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zhongrin · 2 years

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floaty companion

◇ characters ◇ zhongli, al haitham, childe, cyno, kaveh

◇ tags ◇ character!seelie, cuteness overload, no romantic pairing but your seelie loves you very much!!

◇ a/n ◇ this is largely inspired by @hiraya-rawr and @genshinarchives seelie!companion and seelie!reader concepts respectively. important: please don’t send in requests for seelie!reader on genshinarchives, she’s not writing for that concept anymore!

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

seelie!zhongli's antennae are abnormally longer than normal seelies and remind you of a dragon’s. his tail is a tad thicker than normal seelies too, and he has tiny claws on his stubby little arm. it’s just as unique as it is adorable.

pee-colored shining golden color. people have mistaken him for a huge mora coin whenever he curls into a ball and has most definitely tried to grab him.

because of this, whenever you’re traveling inside the city, he prefers to bury himself within your hair - or, if your hair is long enough and you wear them down, he would gladly use them as a curtain as he sits on your shoulder. otherwise, he’ll peek out from your coat or pocket. he’s still a curious one, after all!

when you’re out and about is when he will float alongside you, enjoying the scenery and fresh air. careful though, you might want to check on him every now and then, because sometimes he just stops to admire the view. grandpa behavior. oh and sometimes he’ll disappear and return with a pouch of mora… how did he get those? he’s just extremely lucky when it comes to mora, it seems. or maybe he has some seelie mora-seeking intuition. who knows?

always tries to sip on your cup of tea. always ends up 1) falling into the teacup or 2) poured tea all over himself. the day you got him a mini teacup he literally bounces in excitement on your palm.

seelie!al haitham is a silver colored ball (which will magically shimmer green under certain lighting) that trails after you quietly…. until he sees a bookstore that is. in which case he’ll pull on your clothes or ear so you take a detour.

people laugh at you when you tell them your seelie is literate, and they think you’re crazy when you say he’s fluent in at least twenty languages and counting. well, jokes on them, he’s helped you decipher runes and guide you to secret passages in all the ruins you’ve gone to explore.

basically, those trips almost always end up with you finding lost treasures or new valuable information, which meant more mora. which means, you’re kind of rich because of him, and so he demands payments in the form of books and cuddles.

he’s normally very docile but you had witnessed him headbutting a yellow-colored seelie with a brownish tint on its antennae that seemed to be curious of your presence and hovered a little too close for his liking. you think the poor thing is now probably stranded all the way to the sumeru desert. yeah… best not to anger him.

he’ll sometimes disappear off to archons-know-where by himself, but he always comes back within the day. and he always has a souvenir when he returns; from a torn page of a book (you think it’s poetry but you have no idea what it says because they’re written in a language you don’t know) to a freshly bloomed padisarah, it always ends up with you cradling him in your arms and him silently enjoying the extra attention.

poor seelie!kaveh fell onto your bag while you were resting up in your adventure of traveling around the sumeru desert. you take pity on his unconscious form and decide to carry him until he wakes, intending to look for his owner the soonest you return to caravan ribat….

only, what happened after that was him waking up, taking one good look at your face, and now he’s stuck onto you like glue. quite literally. you sleep that night and when you wake up the next day he has somehow sewn a little pocket on your coat for him to ride in.

he brings you flowers or shiny-looking stones at least five times every day. sulks (by burrowing into his ‘home’ on your coat and refusing to acknowledge you until you apologize) when you don’t take good care of said presents.

he seems to become very hostile whenever he sees any silver-colored seelies. they’re a rare variety, but the two times you’ve encountered them throughout your adventures, your little yellow-brown seelie had screeched so loud you think he gave you tinnitus.

whenever you stumble into buildings you haven’t seen before, he’ll dazedly float out from his pocket home and squeak happily. he’ll drag you on a little tour around the building and inside said building if you’re allowed to enter.

seelie!childe is a strange ocean-blue colored ball that seems to be able to produce water out of nowhere???

you playfully knitted him a silly little red scarf to differentiate him from the other blue-colored seelies and he’s taken a liking to it. he always gets pouty whenever you take the cloth off him so you can wash the grime off. how can you know that he’s pouting when seelies don’t have mouths? umm. let’s just say you have a special emotional connection.

super noisy, squeaks and bumps and nuzzles onto you 24/7. will not sleep if he’s not nestled onto your neck. likes to perch on your person, be it your head, your shoulder, or your pocket.

when he’s angry he turns into a purplish color and zaps anything he’s in contact with. sometimes he does this to you when you’re being neglectful of your safety. suffice to say that his shocking (pun intended) warnings have saved your life more than once.

doesn’t do too well in hot weather. he literally melts onto your shoulder and refuses to detach himself. thrives on cold weather; he seems to really love snow.

soft pastel purple color is the hue of seelie!cyno. his antennae is darker colored and shaped like jackal ears.

can summon tiny lighting strikes. you have no idea how that works. just know that your little companion will not hesitate to do it to people who make you uncomfortable.

protective. will float in front of you and survey the area first. you two probably have determined a set of signals to ‘communicate’ with each other. always waits for you to catch up when you fall behind. very rarely he hides in your pocket; even when you fight he’s there as moral support and would act as a distraction to your opponents.

has a very good sense of direction somehow. you’ll never get lost with him around. if you’re going the wrong way, he’ll smoosh your cheek to get your attention and point in the right direction.

seems to be very obsessed with this card game called tcg. whenever he sees someone selling cards on the side street stalls, he’ll bump you in a warning and lead you towards the said shop. seelies don’t have eyes but when he faces you with a rare card in hand you swear you can see him making puppy eyes at you. and he might be a seelie, but you figured with the winning streak you have with him controlling your plays, he might be well on his way to becoming the most legendary tcg player in the whole teyvat.

#astronetwrk #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #rin writes #zhongli #zhongli x reader #childe #tartaglia #ajax #childe x reader #al haitham #al haitham x reader #cyno #cyno x reader #kaveh #kaveh x reader

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happy-beeeps · 3 months

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No Really I Can

Summary: You're a schoolteacher, and you've developed a little bit of a crush on the new dad in class.

Pairing: Din x reader

WC: 1.6k

Warnings: alcohol use!

It’s quiet when he enters, only the mild hum of chatter between your students recapping their recent days off. It’s a sound you’ve learned to work through, scrolling through your data pad to look at their recent homework—drawings of their family.

You almost don’t notice him enter, until that mild hum stops all together. One of your students, Twyla, a quiet Deverronian girl, speaks first. “It’s him.”

The Mandalorian moves through the desk with the practiced ease of a mercenary. The baby behind him, not so much. You vaguely remember seeing him with a small bundle strapped to his chest in the few times you’ve seen him in the market, but you hadn’t made out the shape of the child until now.

“Students! We’re going to get started soon, please open up your data pads and take a look at today’s system.” They oblige, you have a good group, and the Mandalorian stops at your desk. “How can I help you?”

He’s quiet at first, then hoists the child up in his arms so he’s level with your desk. “This is Grogu, I think I’m supposed to sign him up for school.”

“It’s nice to meet you Grogu,” you murmur, voice quiet. He smiles and coos in response, and you can feel the heavy gaze of the Mandalorian on you. “Where is he at, schooling wise.”

“He had a… specialized education.”

“Okay, what languages does he speak? He may have to be transferred to the droid-led class.”

“He doesn’t, not really.”

“Do you speak Mando’a at home?”

There’s a heavy pause before he continues, “no, no we don’t. He doesn’t speak at all. But he listens.”

You smile at Grogu, and reach out to pat his hand. “I work with students of all ability, his speaking is not necessary to his learning, or to his being a good student.” You motion to reach for him, and the Mandalorian obliges. He’s heavy in your arms, but warms up to you instantly, and you know in your heart it’s going to be hard to keep yourself from loving this little guy. “Pickup is in five hours. Magistrate Karga has donated datapads to all the students, so he’ll get to take one home today. It’s time to say goodbye for now.”

He’s deliberate with his movements, holding the child’s hands before pressing his forehead to Grogu’s. He’s out the door before you can speak, and you realize you never got his name.

* * *

Grogu is a funny kid, he’s emotive and quick to respond. He loves to draw, and you can tell he listens intently to his classmates, like he’s wise beyond his years. You teach a wide age of students, and he feels quickly in line with his younger classmates, but your older kids are easily including him, picking him up and carrying him to recess. You determine there’s a few things about his special education that his father neglected to mention, especially when you notice the ball your students are playing with seemingly levitate to Grogu.

And his father. Your mind lingers on him now, nursing a martini in the cantina. He’s been respectful, kind, patient every day at drop off and pick up. He’s quiet, but not shy. Closed off, you’d guess. He asks after you every morning, and on the last day before the week break he’d brought you caf. It was black, lacking the creams and sugars of your usual order, but the thought was there. The silver vessel is still in your bag, admittedly sending a flutter through your chest when you hear it rattle against your things.

“Are you even listening to me?” Your friend asks, eyes rolling as she watches the dizzy look in your eyes.

“Sorry, just thinking about work.”

“Sure…” she says slyly, knowing all too well what that dazed expression means. “Oh, don’t look now, but the Mandalorian just walked in.”

You whip around at near lightspeed, ignoring your friend’s smooth that she murmurs under her breath. He’s here, he really is. You’ve seen him here maybe once before, and in fact he had Grogu with him, huddled against his chest while he and Karga were tucked away at a booth in the back of the room, chatting easily.

“He’s walking over here, maker, what did you do.”

“Nothing!” You shout as quietly as possible, doing your very best to nonchalantly fix your hair, your face, literally anything you can get your hands on.

She’s quick to read you, “Ah, I should’ve asked who you did.”

He’s at the table before you can respond, words dropping off your tongue as you look at him.

You’ve never been this close to him, his thighs nearly pressing against the edge of the table you’re at. He’s so large, commanding, and it sends a blush to you to think about.

“Grogu’s teacher, right?”

“It’s me, do I look that different out of the classroom?”

He’s quiet, then responds, “You look relaxed. Happy.”

You move to answer, but your friend beats you to it, “Well, I was just leaving,” she pats your arm as she stands up, “get home safe now, okay.”

You don’t miss her wink as she leaves the bar.

“I’m sorry about her-“

“Can I buy you a drink?”

You speak at the same time, and you blink in response to his question. “Absolutely.”

He’s back at your table quickly with a new martini, and you’re kicking yourself for ordering such a heavy drink. He slides into the seat and sets it down in front of you.

“Where’s yours?”

Reclining back in his chair, the answer comes to you as soon as he speaks it. “I don’t. Not here, anyway.”

Right. The helmet. “So, what brings you to a bar?”

“You.”

It’s spoken so simply it catches you off guard, and you cough on your drink.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” if you knew him better you’d say he’s embarrassed, “I just wanted to get to know you.”

You smile, and take another sip. “I’d like that.”

He moves the napkin around in front of him awkwardly, and you realize how out of place he looks in a place like this. “What’s your name? Your first name.”

You tell him, and he repeats it back, as if he’s tasting it on his mouth. The intimate way he whispers it has your blush creeping back. “Can I ask yours?”

“I’m not used to telling people,”

“Oh, I’m sorry you don’t have to.”

“It’s Din. Din Djarin.” He replies quickly, as if you gave him no hesitation.

“Din.” It’s your turn now, to turn his name over in your mouth. “Grogu is a great kid.”

“He is. He’s with Karga now actually, he loves him.”

“Doesn’t surprise me, he’s hard not to love.” You’re quiet, taking another sip, “can I ask why you just now decided to enroll him in school.”

“We’ve been… touch and go lately. Wasn’t sure where we’d end up. I’ve never really been in one place for long.”

“Mandalorian thing?”

He chuckles, “Me thing.”

“I get it. Everyone here came here for a reason. People are only just starting to move here for fun.”

“Can I ask what brought you here?”

You shrug, “The empire, same as everyone else. Actually, I got here right after you left, if I gather all the stories about you correctly.”

“Oh, theres stories about me?” He’s teasing, his voice dipping into a joke.

“Hundreds,” you smirk at him over your glass, “that you’re secretly a Wookiee, that you’re a cold blooded killer, that you have more guns than friends.”

He’s silent, and moves to trace a finger around the bottom of your glass. “Only one of those things isn’t true.”

A chill runs up your spine, but not out of fear, though you know it should be. “Can I ask which?”

“Nope,” he nearly pops the ‘p’, and leans back in his chair, “where’s the fun in that?”

* * *

You’re tanked when you leave. You’ve never been more grateful, or more embarrassed when Din helps you home. “S’sorry. Not normally like this.” You slid against him, and he merely places his other hand on yours, grasping onto his bicep like it’s your last hope.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m the one who bought you them, if anything it’s on me.”

You should be terrified, but Din is nothing but a gentleman while you talk his ear off on the walk back. He laughs when something is funny, and nudges your shoulder when you tease him. Still. You should be terrified. You remember the day the pirates came to Nevarro, remember the way he had defeated them all by himself.

You’re at your door quicker than you’d like, and you’re leaning on him while you fumble for your door code.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” he replies, hand tracing down your arm.

“Was this a date?”

He doesn’t answer at first, then asks you, “Do you want it to be?”

“Yes please.”

He chuckles, “Then call it our first.”

“I don’t do this, just so you know.”

“Do what?”

“Date all the hot dads at school.”

“I don’t either.”

“Date all the hot dads?”

“No,” but he pauses to laugh, a true uninhibited laugh. “Date. At all.”

The door clicks open, and you pat the cheek of his helmet. “S’okay. I can teach you.”

You enter your apartment before he can respond, and the door slides shut with a hiss. You’re struck like a university student again, leaning against the door. Your brain is telling you to run, to date some boring, normal. But you can’t, you won't.

Your last thought before slumping into bed, makeup and all is simple.

I can fix him.

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din x reader #din djarin imagine #the mandalorian #the mandolorian x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandolarian

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spacebarbarianweird · 5 months

Note

Kid falls asleep somewhere and the caretaker finds them, bringing them to their bed

This is probably one of my favorite childhood memories 🥺❤️

Synopsis: Astarion is carrying his daughter to bed for the last time in her life.

Tags: dadstarion, dhampirs, fluff

This is the fluffiest thing I ever written. And since you all like reading about Astarion's daughter's future - I've written the whole part with adult Alethaine POV as she takes care of her own child centuries later.

Alethaine's age (1st part) - 17-years-old

Alethaine's age (2nd part) - 316-years-old

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion is drunk with blood and night. His body is warm but his head is dizzy with happiness. Here, deep in the woods of the Unicorn Run, he can be truly himself.

A predator. A hunter.

A vampire.

He is free. He is fast. He is dangerous. Animal blood satiates him and he feels like the shadows of the past are leaving him.

There are still nightmares. Sorrows. Sometimes he is so angry he smashes things against the wall or tries to tear at his hair.

But it doesn’t mean anything, after all. It all ended. For good.

He will never be hungry again. He will never be tortured. Or forced to sleep with strangers. No more pain, no more misery, no more rapes.

He has a home. He has a family. He even has friends who pretend they don’t know he is a vampire.

He has everything, and no one will take it from him.

Astarion comes back slowly, enjoying every step he makes with his bare feet. His ears twitch in anticipation – he knows he is being waited for at home. Tiriel will welcome him with her genuine smile, asking how his night walk was. Alethaine, their daughter, is probably somewhere else – she is seventeen and Astarion knows she has her own life right now, and he will know details of it only if she decides to tell.

Though, there is one problem.

Somehow Alethaine isn’t interested in relationships. Neither girls nor boys. Once she admitted to him she just didn’t get what all this fuss was about and the only person in the whole town who tried to ask her for a date ended up with a broken hand. Astarion refused to punish Alethaine for violence (“It’s your son’s problem if he can’t take ‘no’ for an answer, not mine.”), but it surprises him how little someone could care about love, relationships, and sex.

Alethaine read the Necromancy of Thay at fifteen and she understands it much better than he ever will, but boys and girls? Absolutely unknown and weird.

Astarion decides to take a long path to the underground part of the town to enjoy the surface at least a little bit more. It takes him to the town’s cemetery – its old part almost forgotten by humans and halflings whose lifespan is so short that elves and dwarves don’t have enough time to get used to them.

And then he sees a familiar black leather bag with books.

He turns left and sees Alethaine curled on someone’s century-old grave.

It seems like she was reading and then decided to take a nap putting the book aside. Astarion picks the book up. Dragons, wyrms and drakes. The study. Probably one of the books she got from a traveling merchant a month ago. Astarion remembers how she came home with a huge pile of volumes proudly saying that she’s spent all the money she earned by working in the tavern and fortune-telling.

1000 Poisons and Antidotes, A Field Guide To Fey, Thirty Ways To Skin a Dragon, Myth and Legends of Calimshan and also a few books in Infernal she got to “practice”.There was something else but Astarion doesn’t remember.

Astarion reaches out for her shoulder to wake her up but then stops. There is something so precious and unreal he can’t take his eyes off Alethaine.

She is beautiful. People say she looks like him, but he can’t be sure. Pale skin, elven ears, hair as silver as the moonlight. She is delicate like a fey and looks as fragile as a porcelain doll.

Astarion concentrates and hears her heartbeat.

So alive. So real. So precious.

In moments like this, he can’t believe she is his child. When she was a baby, he mostly adored how cute she was. But now—

It’s probably the first time Astarion realizes his daughter is almost an adult.

She is a beautiful and smart woman, her very own person, so different from both him and Tiriel. Damn, Tiriel is often asked what crypt she found her daughter in!

Astarion smiles looking at his baby – she will always be a baby to him. No matter how many centuries will pass, he will never forget a tiny dhampir who constantly cried to get his attention. And whom he carried to bed if she fell asleep playing with her dolls.

Astarion feels an itchy sensation on his skin. The sunrise.

When exactly was the last time he carried his daughter in his hands?

Astarion takes the book on dragons, puts it in the bag, and then lifts Alethaine up.

She grunts something but doesn’t wake up.

“Come on, let’s return home. Days are merciless and cruel for the creatures of the night,” he chuckles.

Alethaine feels almost weightless in his arms as he returns to the underground part of Daggrerlake. Soon Alethaine will leave them, he knows that. She is already preparing to become an adventurer, though he suspects she will spend another year under their roof. Seventeen years is such a short amount of time.

But it’s her whole life.

Tiriel welcomes them in the yard and chuckles, seeing Alethaine fast asleep in his arms.

“Oh, I thought she was way too adult for that,” she smiles, opening the door. “Where was she?”

“The old graveyard.”

“Well, her favorite place in the town,” she whispers. “Right after the tavern where she frauds travelers with her fortune telling.”

Alethaine lacks any fortune-telling abilities except for good intuition. But strangers who stay at the inn owned by a family of dwarves don’t know that. They just see a very pale and mysterious-looking elf who is advertised to them as a witch.

Once, a fighter who Alethaine told he would get a wife soon, returned to her angry and pissed because his attempt to matchmake a princess ended up with him being whipped in a town square. It’s probably the only time Astarion had to show up in the tavern during Alethaine’s shift. When he got there, Alethaine was crying and the fighter was threatening her with every awful thing a man can do to a young girl.

The fighter was deliciously scared when a vampire threw him against the wall and broke his dominant hand. Alethaine then told Astarion, no, she wasn’t crying, no she wasn’t afraid of that dumbass, she just got offended by all those mean words he told her.

But Astarion knew she was scared. She was scared like any girl her age after being threatened by a much larger and older man. The fighter begged Astarion to forgive him and he threw the moron at Alethaine’s legs, forcing him to beg her and, if she accepted his apologies, he would let him go.

Alethaine didn’t forgive him (maybe she was just paralyzed with shock and fear) and that night Astarion dined on his blood. Besides, if the man could approach someone that young and casually tell her he was going to assault her, it probably meant he’d already done it to someone else. Or would in the next village.

Astarion puts Alethaine to her bed. He bitterly smiles, noting that there is no plushie toy or doll anymore that she liked so much barely a few years ago – only books, candles, and animal skulls she collects in the woods.

He also bitterly remembers that, in the very recent past, he could easily help her change clothes into the night dress. But this thing is forever out of reach for him. So, he just puts her boots off and places them in front of the bed.

“Sleep well, princess,” he murmurs, leaving the room.

“Heavy-sleeper!” Tiriel jokes standing in the inner yard. She cuts the wood for the fireplace and Astarion adores the sight of her wielding the ax.

“She is,” Astarion looks away.

She is seventeen. She will soon leave their home. She will live for centuries – and her childhood will be such a minor part of her life that it makes Astarion upset. He cherished every single day since she was born: her first step, her first word, the first time she saw the snow, the first time she went somewhere alone (she was five and Tiriel sent her to pick up herbs from the healer). The first book she read by herself. The first letter she wrote.

And now, there are also the last things.

The last time she slept in her parents’ bed – he remembers how she took her pillow and left them to return to her room. The last time he bathed her – and she looked so innocent and cute in the wooden tub full of soapy water. The last time he read her a book – it was a novel about unicorns and fey. He expected she would bring another one to read the next day, but, instead, he found Alethaine reading by herself.

The last time he played dolls with her. The last time Tiriel brushed her long hair. The last time they played hide-and-seek in the woods. The last snowball fight.

All these things didn’t seem like the last when they did it, but they became one.

And Astarion knows that the fact he carried Alethaine to bed this day was a miracle. He will never do this ever again.

“Astarion, my love, what happened?” Tiriel’s fingers play with his hair. “Don’t tell me everything's right, I see you are upset!”

“Alethaine grew up too fast,” he admitted. “It’s not fair that elves live so long and yet their childhood is just slightly longer than humans.”

“I know, love. But she is an adult – and we need to see her like one, unless she wants to be occasionally treated like a child.”

Astarion places his head on Tiriel’s shoulder.

“I just… Damn… We both were children. Your childhood was hell and your mother was a bitch, but I don’t remember mine. You know, I just thought—” Astarion would sigh if he breathed. “There was a moment when I was carried to bed for the last time, too. And I can’t even remember who did it.”

Tiriel kisses his forehead — it’s a motherly gesture, not a lover’s one.

And then Astarion suddenly finds himself in Tiriel’s arms ‘bridal style’.

“Tiriel, put me back!”

“Why would I?” she laughs, holding him as if he were a young boy.

“I sometimes forget how strong you are,” he mutters, hoping no one sees them.

“It’s just your hollow elven bones. Though, I can lift human males up too!”

“I hope you don’t do this often because, otherwise, I will start getting possessive!”

“Or throw them in the mud after, don’t worry,” Tiriel kisses him, still holding Astarion as if he were weightless.

“Ok, then, now you need to carry me to bed,” he pouts.

“I will gladly do that. And then, you will tell me how you want me to love you.”

“I will think on the way to the bedroom, my love.”

They both burst out in laughter.

A drake the size of a cat sneezes and burns the dandelions. Then, it looks up at Alethaine with guilt as if apologizing.

“And can I ask where your owner is?” Alethaine murmurs.

The drake sneezes again. Aurix – gold in Draconic – demonstrates its tummy to the dhampir and stretches like a kitten.

Alethaine takes a few more steps and finds herself in a beautiful green field full of grass and flowers. The wind makes waves on its surface and Alethaine feels that the night is slowly approaching.

A red-haired elf lies in the grass. Her red hair is messy – she’s been hunting the whole day. Her bow lies at her side. The freckled face is a bit suntanned and her ears twitch a bit as their owner wanders in her reverie.

“Tiri,” Alethaine leans to her sixteen-year-old daughter. “Let’s go home, dad worries you got lost.”

Tiri mutters something incomprehensible. She is young and her reverie is deep. As someone with very few memories to re-live, Tiriel Goldernoot, the only daughter of King Elren and his “witch-queen” Alethaine, probably sees only glimpses of her past lives mixed with human-like dreams.

Besides, her grandmother and namesake was half-human. So, Tiri’s dreams are much more vivid.

“Tiri, get up. If you don't, I will carry you myself.”

“It’s a manipulation, mum.”

“It is, so I see you are awake. Get up.”

Tiri sits up, numb and dizzy after a reverie and she looks like someone beaten with a bag of sand. Alethaine helps her daughter to stand up and the drake immediately sits on her shoulder.

“Tired?” Alethaine asks.

“Ughm. I’ve been to Corellon’s grove.”

The biggest temple on the isle was ten miles away from Leuthilspar – the capital and Alethaine’s new home – no wonder the girl was so tired.

“I didn’t get inside, I just wanted to see the place from the hills.”

“Come on,” Alethaine takes her daughter’s hand and takes her home.

“Mum,” she tells her, and Alethaine feels her daughter’s embarrassment. “May I ask— Though no, don’t bother, it’s stupid.”

“You want me to carry you?”

Tiri blushes and nods. They are the same height, mother and daughter, but Tiri is far from being a dhampir, and Alethaine can carry much heavier things than a young High Elf ranger.

“But as long as no one sees us!” Tiri quickly adds.

“Don’t worry, no one will,” Alethaine promises and lifts her daughter up.

They walk like that for almost an hour. Tiri is exhausted and barely talks and Alethaine enjoys her loud heartbeat and deep breathing. When Tiri was born, Aletaine was suspiciously looking at the newborn baby. Was she a dhampir like her? Did the quote of vampiric blood affect her? Did Alethaine’s obsession with dark arts and demonic studies somehow hurt the child?

And then she remembers the realization. Tiri is as normal as possible. Just an elf. She wouldn’t grow fangs, she wouldn’t want blood, she wouldn’t accidentally reanimate a dead kitten and the druidic circles would never harm her. That moment Alethaine grabbed the newborn girl from her cradle, she came straight to Elren who was meditating in one of the many gardens of the elven castle and pushed Tiri into his arms. “Look at her!” Alethaine laughed as her half-asleep Thiramin was trying to realize what was going on. “She isn’t a creature of the night! The dark magic didn’t hurt her! She is normal! Like you!”

Alethaine catches the scent of other elves and puts Tiri on the ground. Now they walk through the streets like mother and daughter. Even though elves have different ideas of nobility and social structure than humans, Alethaine is still married to the king and she senses respect and fear from other elves (besides, they all know if it wasn't for her none of them would have made it alive after the demons had taken a hold on Faerun).

They needed the dark witch to deal with demons because druids don’t know what real darkness is.

“Hungry?” Alethaine asks.

“Like a vampire.”

“Interesting choice of words, Little Fire,'' Elren says sitting on the floor with yet another book about the ancient history of elves. Elren couldn’t care less about his status (“I’ve never asked to be crowned.”) and usually behaves as if he were still a ranger in the High Forest.

Tiri proceeds to tell her father how she marched through the hills, how Aurix almost ate a fey, and how she didn’t lose a single arrow while hunting birds. And then, she also saw portals to the Feywild but didn’t dare to approach them.

Alethaine walks up to the ceiling and stretches her arms – night is calling her. But she also feels the storm coming and decides she won’t leave the warm walls of the elven castle tonight.

When Tiri goes away to have dinner, Elren stands right below Alethaine. He is way taller than elves usually are and sometimes Alethaine feels very small in his presence.

His hair is almost as long as Alethaine’s, but it has a golden shade. His eyes are light-blue and he wears intricate ear-cuffs as his only jewelry.

Elren reaches to rub her ear and Alethaine smiles like a content cat.

They met eighteen years ago, almost yesterday considering they are both older than three centuries. Alethaine hates all these sentimental and “star-crossing” things but, to be honest, she fell for the ranger elf the moment he showed up in her witch hut asking her to help him deal with the demons in the High Wood. Probably, the funniest thing for Alethaine is that Elren is so lawful, good, brave, kind, and generous, and is so much to her father’s liking he threatens to turn inside out anyone who wants to harm Elren.

Alethaine smiles, remembering their first encounter – Elren was captured by Drows and held in their torture chambers for a few weeks. Astarion got him out from there and by the time Aletaine found their small camp in the Underdark her father and husband-to-be were sharing stories of their adventures and laughing at the dumb Drows who didn’t expect a vampire to ambush them.

Maybe Astarion saw Elren as a part of the world he once belonged to. Maybe, he just cared about him because Alethaine did. Maybe Astarion, despite his cynicism, still adores and respects people like Elren because they can do things he can’t.

Besides, Alethaine knows her father fell for her mother. And Elren has a lot in common with his long-deceased mother-in-law. The same heroism. The same faith in the best. The same belief that says you should always negotiate first, but there is often a greater evil you should fight.

“Elren, salen thiramin” Alethaine whispers.

“What?”

“Watch out.”

Alethaine relaxes her legs and falls from the ceiling right into her husband’s arms.

“You know, one day I won’t be able to catch you, my queen!”

“Nonsense, my king, I trust you with my half-dead heart.”

They burst into laughter and their voices echo through the sun-lit rooms.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

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Carpe Noctem 15

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, gaslighting, manipulation, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (short!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

Your alarm wakes you at the usual time. You're still achy but functioning. At first, you're disoriented, still unused to your new, albeit, temporary home. You rub your hips and stand, groaning as you find the muscles in your back looser than usual.

You sift through the bag of clothes Lloyd got for you and pull on the thin blue robe with white lilies. The hallway is silent as you listen through the door, unsure what to do next. You need to start your day, you can't miss any more work.

You emerge quietly and tiptoe downstairs. You make your way to the kitchen, its high ceiling making it feel even larger. You near the silver coffee machine on the sleek white counter and examine the many buttons

You find a bag of coffee in the cupboards and measure out the overpriced grinds. You'll have to do some shopping on your way home, you'd hate to take what isn't yours. It won't hurt to keep a list of what you owe.

You set the machine to grind and leave it. The coffee will be enough to get you out the door. You go back upstairs and find an outfit to wear to work; a pair of burgundy capris and a fluttery sleeved tee shirt with a watermelon print.

You take your time in the bathroom cleaning up. The odds and ends Lloyd gathered for you don't really help much, you at least have a tooth brush and your comb. You finish up and wonder if you might not be able to barter a few more things from Johnny. Just the thought of seeing him makes you nervous. Maybe not, probably best to just start over.

You still can't believe it's over. There's a gnawing in your chest that says it doesn't have to be. That sore spot in your cheek quickly chases it away. No, he hit you. You always said you wouldn't stay with any man who would do that.

You return to the kitchen, the aroma of coffee luring you back. Lloyd surprises you as he stands at the counter, pouring a cup as a satin robe hangs from his shoulders. He turns and you gasp at the open front. He's shamelessly half-hard as he faces you and takes a deep gulp.

"Uh, morning," you keep your eyes on his face.

"Mmm, good coffee," he grits through his dry throat.

"Good to hear," you chime and cross to the counter, taking down a mug of your own and filling it. "I'll buy you more to make up for what I used--"

"Don't bother," he grumbles as he rubs his eye socket, "we have our arrangement."

You hesitate and wet your mouth with a taste of the coffee. You look across the kitchen rather than at him. You swallow, "is that... I don't know if--"

"Look around, hot stuff, I don't need money or an extra bag off coffee," he scoffs, "and what I want, you can give me."

"Mm," you clamp your lips together, "well, I'm just going to finish this and go to work," you lift your mug, "I'll have to figure out how long the commute is so I can get back into it."

"Right. So responsible," he sneers, "I somehow respect it and despise it."

You look at him as he turns to you. His robe ripples as you see him bobbing at the bottom of your vision. You put your mug down and grab his robe, closing it and tying the belt snugly.

"Chilly in here," you say.

"Really?" He arches a brow.

"Like I said, work."

"What time?"

"Should be there for eight--"

"No, what time are you getting back?"

"I... probably five or--"

"Right, you walk in and I want you naked before you get to your room."

"Hmm?" You blanch.

"I'm gonna be carrying around these blue balls all day waiting so don't fuck around," he points at you, "now say 'thank you.'"

"Thank you? For?"

"For not bending you over right now," he says as if it's obvious, "I'm not a patient man, but damn if the pussy isn't worth the wait."

You squint and step back, picking your cup up again, "do you always have to be so... crass?"

"Well, honey cunt, that's who I am. The double L is for Long and loud. I'm sure you can confirm the veracity of that," he winks.

You have to keep from letting out a disgusted noise, instead draining half your cup. You are entirely unprepared for any of this, most of all him. Somehow, you know the day isn't going to go any faster knowing he's waiting on you to get back.

🍑

The normalcy of work welcomes you back. The little problems of the kids and the demands of finicky parents at drop-off keeps you on your toes. It's almost enough to make you forget all the turmoil of your after hours existence.

You sit with the kids for pick up and see them off one by one. Carol helps tidy up the play area as you go through the closing list. Naptime and the end of the day are the only quiet moments you get in this place.

You say goodbye to your coworkers and break off from Nina as you go to your own car. You throw your bagbin the passenger's seat and start the engine, reversing out and slowly pulling onto the street. You steer out onto the adjoining avenue but have to keep from taking your usual route.

You grab your phone and look at your trip to work and hit reverse. You still need the extra help finding your way. You ignore the notifications from the unknown number in your inbox. Not hard to guess who.

You turn onto the next street and hear a woop as a siren flashes red in your rearview. Shit.

You pull over and stare in the side mirror. You know it's him before he even steps out. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What do you do? You see a few parents walking with wagons and kids on foot… witnesses.

You hit your messages and cringe at the sight that pop up with the first chat. Lloyd's recognizable even with his head out of frame. Alright, that's the last thing you're thinking of.

You hit the little phone icon in the corner and let it dial as you lock the screen. You drop it on the seat and roll down your window as Johnny approaches. You reach over to find your insurance and license.

"You know why I pulled you over?" He bends to sneer above the window.

"N-no, officer," you murmur and hold out your license.

He wraps his hand around yours and squeezes until you whimper. You try to pull away but he clings to you, "this isn't fucking over."

You gulp, fighting to wriggle free. He's too strong. You whine, "please, Johnny–"

"That's Officer Storm," he snarls as he lets you go, "saw you on your phone. That's a fine." He checks out your license and insurance, "let me run this."

"You know you don't have to do that–"

"Shut the fuck up," he barks and puts his hand on the handle of his nightstick, "don't start resisting. That's obstruction."

You snap your mouth shut and sit back, "okay, sir."

You lower your head as he struts away with a laugh. You cautiously tilt your phone a light up the screen, you see the call time ticking. You hope Lloyd is listening, and if he is, you pray he'll do something.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #drabble #series #au #the club #carpe noctem #the gray man

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syddsatyrn · 8 months

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Chapter 1 ⛤ Chapter 2 ⛤ Chapter 3 ⛤ Chapter 4 ⛤ Chapter 5 Masterlist

⛤Pairing: - Eddie Munson x FemReader

⛤Warnings: Swearing, drinking, smoking, fluff, friends to lovers, drug use

⛤Words: 2k

⛤Song: "Photograph" By Def Leppard

⛤Summary: Moving away from Hawkins was the biggest mistake of your life. You left your best friends and forgot to stay in touch. Years later, you decide to hit up your good friend Steve. Its time to make a plan and make amends. The one thing you didn't expect was feelings to resurface when you saw your old highschool crush.

⛤Notes: This series is 18+ Minors scram. @hellfiremunsonn is my trusty beta reader, go check out their fics! They are so good!

⛤Chapter 3: Reunion Eddie unlocks the front door of his apartment, he's trying to be extra careful not to make any noise. He looks over at the couch and quickly notices Dustin snoring away. He slowly shut the door behind him and carried on down the hallway. Upon entering his bedroom, he flipped the light switch, and nestled in his bed was Y/N. A figure he did not anticipate whatsoever. “....Y/N?” He almost thought he was dreaming. You sat up quickly, entirely shocked by the sight in front of you. You exchanged glances, the air was filled with so many unspoken questions. Eddie is trying to mentally make sense of the sight before him. His face starts to turn red as he slowly realizes his high school crush is sleeping in his bed. “Eddie?!” You are so confused, Steve said he wouldn't be back for a couple of days. Is this some kind of setup? Goddammit Steve. “I am SO sorry.” You frantically roll out of his bed and stand there, searching for some kind of expression on Eddie’s face. “Steve must have been confused, he said you wouldn't be home for a couple of days. We made a plan and I came out to surprise you guys.” “Well…I’m certainly surprised.” He says as he sets his bags down. He approaches you and immediately wraps his arms around your shoulders. “It's so good to see you, Y/N.” He says, just barely above a whisper. You were rendered speechless, your face was pressed against his chest. He kisses the top of your head, something he always used to do. You wrapped your arms around his midsection and it took everything in you to fight back those reunion tears. It was a long hug, one that had to make up for years of physical and emotional distance. He finally lets go, and you meet his gaze. “It’s good to see you too, Eddie.” You say with a smile, he hasn't changed a bit. His hair is a little longer, but he still wears the same ripped jeans, leather jacket, and silver rings. “I’m the one who should be sorry, I came home early. My last show was canceled due to bad weather.” Eddie explains, “I should have called but I didn’t have time to use a phone.” He snags one of the cigarettes off the bedside table and lights it. “No it's cool, I’m really happy to see you.” You say as you sit back down on the edge of Eddie's bed. “How was your tour? I heard your band is doing well nowadays.” “We are actually! I feel like we’ve made a serious breakthrough in the industry. The tour was fun, I got to see New York. The food was amazing, the fans are a blast.” “Oh wow, so you’re like a big celebrity now, huh?” You tease, Eddie smirks and takes a drag off his cigarette. He walks over to his bags and puts his guitar in the empty guitar stand. “Hardly. How have you been? I haven't heard from you in forever and suddenly you end up in my bed?” He inquires, still holding on to that prominent smirk. “Things got pretty intense when we moved, it was like everything in my life came crashing down around me. I feel really bad about not keeping in touch with you guys. When I planned this with Steve I knew I would have to make some apologies.” You finally admit to him that you could have done better. Every time you didn't call or stay in touch it made you feel guilty. After some time it felt like a stupid, awkward thing to do. So you tried to forget about it, a big mistake on your part. It was time for you to explain yourself and make up for being so detached. “It's no big thing, sweetheart,” Eddie says as he sits next to you on the bed. “You can sleep in my bed, I can take the floor.” “No! I would feel terrible. Just…Just share it with me. It's fine, there's plenty of room.” You can feel your face getting warmer. It’s a pretty big bed so it probably won't get weird, right? “Well…if you’re sure.” He replies, noticing how exhausted you look. “You should get some rest, we can talk more in the morning.” “Thanks, Eddie, you’re a saint.” You crawl back under the covers. “Not even close, darling.” Eddie loosens and kicks off his boots. He walks over to his closet and changes into sweatpants and a fresh T-shirt.

You honestly tried to not glance at the metalhead's slender figure but failed miserably. He has new tattoos you’ve never seen before and he’s gained a bit more muscle in his arms. Eddie pulls a hair tie from his wrist and wraps his hair up in a messy bun. You didn't think Eddie Munson could get any hotter, but he did. Eddie flips the light switch and crawls into bed with you. You turn to face him and he faces you. This feels familiar, like deja vu.

“If this is too weird let me know.” He says, barely above a whisper. “It’s only weird if you make it weird, Munson.” You respond with a giggle. ------------- The morning sun beams through the window, you can hear the sound of cars driving by the apartments. You open your eyes and gaze at the soft yellow glow pouring into the room. The bed was so warm and comfortable, you never wanted to leave. You roll over and immediately realize you’ve curled up next to Eddie rather close. He’s You hear a couple of knocks on the door and Steve calls your name. “Hey Y/N, I brought you a cup of coffee, open up.” You roll out of bed and open the bedroom door. Steve hands you the cup of coffee with a smile. “Good morning sunsh–” He trails off after he sees Eddie reluctantly sit up and rub his sleepy eyes. You could see the gears turning in his brain as he put two and two together. just snoozing away like nothing is happening, completely unaware of the fact that he was nearly spooning you.

“When did you get home?!” Steve asks, a puzzled look on his face. “Last night.” Eddie yawns, “How come I don't get any coffee, Harrington?” He jokes with a sleepy grin. Steve gives you a look that immediately translates to “That didn’t take long”. You follow Steve to the kitchen and prepare a cup of coffee for Eddie.

“So did you guys–” You cut him off and he snorts.

“No! Of course not!” Your face gets red and Steve can't stop laughing at how flustered you’re getting. You try to keep your voice down because Dustin is still sleeping like a rock on the couch. “Why would you say that?!” “Okay okay! I was just asking.” He says feeling satisfied by your unsettled expression. You take the coffee to Eddie’s room and Steve finishes up the bacon and pancakes.

Eddie is sitting upright, still trying to wake up. He smiles at you when you hand him a cup of coffee. “Thank you, sweetheart.” he says and pats the spot next to him, asking you to come sit.

Steve walks in with three plates of food. He hands one to Eddie and he practically scarfs it down. How long has it been since he last ate?? Steve sat on the floor in front of you and began cutting apart his pancakes with his fork.

“So, what's on the agenda today?” Steve asks with his mouth semi-full.

“I’m not sure yet, I just got here.” Eddie replies, “Isn't Robin coming by?”

“Yeah but who knows when that will be.” Steve answers and shrugs.

The knock at the door was so on cue it was amazing. Dustin rolls off the couch and opens the door.

“Hey kiddo, you’re still here?” Robin asks. Dustin gives her a drowsy nod and she laughs. You could recognize her voice and hopped up off the bed and rushed out into the hallway. Robin sees you and stops dead in her tracks. She's completely floored, her eyes are wide and her mouth is agape. Suddenly, without any warning you both start screaming and running towards each other. “Oh my god, you are here?!” She shouts and you scream “I am!” Robin wraps her arms around you and you do the very same. She squeezed you so tight you might explode. She is still as energetic as ever. Robin has been your best friend since middle school. You’ve missed her so much you almost start to cry.

“I can't believe you are here, I thought you dropped off the face of the planet!” She says and you laugh. “Honestly, I was just really depressed.” You reply. “I’m sorry for being a bad friend.” You sit back down and finish your breakfast, Robin leans against the doorframe. She gives Steve a suspicious look, “Is this why you wouldn't let me come over yesterday?” Steve almost chokes on his food. “I mean, yeah but we were planning a surprise! We are all going to hideout tonight to celebrate.” “I’m totally in, but do you think I could steal Y/N for the day?” Robin looks at Steve and Steve glances at Eddie. Why is Eddie suddenly your keeper? “As long as you wash her and bring her back.” Eddie chimes in and you laugh and gently shove him with your shoulder. “Hell yes! Let's go shopping. I need new shoes.” Robin cheers, and you giggle at Eddie's dumb comment. You grab your duffle bag on the floor and take it to the bathroom with you to get dressed. You grabbed a black t-shirt, and a pair of ripped jeans, and topped off your look with classic Converse. After adding silver rings and chains to your look you smooth out your shirt and look in the mirror. You add a touch of makeup to cover up the fact that you didn't get much sleep. After all the preparation, you meet Robin at the door. “You ready?” She asks as you grab your jacket and your wallet. You nod and wave at Eddie, who finally made his way to the kitchen for a second cup of coffee. “I’ll be back later, guys!” You announce. All three of the boys say goodbye in unison, which ultimately makes you laugh. After deciding to take Robin’s car, you both hop in and buckle your seatbelts. “Okay okay, tell me everything.” Robin says while pulling out of the parking lot. “Oh god, where do I even start?” You let out a groan, “Okay, first of all, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I abandoned you guys, that was really lame of me. I missed you all so much.” “Apology accepted.” Robin said. “I was never mad at you, I figured life had gotten in the way. I almost wanted to track you down and show up on your doorstep.” She laughs and you smile at her. “I would have totally been cool with that.” You reply. “Where are we going anyway?” “To Starcourt mall.” She finally tells you. “That place still exists?!” You ask. Robin and Steve used to work at this ice cream shop in the food court. You would visit them during their shift almost every day. “I know, I am just as surprised as you are.” Robin replies with a laugh.

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a-very-sparkly-nerd · 3 months

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Rayllum Month 2024! (4/13)

white flowers and love letters, you say i’m yours forever

July 7th - Flowers

Rayla hated mornings. Callum couldn't get enough of them- she was convinced he must be on something, but it wasn't her place to say; hell knew she'd done weirder shit. And conversely, Callum hated late night while Rayla loved them. But at least she had a reason- she was a Moonshadow elf, after all. Moon's at night. The math wasn't difficult.

He slumped onto his bedroll when they made camp that night in a meadow, a clear view of the stars above. And if Rayla had chosen it specifically for that, in memory of their last time and hoping for a repeat, well… at least Callum had the good nature to not say anything if it bothered him. He was probably too exhausted to care.

She pushed his hair back. “Go get some rest, Sleepy Mage.”

He groaned, pushing himself up and rubbing at his eyes. “No, I'm fine. I'll help with dinner, and-”

Rayla rolled her eyes, lifting the bag off Luna and holding it out of Callum's reach. “Your eyebags could carry a gallon of milk. Go to bed- you're exhausted. I've got it.” She smiled, letting her hand fall within his reach. “Really.”

Callum took it, sending a rush of warmth through her perpetually cold body, the smile he gave her worth a billion gold coins. No- more. Priceless. “Thanks, Ray.”

She smiled back, squeezing and lingering. “It's not a problem.”

With Callum passed out instantly, Rayla ate a handful of beige bittersquash as she set out her own bedroll. Once she had it laid out as flat as she could get it on the uneven ground, she plucked Stella from her shoulder, the cuddlemonkey looking at her sleepily.

“Shh, I know, baby,” she soothed when she chittered, scratching her under the chin. “Will you do a very quick job for mama?”

Stella nodded eagerly, big purple eyes focusing.

Grinning, Rayla set her down near Callum with a pat on her head. “I'm going to go use the bathroom. Will you keep an eye on our things and Callum for me?”

The cuddlemonkey saluted her, adorably tapping Callum’s shoulder.

Rayla kissed her forehead. “Thanks, baby. I'll be right back. So fast you won't even notice I'm gone.”

She picked her way off through the woods until finding a dark, secluded enough spot to do her business. Stopping the fuss with the buckles of her pants on her walk back–honestly, she’d had them for over a year now, and the damn things never got any easier to clasp–she stopped short.

Nothing looked familiar. Sure, it was dark, but Rayla had always been good at memorizing environments and had keen night vision even for a Moonshadow elf. Shit, was she lost? Wonderful; that was just the icing on the cake.

Rayla flicked open a single blade, letting it hang at her side. She doubted there was anything nearby, but better safe than sorry.

She slowly spun around, getting her bearings and trying to figure out which way was east, the way she’d come from. Moss grew on the north side of trees, so if she could just find some freaking moss, she’d be set.

She squinted at a faint glow in the darkness, picking up the pace as she made her way over, curiosity getting the better of her. She was already lost; what was another detour?

A cluster of flowers bloomed at the base of a tree, glowing silver and shaped like lilies. A little like lunablooms, Rayla couldn’t help thinking, a shuddering wave of nostalgia washing over her.

Rayla inhaled the flowers’ scent, smiling at the smell of, oddly enough, fresh-baked cookies and Stella–unhygienic as the little monkey was, she thought with a snort–and- Callum. Why on earth did a flower smell like her ex-boyfriend? Why did it smell like home?

Greedily, she leaned back in to smell it again, but lurched back when instead of everything she’d longed for those two years away, it smelled of sulfur. Of evil. Rayla coughed, shaking her head. Where had that come from? Yet when she sniffed them again experimentally, certain she’d gone well and truly crazy, she was proven correct by how it had gone back to smelling like home.

She was clearly crazy, Rayla decided. She’d already been having auditory hallucinations, and with the added stress of her parents in her pocket, the fate of the world on her and Callum’s shoulders, everything that might happen once they reached the Starscraper, what he’d asked her to do… She really deserved more credit for keeping herself out of an insane asylum.

She pulled up a flower, gently gripping it by the stem in her free hand, and continued on her way. No reason to kill all of them. Let a little beauty spread around, right? But, come to think of it, it was odd that none of the little blossoms were anywhere to be seen other than that one patch.

But what did Rayla know? She was no Earthblood elf, no botanist. And she had bigger things to worry about than flowers.

And yet, she couldn’t make herself let go of the blossom in her hand.

By the time Rayla found her way back to camp, tired and agitated from stumbling over tree roots and through thorn bushes, it’d been at least twenty minutes since she’d planned on returning. Stella had fallen asleep curled up with Callum, out like a light.

Rayla smiled softly at the monkey, brushing a kiss against her forehead. She glanced down at the flower in her hand, and before she could think better of it, tucked it behind Callum’s ear. Adorable.

Read more on AO3!

#rayllum #fanfic #fanfiction #tdp fanfic #my fic #tdp #the dragon prince #rayllum month #rayllum month 2024 #i miss themmmmmmmm #please hold me down and shove rayllum fluff down my throat i need it so bad #and i hate everything i write so rereading my stuff doesn't count #(i hate every song i write and i'm not cool and i'm not smart and i can't even parallel park)#(EXCEPT SIDE NOTE i actually kinda did. there were 2 next to each other BUT STILL. OKAY FINE YES BUT REGARDLESS)#i have so many problems and thunder saga is all of them thanks so much mr jalapeno #july is killing me fr

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awlumii · 2 years

Text

worst case scenario.

# — pairing: spidey!kazuha x gn!reader

# — characters: gender neutral reader, spider-man!kazuha

# — summary: after a little incident, spider-man begins to question his effectiveness as a hero.

# — warnings: mentions of blood/injury (cut from a ring from a slap), vague hints of minor character death

# — tags: hurt/comfort, yes there's kisses do not act surprised, kazuha's just really worried about you

# — notes: hey, remember that ask that was like "what happens if reader gets hurt?" and i was like "is a fic an okay response?" well, it's 4 am and i have this to show for it. i haven't stayed up until 4 am in almost six months. soooo, reblogs and reactions are REALLY appreciated, and i hope you enjoy! (and don't get tired of my spidey!kazuha shenanigans, ahaha..)

wanna join the tag list?

✦ — 🕷+ 🍁 — ✦

being robbed in an alleyway is the last thing you ever thought you'd be doing on a friday night. and yet here you were, arguing with two thieves who seem unsatisfied with the belongings that they found on your person. in your defense, you were just trying to get home after being in the library for almost eight hours straight; you didn't carry valuables because you had no use for them.

that very fact seems to piss off the taller of the two thieves. "i know you're hiding something!" he hollers at you. "you have to be hiding something from us!"

"how many times do i have to tell you," you groan, "i don't have any fucking money on me!" you gesture to your books and other materials that have been unceremoniously scattered on the concrete. "that's all i have. please, just take it and leave me alone."

common sense would tell you to mind your tone around these two. they're both bigger and visibly stronger than you; accosting them in such a manner was a recipe for disaster. plus, they're already pissed off and you don't know if they're armed or not. but you already spotted your self-defense stuff amongst the clutter at their feet and you're really deep in this alleyway — and even if you did scream and someone heard you, the thieves would probably hurt you if you drew too much attention to your situation.

all of that to say, you're trapped.

as you try to think of possible escape routes (all of which seem to end in hypothetical failure), the bulkier thief marches over to you and starts to pat you down -- probably in search of your wallet. you shriek and push him away as hard as you can. "don't touch me, what the hell?!"

the man glares at you with a wild, almost animalistic look in his eyes. "i felt a wallet," he growls at you, "fuckin' knew you were hiding something. hand it over!" he reaches out and takes your arm in a bruising grip.

"no!" you twist your body to try and free yourself. that only serves to upset the thief even more. he backhands you; hard. your head whips to the side with the force of it and your eyes water immediately.

the taller thief takes advantage of your disorientation and finishes patting you down. he finds your wallet and your phone, both of which he pockets. "i got it," he says, "let's go!" the man holding your arm releases you and takes off with his partner, speeding down the alleyway with your belongings.

you're still having trouble processing what just happened. the thief hit you so hard that your vision went white for a second, and now that you're re-focusing, you think that he must've been wearing a ring or two, because your cheek feels strangely wet. you bring your fingers up to your face and hiss as soon as you touch it. sure enough, your fingertips come back stained with crimson. he got you good.

with your phone gone, you can't even call the police to tell them what happened. you're more fixated on the deep cut on your face, anyhow. you stagger over to your belongings and gingerly place them back in the bag. at least you don't have to walk far.

the craziest part about all this wasn't even that you lost all of your stuff; it's that you were literally right outside your building. "silver lining, i guess." you mutter as you trudge home.

once inside, you toss your bag onto the floor and head to your closet to get the supplies to start cleaning your wound. just as you start to clean it, you hear a familiar thud and knocking coming from your balcony window. you step out of your bathroom and see none other than spider-man himself waiting for you.

the very second you open it, he's all over you, taking your face in one hand and inspecting it closely. "what happened?" he asks almost frantically. "who hurt you?"

you huff quietly, unsure of how to answer him. you're still a little disoriented. the adrenaline is taking its sweet time leaving your system. his gloved thumb brushes the skin just below your cut and you jolt, the sudden rush of pain forcing you to shove him away. "don't touch me." you grumble. you wince when you realize how harsh you sound. it's not like spider-man was the one who did this to you. "sorry," you apologize quietly, "don't touch me, please. i-it still hurts." you ignore his soft call of your name and head back into the bathroom to patch yourself up. "why're you even here?" you call out from where you are. "you don’t look injured."

to your surprise, he follows you. "there was a mugging reported in the area." he raises his left hand and out of the corner of your eye, you spot your phone and wallet. "before i returned these to their owner, i just wanted to see if you were--"

"holy shit, that's mine!" you snatch your stuff out of his hands and all but slam them down on your sink. "you caught those two?"

you wonder what face spider-man is making beneath his mask. "yes, but i... you were their latest victim?" he sounds like he's in complete disbelief.

"yes," you sigh. you feel infinitely lighter than you did a second ago. you perk up a bit and work a little harder on cleaning your injury. it's deeper than you thought it'd be — it might leave a mark. "the bigger one had rings on, right?" when spider-man nods, you grumble. "that asshole slapped me 'cause i wouldn't give up my wallet."

spider-man's hand comes up to grab your wrist, stopping you. you look at him, confused. his grip is tight. "let me." he says. he gently pushes you so you're sitting on top of your toilet lid. "please. it's the least i can do."

you gawk at him. "you want to patch me up this time?" spider-man doesn't answer; he finishes cleaning the blood from your face and you let him, a smile making its way across your face. "this is an interesting turn of events."

"this shouldn't be happening." spider-man says seriously. "you were never supposed to be--" he cuts himself off with a harsh sigh.

is he..?

"are you upset that i'm hurt?" you ask. "it was bound to happen at some point, y'know?"

that's apparently the wrong thing to say. spider-man clicks his tongue; clearly, he's upset. "you were supposed to be safe. i was supposed to keep you safe, and yet..." he gently dabs some antiseptic over your wound. you hiss and draw away from him, but he cradles your jaw in his other hand, keeping you still. "i'm sorry," he whispers, "i'm so sorry. i'll try harder to keep you safe next time. stop moving, please."

you're quiet after that. kazuha doesn't like it very much.

but what else is he supposed to say? what else can he say without giving himself away? he doesn't think his body will allow him to speak, anyway; his heart plummeted when he saw you bleeding, it's a miracle he managed to say this much in the first place.

kazuha always looks out for you — always. it doesn't matter who he fights or who he puts in jail; after every single mission, he's swinging by your apartment to see if you're okay. every day, when he sees you walking around campus unharmed and well, he feels like he's fulfilled his unspoken promise of keeping you safe. seeing you like this now makes him want to tear his mask off and throw it away.

what kind of hero is he if he can't keep his most precious person safe?

kazuha finishes patching you up in silence and smooths the bandage over your cheek. "there," he says softly. “all done.” you don’t move right away. instead you sit and stare at him with furrowed brows. kazuha stares back at you with a mirrored expression. “is everything okay?” he asks, worried that he’d messed up somewhere. “does it still hurt? It’s going to ache for a few days, but--”

“no, that’s not--” you sigh and bring a hand up to the bandage, brushing your fingers over it gingerly. “that’s not it. i mean, it hurts, yeah, but… you don’t seem okay. what’s wrong?”

what’s wrong, he wants to scream, is that he failed you. he can feel it now; this isn’t going to be the last time that you’re going to get hurt because of him. the only reason those two hair-brained idiots thought they could get away with this was likely because they heard news of some other criminals just barely managing to squeeze past him and law enforcement. they probably wanted to go home to their criminal friends and boast about how they of all people managed to get around the spider-man.

sure, they may not have known about your connection to him, but the fact remains that as long as you are a citizen in this city, the possibility of you becoming a victim (or god forbid, a casualty) of violent crime is never zero. you were lucky you walked away with a mere scratch — others aren't as fortunate. he's seen it all by now. the thought of you being one of the poor souls that he has the misfortune of happening across too late…

you're standing in front of him now. your fingers brush his jaw over his mask. without thinking, he'd turned his gaze to the ground. at your touch, he meets your eyes and sees, feels, the concern pouring out of them. "spider-man," you ask again, "are you okay?"

kazuha, overcome by his own failure and emotion, rests a hand over yours. "i'm sorry." his voice comes out as nothing more than a breath. a whisper. it's shaky and he tries to swallow it back, but the fear rises quickly and strangles him. the what-ifs can't be put to rest any longer. what if you ended up severely injured? what if you couldn't find help? what if you weren't trained to heal?

what if you'd ended up like tomo? or his parents?

"i'm so sorry," kazuha says again. "i promise you i'll do better. i will."

you look so worried about him. he's not used to seeing that when he's not on the brink of death. "you're beating yourself up, aren't you?" you sigh when he doesn't respond. he tilts his head away from you, but you cup his jaw and keep him facing you. "i'm fine, as you can see. it's just a flesh wound. it's not your fault this happened."

"it is," he insists. "if i wasn't… if-- if i wasn't spider-man, then maybe—"

"don't." your tone leaves no room for argument. "don't say that. don't blame yourself like that. it's not like crime didn't exist before you came on the scene. the odds of something like this happening are the same as they were all those years ago. i agitated them, and this," you point at your bandage, "is my just punishment. plus, you can't be everywhere at once."

kazuha sighs harshly. "that's the problem, dove. who's going to protect you because i can't be everywhere at once? what if they were more aggressive with you? what if i never showed up to check on you? i just… i don't…" don't want to lose you goes unsaid.

i don't want to lose the last ray of light i have left.

you cup his face fully this time and look straight into kazuha's eyes. it's times like these where he feels you can see straight through the mask and see him for who he truly is. your gaze could move mountains, he thinks, could uproot the sturdiest trees. you strip him down to his barest parts when you look at him like this. something flashes in your eyes, something kazuha recognizes. he leans forward and presses his forehead to yours. the two of you close your eyes and just breathe for a moment. it's grounding; like this, he can feel your presence fully. he can hear your heartbeat if he focuses enough — can count the milliseconds between each breath and match the rhythm, syncing the beat of his heart to your own.

a few beats pass. maybe two minutes at best. and then finally, you speak. "i'm right here." you say. it's your way of bringing him out of his own head, a method of calming him that you discovered by chance a few months ago. "i'm here and i'm safe."

"you're right here and you're safe," kazuha repeats your words. as if to confirm it, he wraps his arms around your waist and presses your body close to his own. "you're… right here," he sighs. "and you're safe."

"very good," you whisper. "good." you lean back to look him in the eyes and again, he sees that glimmer. your thumbs stroke the spot where his lips would be almost absent-mindedly. you seem to be thinking about something. it's probably the same thing kazuha is thinking, but neither of you act on it. it wouldn't be the first time either of you have acted on that thought, but neither of you do for a while, with you tracing the rough outline of his lips through his mask. kazuha's heart threatens to burst out of his chest and for a second, he worries if you can hear it.

after a pregnant pause, he throws caution to the wind. kazuha murmurs, "close your eyes." you do as he says without a moment's hesitation and he seizes the moment, pulls his mask up just enough to kiss you. there's no heat to the kiss. it's all leisure; slow and reassuring, a gentle press of lips to remind one another of the present. your lips are soft and warm and you're here, right now, with him, alive and well. he takes a chance and moves his lips and you move yours in tandem, elongating the kiss and extending the moment. pressed chest to chest in your bathroom, you kiss your spider-man as lovingly and as desperately as he kisses you. kazuha's fingers instinctively come up to hold your face but he touches the bandage and makes you flinch. you let out a soft, shocked hum into the kiss, and he lightens up, pecks your lips a few times in apology. "i'm sorry," he whispers over and over between kisses. "i'm sorry."

you kiss back sweetly, reassure him wordlessly that it's okay. after a few more pecks kazuha fixes his mask back in place with a sigh. he catches the moment your eyes flutter open and admires the haze that he finds. "are you still beating yourself up about this?" you ask. your voice is near inaudible, but he hears you.

"a little." he half-chuckles. "i still wish i'd been there to stop it from happening."

"it's okay if you weren't. because what am i?" when kazuha doesn't respond, you start to pinch his cheeks. "hey, i asked you a question. what am i?"

"uh," he replies, his words a little garbled from the pinching, "really cute?" the mood restores itself with a light jest. you chuckle and pinch his cheeks tighter. kazuha hisses a soft chorus of ows and gives in. "okay, okay! you're alive and safe, i got it."

"and don't you fucking forget it." you sound smug, your usual smile brightening your face. something warm washes over you. "thank you for stopping by and patching me up, spider-man. i really appreciate it."

kazuha winces, though you don't see it. he'd gotten so absorbed in the moment that he temporarily forgot that he was in costume. the ocean that reappears between you two with the utterance of his hero name feels so easy to cross, yet simultaneously impossible. "don't mention it. maybe you should return the favor sometime." he forces out the joke.

you laugh and finally release him. "i'll think it over. now get lost, webhead." you pull yourself out of his arms and step aside for him to exit the bathroom and subsequently, your apartment. "i'm sure the rest of the city's wondering where their friendly neighborhood spider-man is. i will admit though," you pause and look in the mirror to admire his handiwork. "you did a pretty good job. i didn't know you knew how to dress wounds this well. you sure i need to return that favor?"

spider-man folds his arms over his chest. "believe it or not, i used to do it myself before i met you."

"hm." you don't say much more on that. "well, okay. go back to helping little old ladies cross the street or whatever."

"is that what you think i do all day?" spider-man asks as the two of you walk to your balcony door.

"what, have you not done that before?"

"...that's besides the point."

"oh my god, wait, i was joking. do you actually do that? i thought that was like, only a thing in comics."

spider-man rolls his eyes, forgets that you can't see that, and shakes his head. he hops on your balcony railing, poised to leave. "good night, dove. i'll see you soon."

you giggle. the sound is music to his ears. "good night, spider-man. be safe."

"you too. for me."

and with a thwip-!, he's gone. probably to help another little old lady across the street.

✦ blinks dryly

✦ poor tomo isn't getting fed until early afternoon... i'm not gettin up early later.

#[ ✍️🏽 — scribbles! ]#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha #kazuha x reader #another late nite project from your friendly neighborhood kazuha dealer!

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no1frogfan · 2 years

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Picking Kuroo up from the airport

Picking the Haikyuu boys up from the airport - Kuroo Tetsurou

Word count: ~800 Some sexually suggestive language, GN reader

Note: Raced to finish this for our collective special someone. Happy birthday Tetsu <3

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Even after being crammed on a plane for 8 hours, Tetsurou is still maddeningly handsome. His hair is a little more chaotic than normal, but you might be the only person who’d notice. To anyone else, every strand sits perfectly disheveled, bouncing lightly with each stride of his long legs. He’s taken off his suit jacket, carrying it and his briefcase slung over one shoulder. His tie is slightly loosened and the sleeves of his button-down shirt are rolled up, showing off his wiry forearms and hinting at his athletic build. A slim suit vest accentuates his broad chest and shoulders. You roll your eyes as you notice his swagger - no doubt he’s basking in all the appreciative stares. “You’re welcome,” you mutter to everyone enjoying the Kuroo show. You’d let it slip years ago when he first started at JVA that seeing him in a suit did things to you and the man has practically lived in them since - His suit collection now takes up more than half of your shared closet.

He doesn’t see you as he makes a beeline for the baggage claim. You follow him, keeping your distance and debating just how to surprise him when you see him walk up to an elderly man at the baggage carousel. The man is clearly struggling to pull a large black suitcase off the conveyor belt. Kuroo bends down and says a few words, receiving a weary nod before taking his hand out of his pocket and easily lifting up the suitcase. He places it lightly down in front of the man who thanks him before wheeling it away.

Kuroo turns back to the carousel, scanning for his own suitcase. As he spots it, you see a young woman next to him holding a struggling baby. She seems to be adjusting the baby in preparation to pick up her suitcase, but the baby does not want to cooperate, bawling and wildly waving its little hands and feet around while she tries to calm them. It’s all she can do to keep them secure in her arms as they flail about. Kuroo notices her at the same time and leans over to speak. With difficulty, she points out a big silver suitcase passing by on the carousel and smiles gratefully at him when he sets it down in front of her.

A wave of tenderness washes over you as you watch him. His own suitcase is carried past him for the third time while he assists the passengers around him.

You walk up beside him as he spins back toward the conveyor belt, finally ready to retrieve his own bag. “Sorry to bother you, but could you help me grab my suitcase? It’s that red one,” you point.

He wears an expression of momentary confusion before recovering quickly. “Sure, I’m happy to help but I think that one’s actually mine.” He turns and is met with your huge grin.

“Babe!” Kuroo yells with elation, breaking out in a wide smile. He picks you up by the waist and plants a kiss on your lips. “I’m so happy to see you!”

You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back. The taste of coffee and rice crackers lingers on his lips. “Me too, Tetsu. But you’d better put me down before you miss your bag again,” you laugh.

“What’s one more time around the block?” He jokes, but sets you down gently. You take his briefcase and drape his suit jacket over your arm to free up both his hands to grab the suitcase.

You wrap one arm around his to lead him toward the car. “I saw you helping people with their bags earlier. Since when have you been such a good little boy scout?”

“I’ve always been a nice person,” he answers, mirroring your playful tone.

“Oh?” You lower your voice to a flirtatious whisper. “In that case, maybe you want to help me with something when we get home?”

“I don’t know…” he muses, hazel eyes glinting, “I’ve had a long day and I’m really tired.”

“That’s too bad,” you pout theatrically, “the new kitchen counter got installed yesterday and I was hoping you’d help me christen it, but if-”

“Actually now that you mention it,” Kuroo blurts out, “I’m suddenly feeling a burst of energy! Must be those complex carbohydrates I had for lunch.” His pace quickens, the thought of bending you over the counter propelling each step.

You smirk as you start jogging beside him. “Perfect timing because I think I’ll also need help with the couch, and the office…oh, and the bed of course…”

#kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #kuroo #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #froggy scribbles

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yeehanfrf · 2 years

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Week 1 Recs: One Shot, One Kill

The Week 1 Fic Rec Friday theme was "One Shot, One Kill," or fics that clock in under 10,000 words. Here are all the bite-sized fics recommended by the Yeehan community, organized by rating, then alphabetically by title.

General Audience

A Dragon's Treasure by SetsunaNoroi [5,958 words] Reccer comment: "It's a bit of comfort read; short, sweet, humourous, charming, and hits a lot of what I enjoy reading in a YH fic."

Hanzo can't help himself in developing feelings for Jesse McCree, but that doesn't mean he has to share them. With his sins, he is better off alone but still he can't help but want him. It should be fine as long as he just never says anything. Unfortunately his dragons have different ideas and keep trying to lay claim on the cowboy. Mostly McCree is just confused.

In Hot Pursuit by AsheRhyder [3,928 words] Reccer comment: "Loser man Cassidy fumbling the bag with Hanzo ft. Papa Reaps."

Cassidy can flirt, but he's never had someone actually take him up on the offers his silver tongue makes.

Hanzo is determined to win whatever game they're playing, especially when the prize is a flustered cowboy.

Gabriel and Jack just want to play cards.

To Grow Old Together (Is the Ultimate Declaration of Love) by PlanetaryRose [697 words] Reccer comment: "v short but v v sweet"

“I don’t just love you Jesse, I adore you, you are my heart but it is more than that. I want to spend the rest of my days with you, to grow old with you and have you forever by my side and in my arms.

You consume me in every way, mind, body, and soul. I would spend the rest of my days with you, dedicate my life to you.”

Teen and Up

Dreamlike by mataglap [4,063 words] Reccer comment: "4,063 words of achingly sweet fluff!"

Hanzo is used to bad dreams, and he never would have expected that a good dream would end up haunting him the most.

Finding Home, Building Home by coinin [1,975 words] Reccer comment: "rly sweet slice of yeehan, punches u in the face in under 2k words!"

It's taken a while, helped along by teammates, arguments about furniture, and quite a bit of cat hair, but Jesse's finally made a home.

Midway by robocryptid [2,329 words] Reccer comment: "2329 words that I go back to often because it hits a perfect balance between funny, sweet and romantic."

Cassidy and Hanzo go undercover at the fair to track a mark. Obviously they blend in best if everyone assumes they're a couple. It goes exactly how you think.

Silver Screen by DerpyMcButtface [1,990 words] Reccer comment: "Some people might hate me for recommending this one bc it’s SAD, but I really love the premise, and it’s VERY well written."

It's far, far in the future. The heroes are dead, old, or getting there fast. They're making movies now, about Overwatch, but not everyone's happy about that.

Mature

All the Love You Ever Get by SaltCore [3,387 words] Reccer comment: "3387 words to make you cry (mind the tags!)"

Some carry the last words they'll ever hear their soulmate say like a brand on their skin. Whether it's a blessing or a curse is for the philosophers to decide.

Hanzo, for his part, would rather fate had passed him by instead of leaving her mark.

Electric by mataglap [2,212 words] Reccer comment: "Caught up in a thunderstorm, gets spicy"

They get caught in a storm. Things get slightly out of control.

Fire from the Gods by Adolphus Longestaffe [1,372 words] Reccer comment: "very short but beautifully written"

Used to be every time he looked away you got afraid he didn’t love you no more. Now every time he breathes out you’re afraid he won’t breathe in again.

Shrimp Heaven Now by Liquid_Lyrium [5,916 words] Reccer comment: "utterly silly fun"

Hanzo is single-handedly trying to get them thrown out of every Red Lobster in town. McCree is just along for the ride.

Explicit

blisters by cosmicevil [3,141 words] Reccer comment: "A gut punch every time I read it"

Hanzo is going to figure it out.

Debriefing by MittenCrab [6,332 words] Reccer comment: "The scene from this fic haunts me (in a good way). I think about it quite a lot. 6332 words by MittenCrab. A lot of feelings. So many feelings."

“You did not debrief,” Hanzo says finally. It’s more a statement than a question.

[McCree’s mission goes badly when he crosses paths with Reaper - the man who was once everything to him. Wounded and frustrated, he meets Hanzo at one of their safe houses, where he discovers that debriefing can be a lot more fun than he’d previously imagined. (PWP)]

Familiar Habits by Philosophics [8,176 words]

After joining Overwatch, Hanzo finds it difficult to sleep some nights. It is nothing a hot cup of tea cannot fix, but he never expected that he would have company.

(or: hanzo is very thirsty, in more ways than one)

It Will Come Back by CorvidFightClub [3,434 words] Reccer comment: "3,434 words, it’s fuck or die with bonus werewolf :D"

McCree and Hanzo are captured by a gang somewhere in the American Midwest after a mission. The situation becomes more dire when Hanzo finds out the gang isn’t the only thing he has to worry about.

On the Mouth by super_duper [3,292 words] Reccer comment: "I always come back to this one bc it's such a perfect balance of virgin and manslut Hanzo"

Jesse and Hanzo have a thing. Jesse would like it to be more than a thing. Hanzo has a secret.

Slippage by robocryptid [1,389 words] Reccer comment: "some more angst with smut and questionable comfort in 1389 words"

Cassidy compartmentalizes. Hanzo knows it, because he does the same.

It’s supposed to be simple, and it’s anything but.

your good side by motorghost [2,053 words] Reccer comment: "this one by motorghost is so delicious!!!"

Hanzo feels himself changing because of Cole. There's lots of ways to thank him, but when you only have nightly webcam chats, your options are limited. Luckily Hanzo is more creative than Cole knows.

Thank you to everyone who sent in a recommendation! Keep an eye out for next week's theme: "Feel-Good Hour," for all your heartwarming fluff needs!

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pbandjesse · 3 months

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Happy invention of the Caeser salad day and also the 4th of July. Today was a pretty good but very sweaty day. The humidity would be pretty oppressive. But I am sitting on the water downtown waiting to the fireworks now. I feel happy. I am really glad I decided to come back home to be here. It's been so fun people watching.

Camp was good too! It was just really humid. I tried my best to not focus on it but I felt gross being so damp. Which also made the bugs bother me so bad. But I tried to remain positive.

Last night after my post Callie would come back to the cabin and we would have some laughs and some conversation. Her new boy called and I tried to not be a part of the convo but I did at times and it was real silly. Also a mouse was running around the rafters and we were screaming and it was so silly.

I fell asleep pretty easy. I would get woke up a few times because I was uncomfortable and was tossing and turning. Waking up wasn't horrible when my alarm went off but I wasn't thrilled. I would take forever to get washed up and dressed. I was trying to do to many things and would keep getting off track but it was fine. And pretty soon I was walking to the art building.

It was shocking how humid it was. Walking up there I was huffing and puffing and struggling to breath the heavy air. It was not comfortable. I thought I was going to pass out. I just wanted to sit down so bad.

But I pushed through and would put my laundry bag and changes of clothes I had carried up from the cabin, in the car. And would get my yogurt and sit in the back having my little breakfast and drinking water.

Aaron would come over to get paper. We chatted about the fixing of the chicken enclosure. He had a plan. I encouraged him to get the kids involved. I hope he figured out a way to do that.

Two other people had mornings with no groups. Jamie would go help Aaron and Avery would come and hang at art and embroider. It was a nice morning.

My morning groups were great. Silver City was mainly really good but one girl was so anxious it was crazy. She kept saying that she couldn't do it, it being putting beads on string. It took me forever but I was able to get her to work with me and she finished her lizard. Everyone did.

I really enjoyed my girl groups. The second group needed way less help but they were good girls. They wanted to keep working though when their hour was up. So I told Mariana (it was her group) she could be in charge of the building and I would go to lunch.

Lunch was fine. I jokingly bullied the SSCs to give me extra tator tots. But they were all silly. I also had babies David this morning and let him sleep in my hammock for almost two hours. He isn't feeling well. I also would fix one of the other boys necklaces. I was happy to help.

After hanging out with specialty staff for a bit I would go and work on some bead lizards I was giving as gifts to some in of the new boy staff that has been so nice to me. They were playing bullying each other about how got lizards so I made them for all of them. They were impressed at how fast I did it.

While I was working on them though my day camp group came 25 minutes early! And I was just like. Take them somewhere else. He was real confused. I don't think he has a watch. They would go play Gaga. I finished my lizards and got a cup of ice from the lodge.

They would come back soon after I got back up there. And I was shocked to find that the group only had 4 kids!

They were great kids. We would be really shocked and worked on our lizards and I was able to sew because it was so chill. It was a really nice hour.

Once they left my little day camp 3s came. Sarah was with them and making lizards with them was a bit chaotic but Sarah and the YLP with her did a great job helping to make snakes ans lizards and not everyone made one but everyone left with something and it was little crazy at times but they cleaned up and soon were off.

My last group of the day was the younger stockade boys. It shocking how much shorter they are. But they were also good boys. They would sue all of my coins for pendants though. Oops. I will have to have them order me more. But we did that and some made bracelets. And I made Randle and Jeci learn to make bead lizards and it was fun to sit and talk with them. Merrill would join us to send it was a good time. Even if it was crazy got. Jeci would tell us how they would keep pet spiders when he grew up in the Philippines and they would fight them?? Wild.

They helped me clean up and put things away. And after I made myself a drink for the road with the last of my ice, I headed home.

There was no traffic. And I got home in a half hour. It was pretty great. My phone still isn't connecting my the car but I ordered a phone mount so that should be here soon.

When I got home I was shocked at how hot it was. Shockingly hot.

I brought my stuff inside and was very happy to see Sweetp. Crabcake was motoring around his enclosure. I would pretty quickly go outside to water all the plants and added water to the tortoise bowl. And would bring him outside for some warmth and sun. Sweetp would come out to buy it was crazy hot in the sun so I wss like. Dude stay in the shade. And he did but I did not want to be out there at all.

I would go and take a cool shower. I washed my hair and scrubbed away all the grossness I felt. And when I was done I would go hang out on the floor of the bedroom for almost an hour. Just staying cool. But eventually I would get dressed again. And got James's shorts they asked me to bring them. And headed out.

I drove to Wawa to get a sandwich. I asked James if they would like me to bring them dinner but the musuem bought them all pizza so they were good. I went and got my sandwich and was very excited about it.

I drove to the museum next. My plan was to find a parking space in the neighborhood and walk to the museum. And I was nervous but I would find a spot across from McDonald's on the street. It wasn't even a long walk.

I was really excited that my camp chair was in the back of the car when I thought I had forgotten it at home. I would grab that and a tote bag to carry my food and James's shorts and all my teddy bears to sew. And walked to the museum.

I was excited to see people. And also was excited to see all my friends. And to see how many cars we're waiting to go in.

I would go to the pedestrian entrance and joked that I had no weapons or drugs. And saw James walking across the parking lot. They were incredibly busy but I would get them for a moment. The museum is open until 9 so they had a busy busy evening.

I would help make a sign inside. But orettnsoo I moved outside to set up a spot.

I set up right in front of the dog statue. Stanley said I did a great job picking and I should have an excellent view.

The rain was coming in though. He offered to get me an umbrella and I'm so glad I took him up on that.

I ate half my sandwich while I waited for him to come back. And when he did he had two umbrellas. I would give the family next to me one of them and I'm so glad be came whe he did because the sky opened up. And everyone ran into the pavilion. But not me. I had the umbrella between my legs and was perfectly dry. I would just work on my sewing and enjoy watching the water.

It wouldn't rain for long. 20 minutes. And eventually people started coming back to their chairs. There is a lot of people here! Stanley says that the inside of the museum is also crazy packed. I hope that is making James happy.

It's almost 9 now. And James will come out soon ish and fireworks will start soon after that. And I am very excited to be down here. It's literally been years since I've seen 4th of July fireworks with my husband and I am very excited. I can already see some small ones in the distance.

I will post this after the fireworks. Tomorrow is the last day of the first session of camp! I hope it's not so hot. I love you all. Good night!!

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mochithealchemist · 9 months

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Thing i'm making about an anarchist dog

Oats was a borzoi dog. Borzoi are abnormally skinny and large with long luxurious hair. Their unique appearance makes them look either dignified or silly. Oats was the latter. It was an undeniable fact that all beings within Oats world were animals. From hulking elephants to tiny kittens they all had jobs, played games, and paid their taxes (sometimes). Only fish and aquatic crustaceans were not gifted with intelligence. If you asked any denizen of this world what a human was they would look at you confused. Humans were long gone.

None of this bothered Oats. He was tall for his age with a poofy white coat speckled with silver. At the moment it was covered in grease and soot. His new deep green vest was not spared from the grime.

If there was one thing Oats was good at, it was running. Although his speed wasn't something he often got to use he could not have been more thankful for it. As he galloped down stone brick roads and slipped in and out of dingy alley ways he started to regret ever leaving home that day. Why did he have to sneak out and get into all this trouble?

His mind raced, producing thoughts as if he had just drank for his fathers pot of morning coffee.

“Oh dear oh dear oh dear”

He thought to himself frantically. His brain snapped into focus as he narrowly skidded under a couple of movers carrying a wardrobe. They yelped as he scampered away slowing his pursuers down.

Oats was very green in town and he was not having a pleasant first impression with many of his new neighbors. He wondered what his father would think of his actions. He imagined Barley's lecture.

“How could you bring shame to this family? My son, a hooligan”

He would have said as if it was unpleasantly novel to him. The thought of his dad’s anger was scarier than the two ruffians that were chasing him.

This morning started off normally enough. Oats sat, awkwardly staring at his name sake. The cereal clumped grossly in his bowl with some soggy blueberries. The berries were well past the point of being ripe but Oats wasn't brave enough to tell his father. Oh what a lecture he would have started. He would have scolded Oats for being two soft, that pickiness was unbecoming for a hound such as himself. So he kept quiet, hopelessly waiting for his father to free him from his prison of berries and oats.

He had just moved into a house in the big city from a small homestead in the east. His tall grass and open spaces were now replaced with fancy Victorian towers with red brick roads. He found it very intimidating. The house was crowded with boxes of furniture and personal belongings that had yet to be unpacked. Just this morning he had tripped 3 times on boxes containing his dads old war swords.

Oats dad Barley, was a serious dog. He was a veteran from the great south war and presented himself as such. He never left the house without his special medal. It was a brass lapel pin that he wore on his left coat pocket. It depicted the head of a doberman hound with an ornate dagger logged in its snout. The pin was the only war story that Oat’s father wouldn't tell him, which he was quietly grateful for. However, every other sword, ribbon and spoil of war within the house was fair game.

Barley scowled at Oat’s breakfast.

“Oat Carnegie Cain if you don't finish your breakfast I will not be giving you supper!”

Oats knew he wasn't bluffing, his father never bluffed. He reluctantly started to eat the unpleasant slop till a lonely grain sat at the bottom of the bowl.

“Now I'm going to discuss something with the contractors. I'll be back by the end of the day. When I get back I want you to have introduced yourself to our neighbors”.

Barley picked up his bag and exited the house. As he left he grumbled something about the condition of the windows. Oats had noted when he first saw the house that it was in a state of disrepair. Apparently the house was sometype of historic building. It was incredibly spacious when it wasn't full of boxes, with five total bedrooms. Oats was not sure why they needed this many bedrooms; it was only the two of them. The house had pretty floral patterned wall paper that seemed to offend his father. It was a large Victorian structure painted a colorful green on the outside. Oats thought that it was pleasing to look at but even he couldn't deny it needed repairs. The most glaring issue was the windows. They were tinted yellow and cracked from age.

Oats was jolted from his chair by the distinct sound of glass shattering. He scuttled under the table holding his breath. Was he about to be robbed! Good god was he scared. As he lay shivering a harsh whisper emanated from the window.

“Hey, are you ok?”

Oats turned behind him to see a floor of broken glass. Tucked on the window sill was a small gray kitten wearing an itchy looking sweater with color patches scattered across it. Siting within the glass was a leather ball around the size of Oats paw. The cat looked guilty at her handiwork.

“Sorry, I was just playing and I got a bit too excited and I-I uhhhhh”

She squinted at Oats cowering under the table. Oats did not understand why this cat was sizing him up and he did not want to know why.

“My name is Cran. How would you like a job?”.

#oc #writing #oc writing #dog

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talentforlying · 11 months

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YOUR MUSE'S INVENTORY.

rules: list the things your muse carries in their pockets or bags in their everyday life. (optional: explain their significance.) repost, don’t reblog.

tagged by: @inhericurse thank you!! tagging: you!

carton of silk cut cigarettes — breast pocket of his shirt / suit. he thinks it's funny when he gets the ones with the most obvious warning labels / infographics, but he's not picky enough to ask for them specifically. there's usually a picture of kit ryan tucked into the back of whichever one he's carrying at the time.

1-2 toothpicks — also breast pocket of his shirt / suit. he has zero compunctions about smoking indoors, but once they started passing laws about that sort of thing, he had to pick up something to soothe that itch when he can't get away and light up.

paper clip — also breast pocket of his shirt / suit. for picking locks. he had a set of actual lockpicks at some point, but lost them between flats and hasn't bothered to get more. he figures there's more plausible deniability in a paper clip, anyway.

leather billfold wallet — back right trouser pocket. holds his ID, oyster card, library card, a playing card (for glamours, usually the ace of spades), one motel keycard per-country-recently-visited (which he can get to work on any empty room with a little bit of magic; his living situation tends to be up in the air, people just don't appreciate magical infestations / loud-ass music in the middle of the night / generally weird shit like they used to), and several strips of printer paper he's cut to be the approximate size and shape of pound notes (so that if he's ever short on cash, he can glamour them to fill the role. nobody's end-of-day till count is safe). holds upwards of a hundred quid when he's found a bookie that doesn't know his name, but that's getting harder and harder these days.

silver lighter — interior suit pocket / right interior trenchcoat pocket. his current one was a gift from his friend rich, after they got to talking about the phenomenon of anti-tourism matchboxes; it's engraved with a lighthouse and has PISS ON IT scratched in underneath, probably from a key.

outdated, badly cracked mobile phone — interior suit pocket / left interior trenchcoat pocket. i keep saying it's a flip phone, but i'm starting to consider that he defaults to a blackberry instead, and the only thing standing between him and a breakdown at any given time is tetris. he breaks / loses / ruins phones frequently, so there's a good chance he'll have a different model every time you see him.

loose coins — trenchcoat pockets. he tries to keep them in his wallet, but he's not that diligent about it. he finds it distracting when they rattle together and he often needs to be a little sneaky, so he's got a tendency to separate change out into different pockets to reduce the noise.

a variety of keys — trouser pockets / trenchcoat pockets. a key to his current flat in brixton, a key to chas's storage unit in streatham (where he stores all his occult kitsch), and a key to the back door of ray monde's old shop. he's also got a key to the black library at the vatican, which he's very smug about and which he hangs onto in case he needs a magic focus that's guaranteed to open any door. like the coins, these are usually separated out into different pockets.

a pendulum — trenchcoat pockets. for divination and hypnosis. he's got a couple of options he alternates between — gold pendant, chunk of amethyst on a chain, pocket watch (usually goes with the blue suit) — but the pendant is usually the one he forgets to take out of his pockets at the end of the day, so that's the most common.

2-3 condoms — trenchcoat pockets. always be prepared.

pair of white gloves, worn thin — left trenchcoat pocket. a holdover from the 90s when he used to wear them all the time, now they're just there because he's used to their presence and can't be arsed to find a place for them at home. also useful for touching things that aren't safe for skin contact, but he usually only remembers that they're there after he's gone and touched the things that aren't safe for skin contact.

various bits & bobs for casting — the trenchcoat pockets contain vast multitudes of random shit, depending on what he's been up to and what level of threat has been the most recent baseline. on average, you can expect to find some crushed sprigs of sage, pieces of chalk, individually-wrapped charcoal sticks, fragments of bone, tangled thread, baggies of ash / graveyard dirt / cinnamon / incense cones, and currency from all over the world.

#( headcanons. ) I'M JUST LIKE THE BASTARDS I'VE HATED ALL ME LIFE.#i love thinking about his inventory because he really is out here trying to lead a normal life most of the time #he doesn't carry his magic shit with him if he can help it. the most he's got are some generic & bare minimum basics in his coat #and if he doesn't have his coat he doesn't really have Anything to use other than what he goes out & gathers for himself #part of why the focus on intention in casting is so fascinating to me tbh. he's usually making something from nothing

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ekleipsi · 1 year

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A drunk bar fight.

Something Ashe wasn't to keen to get involved with. But one thing ked to another and because he was 'such a gentleman' did the constellation not let some guy harass a girl that was seated near him. A few tussles later, fist thrown wildly and a glass bottle shattered and used, did ashe find himself seated outside the bar on the ground. The bartender tried getting him to call an ambulance but he refused.

Instead was his own phone pulled out, bloodied finger smearing gore across screen as he searched for Maddoxs number. Hesitation. A sigh. Maybe he should have taken the offer for an ambulance. Jittered typing vibrates the phone before hands hang loosely over knees, the constellation trying to regulate his breathing.

[Txt] come to XX bar on 5th.

A few seconds pass before another...

[Txt] please.

Hand then tosses the phone aside only to press against the gash that lengthened across his waist. It wasn't deep enough for an ER. They could take care of it at home, right? Each passing second brought forth a dizziness, tongue circling maw only to taste iron. Maddox would make it before he passed out... right?

--- Sandbag in their apartment had seen better days- wrapped up in duct tape for multiple reasons and swinging from the ceiling, heavy and bloated with its own weight. Maddox had fingerless gloves on, sweating profusely from the intense work out he'd been going at on the bag itself. A series of jabs, hooks, and guards to keep on his toes when confronting boxers; MMA often had him in mixed positions, but this wasn't exactly a good time to work on his lower half given the space. Instead, abdominal and pectoral muscles tensed and flexed beneath exertion with grunt after grunt, careful breathing exhaled.

--- After one more series of reps did he allow himself a break. Silver white locks were sticky with sweat, clinging to his face in some places before he took a long swig of water and toweled off the sweat. This was always a good distraction from his thoughts- especially those regarding the Scorpio, but irony came in the form of a light on his cell the moment he sat down to breathe. A request to come to the bar, from roommate?

--- Eyes rolled, immediately lifting device to palm to text back something about getting drunk alone, though that was when the please filtered onto his screen. Jacket is grabbed, sneakers yanked onto his feet; he doesn't care that he's without shirt and still in training shorts, he's out the door in seconds after receiving the plea. Ashe never said please, not for anything which only meant it was someone else on his phone (an issue), or something was truly wrong (an issue!).

--- Rushing down the stairs and onto the street, it was only a couple blocks away of him half sprinting towards said bar to find the Scorpio seated outside. ' Ashe? Ashe! ' a loud snap of gruff voice, approaching quickly to find the blood smeared over fingers and phone alike- the sway in roommate's frame made him hiss, squatting down to steady the shorter. ' Hey, hey! Look at me. What the fucking happened? ' Was now really the best time for questions? When the others responses came in slurred tones, he could only roll his eyes. Drunk and injured.

--- ' You've got to be fucking kidding me... ' he sighed heavily, pursing his lips. Without thinking too much more on the matter, he stuffed the others phone into jacket and...scooped him right up. Bridal style, carrying the lighter all the way back to their apartment with a small grunt and a couple of stops to take a breath...though once inside? He could at least more comfortably settle the boxer onto the couch and go to grab the first aid kit. ' You can't fall asleep, you asshole. It'll be bad if you fell asleep. You know the drill. ' he muttered out, settling down beside him.

--- Being fighters, they both understood that staying awake was paramount, to at least avoid the potential and rule out concussions. The very first thing he began to do was press a damp towel against the...rather large wound. Larger than he'd originally seen, once he'd all but shredded Ashe's shirt from his form, though it took much longer than he'd hoped to staunch the bleeding...and who knew how much the Scorpio had lost. ' Maybe...we should do to the hospital, Ashe... ' he whispered finally, worry swelling in his chest and causing bile to rise in his throat. When had he grown to worry so much, they'd both had injuries before. Forehead pressed forward along with his palm once more, resting it against smaller's shoulders. ' Not gonna forgive you, bastard, not if you end up biting it over some shitty bar fight. '

#i just wanna break you down so badly; i trip over everything you say | mads & ashe | ;#empyreous #WOI #DID YOU HAVE TO HURT HIM LIKE THIS #A BITCH IS SO WORRIED?#fucking STOPS THE BLEEDING BEFORE DOING ANYTHING ELSE?#cause the next part rly gonna suck lmfao #alcohol. hydrogen peroxide. gauze #*stitching*#BUT MAN HE'S JUST LIKE. “if ur not ok i s2g...”

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semi-imaginary-place · 1 year

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more ffxvi

Torgal really is more Jill's dog than Clives. Torgal and Jill are both from the Northern Territories, it was Jill that was carries Torgal around all the time in the prologue, The legend of the Northern Queen who was a Dominant of Shiva and who had a magic frost wolf like Torgal named Fenrir. Only thing is that Torgal had lightning powers not ice ones.

If Clive is going to Drake's Head might as well have a shot at the mothercrystal. just saying getting in will be hard enough and the chaos from one will make the other easier. although that would mean back to back boss fights without ifrit.

oh joshua is in dhalmek too, clive really does just keep missing him.

for the biggest merchant in rosaria, uncle hasn't been as plot important as he could have been.

I do like benedikta and hugo's relationship. his genuine love for her is probably his most humanizing characteristic and i like the ambiguity that we don't know how benedikta felt about him, did she actually love him, did she love his power, or was she manipulating him, a mixture of all three?

Harbard is great already and he's maybe spoken 5 lines. peak visual character design up there with clive for best design in the game. at least in english very interesting accent. he know clive as mythos so established as a mysterious character that knows more than we do. he is coming off as really evil right now and it works well. question is if your majesty refers to barnabas or ultima.

seriously clive since hugo is camped out like 200 ft away from the mothercrystal heart you might as well destroy it now instead of having to break in a second time.

clive headache sufferer representation. the classic magic headache.

what is this. asura's wrath subway surfer.

ffxvi is gay! happy pride! a finger on the monkey's paw curls and all the major characters are men and the writing for the women is a mixed bag. at the cost of women we got an on screen gay kiss. they're going to die.

damn quinten fomenting rebellion and putting a militia together. but i still dont get why the black shields are serving the lord chief justice. i thought we wiped them out is rosaria and if any the order survived i dont see why anabella would let go of useful pawns. the problem is that the lord chief justice is one corrupt man in a system of corrupt men, even if you take him down his successor might be just as bad.

really you give your old imperial assassin name to the rich noble and not a more useful name like clive or cid. clive should set his uncle up with his weapons collecting rival.

... ffxvi is torgal's origin story. when clive dies at the end to save the world or whatever torgal's going to be supped up on every eikon's power.

if crystaline dominion is so well fortified, armed and ready for a seige, why not go for waloed first its farther sure but also less expected.

so sylvestre believes olivier a god reborn. just what is anabella's tie to all of this.

oooh that repeated flower symbolism for sabreque. sylvestre likes it but it exists for him not the other way around, served to him on a silver platter. he places it twice in dion's lapel when bidding his obedience "for the good of the empire". for olivier its a plaything carelessly and easily discarded and forgotten on the floor. anabella steps on it as she passes by.

oh shit dion is starting his rebellion immediately. if dion was smart about this he could have had a military coup. he's been leading the frontlines for years, he's a national symbol, the military might choose to back him over olivier. I'll be sad when he dies.

dion attacking the city is out of character. ooooh he's trying to destroy the mothercrystal's heart but the shots are getting deflected. goetz what are you going to do in an eikon fight you are going to get killed and be a liability, go home. there's something wrong with dion.

yup yup ok ifrit and phoenix are two parts of the same fire eikon that was seen on the fallen mural.

ZETTAFLARE!

the bahamut fight has been the first one to seriously impress me. the others were cool but they didn't blow me away like this one. the combination of aerial battle at the edge of space, cool dragon, the two brothers finally reuniting, the lore confirmation about phoenix and ifrit, that dion doesn't seem that bad a guy, the giant crystal flower???? love this stuff.

oh yeah another battle where the devs forgot about jill. this is becoming a recurring theme. i mean its appropriate here but joshuas on death's door.

ah so emotional trauma and ultima command. yeah the fallen/ultima totally made the eikons. well there goes my theory that anabella was orchestrating things. turns out it was olivier or ultima in olivier.

joshua are you sure you're ok to be priming so soon again. shiva can fly too.

ah the sky is falling. that is how you know we're in world destruction end game now. huh its almost like destroying the mothercrystals is unleashing the end of the world. really should have researched this more cid. oh so now in addition to deadlands we also have aetherfloods everywhere. standard setup would be to break ultima's last seal and then beat up ultima, we'll see what ffxvi does. yeah good job clive you sacked storm and made it nice and easy for waloed.

joshua came back to the hideout, why the hell didn't you do this 5 years earlier.

l'ubor has jill pose as the mercenary captain and clive the noble merchant? jill sure clive is not believable.

Joshua really should have reunited with his brother earlier. the Undying... Rosaria has a secret service, it wasn't that big. I was wondering why Jote was serving Joshua. must be nice to be a prince heir.

back to quinten. this storyline is a bit odd. both sabreque's old and new capital have been... exploded. you'd think the lord chief justice would have other problems than a personal vendetta.

I've spoken about my problems with the timeskips already and I'm going to do it again. If you aren't going to show how the passage of time has affected people don't bother writing a timeskip into your story. For example with Clive 18? 20? years have passed since the beginning of the game, that's almost a generation. Many of the elderly he knew have probably died not of violence or external factors but from old age. The one line we do get is from the guardians of the flame section about how there's only old shields left. or what about all the rosarian children and young adults now that have never known a a rosaria without sabreque. We meet a lot of older characters and mentors for Clive but what about those younger than him that are also fully capable adults now but do not/barely remember the pivotal events that shaped his life like phoenix gate. I think Mid is the only one and I'm not sure how old she is.

I know sidequests have to be kept msq ambiguous but its very funny running around rosaria and talking to sir wade with joshua 5 feet behind clive.

taking the kanver survivors to the hideaway is a bad idea. the hideaway is suppose to be secret for a reason: protecting bearers. its not an all purpose refuge and if too many know the location, its security is compromised. 80% of the hiddeways' security is from being in a place no one would think to look. Not to mention it isn't that big, certainly not big enough to take on a city's population. A better idea would be to bring them to eloise in dhalmek, closer to their old home, doesn't threaten the hiddeway, but out of akashic danger.

Seiphnir(?) was a cool fight. too bad he's dead which means i won't get to see it again. the scene with barnabas and clive was funto watch but cowards i want even more swordplay choreography.

I think should have been reunited with Clive already before the timeskip, the game never gives a good reason why he stayed away for 5 years. (64% SPOILERS! or well mission 38 technically) and Joshua joins just like that without any problem. Sure he was busy researching and countering Ultima but he's still doing that now with the party. He might have even gotten more done with Clive's help and a chocobo to ride on. I don't think Joshua would just sit there and let his dear brother be abused as an imperial slave for 13 years. Like 8-10 years I can buy because he's just a traumatized kid and the last time he saw Clive, Clive went berserk and tried to murder him. But Joshua seems to have come to terms with Ifrit already by the time we meet him again so why didn't he come and save Clive? (real reason of course is that Clive is the main character).

hmm. in hindsight they shouldn't have pulled out zettaflare. powercreeep real. should have kept it at exaflare

#ffxvi #ffxvi spoilers

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trainingtofreedom · 6 months

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December 27, 2023 - Orlando, FL

I can't describe the feeling of leaving home for good. I'd left for college; I'd moved houses; I'd taken vacations; I've traveled with nothing but my car, twice. None of it compared to December 27.

I had two big suitcases, one small suitcase, one backpack, one briefcase. Amtrak said, "Four bags and one carry-on" and I took it seriously. I called an Uber to take me to the Bus Terminal, because the rail system runs through it. Waiting for the Uber was almost painful; I could look back and see where I was living, but I wouldn't ever see that house again.

That was the echo in my head: I'll never see that house again. I won't be going back.

It was almost dark when we got to the bus station, and I rolled myself through the building, out the back, across four lanes of bus traffic, around to the train station. Across two set of tracks, so that I was on the Northbound side.

I could barely carry it all; I recognized that mistake in the bus station, but it was too late to leave anything behind. I didn't know what wasn't important, either; in my mind, every item in every bag was important. So I carried 100+lbs of everything, and I watched the commuter rail go by, thankful that I'd be checking my bags when Amtrak arrived.

I went to the bus teller when I arrived, and asked them about the train. "Train tickets are only purchased at the kiosk. There's a attendant at the track to help you." She had nothing else to tell me. "There's supposed to be an attendant, anyway." She clarified. After I rolled myself to the tracks, I didn't see any attendant. Plus I didn't know what to ask him.

Just a weird guy floating around at the handicap ramp. He didn't look like a train attendant.

The commuter rail rolled by, and that weird guy calls over to me, "Hey, are you taking the train?" I answered him, "Yeah, the big silver one, the Amtrak." He replied, "The Amtrak doesn't come here. It goes to Orlando Health. Also, you can't sit there."

There's a dawning of fear in my mind, now: I'm at the wrong station. I can't walk anywhere, I have too much stuff. How the hell am I going to catch my train in 20 minutes? I was supposed to be heading to Raleigh on the Silver Service. The attendant couldn't help, how would I get there?!?

I caught my breath, but the panic still bounced around in my brain. Call an uber. I called an uber, and tried to drop a pin at my spot on the sidewalk; I couldn't find a good landmark. The first uber says, "I can't drive into the bus station." No, not the bus station, I'm along a downtown city street next to the train tracks. I have twenty minutes to get across town.

That uber cancels. I have 15 minutes.

The next one gets there, and thankfully is clean, comfortable, and prepared. I sent my destination as "Amtrak Station," so now there's no question. I'm watching the tracks the whole drive, praying the train wouldn't beat me to the station. What would I do if I missed it? Sleep in the empty house, I guess.

The Amtrak station is obvious, thank goodness. Big sign on the building, lots of cars and people, nothing related to the commuter rail. (Commuter rail drops off on the same track, about 50m south; I could see it from here.) It didn't matter which side of the tracks anymore: everybody waits on this side.

Checking my bags at the station, I had to walk them back to the cargo area. No one was at the teller. It was an unguided experience, I just got lucky that I met one of the Red Caps at the back. "Where are you heading?"

"Raleigh...well, Charlotte." I answered. They seemed confused, so they asked for my ticket. I showed them I had two tickets: Raleigh, then Charlotte five hours later. "Why is he going to Raleigh instead of Cary?" he wondered aloud. His partner replied, "Must have been a capacity thing."

I remember a few other things he said. "Why isn't there anyone up at the teller? You're not supposed to be staring at your phone!" "Keep the claim tickets." "You don't need them in Raleigh, just Charlotte." He checked my bags to Charlotte, though they would change trains in Cary, NC, even though I went to Raleigh first instead.

(Train stuff: Amtrak's Silver Star usually drops off people in NC at Cary, because it's one stop sooner and has more exchanges, like the Crescent. Raleigh is, uniquely, in between the two Silver-Service routes, and only on the Silver Star route. The only people that ride it to Raleigh are people -specifically- going to Raleigh.)

I still have my backpack and briefcase with me, and I've NEVER left from this station before. There's probably a hundred people here, almost all coach, almost all as confused as I was. Many college kids, many people going many different places. Only a few outdoor benches, and we were all told to line up at the lettered column. I leaned on the bench to help my injured back, and waited amongst the confused throngs.

Boarding was straightforward: they asked where you're going, and they told you which way to go once you got up the stairs. No one checks tickets, even though it's on my phone and ready. Just "Go in to the right, find a seat." I was on the long-distance car, the one that goes past Cary, NC. People were going to NYC, PHL, and all sorts of far-flung stops. No assigned seats, so you just do your best. I found two seats alone (a rare treat), and slumped down.

The train is ROLLING, and they still haven't checked my ticket. This is weird if you're used to planes, where you've been identity-verified and boarding-passed three times before you reach the door. On Amtrak, they don't do any more than count bodies. You're halfway to the next stop before anyone verifies your ticket, and no one ever checks your ID.

Reiterating: You will board the train, and no one checks your ticket or ID. They will never check your ID.

Finally, a conductor comes through and checks the ticket. He writes my three-letter destination on a card, and sticks it on the rail above my seat. Reminds me that my adjacent seat won't remain empty: "This is a FULL TRAIN, there will be no empty seats!"

It's 9pm, I'm exhausted, the train is rolling. I fall asleep to "No empty Seats!" and the sound of the Amtrak train horn, which blows at every single road crossing. All night, toot toooooooooooooot.

Twelve hours to go, then I'll be in Raleigh. Nothing to do but sit and sleep on the dark windows...

#amtrak #homelessness #silver star

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