expectation of return. Declan and his family had done a lot of things for a lot of folks over the decades, and though they’d likely never cash in, they were owed a lot of favors.

You were heading toward the farm, the sound of the autumn leaves crunching under your feet and the crisp air tickling the tip of your nose. You were hoping they had some of the seashells that you used to make a pretty pearly white paint that really popped in ways that paint made from other mediums didn’t. Painting was something of a hobby for you, though you dreamed of being able to make a living doing it. You had made some coin for it every now and then, too, selling small paintings on slices of wood in your parents’ store.

You knew the route well enough to take the woods rather than the road, as the road could sometimes be lousy with bandits. Between Declan’s formidable children and Asker’s surly brood, who weren’t exactly friendly but didn’t attack people without reason, you didn’t have to worry about dangerous animals or people trying to take a bite out of you.

Your steps were stilled when you heard a truly creative string of curses far too your right. Your anxiety spiked a little, but you thought the voice sounded more desperate than angry, and you were worried that it was someone who needed help.

You carefully stepped around the underbrush in an effort to make as little noise as possible, creeping closer to the source of the voice.

You saw the lower half of a small horse or a large deer, its coat white as snow and very shiny. The hooves, digging into the dirt as they frantically pawed the ground, were cloven and iridescent black like beetle shells. There were cuts and scrapes all over his rump and spine, his blood jewel-like and strangely more pink than red. The thin, whippy tail, ending in a tuft of glowing white fur, thrashed here and there in a frantic attempt to counterbalance the upper half of the body.

The upper half was that of a man, the skin of which was as pale and translucent as his lower half, a line of silk-fine fur running down his humanoid spine. Most of it was obscured by the large bush of brambles he seemed to have gotten himself stuck in, half standing, half kneeling.

“Are you alright?” You called to him.

He stopped shuffling momentarily.

“Ah… yes, I’m fine,” He said, laughing nervously. His voice had the high smoothness of a tenor. “Please don’t mind me.”

“Are you sure?” You said.

“Of course, of course, please go on ahead, I’ll be just fine.”

“Alright… if you’re sure…”

“Yes, of course. Thank you for your concern.”

“Well… goodbye then.”

“Yes, farewell.”

After a moment of reluctance, you left him in the brush and continued to the farm.

The harvest had come and gone, and now the farm was in the middle of preserving and saving for the winter. Many of the adult children were out on the long, wrap-around porch, washing and shelling the vegetables to be pickled, canned, and jarred.

Soraya, the smaller bat child, stood when she saw you approach.

“Hello, there!” She said, propelling herself forward with her winged arms. “Welcome back! Did you come for a visit or to do business?”

“A little of both, I guess,” You said, giving her a friendly one-armed hug around her neck. “Where are your parents?”

“Papa is bathing in the river and Mama is keeping watch. Honestly, I think they just wanted some alone time.” She winked at you. “They’re still very much in love, those two. I hope I’m just as spry as them when I’m their age.”

You blushed and didn’t comment on that. “Do you have any more seashells or coral to sell that’s good for making paint? I have some things to trade.”

“Yeah, of course, come on up,” Soraya said. “Caeli, do you remember where the seashells are?”

“Yeah, I’ll go get them.” Caeli got up and went inside. Caeli was Soraya's spouse: a young person with tan skin and long, dark hair braided down their back, wearing a blouse and sensible trousers. They had been raised as a girl, but recently had made the determination that they weren’t either a boy or a girl and began embracing their androgyny.

“Can I help out?” You asked.

“Sure,” Said Reed, a cervitaur. “Here, there’s a space. Can you start on shelling the peas?”

“Absolutely.” You sat down cross-legged and began hulling peas. “Where’s Yala?”

“Putting the children down for their afternoon nap. She may fall asleep, too, so we might not see her until supper,” He said, laughing.

Caeli returned with the shells, and after bartering, you returned to shelling while having a pleasant talk with the others. Declan and Ryel came back up from the river about an hour later, both damp, and sat down with everyone else, taking up the work as well. What followed was a comfortable afternoon of calm conversation over the communal work of autumn. This was one of the reasons you liked the farm so much. Slow, steady, and comfortable.

About an hour before sundown, you decided it was time to head home. The family sent you off with fond goodbyes and an entire pound of hulled peas. You went back the same way you had come, and just as you were wondering how the centaur was doing, you saw his rump sitting on the ground, having not moved from the spot. It seemed as if he had given up.

“Hey, are you alright?” You asked, coming closer. You found that there were more wounds on his body, both the horse half and the human half.

“...no, I’m afraid not,” He finally admitted. “My horn is stuck. Can you please help me?”

Horn? “Of course, just a moment,” You said, setting down your bag and pulling out a knife you kept for both utility and protection, and a pair of shears. You began to cut and snip through the thorny branches. “Keep still.”

“No choice, have I?” He said with a self-deprecating laugh. You felt pretty bad for him and annoyed with yourself. How long had he been stuck here? You shouldn’t have left him earlier.

It took quite a while, and the setting sun made it that much more difficult, but eventually you managed to free him from the brambles. You were finally able to see his face and was startled to see that he actually did have a small, silvery, spiral horn rising from the widow’s peak just below his hairline. The skin around the horn was torn quite badly and the horn itself had a gouge in it with a thorny vine wrapped around it.. There was a drop of blood trickling down his forehead and nose. His baby face was sweet and angelic-looking, though it was covered with cuts and scrapes. His eyes were large, lavender in color, and almond shaped, framed with long white lashes.

He was… beautiful, more than beautiful,, despite being covered in wounds from head to hoof. It almost hurt your eyes to look at him, he was so lovely.

“How did this happen?” You asked him, taking a cloth from your bag and wetting it from your water skin, dabbing the cuts on his face.

He sighed and looked away in shame. “I was trying to hide,” He said. “I heard a large group of hunters coming through the forest and I didn’t want to be spotted. I guess I chose the wrong bush to hide in, since as soon as I got in there, one of the branches snagged my horn and hair and I couldn’t for the life of me get free.”

“Why were you trying to hide?” You asked.

“I’m… rare…” He said, shrugging shyly. “And because of that, people think I’m lucky or that my body parts contain magical properties. I tried living amongst other people for years, but the danger has become too much. I was going to this place in the woods I heard about, a farm I think they said? I heard it was a safe place for people like me.”

“Oh! That’s Declan’s place! I just came from there, I can show you the way.”

He eyed you with suspicion. “Really?”

“Of course, let’s get there and get your injuries tended to. Some of those look really deep.”

He frowned a little, as if unsure if he could trust you. You imagined he’d been betrayed quite a bit if secluding himself at Declan’s farm was his last hope for living a safe life.

“Here,” You said, handing him your knife and shears. “Keep these with you until we get to the farm, if it’ll make you feel safer. But we should go, it’ll be dark soon, and you don’t want to be out in these woods in the dark. Lots of things hunt in these woods that are worse than humans.”

“I doubt that,” He mumbled, but he took the weapons slowly and nodded. “Please lead the way.”

You started walking back toward the farm quickly, not necessarily in a hurried manner, but not at your normal pace. You weren’t kidding about being in the woods after dark.

“What’s your name?” You asked.

“Albian,” He said.

“That’s a pretty name,” You said.

“Thanks,” He said with another self-deprecating laugh. “It’s actually my baby name, it’s just never changed.”

“Baby name?”

“Yeah, in my culture, we receive different names when we reach certain milestones in our lives: ‘baby names’, which are given to us at birth by a priest or priestess, and they sort of act as a blessing of health since we have a high infant mortality rate among my people. And then ‘given names’, which we get from our parents if we survive to age five that are based on their wishes for us as we age. ‘Adolescent names’ we get from siblings or friends when we turn sixteen that are based on our personality. Lastly ‘wedded names’ that we get from our spouses when we marry, which are hopes for our futures. Wedded names are private names only used by spouses to refer to each other; they wouldn’t be used by family or friends.” He seemed to be rambling from nervousness.

“Whoa, that’s fascinating,” You said. You almost asked why he hadn’t received his given and adolescent names yet, but you stopped yourself. Considering he was alone and had none of his own people with him, it wasn’t hard to assume that there was a reason his friends and family weren’t in a position to give him his names, and every reason you could think of was a bad one. “Well, maybe the blessing for health worked?”

He half-smiled. “Maybe. I’ve never been sick and other than that blasted bush, I’ve kept from getting injured. Mostly.”

“What about people who don’t marry?”

“Oh, they keep their adolescent names unless they petition to have it altered. Those are known as selfset names.”

“Huh.” You looked forward and saw the trees beginning to thin out. “Oh, look, there it is, you can see the farmhouse.”

You pointed through the trees at the house in the dimming light of dusk, the lights inside warm and glowing. Albian breathed a sigh of relief and handed you back your tools.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

“Do you know them well?” He asked.

“Oh, yeah. My parents have been trading with them since I was a baby, so I’ve grown up around them. They’re great people. This is the safest place in the whole world, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Honestly, it’s reassuring to hear you say that,” He said with a relieved laugh. “I was really worried they might turn me away for coming unannounced.”

“No, never,” You insisted. “They genuinely love unannounced guests. Come on.”

You led him to the porch and climbed up, knocking on the kitchen door. Ryel opened it and looked at you in surprise.

“I thought you were headed home, child. Is everything alright?” She asked.

“Yeah, I found a lost lamb looking for a pasture,” You said, waving Albian forward. He stepped into the porchlight sheepishly. “I found him in the forest looking for the farm. His name is Albian and he needs a safe place to stay.”

“Well, you’ve certainly found what you’re looking for, love, come on in,” She said, stepping back and opening the double doors to let you both in.

“Thank you very much, madam,” Albian said, stepping inside and looking around cautiously.

“Call me Ryel. Or Mama, if you’re so inclined. Goodness, look at that face, all scratched up. Lymera, will you run and fetch some salve from the wet room, please?” Ryel asked one of her daughters, a young faun woman and a priestess-in-training.

“Yes, Mama,” Lymera said, standing.

The entire family was there, as dinner was in progress. The house had been designed with the size of its occupants in mind; most of the bottom floor was a kitchen and living space with no walls or doors separating them, since it needed to be quite big and open in order for the larger family members to fit inside comfortably. The ceiling was high enough that nine-foot Declan could stand up to his full height without hitting his head.

There was a standing table for the four-legged family, as well as a sitting table for the two-legged ones. Albian saw Reed kneeling on a cushion at the sitting table next to his wife and children, and visibly relaxed. Reed was another breed of centaur that was very rare, so his presence must have allayed Albian remaining anxiety.

“Come settle down and have some food, you two,” Ryel said, ushering both of you inside and to a table. “We always have plenty of room. Everyone, this is Albian. He needs a place to stay.”

They all welcomed him warmly, shaking his hands and patting his shoulders, and a plate loaded down with pan-fried vegetables and fresh fruit was placed in front of him. Ryel must have assumed he was vegetarian, since all of the other centaurs were. He seemed rather dazed by all of the unreserved kindness, but it was then that he smiled; the first genuine smile you had seen, and it lit up the entire room. It was like a thousand pounds had been lifted off of his shoulders.

“You should stay the night, too, love,” Ryel said to you as she put a plate in front of you as well. “It’s far too late to traverse the woods, even with an escort.”

“I’d appreciate that, Miss Ryel, thank you,” You replied, reaching for a barley roll. “It won’t be the first time I decided not to go home after coming here, so I’m sure my parents won’t mind as long as I’m home at a reasonable time tomorrow..”

Declan laughed, his voice as deep as a cavern. “I’m not sure if your parents are happy or unhappy about how much time you spend here.”

“Well, they only have themselves to blame,” You replied with a chuckle. “You folks are too effective as babysitters.”

There was a collective titter of laughter around the tables just as five year old Asahi jumped up and squealed because he couldn’t reach his cup. You reached across and nudged the cup closer to him, and he quieted.

Albian seemed terribly anxious and withdrawn when he arrived, but he had calmed considerably since coming to rest at the table. After a while, he began to engage in conversation with the others, rather than giving mumbled answers whenever he was asked a question. He opened up slowly as Ryel treated his wounds, and the others, being well acquainted with handling nervy, skittish newcomers, did what they could to reassure him.

You were led to a guest room that night and watched from the window as Reed led Albian to the barn, where the four-legged family members slept. Before disappearing inside, he looked up briefly and met your gaze, smiling and waving. You waved back.

The next morning, you came down to join the family for breakfast, and Albian was sitting among them as if he’d always been there, his gossamer hair was braided back and tied with a bit of blue ribbon. His cuts were almost completely healed. He’d become fast friends with Reed, having bonded over shared experiences.

“Good morning!” Albian said brightly as you stepped down the stairs. His anxious demeanor had disappeared completely, and now he was as bright and open as a puppy.

You smiled back at him. “Good morning yourself,” You replied. “You seem to be in much better spirits today.”

He nodded and grinned happily. “I’m glad to have woken up to find that this place wasn’t a dream. It took me so long to get here that I thought I might never make it. It’s almost hard to believe I’ve arrived at last.”

“How long were you traveling?”

“Over a year,” He said, taking some slices of apple.

“My goodness,” You said. “Where were you coming from?”

“Pretty far,” He said, his eyes darkening slightly. “There were… significant, unavoidable delays.”

You didn’t like the sudden turn in his mood back to gloomy anxiousness, so you changed the subject. “I hope you like to cook. It’s the making and saving part of the year. Lots of canning and jarring to be done.”

He chuckled and scratched behind his ear in an unsure sort of way. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about it, but I’m happy to learn.”

“I do like folks who are eager,” Ryel said, taking a bite of her oats in milk. “We won’t throw you into the deep end just yet, lad; simple corn shucking will suit you fine to start off with.”

“‘Shucking’ is a word I’ve never heard before, but please feel free to educate me,” Albian said with a smile.

“Don’t worry, I’ve done my share of shucking on this farm,” You told him. “I’ll show you the ropes.”

He gave you a blinding smile that made your face flush. “Thanks, I’d appreciate that.”

Shucking corn, though tedious, wasn’t hard, and Albian got the hang of it quickly. He asked you questions about yourself, and you couldn’t help but notice that when you asked him about himself, he was evasive and changed the subject back around to you.

Around midday, after a generous lunch, you decided it was time to go home. Any later and your parents would definitely worry and maybe even show up at the farm, looking for you. Yew agreed to go with you, and you asked Albian if he’d like to accompany you.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I’d like to introduce you to my parents,” You explained. “They come to the farm often for bartering, so I don’t want you to be surprised by them. And it’ll be good for you to know the way to town if anything happens.”

He seemed apprehensive, but he agreed all the same.

Tandale was a very small, developing town consisting of around thirty families on the outskirts of the forest. Everyone knew everyone, and nothing was private. That was probably the part you hated the most about it, especially as your personal anxieties increased as you aged. It was hard to voice your worries when everyone you’d ever known wrote you off as being dramatic or hysterical, and it made you feel even more insecure.

It also wasn’t great for romance, either, since you’d grown up running around and climbing trees with most of the boys in the village and saw them all as cousins, if not brothers. They were all cookie cutter versions of each other, who all drank the same homebrewed beer, had the same typical young-man hobbies, and thought the same thoughts. They weren’t bad, they were just… small town boys with small town minds, and not what you wanted. You didn’t feel like you should have to settle for a lad you used to take baths with as a tot because there weren’t any other options. Jameson was one such lad.

Jameson was around the same age as you, pale complected, with dirty blond hair and brown eyes. He was a bit taller than you and medium build. He wasn’t unattractive, but in your eyes, he was just like every other boy in your town.

He was walking out of your family’s store when you arrived with Yew and Albian. He’d met Yew before, since he and several other human and “human-like” races from the farm came to the store with regularity, but he looked at Albian sideways.

“Hey there, my love!” He said, and you tried your best not to cringe visibly. “I was just looking for you.” He pulled a handful of wildflowers out of his coat. “For you.”

You sighed internally and took them. “Thanks.”

“Your parents said you were out overnight,” Jameson said, and you caught a hint of accusation in his tone. Jameson jerked his chin at Albian. “And who’s this, then?”

Albian began to speak, as if to introduce himself, but you shook your head subtly for him to stay silent.

“He’s a new friend of mine, Jameson,” You said simply, without elaboration. “He’s come to live with the family in the forest.”

“Oh, those weirdos?” Jameson said, and you could almost feel Albian stiffen. “I don’t like you associatin’ with those folks.”

“That’s not up to you, Jameson,” You said, keeping your voice pleasant and steady. “They’ve been my friends longer than you have.”

“It ain’t right for a pretty little thing like you to be mixed up with… with strange types.”

Jameson decided against whatever it was he was going to say, as Yew was there with you and could very well stomp Jameson into the ground, if he had a mind to it. Yew wasn’t as large as his brother, Birch, but he was still pretty big.

“I don’t think they’re strange at all,” You said.

He laughed. “Well, I’m not attracted to you for your thinkin’, that’s for sure.”

Albian began to paw the ground and step side to side, as centaurs often did when they were anxious or upset. Yew was used to Jameson’s snide comments and didn’t react, except to step forward slightly one your other side, as if subtly reminding Jameson that he was still there and very much aware of the conversation.

“Jameson, I need to go and see my parents, so I’ll talk to you at another time, alright?”

“Sure, sure,” Jameson got close to you and pulled you into a one armed hug, which caused you to stiffen. You knew he wouldn’t let go until you reciprocated, so you patted him lightly on the back a total of twice, and he released you. “Come to the tavern later, eh?”

You shrugged noncommittally, and Jameson bumped your chin with his finger before trotting off.

“Why do you let that fellow speak to you in such a manner?” Albain asked. “If this is how he treats you in the presence of others, I can’t imagine how he treats you when you’re alone. Nothing against you, but you could find a much better lover than him.”

“He’s not my lover,” You said, blushing and laughing nervously.

He looked at you with a puzzled expression. “He seems to think otherwise.”

“I know,” You said, rolling your eyes and sighing. “I’ve told him many times that I’m not interested in being anything more than friends, but he’s had it in his head that I’m going to marry him someday, he’s just waiting for me to come to my senses.”

“If marrying that fool is supposed to be you coming to your senses, stay senseless,” Albian said.

You laughed through your nose. “I plan to.”

“Why do you tolerate such behavior?”

You shrugged. “Well, I mean… we grew up together and we were good friends when we were kids; it’s only been in the last five years or so that he’s gotten a bee in his bonnet about this. We live in the same small town, and we’re practically next door neighbors. Being nasty to him would only hurt me in the long run. Besides, I don’t like confrontation. It’s easier on my peace of mind to keep my distance rather than deal with his whining. I just do what I can to avoid him.”

“Take it from an expert on not being confrontational,” Albian said, his eyes stern but sad. “It’s only a matter of time before they bring the confrontation to you, and suddenly you’re backed into a corner with no one on your side to help you, through no fault of your own. It’s how people get hurt or even killed. Just… be careful.”

You wanted to argue that Jameson would never do anything to hurt you, but you knew this warning was a hard-learned lesson that should be heeded. Despite your intense curiosity about his past, the look in his eyes prevented you from prying. You nodded instead.

“Hey there, honey!” Your mother came out of the store and down the steps, pulling you into a hug. “You almost had us worried.”

“Sorry,” You said, but you didn’t elaborate: you didn’t want to embarrass Albian with a story he might not want told. “This is Albian. He’s a new addition to Declan’s family.

“Oh, welcome!” Your mother said, extending a hand. “You’ll be seeing quite a lot of me and my husband. Joseph! Come and say hello!”

Your father also poked his head out of the door. “Oh, hello! There’s a new face!”

“Hello, sir,” Albian said, bowing his head a little in respect. “I’m a new arrival at the farm.”

“Well, welcome!” Your father said, stepping out onto the small porch, wiping his hands. He was likely in the middle of making soap.

Albian laughed self-consciously, a small smile on his face. “Thank you. I’m very happy to be here.”

“Canning is still going on, so you two should get back soon,” You said. “I’ll be back up to the farm sometime this week.”

“We’re always happy to see you, Pip,” Yew said with a cheeky grin, tapping your chin softly, and you laughed. This interaction was so much different than the interaction you’d had with Jameson, mostly because Yew understood boundaries far better than Jameson. Yew had been one of your best friends since you were young, but his attitude never changed toward you; he always treated you like a sister. Yew was also attracted to men, so you were certain he wasn’t attempting to hit on you.

Albian flicked his skinny tail to and fro twice, and then turned toward the forest to depart.

“Thank you, by the way,” He said. “For helping me. For coming back and not passing by. And… for not being cruel.”

Again, a pang of worried curiosity shot through you. “You’re very welcome. See you again soon.”

“See you soon,” He agreed. He smiled and followed Yew into the trees and out of sight.

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My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[edensrose]

Hello beautiful, I really loved your melkor with a daughter headcannons, but I was wondering if I could ask for some headcannons if he did drop her off to manwe? Thank you!

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ manwë ⠀〳 reader ( familial, plat. )⠀ ❜࿔

· ⊰ synopsis. the last thing he expected was for melkor to just drop his child off without any rhyme or reason. manwë takes it upon himself to raise you as his own

· ⊰ note. hi dear! so glad you liked it! here's your req, hope you enjoy ~ anyone looking for the hcs they're refering to you can find it here

ʚ While Manwë knew his brother was pretty bad - he never could have imagined that he would have actually just dropped his newborn off.  Refusing to take any and all responsibility for the child that he created

ʚ He was honestly quite frustrated with Melkor for abandoning you and from that day he vowed to make sure that you always felt loved and wanted 

ʚ Like any new parent, he struggled quite a bit with the prospect of raising a child, but he did everything in his power to learn. He even found himself going to the elves and asking for advice on taking care of children - he would put as much effort as he could 

ʚ Most likely spoils you rotten - even if those around him tell him not to. He can’t help it, he looks at you and immediately sees a mini Melkor before all the corruption 

ʚ Let’s you sit in his lap and play with a cloud he’d manifest for you whilst he’s in a meeting with the other valar. Something which Námo wasn’t overly fond of as he thought it was unprofessional. Well, that was until you ran to hug his legs once the meeting concluded, he has a soft spot for you now 

ʚ While Manwë does spoil you, that doesn’t mean he lets everything slide. He’s gentle in reprimanding you and takes on a very soft way of parenting you. He allows you to recognise your mistakes and find a way to make things right, all whilst serving as a figure to guide and teach you 

ʚ Sometimes gets carried away and may abandon his duties just to play pretend with you. Eönwë walked in on him with a crown tiara on one occasion 

ʚ Quite protective of you. As you grow up and have some of the other maiar’s eyes on you, you noticed how Eönwë seems to pop up more often. Little did you know that your father is the one who sends him to keep an eye on you - if not, your father himself manifests out of thin air at times 

ʚ Everyone likes to joke that you have Manwë wrapped around your little finger. All you have to do is look at him, give him puppy eyes, tug at his sleeve or even just pout - and whatever you want is yours. He loves you very dearly 

[lily-drake]

Gifts

Any holiday or day where gifts were given was taken with utmost seriousness in the Wayne household.  Or in other words, it was a competition to one up each other’s gifts.  It all started when Jason came to the house and Dick had come back to visit for the holidays.  Marinette hadn’t really understood what was happening when she happily opened Dick’s present, which was a new knitting kit with so many different materials.  She ran over to him and hugged him tightly as Alfred took photos.  Dick had glanced over at Jason and smirked at him, but Jay-Jay only rolled his eyes with his arms crossed.  She still hadn’t opened his after all, and he was around her more now than Dick was, which meant he had a higher advantage of knowing her new interests and endeavors.  So he watched as she pulled out a thick book of fashion design and her own embroidery set.  Her eyes practically glowed as stared at the set.  Jason hadn’t even seen her move because next thing he knew strong arms were wrapped around him.  The 7-year-old had definitely been taught by Dick on how to hug people.

Bruce gazed lovingly at his children, but he knew about their competition, and he would not be outdone by his sons.

“Daddy, Daddy, look what Birdy and Jay-Jay gave me!  They’re so nice!  Feel the material Birdy got me, I can make so many things now!”

“That sounds amazing, Bluebell.”

Marinette smiled brightly as she showed Bruce the gifts that she got.

“Do you want to see what I got you?”

He asked amusedly.  Marinette began to hop on her toes in excitement, because daddy’s always had the best gifts!

“Yes please!”

Bruce smiled and pointed out a small, thin, rectangular box under the tree.  She leaped over to it and when she opened it her mouth dropped open and she squealed.

“You got me tickets to Sophie Theallet’s fashion show?!”

She was jumping with joy as she stared at the five tickets in her hand.  Bruce looked over at and smirked at the boys.  He won, again.  They groaned and sulked in annoyance.  Why did he always win?

________

Marinette was 9 when she finally figured out what her family was doing, and she knew that she would be the one to give the absolute best gifts to her family!  Her family deserved something super special, so she went to work.  Her Birdy was part of the circus and they had a lot of equipment he often used.  But what could she do that would be super special and make her win the competition?  Then it hit her, she knew exactly what she would do!  She would need to ask Alfred for help, but it would be worth it!

Next was Jay-Jay.  She didn’t know much about his past as he always told her that she had to wait till she was older, but she knew about him now.  Jay-Jay loved to read and would often read to her, he really liked hoodies and comfy things, and he liked to bake with Alfred and her.  So maybe…….yea!  She would do that, it shouldn’t be that hard to do.

Daddy always got her such nice gifts, how could she ever beat him?  There had to be something she could do to outdo him.  He was Batman, he worked with the Justice League, he loved all of them, and sometimes if he finished his work early would watch movies with them!  But he was always so good and knew exactly what to get.  She would try though, she had an idea and she hoped it would work.

Alfred, he deserved the best gift because of everything he did for them!  She already knew the perfect gift for her grandpa Alffie!

________

Christmas arrived and she stared out the window as the snowflakes fell onto the covered yard.  Maybe they could go sledding today, that would be so much fun!  She was so transfixed in the snow, and thinking of how pretty a dress would be with the same color and different designs, that she hadn’t noticed her brothers sneaking up on her.  A squeal left her lips as she was lifted into the air and twirled around wrapped in the warm embrace of her Birdy.  She giggled as he spun and squeaked as she was gently thrown into the air, only to land on the couch.

“Good morning Blueberry.”

Dick chirped happily.  She giggled again and leaned into Jay-Jay’s hand as he ruffled her hair.

“Morning Pixie-pop.  Sleep well?”

“Morning Birdy and Jay-Jay.  I slept great, thank you.  Did either of you?”

Jason shrugged with a small smirk,

“I slept fine, though I wouldn’t have minded sleeping a little longer.  You missed Dick’s hallway caroling this morning.”

“I sounded amazing, thank you very much.  And I was too excited to fully sleep.  I’m going to win this year.”

Dick said pridefully.

“No way, I’m totally going to beat you.”

Jason deffied puffing out his chest slightly.  Marinette giggled and called out,

“No, I’m going to beat all of you!  I will be the champion gift giver this year.”

They looked at her and smirked.

“Only in your dreams Pix.”

“You’ll see,”

She replied, crossing her arms and lifting her nose in the air like she had seen some of the people at the galas do.

“Then you’ll have to agree with me!”

They all gave each other sceptical looks before laughing and continued to talk until daddy came down.  When he finally did, the competition commenced.  The first person to open presents was her, obviously, as she was the youngest.  Dick had given her a really nice and fancy art kit, and she loved it!  Jay-Jay had given her tickets and backstage passes to the theater for The Nutcracker, she had been wanting to see it for a while now.  Alfred had told her that he would teach her how to make a super secret recipe, and she would be able to help him with dinner today too!  Daddy, he was too clever, too cunning.  He had given her a pet hamster, and it was beautiful!  She couldn’t beat him now, her gift was nothing compared to-to this!  She tries though, and maybe she could win second?  Yea, she would be ok with second, if she got this adorable baby creature.  She couldn’t even be mad or disappointed, because look at its cute little feet and adorable eyes!

Next was Jay-Jay.  The others had given him some really nice things, but she felt that hers was the best!  So when he opened it and his eyes shined, she knew she made the right thing!  It had taken her hours to find it, and she had to ask Dad if she could get it since she wasn’t allowed to use the card without permission.  It was one of the first books of Pride and Prejudice ever published, she even got him a fancy ink and quill set so he could better embrace his Harry Potter nerdom.

“This is amazing, thank you Pixie, I guess I do owe you an apology, this is amazing.”

She smiled up at him while gently petting the top of her new hamster's head as it laid on her lap.

“Told you!”

For Dick she had knitted him a collection of stuffed animals that he talked about from the circus.  Alfred had helped her find the material and helped her when she made a mistake or needed help on a particularly tricky part.  She thought she saw Dick’s eyes water for a second.  The next thing she knew she was being tightly hugged, but he left enough room to not squish her furry child.

“Thank you Blueberry, it’s amazing.”

“Of course it is, I made them!”

He chuckled as he pulled away and ruffled her already messed up hair.

She had made Daddy a picture book and had decorated it with black and yellow glitter, bats, and different birds.  Throughout the book were all of the pictures that she was able to get her hands on dated and labeled in order from oldest photo to most recent.  He had a soft smile as he looked through the book and when he finally looked back up to his slightly nervous daughter he pulled her into a hug and kissed her forehead.

“I think you won this year.”

“Nuh ah!  You gave me a hamster!  There’s no way I could have won!”

“Well, I think all the others would agree that you thought of and made some very amazing gifts.”

She turned to look at the others as they gave gentle nods and thumbs up.  Her cheeks felt really warm and she smiled at them all.

“Thank you.  Now Grandpa Alffie needs to open his presents!”

Alfred smiled at the small child and opened the gifts he had received from the others.  Marinette had made and embroidered a new handkerchief for him.  He seemed to like it as he immediately placed it in his pocket.  She was the victor of this year's Christmas gift exchange, but she still felt that Daddy beat her.

________

As years passed and her family grew so did the competition.  Sadly, it would be harder to her her family their most desired gifts as she had decided to study abroad in Paris that year, but she would be da*ed if she didn’t try her hardest.  She had gotten better with her skills for making things over the years, and so much had happened.  Jason had died and come back, that was the hardest time of her life.  They had new people adopted into the family, and she even had a little brother!  She was going to meet him this year when she went to visit for the winter break.  She would have the glasses with her at all times in case there was an attack so she could quickly come back here and take care of it.

When she arrived at the Gotham Airport and saw her large family standing and holding a sign as they looked for her she ran up to them as quickly as she could.

“Pixie!”

Jason called out, catching the small girl and twirling her around.  She laughed and when she was put down created the rest of her family just as happily.  When she finally came face to face with her little brother she held out her hand.  Her family said he was more formal and was very against physical touch that he did not agree to or initiate.  He eyed her hand suspiciously before shaking it and giving her a nod.

“Damian Al Ghul-Wayne.”

“Marinette Wayne.  It’s nice to finally meet you Damian.”

They both let go after a firm shake.  She already had a gift for him, and Kagami helped her find the perfect one.  It was a nice blade, the blade was completely black, but had a red tint to it and red gains that delicately ran through it.  The hilt was of fine golden metal and a strong leather grip.  She had made the sheath for the blade.  With strong leather and an inner layer of Kevlar so the sword would be protected.  She had carved in Arabic symbols to spell out “Son of Bat” and had sewn a few almost unnoticeable small robins along the bottom and top of the inky black material.

For Tim, she had gotten him the best coffee beans in all of Paris and she had made him new lounge clothes that identified with his hero persona of Red Robin that had many hidden pockets and two large to-go coffee cups, one on each sleeve.

For Jason she had made him a new leather Jacket with book quotes embroidered all over the inside of the inner material.  There were lots of different pockets, and a few tailor made to fit his guns.  She had put a few Jagged Stone concert tickets in one of the pockets too.

For Stephanie, she had made purple silk pajamas that had waffles all over it.  She had even made sure that there was a hood connected to the pj shirt.

For Cass, just like Jason had done for her, gotten tickets for The Nutcracker.  She had also gotten her ballerina shoes, the best one and most highly recommended ones from the Paris Ballet.

For Dick she had made him an elephant onesie.  Why you may ask, well because for her birthday he had given her a mouse one.  So was it spite for being called short, or was it her trying to match, nobody needs to know.

She had made Alfred a new apron with the words “Don’t try anything, I already know.”  Neatly sewed in cursive into it.

She had gotten Babs a new eskrima stick infused with a bit of her luck in it so no one would underestimate her in battle as she would always have luck on her side giving her the upper hand.  She may be disabled, but that doesn’t stop her from kicking butt.

Finally, her gift for her dad.  This one was hard, because she wasn’t around to know what had caught his eye this year, and her siblings refused to tell her.  It was fine though, because she would figure it out.  And she did, or at least she had tried.  She ended up making him a bee suit jacket with everybody’s names sewed into the inner lining, multiple pockets for convenience, and black bats that would only be shown in the right lighting.  She would win this year, she would!  Sadly, Dick had won last year, but she would regain her crown again this year!  She would be the best gift giver of her whole family!!!

Taglist:

@queenz-z @aespades @fandomsaremylifeline @stainedglassm @toodaloo-kangaroo @prettylittlebutterflie @trippingovermyfeet @liquid-luck-00 @unoriginalmess

[animeyanderelover]

Whoo, requests are open! Can I get Azusa Mukami, Ash Launders, Lau, and Grell Sutcliff with a darling who's a ghost, or something akin to one? Thank you, please take your time with this and remember to take breaks when you need to!

I recently talked about this with my friend, but both of us are amazed with how popular Ash actually is. He suddenly became so beloved in here. Not that I complain😏.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, delusions, paranoia, self-harming behavior, kidnapping, killing

Ghost s/o

Grell Sutcliff

🟥Grell is a grim reaper and for that probably met ghosts quite a few times ago. Ghosts are souls from people who didn’t find peace yet and whilst humans can’t see ghosts most of the time, other supernatural creatures can. Grell feels sometimes a bit sorry for ghosts whose souls are tight to this world until whatever doesn’t allow them to Rest In Peace is solved. There are exceptions though, it isn’t unheard that even after the issue was solved, ghosts decided to stay, mainly because they started enjoying life as an undead once again. So at one point such examples were counted in the supernatural community as well.

🟥If her darling should be a pure ghost, it depends on whether they still try to find a way out of this world or are one of those who decided to live forever as a ghost. If it’s the first one, she would definitely try to make her darling enjoy life once again since she doesn’t want them to leave. She wants to give them happiness once again and would try about everything to make them feel joy again. If it’s the latter case, she would switch from a worried mother mode in a totally fascinated one. She did meet ghosts before, but normally they are more of loners since they grief over whatever they couldn’t finish during life. So having a darling as ghost makes her more interested since ghosts aren’t that known to other magical beings.

🟥Hopefully you know how to manifest yourself or else Grell will get really pouty since she’s clingy. A ghost can learn to materialize their body so others can touch them even though that takes practice. Girl loves you just very much to the extent where she often wants to jump on you and tackle you in a hug after a boring day of work...which ends with her being met with the ground of you don’t know how to control it or did it on purpose. It also tends to scare her a bit if you suddenly pop somewhere up without her knowing since you can just walk through objects. There was this one time where you were looking for her, ending with your head popping up through the ground right in front of her. And Grell might be able to handle, blood, zombies and other gore stuff, but not this. It ended with her screaming startled.

🟥If you’re not dead, but just possess the possibilities of a ghost, the whole walking through walls and turning invisible stuff, you’re most likely a hybrid because believe it or not, in materialized form ghosts can create or bear children too. And half breeds have been since the earliest days always been a more risky topic. Many creatures are still lacking the openness to accept persons from two different kinds since many are still in the classic belief that only the same species should have children together. It leads her to being more overprotective over you since she doesn’t want you to endure hatred and racism from others. She’s fiercely overprotective in that regard.

Lau

🚢He has a weird fascination with such things, at least in my opinion. He might only be human, but he has awareness of the more otherworldly creatures on this planet and his assistant, Ran Mao, herself appears to be some sort of superhuman as well. He has probably heard a lot of ghost stories before, either from his own country or here, in England. And he is somewhat good in telling when a story was just made up so the person could suddenly gain attention or if there is a spark of truth in it. He has a nose for stuff like this and actually likes listening to such stories.

🚢So expect his obsession to very quickly grow if his darling should be a ghost even though he would hold himself back if they are unhappy due to their unfinished business. He is manipulative and is also, despite being good in hiding it from his darling, very greedy and mercenary. He might not show it, but he has every intention to make his darling stay with him, even if that means ensuring that whatever they need to do in this world will never be finished. If you are that kind of ghost who’s happy with their new life, he would be much more open with his curiosity, expressing his interest in your abilities and also backstory. Especially if you should be a lot more older than your appearance gives away, he would be keen on your story. If it should happen that you were murdered and the killer is still alive, that guy will join your kind maybe very soon if they have regrets in their life.

🚢He’s also interested in how your anatomy works since he’s an expert in it. He of course wouldn’t use you like some test subject, but he is just kind of interested how you are able to turn your whole body in one moment in something thinner than air and in the next moment into something that appears to be flesh and blood again. He also kind of likes it to touch through you since your transparent body has a certain coldness around it which gives him goosebumps. It’s a great contrast to when you have materialized and are in possession of a warm body which leads him to being even more touchy than usual. Lau finds it also always very amusing whenever you suddenly appear out of thin air, your abilities are such a breath of fresh air for him. He tends to be a bit surprised, but is good in hiding it with his usual mysterious smile.

🚢He can only guess that a half-ghost like you are one isn’t very beloved in this world. Lau of course doesn’t think you, he finds it highly interesting that you are a mix from two different species, he never thought ghosts could actually create babies. If there’s the possibility, he would like to meet your parents and talk with them, especially the parent who’s the ghost. It kind of leads him to wanting to isolate you a bit since he doesn’t want some other creature trying to kill you since different from a normal ghost you can get hurt by weapons and die like a normal human even though it’s harder to do.

Ash Landers

▫️Whilst he definitely is informed about all the other magical beings existing in this world, he stays away from pretty much everyone, even his own kind. Ash is just embossed from his obsession with purity and doesn’t think of anyone as really worth living since everyone is tainted by greed, lust, sloth and other unspeakable sins. He even hates his own kind since many angels protect the exact lowlife he wants to get rid off, believing that every life deserves living and given a chance. He is somewhat alone with his crazy goals, but he doesn’t mind.

▫️I think Ash with a ghost darling isn’t a very good mix, a horrible if I’m being honest. For the simple reason that you already died and merely your soul remains on this planet, either because of your own free will or because you carry a burden with you. You’re dead. That should say everything to why Ash is experiencing the true deepness of madness and terror someone could never possibly begin to imagine. He failed, he pathetically and utterly failed to protect the only person who actually deserved a happy and good life. It makes his whole life shatter, next to his already screwed up sanity. It does not matter if you were killed, died in an accident or because of a deadly sickness. The village you lived in will be blamed and slaughtered by him.

▫️He’s horrible to act with this because I have this terrible thought that he will not only not allow you to leave, but also desperately try to search for ways to somehow get your soul back into your body or will find a vessel in which you can live. He does not care if you want it or not, he doesn’t even really care if you’re happy or not. Dead is dead and he wants you alive. He would get incredibly prone and torn apart if you yell and cry at him that you don’t want it, that you want to die finally in peace or like being a ghost. You just don’t understand!! HE HAS TO MAKE SURE YOU’RE ALIVE AGAIN!!!

▫️With you being only something akin to a ghost, a hybrid in here, the situation would still be very tangled, but a bit less than with you being an actual ghost. I see Ash as someone who usually despises hybrids, but you are made the only exception from this. It isn’t worth saying that he isolates you since he would do this in all scenarios, even though he also does it in here due to fearing that someone might talk down to you because of your unidentified species. He kind of thinks he’s the only one who can truly cherish you for your whole beauty. You might have an advantage since you can just sneak past him whilst invisible, question is if you’re heartless enough to let innocents suffer under this because Ash can and will burn whole cities down if it leads him to getting you back.

Azusa Mukami

🔪I don’t think he ever met ghosts or other otherworldly creatures before even though he lived a pretty long life. It stands even open to question if he is aware of the existence such other creatures. Whilst he does know that vampires exist, he himself is a half-blooded one, he is not really too informed about other creatures and might even not really cared about it anyways before meeting his s/o. His brothers on the other hand considered the fact of other magical beings on this planet.

🔪He is saddened that you are already dead, it doesn’t matter since how long you’ve already been. It’s still very upsetting for him, especially if you should be mourning over something you couldn’t do in your life as well. I do see him as someone who might actually possess the selflessness to let you go if you’re really desperate despite knowing he’ll die without you. So it’s up to his brothers to find ways to bind you to this earth because they’re scared what Azusa will do if you should ever disappear and leave him alone for eternity. With a darling who likes their current body and is satisfied with themselves, Azusa will be happy as well and be in love with you and your fascinating powers.

🔪But please let him touch you. He is clingy and likes having physical contact with you and if you aren’t able to manifest yourself and hurt him, he will become overtime more desperate. His brother also realize the problem with you being able to escape anytime you want from them except if you make this place your new place to haunt for eternity which all of them hope. Whilst he does like feeling your actual warmth and body, he still finds your ghostly form appearing, the feeling of cold and lingering touches everywhere and yet nowhere at the same time. I do not know if ghosts possess blood or anything like this, I doubt it. So that means at least you don’t have to worry about him eventually giving in to temptation.

🔪He will never be able to understand if someone should dislike his s/o if they should be somewhat of a half breed. As I mentioned, I don’t think he really cared much about the possibility of other beings existing and certainly not a mix made from more than one species. It does add up to his worshipper tendencies since apparently people like you are not very common. He thinks you’re wonderful. As a half-ghost you might have blood inside of you, if it’s from a human is another thing to discuss. But Azusa is from all vampires the one who wouldn’t want to suck your blood, even if it drives him crazy. And even if his brothers try to force him, you can abandon your materialized form anytime for your ghost body. You give Azusa’s brothers honestly a bit of a hard time with your abilities, it’s mocking for them in a way.

[can-of-pringles]

for the ask thing

based on your writing (and trying to ignore what I know about you as a person), I could tell that you’re super artsy. A lot of your characters have creative-based hobbies, and the writing itself just conveys this love of art and creating things. It’s actually really sweet to read, since I can see your passion in it.

I’m pretty sure you have siblings or a big extended family, cause you write a lot about found family and family dynamics and everything. Also, you’ve definitely had some experience with small children before, or you’d like to work with children in the future (like at a school or daycare maybe)

I also can get a sense of a lot of your own experiences in your writing (LGBTQ themes, disability themes, neurodivergency themes). I also notice that a lot of your fics are about a character with an angsty past coming to find a comfortable present, which pops up often enough that I feel like it’s got to have some bearing on your real life. But I’m gonna leave it at that - I’m not trying to psychoanalyze you TOO much over here :)

I’m guessing you like to garden in your spare time, cause there’s a lot of flowers/gardening details in your Peter/Mari fics. Just a liiiiittle too much detail about the various kinds of flowers, it’s gotta be an interest of yours. Lastly, and this is the one I feel like I’m pulling the most out of thin air: I think you’re clumsy in real life. You’ve written a lot about minor injuries and hurt-comfort, which makes me think you might be someone who gets injured in mild ways often. And given you’re not an X-Man or a demon, that probably comes from things like tripping over the sidewalk or walking into the corner of a table.

I got a little carried away with this, I know, I just like analysis and pattern-recognition lol

First off, I'd just like to say I appreciate you sending me such a nice and detailed ask! Thank you! Now it's time to confirm whether or not your assumptions are right.

1. Correct! I'm a very artsy and creative person. Always have been.

2. Maybe? I only have one other sibling. Although maybe my extended family is bigger than most? I'm not sure... I haven't seen most of them in a while.

3. Kinda, I have memories of my younger cousins when they were little kids and I always enjoyed spending time with them.

4. True! I kinda tend to write what I'm familiar with.

5. Heh... I don't know about that lol.

6. Possibly, my mom has a garden outside that I have plants in sometimes and I have a few houseplants. But I do love flower symbolism!

7. Maybe I am more than I thought lol. Clumsiness runs in the family /j

Ask game; what do you think my hobby, skillset or knowledge or any other details of me based off my writing?