#i still talk to him like hes lying just out of eyesight in his favourite boxie

[wulfhalls]

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[raspberryranpo]

hi hii~ can I request how the golden deer boys would fare as fathers? love your stuff!

the golden deer as fathers

fire emblem three houses: golden deer boys

i have been ITCHING to talk about this for ages 😭 dad hcs are my favourite things

CLAUDE

the best dad there is, no question about it. he’s a natural with the children around the monastery, and his dream since you both got together was to marry you & start a family

takes his children to work with him and he sits in important meetings with them in his lap, occasionally bending down to give them a kiss or to squish their cheeks

gives them piggybacks around the castle, waving at all of the servants - they wave back of course, and seeing claude with his toddler is the cutest thing they’ve ever seen

the sound of their joint laughter can be heard from anywhere in the castle and it’s loud enough to bring joy to the most miserable person’s day

claude’s most favourite thing of all is waking up to both you and his child next to him, and being able to admire the little family he’s created

you’ll often be able to find him in the sitting room, holding his baby to his chest, gently rocking them back and forth to go to sleep - most of the time, he’s asleep too, but he always invites you to join them whenever he can keep his eyes open

always takes the child out to see the people of his country and everyone loves it. he gets thousands of comments saying that he and the child look exactly like one another & claude is basking in it

is always there to comfort his kid when they need it - a nightmare? he’s right there, beside them in their bed, reading them a quiet bedtime story. someone said something mean at school? they never bother them again.

definitely calls then “kiddo” or “little dude”. uses dad language right from the start

he has like five children (or even more if you’re still down). he can’t get enough of these little creatures you’ve made together & won’t stop until the entire palace is full of laughter

LORENZ

his parents never really treated him like a son, but rather like the next in line to their position, so he has a difficult time being kind to his children in turn

is always doting on them - making sure that they’re dressed warm or cool depending on the weather, making sure that they eat properly, and making sure that they go to sleep happy

is the type of dad to sit by the fire reading the newspaper with dorky glasses, looking up occasionally to watch his children playing nearby

insists that he’s not soft for his children but literally everyone can hear him doing a baby voice for them from a mile away

likes to show them off to claude, who thinks that they’re absolutely adorable. tells them that they’re much cuter than their father which cheeses lorenz off so badly

claude’s children also enjoy tugging on lorenz’s hair, which he insists annoys him, but everyone can see the gentle smile on his face - lorenz is also a big softie for children too

cannot say no to his children. there’s no chance that, if they give him big puppy eyes, he can deny them whatever they’re asking for

often ends up letting them sleep in your bed for the night, which is always a cute image to wake up to - lorenz and the toddler, lying on his chest, sleeping soundly

their matching violet hair is also a sight to see - they both get many compliments on that whenever you go outside, much to lorenz’ pleasure. he makes sure to take care of their appearance just as much as his own

just… don’t let him cut the kid’s hair. please don’t. please.

RAPHAEL

the best dad to play with, hands down. his children and the children of the other golden deer always come running into his arms to be picked up and swung around

he’s like a jungle gym with no bounds. everytime he goes outside, or every time the golden deer bring their children, he’s got five toddlers hanging onto something and he’s clearly enjoying it

his children are all well fed & they all have the chubbiest cheeks in the world. all the old ladies in his hometown and most of the golden deer enjoy squishing them & they’re definitely not to blame

always carries his children around on his shoulders proudly around his house and around the town, showing off how proud he is to everyone

his children are absolutely his pride and joy and he’d do anything to help them in any way - he’s always there for them, no matter what else he needs to do

encourages them to be open about their problems, and to always be polite and honest. you’ve probably never seen more polite children in your life

his children are also best friends with ignatz’s children. they’re just as loud and overbearing as raph is with ignatz - it’s wholesome to look at

mealtimes are always the happiest times of the day, with the brighrest smile on raph’s while he laughs very heartily - your children also laugh along with him, and learn to enjoy the simple times with family

IGNATZ

his children are just as quiet and as awkward as he is, but they’re just as talented and kind too

he makes sure to bring them up to be sensible, kind-hearted people - however, raphael’s children’s influence always seems to make them a bit less sensible every time they hang out together

free time is always spent in the garden, with ignatz painting the surrounding scenery, and his children at his side, desperately trying to paint just like him, even at their young age

they look up to their father so much & he can never believe it, even though he can tell how much of an influence he has on them

their first word is “paint” or “blue” or something artsy like that. it’s never anything normal with him

they inherit his poor eyesight & it’s always a big hassle trying to find so many pairs of glasses at once

only sticks with one or two children because he doesn’t know if his heart can take any more cuteness. the main focus of his paintings after his first child arrives is definitely his children

makes sure to read to them every night, even if he’s incredibly busy - will run straight from a meeting if he knows it’s bedtime for his children. nobody minds because it’s actually really wholesome to see ignatz wrapped around his children’s fingers

[frangipansi]

Hi! If your inbox is open, I'd like to request a scenario with all (or any) of the demon brothers, + undatables reacting to a blind MC? Like, none of them expected to have a blind human and Devildom and they have to revamp everything to make it as safe for MC as possible. Can be she/her or they/them pronouns for MC. Bonus points if MC is extremely talkative and won't shut up lmao. Thank you!

OKAY! So, finally got this one out. I’m sooo sorry for the wait, but I wanted to try and do this right, not just some Daredevil nonsense, but I didn’t want to make the mistake of a ‘helpless blind MC’ either; because they’re not helpless.

I am also lucky enough to have a regular customer at my work that happens to be blind and she has been very happy to give me a helping hand to make this ask more real. She’s such a delight and her guide dog is beautiful and I could ramble on with our interactions, like one time she scolded us for moving the fixtures because she had just memorized the layout of the store then told her guide “you’ll earn that pay check today!”

SO! With her in mind, more so from her younger days that she reminisced with me; I have decided to work this piece around this customer’s condition specifically so I’m not just pulling shit out my arse.

To give you an idea, this MC suffers from Retinitis pigmentosa; their symptoms being tunnel vision and night blindness. So while they are legally blind, they can somewhat see. They use a cane when going out, use their hands and/or cane when inside a place knew to them – that happens to be in poor light (Devildom) – until they have the layout in their mind and move more confidently.

~

This also took a while because I couldn’t get a fic/scenario to work cohesively and hc was just not working either! But I’ve hopefully gotten it now, and I do hope you like it. I’ve also placed this under the cut because I’ve waffled on here.

Diavolo:

Interested. Anyone within the Devildom without eyesight, are generally the souls of the damned who aren’t permitted to move freely. Heck, he’s removed some of their eyes himself.

He wants to know instantly if there is anything he needs to change and improve to make sure MC’s stay is not only comfortable but enjoyable.

Absolutely loves how open MC is. He’s amazed at the resilience of humans; delighted to hear MC say how capable they are, though he does insist on one of the brother’s remaining her escort for the duration of their stay. Capable or not, he is well aware of how demons would use MC’s lack of sight to their advantage.

Really wants to ask how amplified their other senses are; disappointed to know most things depicted in movies are – for the most part – an over exaggeration.

Organises a tablet for them with all RAD textbooks uploaded so they have that ability to zoom in so they are able to read the text at their own comfort. Other systems such as braille, text to talk etc are also implemented if that is something MC prefers to learn by.

Lucifer:

Considers Cerberus as a guide dog? Impossible, the human would be eaten alive. Perhaps another smaller hellhound? Goodness no, they’d still be eaten.

Asks MC about their condition –on behalf of Lord Diavolo of course – so he is aware of anything that may help their stay in the Devildom.

Very pleased to see how receptive MC is, very talkative and informative about her condition; he’s surprised to learn the varying levels of visual impairment. Consults Diavolo on brighter lighting to improve her movements around RAD and already planning on improvements within his own home.

During MC’s first few nights in Lamentation, Lucifer appears on edge; always keeping an eye when they’re moving about on their own. Enjoys watching how they learn to memorize layouts, quietly telling themselves how many steps it takes from one room to another, touching hallway objects.

Ready to run to their side that one time MC walked into the wall; turning into the kitchen a little too soon; until he hear them chuckle to themselves and ran their hand along the wall until they found the doorway and walked through it. No damage done. He’s learning to leave them be, understanding that he doesn’t need to dote on them.

Mammon:

MC is blind? Ooh yeah! The things that boy could swipe to make some quick Grimm, and right under their nose. It was gonna be too easy!! Completely stunned when they still catch him out. “How’d ya know it was me?!”

Watches them narrow their eyes as if trying to spot him before coming up beside him and close the drawer he was just rummaging through. The nerve this human has to threaten The Great Mammon by saying they’ll use their cane to whack him.

Surprised at MC’s explanation on how they knew it was him. They recognised his scent; not only did he have his favourite cologne – which he didn’t think he wore that much of – they noted how he had a metallic smell, like the kind you get when touching coin constantly.

Likes to watch MC move around their room; at first using their hand to remember the layout and then moving as if they saw as well as he did. Considered rearranging things to see what would happen.

Okay, so MC isn’t helpless… but, other demons don’t know that. Considers using MC as bait; distract idiots so he can rob them and sell their things for a little Grimm. “I, The Mammon, am a genius!” “No, Mammon.”

Levi:

Couldn’t even imagine being in their position; all that manga he couldn’t read, anime they couldn’t watch… never knowing what Ruri-Chan looks like!!! Gasp! No way. Poor MC!

Really confused when he sees them one day, curled up on a chair in the common room, wearing a pair of glasses and a book in hand. Wanders over and looks over their shoulder before questioning what was going on; nodding when they told him that with reading glasses and preferably larger font, they could indulge in many a storybook.

As their relationship blossoms, he has a dedicated reading nook in his room for the two of them, including a lamp to brighten the area to help improve what sight they have. Likes that they’re happy to listen to him read to them his TSL series. He thinks about writing to the publishers for the next editions to have larger fonts; that way he could buy MC a set of their own.

He likes to sit and watch them bring things close to their face to inspect them better; his figurines which they – to his relief – handle with great care, or his manga comics to see which characters he’s fawning over.

He secretly loves that MC likes to chill by his fish tank wall. Why? They state that while there’s too much distortion for them to actually make anything out, they enjoy the ambient colouring and light; the two eventually just listen to music together like that as a means to relax.

Satan:

Of course he is utterly curious about MC’s condition and is glad to see how open they are to talking about it. He’ll look things up himself in his own time but nothing like hearing it from someone’s own experience.

Asks if those romance and crime novels are accurate; “so, do you touch people’s faces so you know what they look like?” finds it interesting that for the most part, this doesn’t happen; but it makes sense, he wouldn’t be too thrilled by someone he barely knows putting their hands onto him.

Writes down notes that he considers most important from the board during lessons and offers them to MC should they need them for their studies.

Another one who likes watching MC learn their way around Lamentation, like how they touch cupboard handles until they find the one they need while grumbling about how crappy the lights are.

Shared appreciation for just lying on the ground whenever a cat is near them, all responsibility out the window as number one priority is giving adorable little hellcats their undivided attention. Loves that MC is willing to con Lucifer into believing a cat makes a wonderful guide animal.

Asmo:

Oh poor MC, unable to see just how beautiful he is… Oh, they can kinda see? If he gets real close? Oh he can definitely do that! Bummed that MC promptly puts in some boundaries but once their relationship develops they do enjoy the closeness with him.

Learns – albeit slowly – that his looks aren’t going to win MC over, and instead begins to better understand the value of personality and getting to know a person. Should MC like Asmo, it’s because of who he is and not for all the fluffing he does with his looks.

Whenever he happens to be the brother escorting MC, just know he’ll always detour to the main hub; treating the two of them to manicures and pedicures, facials, all that fun stuff.

When shopping, he loves how MC feels the fabric of things he grabs for them and has an even bigger appreciation for how things feel on him. Absolutely enjoys offering explanations whenever MC would ask about colour or cuts if they can’t make them out should the lighting be too poor for them.

Will starting looking around for ‘fashionable’ canes. Yes, he knows it’s about practicality and he’s not going to take that away from MC, but what’s wrong with wanting to match their cane with that gorgeous outfit he’s picked out from them?

Beel:

Having no experience with a visually impaired human, he’ll ask MC if he should carry them places; it’s no big deal, they looked pretty light after all. Apologises if they happen to get a bit defensive so keeps close while they walk together, worried they may walk into or trip over something.

He’ll be curious about whether or not other senses are heightened due to the loss of another and is lowkey disappointed that they wouldn’t be able to hear someone in the kitchen stealing his food when they’re somewhere else in the house.

He loves cooking with them; the tastes of what he creates seem to be more balanced and they’re more than happy to sneak him a few snacks while Lucifer is occupied elsewhere. They’ll fool around, tasting things to see who can pick up more notes.

Things turn into a game between the two of them; if he spots MC in a room he’ll sneak up and try and get to them before they realise he’s there. “Too heavy on your feet,” or “you were giggling,” is something he hears a lot when trying.

Though MC can’t really see while he’s training or playing a game, he really appreciates that there still there to cheer him on; he’s taken to wearing a bright headband in hopes that they’ll be able to spot him out a bit better. They don’t half the heart to tell him they still can’t find him.

Belphie:

In the beginning, he’ll use MC’s lack of sight to their advantage; sly and manipulative to lure them in. Watches how they react to his voice, how their eyes or head move in the direction he’s in, learning how they work their other senses.

Tensions between the two would be tight after that moment and he’ll feel tremendous guilt for what he did to them; keeps himself at a distance, afraid they’ll recoil if they sense he’s too close and understands if they would.

Amazed that they find it in them to forgive him and help mend bonds between him and his brothers, and will spend whatever time he’s able building up trust with MC; whether that’s being their escort around Devildom or just being there for company.

He loves – when trust is established – that MC is just happy to lay with him while he star gazes and talks about what he sees, trying to paint a picture for them while they huddle up together in a fluffy blanket, sharing his cow print pillow.

Simeon/Luke:

They’re angels; their job is to look over and protect humans. So they are already well aware of how capable MC would be – Simeon more so than Luke since he’s younger and more interested in Michael – but they will still offer their assistance should MC need it.

They’re also the sort to take notes down during class that MC may not be able to see on the board; but they’ll ask before assuming.

Simeon has taken to writing a little bigger if it’s something he’d like MC’s opinion on his work; the two forming a bond through fiction and history. The two can be found losing track of time and just talking about any given thing.

Luke enjoys cooking with MC; asking them what they think of the taste of something he creates and asks how he can make it better. He’d love to be able to wow Michael upon his return to the Celestial Realm and MC will always critique his work rather than sugarcoat like Simeon would or just outright scare him like demons would. With a little push from MC, he takes lessons from Barbatos.

Solomon:

Quite unphased; he’s dealt with various impairments before seeing as he is still human despite being a very powerful sorcerer. He doesn’t offer assistance but will give it should MC ask him for help.

He has many a spell in his books that could quite possibly cure or ease symptoms of various impairments and is very tempted to bring this information to MC; but decides on holding back until he can figure out how to approach the subject. He’ll ask them how they feel about their situation and go from there.

Would also offer heightening other senses should MC want them; even temporarily if they’re just a little curious. “Let’s see what’s so crash hot about being Daredevil!” “My thoughts exactly MC.”

[deathtale0-0]

Okay yeah so while I was playing fighting Argus (the 15th one) my brother was all like ‘ha this guy is like brothers with the other one with the sword and he has a little cave under the platform and you just came and disturbed him and everything’ and it ruined my entire day, so I made some Colossi headcanons to make myself feel even worse about killing all of them and yeah, hope you like them :)

 Valus

Nickname: Bubba

Element: Earth

Is the youngest

Has really soft fur

Is quiet, but only became this quiet once they lost Malus, most of the Colossi have never heard him speak, but they always include him and     ask what he thinks

Others will always come visit to chat, they’ll sit down together and he won’t say anything but they’ll talk forever and he’ll occasionally smile or make a sound, he’s never told them but it makes him happy that they come talk to him even though he doesn’t talk back

 Quadratus

Nickname: Simba

Element: Water

Likes to sleep curled up in his cave

Makes patterns in the grounds with his hooves

Every morning he wakes up early to leave the cave and sit on the beach watching the tide and looking at the horizon to see the sunrise

Likes his routine and enjoys spending time alone very much, and unlike with Hydrus, the others believe him

But thoroughly enjoys visits from Celosia, sees them as little sibling

Like a cat

 Gaius

Nickname: Stargazer

Element: Air

Brothers with Argus, is the little brother

Likes to be out in the open looking at the sky which is why to you find him lying down

Enjoys daydreaming, stargazing and looking at the constellations

Is the tall, quiet one who’s a bookworm and secretly really knowledgeable

Gets along with animals

 Phaedra

Nickname: Sundance

Element: Air

A mare

Enjoys playing hide and seek with herself by pretending that there’s something in the tunnels

Loves her area but there isn’t a lot of space to run

A bit clumsy but intelligent

 Avion

Nickname: Windtamer

Element: Air

Will go and visit Hydrus since he knows he needs company even though he says he’s fine being alone

A good friend

Quirky, always checking up on the others

 Barba

Nickname: Uncle Iroh

Element: Earth

The tough, used to get in trouble uncle of Argus and Gaius, he will beat them both in a fight and taught them all they know

But gives the best hugs and always comforted them when they needed it

Most muscular Colossi

His fur is lined with muscle

 Hydrus

Nickname: Nemo (Avion gave it to them)

Element: Water or Fire

Is a bit of loner, content to stay by himself in his pool and he knows that the other Colossi can’t really visit much because of his spikes, but is okay with it

But, Avion has taken it up himself to visit Hydrus regularly and Hydrus secretly anticipates and loves his visits

They frolic together when he visits

 Kuromori

Nickname: Perseus

Element: Earth or Fire

Both Celosia and Cenobia come to visit him because they know he can’t get out much, and as the three smallest they have to stick together

Has befriended many lizards

Likes to imagine that he is a warrior fighting in the colosseum, whenever Celosia and Cenobia visit they go along with it and are cheering him on as members of the crowd

 Basaran

Nickname: Scrooge

Element: Fire or Earth

Is quite cold and standoffish but the others have learnt to love him for it

Has taken Kuromori under his wing, whether he likes it or not

 Dirge

Nickname: Loki

Element: Earth

Likes to play tricks on the other Colossi

Favourite Colossi is secretly Phalanx because he is the other sand-oriented Colossi, he looks up to him

Some of the others think his eyes are a bit scary/eerie so he tries not to look the others in the eye and is a bit self-conscious about them, but Phalanx said he likes them and that it makes him look like he has a fire burning within since they’re so bright which has made him a bit more comfortable

 Celosia

Nickname: Nala

Element: Earth

Friends with Cenobia

Like a cat, more specifically a panther

Very proud of her armour

 Pelagia

Nickname: Treebeard

Element: Water

Speaks very slowly

Has little creatures in his moss, but doesn’t let the others take them off because he sees them as little friends

Has bad eyesight

 Phalanx

Nickname: Skyglider

Element: Earth

The second most respected after Malus

Is also the second eldest, none of the others know how old and they’ve never asked, just that he’s ancient

Fur is coarse, like you can feel the age of it

Phaedra sometimes likes coming to the desert just to walk around and gallop because there’s not much space to run in her cozy home, when she does Phalanx will fly beside her and the two will race

Sometimes when some of the others are stressed they’ll just come and sit and watch Phalanx fly

Has a deep, booming voice that makes him sound very wise but he’ll also use it to make the others laugh when they come and they’re sad

 Cenobia

Nickname: Pumba

Element: Earth or Air

Friends with Celosia

Looks like a lion

The dumber one out of the two

Phaedra likes to visit his area sometimes and mess around

Is mischievous

 Argus

Nickname: Heracles

Element: Earth

Brothers with Gaius, is the older brother

Has very thick fur he inherited from uncle Barba

Likes to train in his cave below the cliff

Is the popular jock type, he’s good at all sports but struggled a bit academically so Gaius has to tutor him sometimes

He was heartbroken when Wander injured his arm because it meant he could never train or play sports again, it broke him (like if a runner broke his leg or a baseball player injured his arm, they’d fall into a depression and never really be able to run, play the same way again)

Has protected Gaius when he was picked on and then started taking him along to uncle Barba’s training sessions

 Malus

Nickname: Caesar

Element: Fire

The original mentor for all the Colossi

Fur is like that of a bear, a protector, thick and rough but not unpleasant

When he was going to be chained down, all the others tried to fight back and resist but Malus told them to leave so they didn’t get hurt and that this was his fate

Has gotten quite lonely since the others were blocked off from coming to see him, but Avion and Phalanx come occasionally and tell him how the others are doing, once when Phalanx came along he tasked him with     the job of looking after the others since he could no longer do it

It broke his heart when he saw each light lift into the sky one by one, but he still couldn’t bring himself to kill Wander once he saw him up close and realised he was just a boy

Was actually willing to accept his fate once he realised all his friends were dead

[keijikunn]

The things we do for love

── A @babythotshq​ collab “Winter Wonderland”

BUILD A SNOWMAN

Pairing: Kunimi Akira x fem!reader  Tags: time skip, fluff Summary: Kunimi Akira learned to love the snow through the years. All because of you.  Word count: ~2.5k

Author’s note: This is my piece of Winter Wonderland, and my Secret Santa is Mimi from @mimi-cee-hq​! It’s the first time I’ve ever written for Kunimi, so I hope I didn’t mess up too much. We don’t talk that much, but you are very dear to me, Mimi! Hope you had a great holiday and an even better New Year!!

Kunimi Akira hated snow. It bothers him how it wets his clothes, how moving around gets complicated because of the iced streets and, obviously, the cold weather. The boy couldn't see the appeal of the traditional white cover of the winter. He has to wear layers of coats to protect himself, not to mention the constant need to remove the snow from the sidewalk. 

Leaving bed in the morning was hard, going to practice wasn’t pleasant - not that the other days were, in Kunimi’s opinion. Whenever the forecast announced the first snow of the season would fall soon the raven haired boy's mood instantly dropped. As a child, no one could talk to him as soon as he woke up - his young version needed his sweet time to get warm and cozy inside his school uniform. 

The adult life didn’t make it any easier, only adding to his dislike. After moving out of his parents’ house at the beginning of his second year in college, Kunimi faced all the problems of snow by himself. He had to clean up the muddy trail his boots left at the entrance, shoveling all of it every morning before classes and the worst of all, in his opinion, the constant black outs because of heavy snowfall. 

Kunimi absolutely hated snow. 

Contrasting his opinion, there were yours. You loved the iced water that falls during winter, painting Miyagi in white. This season of the year has some magic in it, you couldn’t really explain; but ever since you can remember, early december mornings meant bundling yourself in your thickest coat to play with the first snow. 

His first impression of you wasn’t the greatest, since you were the reason why he got a cold. 

Kunimi wasn’t in his best humor. 

He adjusted his scarf around his neck, pulling the strings of his hoodie together, trying to prevent the cold wind from hitting his ears. He underestimated mother nature, not believing it could snow as much as it did during the morning while he was in class. Kunimi’s clothes, though they seemed to be warm enough to the cold day of winter, didn’t suit the wetness of melting ice on the street. 

“I hate this.” The boy muttered under his breath, taking another step into a thick layer of snow. His socks, drenched in a ridiculous freezing water, could be enough to stop his blood circulation on his feet. “And people wonder why I despise snow.”

The familiar beige wall of his house appeared on his eyesight, ripping a sigh from his chest. Kunimi was so ready to reach his home, take a long and hot shower and confine himself under his fluffy comforts to sleep. All he needed to do was take a few more steps, then he’ll be- 

A sudden touch on his back made him fall over, his arms barely reacting on time in order to prevent major injuries on himself. The weight of a second body on top of him knocked the air out of his lungs, said sensation intensified by the cold snow wetting the front of his hoodie. His feet were already cold, the tip of his nose was red and now this? Kunimi was fuming to say the least.

“Oh my gosh, Kunimi-kun, I’m so sorry!” He recognized that high pitched tone, it was his neighbour’s daughter, Risa, and an unknown girl trailing behind her. The older one sported an apologetic smile on her face, but her gloves covered in snow gave away she wasn’t that sorry. “I didn’t mean to bump into you. I was building a snowman with my cousin, Y/n, but then she decided to throw snow at me!” 

“Sorry!” She was pretty, Kunimi had to admit it, even though she was wearing a white beanie matching with a scarf hiding almost her entire face. A pang of jealousy struck him at the sight of such a comfortable and warm outfit she’s wearing. 

“Whatever.” Kunimi exhaled deeply, evidencing all his annoyance, not sparing a second glance at both girls. Risa exchanged a few words with her cousin that he couldn’t make out- and he didn’t care at all.

Now he had another reason to arrive quickly at his house. He definitely needed a warm bath. 

No words could describe how pissed off Akira was the next morning, when he woke up with a sore throat and high fever. He didn’t know if he was more angry at nature for having snow as part of it, the pretty cousin of his neighbour or himself for not checking the forecast. Either way, he still was sick and cranky regardless of the blame he desperately wanted to attribute to somebody else besides himself. 

His parents were off to work, leaving him by himself in the house. At least I got to stay in bed the whole day, Kunimi reasoned with himself, letting a content sigh escape his lips. He snuggled into his soft covers, turning to his side to reach out his phone to kill some time. The first thing that caught his eyes was the little icon on his forecast app, indicating it wouldn’t snow that day. Kunimi rolled his eyes at the coincidence, exactly the day when he hadn't to leave his house he checked the weather. 

“I should sleep, it’s not like I have many free days to do whatever I want.” He muttered under his breath, voice raspy and a few octaves lower than usual.

The boy didn’t know how long he slept, but he was harshly pulled off from subconsciousness by a loud knock on his front door. He groaned in annoyance, turning to face the wall, covering his head with the black covers over him. Kunimi thought that pretending no one was at home would make the unexpected visitor leave after a few tries. 

“Kunimi-kun, I know you’re in there. Your parents dropped by Risa’s house asking me to check on you. Heard you’re sick.” A feminine voice shouted, making him wonder how old his parents thought he was. Ask for the neighbours check on me? Am I 7 years old, mom?

Having no choice but to open the door for the strange girl, Kunimi put on the nearest hoodie he found and a disposable mask his dad left on his desk. He didn’t realise the sickness made him weak and gave him body ache- after all, he spent the whole morning lying down. Preparing mentally to have that social interaction, the black haired boy unlocked knob, opening the entrance. 

The familiar beanie, now with a dark blue scarf, hiding almost her entire face - besides her eyes - came into Akira’s sight. Behind the girl, he could see the little path that led the gates to the door was cleared from snow and he wondered when his dad had time to do it between his tight schedule. Focusing once again on the person in front of him, Kunimi noticed a thermal bag in her hands. 

“Hi, Kunimi-kun, I’m Y/n- Risa’s cousin. We met yesterday.” She bowed quickly, minding the object she had in hands. 

“How could I not remember?” Kunimi shot back under his breath, but he knew Y/n heard what he grumpily said, offering him half smile. 

“Your parents stopped by Risa’s house in hopes to talk to her parents, but they’re off on a business trip and I’m babysitting that little rascal,” Y/n started to explain. “They told me you were sick, and I imagined that me and my cousin had some blame on it. So we cleaned the doorstep and I made okayu* and a bottle of shogayu** as apology gifts.”

“You didn’t have to Y/n-san.” He faked a smile, you actually had to, it’s your fault I’m sick. “Thank you for these, though. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it!” She answered passing him the item and slowly stepping away from him. “Get better soon. And next time, wear thicker clothes!”

“Thanks, I will.” Kunimi scoffed, finally closing the door from the outside’s cold weather. 

His first impression of Y/n was terrible. She liked snow, she made him sick and teased him about his questionable choices. Kunimi hoped he’d never see her again. 

Oh, how wrong he was.

Kunimi’s first encounter with you pulled him out of his slumber, a faint smile on his face as he remembered the very first time he saw you. Almost three years after that, he found himself lying on the bed you share with him. 

Life is funny, huh?

He was quick to notice you weren't there beside him, your side of the mattress still a bit warm - indicating you just left your position. Rubbing the sleep away from his eyes, the black haired man got up and headed to the bathroom outside his room. The water was unnecessarily cold, though justified by the season: it was winter after all. The exact period of time Akira grew to tolerate by your side. Much to his surprise, since the very first winter you two spent as a couple he watched his words about your favourite weather. 

You were at the living room, staring through the glass door that led to the backyard. The man quickly noticed the reason that captured your attention: the snowflakes danced in the air, slowly falling down. The first snow always captivated you, and Kunimi didn’t understand why, just like he didn’t wrap his head around the fact the iced water could be actually nice. 

“I’m surprised you’re not out there desperately trying to get a cold.” Kunimi teased, voice still husky from the long period of inactivity of his vocal chords. You turned to look at him, a smile plastered on your face. “Good morning, weirdo.”

“Morning, grumpy.” You extended your hand, signalizing the boy to scoot over - which he complied. The sensation of your arms wrapped around his waist was comforting, emanating enough warm to face whatever winter storm that has yet to come. “Will you build a snowman with me?”

“Is this a nicer way to say you want to knock me down on snow just like you did when we first met up?” He asked sarcastically, causing you to let out a loud laugh as you recalled said memory. “I got sick for days that time, it wasn’t good.”

“But I did clean your doorstep and made you food, Akira.” His facade broke at your beautiful smile. Of course you would pull this card, you always did when you two would playfully banter about how Kunimi always manages to get sick after spending some time outside during winter. “And I always take care of you whenever you get sick.”

“Touché, hm?” The pad of his index finger ran softly across your cheek, then Kunimi’s large hand cupped your face lovingly. The man recalled the past three years you spent as a couple, traditionally going out to please you; followed by a couple of days of Akira’s bed rest and tons of missoshiro*** to ease his aching throat from the cold he always manages to get. “Let’s go change clothes, yeah? I know later the snow will be stronger, and I definitely don’t want to be out there when it comes.”

The sparks in your eyes never fails to swell Kunimi’s heart, resulting in a soft look he casts at your back as you retreat to your shared bedroom to change from your fluffy pajamas. As the time passed in your relationship, Kunimi learned how to… tolerate little things he usually doesn’t - all because of you. You definitely changed his sour winter spirit. 

“C’mon, Akira!” You screamed from the other room, too excited to wait any longer for your lazy boyfriend.

“Don’t rush me, woman, the snow won’t melt in five minutes!” 

Kunimi’s hands were stupidly cold. Even the leather gloves he has on weren’t enough to keep the warmth inside, all because he had to help you build a snowman. It wasn’t working, the snow was too soft to form any shape you wanted, but he hadn’t had the heart to tell you this - not when you were so happy to be in your backyard with him. 

So, instead of complaining, Kunimi kneeled down to scoop more snow, trying to create a well sized ball to be the base of your personal Olaf (he called you dumb for this). After a couple of attempts, and slightly giving up on making in perfectly, the black haired man managed to finish his task. It was falling on the edges, the top slowly crumbling due to its softness and Kunimi held back a scowl at the sight of it. 

“Oh, Akira! You did it,” you beamed happily, bringing a pile of snow that he assumed to be its head, and placed it on the top. The two of you completely ignored the proportion, as the body was way larger than the head, but that didn’t seem to upset you. Instead, you clapped your hands, quickly assembling the branches you found to make its arms and a few stones from your flower pots to make its eyes and mouth. “It would look better if Olaf had his carrot nose, though.”

“No, we’re not using our food in this.” Kunimi quickly denied, earning a huff as response from you. He stood next to you, carefully eyeing the poorly-done snowman, cringing at the fact he actually did it. 

“It looks terrible!” Your sudden comment was followed by you bursting into a fit of laughter.

“Yes, because you can’t wait a few days to play in the snow like a 10-year-old kid.” He said back, bumping his elbow lightly on your side. As you protested at such action, Kunimi decided to unwrap his scarf around his neck, gently putting on the snowman in front of you. “Still looks like shit, but I guess it’s a bit better. Now, let’s go inside before I freeze to death.”

“You wanted to take off your scarf, dumbass!”

“I did it because you’d pout if I didn’t!”

The bickering continued even after the two of you took a nice and hot shower, slipping once again in your pajamas. While you were freshening yourself, Kunimi busied himself in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. It probably was a psychological effect, but he could swear his throat already itched a bit, even though any cold barely had the time to affect his system. 

The things we do for love. 

His train of thoughts were quickly interrupted by a tight embrace on his waist and a light pressure on his back. Your perfume overpowered any aroma the food in front of him emanated, filling his senses with the smell he associated as home. His left hand dropped from the pan on the stove, resting it on the top of yours on his abdomen. 

“Thank you for this morning, Akira.” It was such a trivial thing to thank another person, but it wasn’t for you and him. Because you knew he despises snow. 

“You better take care of me when I get sick from this, huh?” He playfully demanded, but he meant well- and you knew it. 

The things I do for love.

*okayu: Japanese rice porrigde **shogayu: ginger tea ***missoshiro: miso soup 

WINTER WONDERLAND MASTERLIST

DO YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED IN THE FUTURE RELEASMENT? FILL THIS FORM AND BECOME A BOOKWORM!

[leelysian]

Hyunjin as your older brother AU 💖✨

genre: fluff

word count: 2.2k

warnings: swearing

Disclaimer: I do not personally know Hyunjin. This work is purely fiction and my own idea. I took inspiration from his on screen persona. Please do not translate or re-upload my work.

☆ Let's start with you as babies.

☆ Hyunjin wasn’t too bothered with the idea of having a sibling.

☆ When your parents first broke the news to him, he was pretty indifferent.

☆ Your parents honestly thought he’d throw a tantrum or something but indifference was something they didn’t have in mind. 

☆ They slowly tried warming up to the idea of having a younger sibling to him, things like protecting them, taking care of them, sharing things with them etc.

☆ He wasn’t too keen on sharing. 

☆ Your parents diverted his mind from that thinking they’d deal with it later when it came to that in the future. 

☆ Initially Hyunjin would be nonchalant but once he saw how invested your parents were for your arrival- creating a nursery, making baby clothes, buying baby stuff etc. Hyunjin slowly got more curious. 

☆ Y’all know how his unnerving stare is, he’d just stare wide eyed in blatant curiousity at his parents preparing things. 

☆ He’d look at his mum eating weird things to satisfy her pregnancy cravings with disgust and sometimes mild curiousity. 

☆ “Why are you eating *insert craving*?” he’d ask. “Baby likes them.” your mum would say. "Oh. Baby's weird."

☆ That would make her laugh.

☆ Days pass by and finally the third trimester arrives. The baby is healthy and kicking.

☆ The fam was watching tv one fine evening when your mum felt a kick and gasped. Both dad and son jump up "What's wrong?"

☆ "Thebabykicked!" she said quickly in a word vomit. "What?" "THE BABY JUST KICKED!"

☆ *cue the freaking out*

☆ She grabbed Hyunjin's tiny hand and pressed it against her big bump when Hyunjin gasped in shock. "WOAH! BABY REALLY KICKED MUM!"

☆ "You were like that too, son." your dad would tell him. "I was?" he'd ask and point to himself and both your parents hummed in agreement.

☆ "You should talk to baby more, I'm sure baby can hear you." your mum told him as she ruffled his hair. "Okay mum."

☆ Thus, in random times he'd say things like "Come quickly." "I can't wait to see you." "I'm eating *insert food*, I think you'll like it but you have to come quick."

☆ Occasionally, he'd cuddle with your mum and rub her belly with lotion or body oil and he'd feel another kick which resulted in the room filling up with giggles.

☆ "Stop kicking mum so much, you'll hurt her." he'd scold. "It's okay baby. I'll be fine." your mum would say.

☆ Finally, the time for your birth came. Hyunjin was somewhat calm but inside he was all sorts of jittery with nervous excitement.

☆ After your parents had a moment with newborn you, Hyunjin was lifted up on the bed by your dad.

☆ The entire time he was quiet but wide eyed in barely concealed curiousity.

☆ Your mum gently placed you in his arms and your dad supported his arms so you were held securely.

☆ Hyunjin stared at you. Your eyes were closed. He raised a small hand and stroked your soft cheek and you stirred so he quickly pulled away.

☆ You opened your eyes into uneven slits and yawned and he smiled. "Cute hehe."

☆ He stroked your cheek again and your even tinier hand grabbed his finger. He gently shook your hand and rocked you in his arms.

☆ Hyunjin vowed he'd protect his new sibling. "He’s/she’s so small." he couldn't help but wonder out loud. "They grow quickly." your dad said.

☆ Fast forward, you were growing, and soon you started to babble and crawl.

☆ Hyunjin would always be keeping an eye on you.

☆ As all babies do, you had a habit of putting everything in your mouth. Everything.

☆ "NO Y/N DON'T EAT THAT." he exclaimed as you were about to put some sort of scum you found on the floor from your crawling adventure in your mouth

☆ He'd scream suddenly graced with the scene of you playing with the toilet water.

☆ Since you have the tendency to put everything in your mouth. He took a sour candy and handed it to you.

☆ You stared at the small, weird, colourful thing. He waited for you to do something.

☆ You put it in your mouth, grimaced heavily, dropped it from your mouth and frowned.

☆ Hyunjin had the time of his life and his stomach hurt from laughing so much.

☆ He'd walk and do things, you'd always follow him.

☆ He tried teaching you how to walk. Standing with you at arm's length as he held your shoulders.

☆ You took quite a few tumbles but he was there to catch you and cushion your fall.

☆ Then he took a different approach and stood behind you as he held your shoulders while you walked.

☆ Slowly with help from Hyunjin and your parents you learned to walk. Now the following became easier.

☆ If he went left, you went left. If he went right, you went right, if he ran then you ran. Then you'd stumble, fall and cry but Hyunjin would laugh and help you stand up.

☆ Soon, you learned how to climb and it was chaos everyday which made your parents exasperated and Hyunjin want to pull his hair out.

☆ "Y/N GET DOWN FROM THERE. THAT'S DANGEROUS!" as if you understood what he was saying. You giggled gleefully.

☆ Once your mum cut your hair. It was so bad. Hyunjin cried because you looked ugly. 

☆ Which made you cry.

☆ Both of you were crying. “MUM WHAT DID YOU DO TO Y/N’S HAIR?”

☆ You’d bother him when he was doing something wanting to be involved. He could be playing a game and you’d grab at him to get his attention. “Y/n stop!” he’d grumble.

☆ this is a true story. My mum cut my hair when I was like 1 and my older brother cried because it was so bad and I cried too

☆ Fast forward, you two are older but you’re still a smol child.

☆ You two played hide and seek. You picked the most obvious places to find.

☆ Hyunjin definitely knew where you were hiding because you always chose the same 3 spots but he'd pretend not to know.

☆ Just so he could jumpscare you. *cue the Hyunjin HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE laugh

☆ TICKLE FIGHTS!!!!

☆ Once Hyunjin was playing games. You went to him because your mum told you to go play for an hour. Hyunjin said no. “MUM HYUNJIN WON’T LET ME PLAY!” “Y/n you can play later. It’s okay.” Hyunjin has a smug look. 

☆ Hyunjin reaches to grab the remote to watch tv, you snatch it before he could. “Please let me watch!” he’d ask. “You didn’t let me play before, I’m not giving up the remote.” you say and hug the remote to your chest. 

☆ “You can go play now.” he put an innocent face. “No.” you refused. “What if I let you play tomorrow?” he asked but you didn’t budge. He did this way too many times. “How about I get you your favourite candy and you can play tomorrow?” 

☆ “How do I know you’re not lying?” you interrogated. “I promise.” he said. You mulled it over for a while. “Fine.” you toss the remote and rush to play your game. 

☆ Next time you were watching tv, Hyunjin didn’t let you play again. This time you were watching your favourite program. 

☆ He snatched the remote and changed the channel. “HEY I WAS WATCHING THAT! GIVE IT BACK!” Of course he raised it out of your reach, “I’m watching now.” 

☆ “If you won’t let me watch then you can’t either.” you’d move and block the tv’s receiver. He’d chastise you, “Y/n go away or else.” 

☆ “I’m telling mum.” you marched. “OKAY FINE HERE” he’d exclaim and give you the remote.

☆ He loved teasing you. As a kid you were a picky eater. Hyunjin didn’t complain as much as you, of course because he’s more mature.

☆ “Y/n you should eat your vegetables. Carrots are good for your eyesight. You don’t want to start wearing glasses now do you?” your mum would lecture you.

☆ “Yeah y/n, be like me. I have good eyesight. You watch too much tv as well. That’s not good.” he’d snicker and you’d glare at him. “You play games all day which is worse.”

☆ “Hwang Hyunjin, is that true? You should be studying more.” your dad would start lecturing him and Hyunjin would glare at you for that while you smiled triumphantly.

☆ Lowkey bullied you by calling you nicknames. 

☆ He’d ruffle your hair playfully but 9/10 times it was annoying for you.

☆ You two would wake up together early morning on the weekends to watch morning cartoons.

☆ Cuddle together under the same blanket until you fell asleep again because you woke up very early.

☆ He’d stand innocently somewhere, you would walk past him and he’d either pull your hair from behind or push you. “HEY!”

☆ He was probably the one who told you some childhood fantasy is a lie. Like the tooth fairy is not real. “Oops.”

☆ Fast forward you’re tweens/teens/young adults

☆ Hyunjin was tolerable but still annoying, as expected of a big brother.

☆ One of his tics were hogging the bathroom for long periods of time.

☆ It got worse because he hit puberty and now he’s OBSESSED with his hair.

☆ You’re going to the bathroom to freshen up, it’s the morning, you have school and he intercepts you quickly and locks the door. “5 minutes y/n!” You bang on the door, “HYUNJIN GET OUT! I’M GONNA BE LATE!”

☆ You need to pee, he’s already in the bathroom. “HYUNJIN GET OUT I NEED TO PEE REALLY BAD! PLEASE!”

☆ He steals your charger. “What’s your percentage at Hyunjin?” “I can’t find my charger, but mine’s at 76%.” “WHAT THE HELL GIMME MY CHARGER MY PHONE’S AT 23%”

☆ You’re chilling in your room. He barges in without knocking.

☆ “Can’t you knock?” you sigh.

☆  “Which shirt should I wear?” You choose one. “Okay thanks.” he says and leaves without closing the door.

☆ “HYUNJIN CLOSE THE DOOR!”

☆ He barges in without knocking to tell you something. He leaves but not before grabbing something closest to him and throwing it at your face.

☆ And once again, he leaves without closing the door. “HYUNJIN CLOSE THE DAMN DOOR!” haven’t you ever heard of closing the damn door nOOO

☆ You’re sleeping. He sneaks into your room. Plays something really loud. You  fall off the bed. He bursts out laughing, clutching his stomach. “HYUNJIN I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!”

☆ He shakes a soda can. You walk in. “Hey y/n you want this?” You shrug, “Yeah sure.” You take it from him and open the can.

☆ PSSSSSHHHHH

☆ And you’re sprayed in sticky liquid, it’s up your nose and your eyes.

☆ You get him back of course. Spray some shaving cream on his face and his outstretched hand. Phone recording in hand. “Y/N!”

☆ You undo some of the stitches in his pants while he was in the shower.

☆ He went out wearing them. He bent over. 

☆ RRIIIIIIPPP

☆ The thing is he has no idea you’re the reason his pants are torn from his ass.

☆ Since fashion is subjective these days, you two share clothes but mostly you borrowing his.

☆ You sneakily use his perfume/deodorant stash. 

☆ He’s having cereal. “Can you pass me the box?” you politely ask. “Hm oh yeah sure.” he hands it to you after he finishes pouring then walks off.

☆ You tip the box and only a handful of cereal bits fall out.

☆ “Think fast!” *throws bottle* and you fail to catch it.

☆ You two take a lot of photos. You take good photos of him and he takes good photos of you. Neither of you half ass this. Photography is serious business.

☆ What’s annoying is that he takes photos with your phone and then tells you to send them to him afterwards.

☆ “Take photos with your OWN PHONE!”

☆ You two dance together at home. Your parents bought just dance for your birthday. And you two have dance battles together.

☆ You two made tiktok videos together.

☆ It’s mostly goofing off though. Hyunjin is always laughing his ass off. *cue HEHEHEHEHEHEHE*

☆ He had a habit of teasing you with embarrassing childhood stories. 

☆ “I remember when you were drinking out of the toilet.” he would burst out laughing.

☆ “Yeah well I remember when you nearly shit your pants because of getting your tooth pulled out.” you retorted.

☆ “Oh really?” he’d stand tall and menacing. You pulled a Naruto. “Y/N GET OVER HERE!”

☆ Despite the constant bickering and small *cough* pranks, he was still a reliable brother. 

☆ You knew he’d have your back no matter what and he knew you would do the same for him.

☆ He was always looking out for you even if that may not seem like it.

☆ There was never a dull moment in your house because of you two acting like cat and mouse. 

☆ He’d sometimes say comforting things when things got too hard for you, if he had nothing to say, his shoulder was free to cry on.

☆ But that’s something you’d never change. Yet.

[hphmmatthewluther]

Merula Snyde and the Butterscotch Bandit, Part 1

Merula Snyde and the Butterscotch Bandit

Thestrals don’t make noise. But Merula could feel the wind roaring through the creature’s dark skeletal figure as it flew over miles of forest. She looked up at the cloudless night sky, feeling the cold air rush through her hair. It was then that she felt someone whisper into her ear gently. She knew the voice’s owner well, but had never heard it this close to her.

“I told you she was nothing to be afraid of.” said Matthew Luther, “You’re doing well controlling her. I can tell she really likes you.”

Merula felt her cheeks go pink. “Shut up, Luther.” She turned around to scold him further, and was shocked to see his long hair was not its usual brown, but a dazzling bright white.

“You can call me Matt if you want.” he said, as Merula quickly turned away, not wanting to show him how red her face was.

“S-sure...M-Matt...” Merula muttered, letting out a laugh as the Thestral soared into the sky. The silence was suddenly broken by a rumbling behind them, as dark clouds covered the full blue moon and the stars around it.

“I suppose that’s that.” Matthew sighed, scowling at the clouds.

“Huh? Wh-what do you mean?” Merula asked.

“If you want to feel this free again, you must let go of your fear. Look what it did for me, and the one you’ll meet soon.”

“What does that mean?” she asked, eyeing the storm clouds.

Matthew just smiled. “I’ll see you around, Merula.” he said, before leaning forward and kissing her on the cheek. Before Merula could react, he had gone. There was a brilliant flash as lightning came down and-

“Gah!” Merula yelled suddenly, pushing herself upward. She was not, in fact, on the back of a Thestral with her rival. She was not flying through the starry sky. Instead, she was in the cold, dark Girl’s dormitory of Slytherin House. She scowled, as if angry at herself for coming up with a dream like that. Could she not even sleep without someone butting in? She sighed, before returning her head to her pillow. Tired as she was, she knew it was Saturday, and was planning to do a fat lot of nothing. Especially not about that dream. She would simply discard it...like the two or three others she had had about Matthew and the Thestral. A few hours later, however, she had to get up, and slowly pulled herself out of bed. Ismelda Murk was once again putting what seemed to Merula like a metric ton of eyeliner on.

“Morning.” Merula said nonchalantly as she came into the Common Room. There were a few other Slytherins moving around, too.

“I had a weird dream last night.” Ismelda said, causing Merula to gaze down at the floor. “There was a giant Sugar Quill and I had to eat it all or I would be...eaten by a giant plant.”

Merula blinked. “Oh.” she said, looking down at the floor. “Well, ah, let’s go have breakfast before Barnaby scoffs it all.”

“Wait a minute, Merula!”

Merula and Ismelda turned around to see Liz Tuttle with her finger raised.

“Oh, what is it, Lizard?” Merula asked, rolling her eyes.

“Andre Egwu wants to see you. Said it was something about the next Hogsmeade visit.”

Ismelda scowled, but Merula just sighed. “Ugh, fine. Not like I had much planned, anyway...”

After breakfast, Merula headed towards the Transfiguration classroom, where Liz had said Andre would be. As she headed towards the East Wing of the school, she ignored the glares she got from the various students around her path. They’d always stared, ever since Year One. Part of her said it was because they all knew she was the Most Powerful Witch at Hogwarts, but another, much smaller part of her knew otherwise. She was almost fifteen now. She knew full well that wasn’t why they stared at her before quickly evading eyesight. But any and all thoughts like that quickly vanished when she entered the Transfiguration classroom. For there, next to Andre, was none other than Matthew Luther, pushing a hand through his long, brown hair.

“What. Is he. Doing here?” she scowled.

“Merula...um...what are you doing here?” Matthew asked, looking at Andre, who sighed.

“I invited you both. Because I need both of you to help with something.” he declared. “You see, my cousin, Jules Egwu, is coming over to visit. She lives with her Mum and Dad, who travel all over the world as Magizoologists. I haven’t seen them in years.”

“Yes, yes, very nice, why do you need us?” Merula asked, gesturing to Matthew and herself.

“I’m, um, a little curious about that one too, Andre.” Matthew admitted. Andre simply smiled.

“Well, last time I saw her, Jules was a little...nervous. I figured since you’ve had experience coming out of your shell, Matthew, and you, Merula, sort of caused that, I figured that you two would be perfect to help this be a perfect Egwu Reunion!”

Matthew and Merula both digested this. “And we’d do this...why?” she asked, Matthew raising an eyebrow at her. “What? I’m not going to do a load of work on a Saturday for no good reason.”

“Well...” began Andre, “You would both become honorary Egwus for the day...and this little excursion will count towards our Care of Magical Creatures grade...or so Professors Flitwick and Kettleburn said.”

At this, Merula’s eyes widened. “...Alright, fine. But we don’t have to deal with any actual Magical Creatures, do we?”

“It would be a little redundant, considering Jules must have spent a lot of time around Magical Creatures.” Matthew admitted. Andre nodded, seemingly surprised at the two agreeing for once.

“Alright, we’ll just stick to Hogsmeade. Oh, this’ll be superb!” Andre declared, causing Merula to roll her eyes yet again, “We can show Jules Honeydukes, Zonko’s, the Three Broomsticks...”

***

Perhaps the fact that she didn’t feel like writing her essay on Bowtruckles was the reason why Merula, instead of going to Honeydukes with Ismelda or even Tulip, was now standing at Hogsmeade Station with Matthew and Andre, waiting for the train to arrive. Matthew turned to watch as she rubbed her arms.

“Are you alright? You look cold.” he said.

“I’m fine, Luther!” she snapped, looking away. “...The sooner we get to the Three Broomsticks the better. What about you?”

“Hmm?”

“You look exhausted.”

She wasn’t lying. Matthew had small bags under his eyes, and was having trouble keeping his eyes open. He smiled, as if only then digesting the question.

“I’m fine. Just didn’t get much sleep...um, but thanks for asking.”

Suddenly, the sound of the Hogwarts Express filled the air as the great scarlet red train pulled into the platform. There was a hiss as the wheels came to a stop, followed by the sound of a door opening. Onto the platform stepped someone in a black leather jacket, purple t-shirt and orange-red skirt. They had an ear piercing and a silver necklace, as well as blue ruffles of feathers on their shoulders.

“If it isn’t my favourite cousin...” Jules said, smiling brightly, “Andre Egwu: Style Wizard!”

Merula raised an eyebrow. “This your cousin, Andre?” she asked, the information she’d been given clashing with what was in front of her.

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you.” said Matthew cheerfully, extending his hand. Jules shook it vigorously.

“You must be the Legendary Curse-Breaker himself, Matthew Luther!” Jules exclaimed, “Andre’s written all about you, of course.”

Merula tapped Andre on the shoulder. “Does this mean I don’t have to do anything?”

Andre shrugged. “I’ve never seen them like this.” he admitted, “has it really been that long?”

Just then, Jules turned to the other two after having almost shaken Matthew’s arm off. “Ah! And you must be Merula Snyde!” Merula’s eyes widened. “Egwu’s...talked about me?”

“Of course! He said you’re The Most Energetic Witch in Hogwarts!” they exclaimed.

Merula’s cheeks went ever-so-slightly pink. “Sure, I’ll take it. So, your parents are Magizoologists, are they?...”

Andre still hadn’t got the look of astonishment off of his face when they arrived at the Three Broomsticks a few minutes later, after Merula had pointed out Dominic Maestro’s Music shop to Jules and explained how useful it was. Matthew had managed to get over his own surprise, and was now part of the conversation too. Andre remembered he was meant to be the most extroverted person in the room, and leaned in at the table.

“You defeated a changeling?!” Jules was saying, their eyes wide.

“..Yeah, I guess we did.” Matthew said, noticing how odd it was to say it out loud.

“It was no match for us!” Merula was boasting, “It hadn’t connected with its wand, so nothing it did worked!”

“And I took their guitar.” Matthew said, smiling, “I’m getting pretty good at playing now.”

“Nice!” Jules said leaning back on their chair, “You two make a pretty good team, huh?”

Merula blinked. “Well-” she and Matthew began at once, before turning to look at each other. The sound of laughter rang out from behind them.

“I thought I heard your voices.” Madam Rosmerta said, moving towards them. “And who might this be?”

“My name’s Jules! Jules Egwu!” They said, placing their hand on their chest, “I’ve heard the Butterbeer is the best in the world!”

“Really? I ought to pay you for the advertising, Andre.” Rosmerta said, pulling out a notepad.

“Ah, Madam Rosmerta, you’re too kind.” He said,chuckling.

“Now then, Butterbeers all around?” she asked, smiling at the sea of nods before her. “Got it. Be back soon.” As she left, Matthew poked Merula on the shoulder. He pointed to the other side of the Three Broomsticks, where Barnaby and Ismelda were sitting on a table. Merula shrugged, and the two turned back to the Egwus.

“There are so many fascinating creatures out there, Andre!” Jules exclaimed, “They’re all so bright and colourful! There’s not one magical creature without colour!”

“Well...there are Thestrals,” Matthew reminded them. Merula nodded, smirking. Jules, however, didn’t look so happy.

“I’ve heard about Thestrals...don’t they bring bad luck?”

Merula laughed, “No, no, they really don’t!” Merula tried to ignore both the dream she had had and the way Matthew was looking at her with...pride? “I thought so too, but then Matthew and I took care of one, and...well, I’ve warmed up to them, what can I say?”

“I’ll take your word for it!” Jules said, nodding. Suddenly, Madam Rosmerta returned to them, empty-handed.

“I’m dreadfully sorry, my dears, but I’m afraid I can’t make any Butterbeer. All of our Butterscotch is gone!”

Merula’s eyes widened. “Oh no!” Andre said, sighing, “I’m sorry Jules, I know you really wanted to try it...”

“Aww, Andre...” said Jules, her smile gone. Matthew, meanwhile, was thinking.

“Who was out there when it was taken? Maybe there’s been more thefts in Hogsmeade, nobody just takes Butterscotch...”

Merula eyed him. “Luther...”

“Maybe I could ask around...i-if I go around all the shops looking for evidence, chances are I could-”

“Luther, stop!” Merula snapped. A few heads turned around briefly. “Look...you are very clearly not in the right frame of mind to be doing this.Look at you, you’ve been half asleep for the past week!”

Matthew blinked a couple of times. “Merula, I’ve had worse-”

“Not only are you currently working with both a Bowtruckle and a Chimera, but you are also searching for the next Cursed Vault and practicing for quidditch and you’ve been helping out the Weird Sisters and helping Bean with catching up work, you’ve overdone it! You have reached the tipping point, Matthew Luther, and are about to fall onto the other side!”

Matthew was no longer half asleep. “But...the butterscotch...”

“I know. Which is why you’re not solving this mystery...” she declared, pausing for effect, “I am!”

Andre did a physical double take. “You’re going to solve this?”

Jules was just grinning. “Ooh, this’ll be fun! I get to help solve one of those mysteries you always write about, Andre!”

“Well, whoever solves it, I’ll be grateful.” Madam Rosmerta says. “Matthew here mentioned other stores...I heard one of Bilton’s shipments had gone missing. Maybe the two might be linked.”

Merula brought her hands together. “Right. We’ll head over there now. Luther, you can be my...assistant.”

Matthew raised an eyebrow. “I thought I was ‘overdoing it’?”

“Oh, you won’t be doing anything,” said Merula, pulling out a notepad, “I just want you to watch how a professional solves a mystery.”

***

“Alright! It’s Merula o’clock, baby!”

Merula pushed open the door to Zonko’s, causing Jae Kim to almost jump out of his skin while browsing the Nose-Biting range. Matthew, Andre and Jules followed after her.

“One difference I’m noticing...” Andre whispered, “You’re a little quieter with your mystery-solving, Matthew.”

“Tell me about it.” Matthew muttered, “Still, she seems to be having fun.” Almost as once, Bilton Bilmes came over to the group.

“Ah! Welcome Miss Snyde! And I see you’ve brought friends!” he boomed, pulling on his suspenders.

“Hello, Mr Bilmes. I, Merula Snyde, am solving a mystery.” she declared. “I heard that a shipment of your stock had been stolen.”

“You heard right, then!” Bilton laughed, “Are you here to, ah, solve the mystery?”

“Indeed. Come on, my assistants, we’ve got a crime scene to investigate!”

Matthew couldn’t help but smile as he watched her start to scan the room.

[silvermystification]

Betting on Christmas

Idk why I like posting my fics here instead of other sites, but I do. Got a Persona 5 fanfiction coming your way. Christmas addition because why not? Here’s the point where I say the obligatory I do not own any of these characters. This is just my portrayal.

Anyways~

Word Count:  2,472

Pairings: Pegoryu, Hint to HaruMako

Author’s note: My version of Akira is an Enby (He/They pronouns). Also this is Christmas fluff. There’s nothing sad about this story. All the fluff you can ever ask for. 

Akira stared at the ceiling for just a bit longer, sighing at himself before promptly getting out of bed. Shivering as the cold air hit his arms, well it was December after all. Looking around for something warm to put on when he spotted the purple of Ryuji’s sweater peaking from under the bed.

 He bit his bottom lip, as he thought to himself, would it really be okay if he wore it? He picked it up off the floor shaking the dust off. When another burst of cold air hit his skin. Screw it, he was cold.

 It was musty from sitting on the floor for over a month, yet somehow the faint smell of Ryuji still lingered. Akira would be lying to himself if he said he did not miss his best friend. Or were they more then that, he still did not know.

Akira shook his head of the thoughts and trotted down the stairs, “Well innit my favourite enby.” Came a voice from the table to the right.

A quick gasp of surprise escaped his lips, Ryuji was not due back for another week. “Here to ambush me again I see.” Akira gained his composure quickly.

“No stop.” Ryuji said through a smile, he could not be annoyed for long.

Standing up Ryuji hooked his arms over his friend’s shoulders, embracing him into a hug. “My sweater?” He asked, breaking from the hug and tugging at the bottom; The distance between the two, remaining short.

“You’re just noticing this.” Akira chimed, blush seeping its way to his cheeks.  He knew he shouldn’t have put the sweater on.

Flustered, Ryuji let go of the sweater, only to rub his hand on the back of his neck. “Um. Yeah.” He mused, clearing his throat.

“Yeah um. Yeah. I’ve been thinking and um.” Ryuji started to ramble, looking everywhere in the room but at Akira.

Akira furrowed his eyebrows, wondering to himself what this was all about. He had known Ryuji for a long time, and it is not a common sight to see him this nervous. But he knew better then to interrupt him, he would get to the point soon.

“Did you want to go out?” Ryuji blurted, his eyes wide.

Akira’s heart jumped to his throat, pounding hard. “Like to train? The gym might be open.” He had to be sure.

A strained chuckle came out of Ryuji. “No. Not like that. Don’t do this to me.” Akira had to be wearing his sweater. That made this so much harder.

“Like you have a crush on me, and you want to see where it goes?” If Ryuji had the strength to put himself out there, then so did he. Only someone like Ryuji could motivate him like this, but that didn’t make his heart stop from feeling like it could explode any second.

“Yeah! How’d you know?”

“Because that is how I feel too.”

“For real?!” Ryuji’s eyes shone bright with his question. He couldn’t believe it, he was so excited.

Akira could not hold in his excitement and wrapped his arms around Ryuji’s waist and pulled him close. Ryuji followed suit, sneaking his hands past the zipper so they laid underneath the sweater. Akira nuzzled his face into Ryuji’s shoulder, nothing could have made him happier to have his feelings reciprocated.

The two held their embrace for some time before separating. “Come on.” Ryuji placed his hand into Akira’s. “I have a plan.” He added, pulling him towards the door to LeBlanc.

Just then Futaba came walking through the door, the ring of the door announcing her presence. “You’re back early.” Futaba commented, her line of sight finding its way to their hands. “It’s about time. You two have been pinning for each other for forever. Nothing like a slow burn but come on.”

Akira glanced over to Ryuji; he knew that panicked look anywhere. But now he could do something about it. He gave Ryuji’s hand a squeeze. Ryuji made eye contact with Akira, but he still looked stressed. “Tell Sojiro I won’t be able to help in the shop today.”

“Sure thing love birds.” Futaba teased, as she let them pass.

____________

The hood of Ruyji’s sweater covered Akira’s head as he headed his way back into the Café. Ryuji pressed his forehead against Akira’s, humming softly. “I had a good time.”

“When did you get all mushy?” Akira smirked.

“Aw, come on, you can’t tell me you don’t wanna say this stuff too.” Ryuji immediately went on the defense.

“Fine. But don’t miss your train.” He mused.

“Ah Shit.” Ryuji pulled himself away from their embrace, already running towards the train station. Halfway down the block, Ryuji turned and yelled, “I’ll text you.” Before disappearing.

As if on cue, the moment Akira sat on his bed he received a text from Ryuji.

R: I can’t believe I have a boyfriend now.

R: Wait

R: Is it okay that I call you that?

R: What would it be instead of boyfriend?

A: What makes you think the date went that well?

R: You have got to be kidding me

R: What?!

A: I’m joking with you. You sure are adorable when you’re flustered.

R: I…

R: I honestly don’t know what to say to that.

A: Can I be Bae? I’ll be satisfied with the replacement.

R: I can’t believe I didn’t think of that sooner.

R: Bae it is. 

In the morning Akira didn’t even want to mess with dealing with the masses downstairs. He simply threw up the hood and snuck right out the front door. As planned the night before he met his boyfriend at the gym.

As expected, Akira made it to the gym before Ryuji did, so to not waste time he jumped onto a treadmill. Giving him plenty of time to think to himself. They both adjusted to this so quickly, was it really that easy?

“So, I was thinking we should do something for Christmas.” Ryuji jumped onto the treadmill next to Akira.

“We already are. Or did you forget the Phantom Thieves party?”

“I… Can you stop making me feel like an idiot?”

“The party is on Christmas Eve. We can celebrate alone Christmas Day.”

“I..” Ryuji stepped on the sides of the treadmill, watching the belt run on its own before looking over to Akira. “I don’t know what I would do without you to keep me calm man.”

Akira stopped his treadmill and reached over to Ryuji and rested his hand on top of his. Looking into his boyfriend’s eyes suddenly made him feel nervous. “Yeah.” Was all he managed to say, chickening out on what he was planning. It was too soon to say things like that. Just getting used to calling him a boyfriend in his head was enough for now.

“How is that fair.” Ryuji pulled his hands away, turning off his treadmill and jumping off. “Giving me chills like that.” He glanced at Akira’s lips for a moment, before shaking his head, the thoughts rattling away. “Come spot me.” He wrapped his hand gently around Akira’s wrist and gave his arm a tug.

 _______________

The next Eight days the two boys spent every day together. One day was a training day the next day was more of a date. Going back and forth each day. Ryuji finding more and more reasons to stare at Akira’s lips, but not doing anything about it. Akira not being able to shake the sweet words that touched his tongue but never made it past his lips.

The night came and Ryuji made his way to the train station. Yet the moment Akira made his way to his room he already pulled out his phone.

A: [ . . . ]

A: [ . . . ]

A: [ . . . ]

A: I miss you.

He finally typed. Send. His fingers were harder to control then his mouth. His chest felt tight as he waited for a response. He was probably getting on the train.

Or not.

R: Can you let me in.

R: I missed my train.

A: OMW

_________________

What was this weight on him? Oh. As Akira opened his eyes, he remembered the night before. Him and Ryuji talked until they fell asleep. Suddenly aware of his heartbeat as his boyfriend’s head laid on his chest. Calling him boyfriend was starting to feel a bit more right the more he looked at Ryuji so relaxed. A smile spread across his face as he rested back into his bed. Closing his eyes to the subtle snoring sounds coming from Ryuji. This was nice.

“Urrgg.” Ryuji groaned as he started to wake up. “Wher’ m’ I?” Looking more confused as he opened his eyes.

“The ultimate ambush.” Akira smirked, reaching over and ruffling Ryuji’s hair.

“Stop.” Ryuji pushed Akira’s hand away, “Is that how you treat your boyfriend?” he mumbled, still trying to find his full strength.

Akira gasped softly. He said it out loud. “This one, yes.” He mused.

There it was again, Ryuji’s eyesight flickering for just a moment. And again, Akira decided to ignore it. This time.

“Ah Crap.” Ryuji shouted, his limbs scrambling in order to get out of the bed. “I have…” Grabbing all of his things. “plans.” He finished his sentence out of breath.

“I’ll see you next week.” Akira said, handing Ryuji’s sweater back to him. “It’s cold, you’re going to need it.”

“Thanks bae.” Ryuji mused, the two brushing hands one last time.

 _______________

CHRISTMAS EVE

Haru and Makoto showed up first. Makoto brushed her hair behind her ear the moment they entered LeBlanc, as if hiding something. The two girls exchanged glances before placing their contribution onto one of the tables.

Ann appeared just as Akira made his way down the stairs.

“Oh hey.” Akira smiled at the crew that already arrived. “Who are we waiting for?”

And just then in came Yusuke and Ryuji came walking in through the door. Akira had to drag his gaze away from Ryuji to keep himself from staring. But it was hard, he was absolutely glowing.

“Hey man.” Ryuji approached Akira and gave him a hug, but considering their crowd he may have lingered a bit too long.

“What’s up losers?” Futaba entered the room.

The two boys broke their embrace, Ryuji rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.

“Futaba!” Yusuke gasped. “I daresay, that was a bit rude.”

“Whatever Inari.” Futaba sneered.

Before a fight could break out the bell on the door rung one last time, Yoshizawa entering. “Sorry I’m late.” She mused.

“Dude, there’s nothing to be sorry about.” Ryuji chimed.

The Christmas party of the Phantom Thieves began after that. It didn’t take long for laughter to fill the air. The group talking, eating, even playing some Tycoon. Catching up again was what the group of friends needed. Occasionally Haru or Futaba would bother Morgana with some petting.  Haru and Makoto stealing glances just as much as Ryuji and Akira were. Nobody seemed to say anything about it until.

“Alright suckers, pay up.” Futaba said to the group.

“What really we won?” Makoto exclaimed.

“I would require proof before I pay up.” Yusuke looked over to Akira and Ryuji, who have been talking to each other in the corner. Sitting so close that if Ryuji leaned back slightly his shoulder would touch Akira’s.

“Look at them, is that not proof?” Futaba pointed to the two.

“No. I would have to agree with Yusuke.” Yoshizawa piped up.

Morgana hopped onto the table in front of the two. “Are you even paying attention?”

“What do you want cat?!” Ryuji growled.

Without thinking Akira reached over and grabbed Ryuji’s hand, giving it a squeeze. Ryuji looked over to Akira and sighed. “You’re right bae, we shouldn’t fight on Christmas.”

“Bae?!” Yoshizawa exclaimed.

“Is that even Ryuji?!” Yusuke shouted.

“He he he.” Futaba snickered.

“WHAAAAT?!” Went Ann.

“We got them guys.” Makoto said.

“Why don’t you just let these two be.” Haru chimed, but her voice was washed out by the rest of the shouting.

“What are you guys even on about?” Ryuji gritted his teeth, glaring at all his friends.

“I think they want to know if you’re my boyfriend.” Akira pointed out calmly, having now figured out what they were talking about.

“Of course I am!” Ryuji snapped in the moment, before he realized what he said. Looking at Akira with wide eyes. “Wait I… That’s not how I wanted this to go.”

“Their turn to ambush us.” Akira teased, only loud enough for Ryuji to hear.

Ryuji laughed. “Stop. You’re cute.”

“Gasp. I’m cute?” Akira feigned surprise.

The crew ignored the couple for a moment as they passed around money. Makoto, Morgana, Futaba giddy with excitement. Haru sighed, she didn’t see the point in betting on their friends. The rest groaned as their pockets were emptied.

The group of friends went to normal after that. They continued to laugh and eat and enjoy each other’s company. And one by one they all left so to not miss the last train out to their individual homes. Even Ryuji saying his goodbye. For they will meet up again tomorrow. Akira started to clean up the café in order to pass the time.

“Wait you’re gay?” Sojiro asked, leaning over the counter.

“Heh.” Akira chuckled, now is when he decided to ask? “And you’re surprised?”

“I guess not. You got me there.” Sojiro headed for the door. “As long as you’re happy kid. Don’t forget to lock up.”

________________

CHRISTMAS DAY

Nothing huge really happened. Ryuji came over, they exchanged gifts. And the couple talked and cuddled. It was a really quiet day. If anything, it was relaxing.

“When are you going back?” Akira asked.

Ryuji looked up from his phone, “Three days, why?”

“I’m going to miss you.” Akira cooed.

“Oh. Um. Well, you have me now.” Ryuji struggled to know what to say. He sat down on the bed next to Akira. Moments later his eyeline flickered once more.

Akira was sick of ignoring it. Leaning forward and cupping Ryuji’s face in his hand. “Once a phantom thief always a phantom thief.” Akira said, shaking his head without breaking eye contact with his boyfriend.

Ryuji scrunched his face in confusion, “What do ya mean?”

Akira stopped second guessing and pressed forward, his lips meeting the other’s. Ryuji gasped, yet he did not pull away. Eventually his clumsy ways smoothed out as he returned the kiss.

Pulling back softly the boys pressed their foreheads against each other, in a moment of pure bliss. “You can steal my heart any day.” Akira finally answered. Not afraid to speak his mind any longer.

Ryuji chuckled as it was his turn to take the leap, placing a new kiss onto Akira’s lips.

[a-solitary-marshmallow]

Rewind Chapter 4 - Fiddleford to the Rescue

Stan started when there was a sharp knocking at the front door. He hadn’t thought anyone was coming – but evidently Ford had known, because he jumped up to let them in. The person who stepped inside was a twig of a man, carrying a duffel bag in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. The guy looked pretty tired – sorta like those people who sometimes slept under the jetty with bloodshot eyes and cans scattered around them. But this man didn’t reek of beer and cigarettes. Blue eyes darted around behind thick glasses before landing on Stan and softening.

“Ah. This is your brother, I ‘spect?” The stranger spoke with a thick accent. Stan hadn’t heard an accent like his before.

“Yes. Thank you for coming.” Ford was a flurry of motion, darting here and there and packing things in a big shoulder bag. “I need to go, I have to get this barrier up as soon as possible. I should be back by this evening. There’s food in the fridge, I’m not sure what bills I’ve paid recently so there may or may not be hot water, and Stanley, behave!”

With that Ford disappeared, the front door slamming behind him. Stan froze, voice squeaking in a totally cool and manly way.

“Wait – Ford? Where are you-”

Yeah, he was already gone. Leaving Stan alone with this strange man. Stan stood self-consciously in the middle of the lounge, hyper aware of those eyes on him. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled.

The stranger broke the silence first, kneeling down to be at eye-level with Stan. “You must be Stanley. I guess Ford forgot ta introduce us. Wouldn’t be the first thing ‘e forgot.” The guy smiled a slightly crooked smile and held out one hand. “I’m Fiddleford, an old… friend of ya brother’s. I’m here to look after ya for a while. Is that okay?”

“…I guess so.” Stan stepped forward hesitantly to shake the man’s hand. Despite its thinness his hand was rough and calloused, worn with work. His smile was infectious and Stan found himself mirroring it. “You can call me Stan. Everyone does.”

“Well then, you can call me Fidds.” Fiddleford’s bright eyes combed over him for a moment before the man started riffling through his duffel bag. “Now, I got some old clothes of my son’s that I figure will fit better than that shirt. You wanna give it a shot?”

Stan nodded eagerly. “Yeah! Who’s your son? Is he coming too?”

“No, Tate’s in California right now.” The man lifted a couple items of clothing. “Alright, let’s take a looksee at what we got.”

 Stanford’s little brother was cute as a button. Well, twin brother apparently, not that that made much of a difference right now. The boy was all gap-toothed grins and twinkling eyes and curious questions. Fiddleford let him choose some clothes he liked – a pirate shirt and a pair of faded yellow shorts – and helped the little kid get dressed. Stan chatted excitedly the whole time.

“S’weird! I just woke up here yesterday and Ford was all old. He’s grumpier now too. So if this is the future how do we know you? When do I meet you? We probably haven’t met yet while I’m this age right? No, I think I’d remember seein’ you even if you were a kid like me! You got a mem-or-ab-le nose. Kinda like mine!” Stan poked his own pink nose to demonstrate. “’Cept mine and Ford’s are wide and yours is long. Does your son have the same nose?”

Fiddleford laughed and slipped the shirt over the squirming boy’s head. There were so many questions, he figured he’d try and answer them in order.

“Ford is grumpy now, isn’t he? And I’m a friend of Ford’s from college. This is the first time we’ve met at all, so you wouldn’t know me even as an adult with all yer memories. And Tate does have my nose, unfortunately.”

Stan blinked up at him owlishly. Fiddleford smoothed down his ruffled cowlick. “So… you know Ford but not me? Why doesn’t future-me know you?” Then Stan shook his head with a smile. “You said college, right? I bet that’s why! Pa says I’m too stupid for college. But o’course Ford got in. He’s real smart, ya know!” The kid finished proudly. Fiddleford hesitated.

“Your father says…” Stanford hadn’t spoken much of his family. Fiddleford was starting to see why. The idea of a man telling his son – his son who couldn’t be any older then twelve – that he was stupid filled his chest with fire.

Fiddleford tried to stamp out the anger before Stan could see it on his face. No sense in scaring the child. Instead he changed the subject, carefully poking at one of Stan’s hands.

“So, ya got hands like ya brother’s?”

“Oh, no, I just got the borin’ five fingers.” Stan waggled his fingers to demonstrate.

“Really?” Well that was interesting. “But yer practically identical otherwise! Well, I guess it makes sense that yer not totally the same, seein’ as you don’t have the same eyesight anyway.”

“Oh, we do.” Stan chirped, leaving Fiddleford flabbergasted.

“But ya don’t have glasses!”

“Oh yeah, I don’t need em ‘cause I’m not smart.” Stan’s smile faltered for a moment before recovering. “Pa says glasses are expensive and Ford needs his, so I don’t. Hey, you got glasses too! You must be smart.”

Fiddleford once again tried very hard to not let his anger show. He must not have done a very good job, because Stan shrank back.

“Er – I’m sorry?”

Darn it, and he’d been trying to get the little tyke to trust him! Fiddleford forced an apologetic smile on his face.

“You got nothin’ to apologize for. I was just thinkin’ I’d like to have a word with yer brother when he gets back.”

Stan still looked dubious, so Fiddleford tried another strategy.

“You know, I reckon Ford’s gotta have a spare set of glasses lying around. Do you wanna look for ‘em, borrow ‘em for a while? The prescription should be close enough. I got some old books a’ Tates you might like and it’ll be easier if you can see ‘em.”

Stan twisted his hands together. “I dunno. Ford got pretty mad when I messed with his stuff before.”

“He’ll be fine. Besides, I’m just as adult as him. I think I can make decisions without that worrywart around.”

Just as Fiddleford had thought he would, Stan laughed. “Yeah, he is a worrywart! An’ Ford’s let me borrow his glasses before when we were switchin’ clothes to play a prank on Crampelter. So he can’t get mad now!”

The kid seemed to have immediately forgotten about his upset. That made Fiddleford’s smile come a little easier, a little warmer.

“Well, now that that’s settled, how about we go look for those glasses? And we’ll see if you like any a’ these books. Ya feel like learnin’ about isopods?”

“I have no idea what that is!” Stan whooped.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

 _______________________________________________________________

It was nice, Fiddleford reflected, having a child around. He hadn’t interacted with kids since he’d last seen Tate. How long ago had that been…?

Fiddleford made sandwiches for lunch, and they ate while flipping through picture books. Stan especially liked the one with krill and whale sharks. Then the kid had started telling delightful stories about old ships and adventures on Glass Shard Beach, and who was Fiddleford to interrupt?

By evening Stan had worn himself out, and Fiddleford made him a cup of hot chocolate while he decided what to fix for dinner. Of course Ford had little in the way of food. There was some frozen and tinned stuff, but little in the way of healthy foods. Stanford was terrible at taking care of himself.

Fiddleford glanced out of the window at the ever-darkening sky. Sure, he was still hopping mad at Stanford, but… he couldn’t help but worry. Not when the man had been gone all day in the snow. And when his adorable little brother was getting antsy.

“Fidds, when’s Ford gettin’ back?” Stan whined, right on time. “You said he’d be back soon.”

Fiddleford busied himself with looking in the fridge. There were some assorted vegetables lying around, wrinkled with age but not rotten – he could make fritters. Satisfied, he started gathering the ingredients.

“He’ll get here when he gets here.” Fiddleford rooted around until he found a grater. Stan sulked into his hot chocolate. He certainly had Stanford’s stubbornness! Fiddleford wondered if it was a family trait.

As if on cue, there was a commotion outside the front door. Fiddleford tensed. It swung open, and thankfully a familiar figure trudged inside.

“Ford!” Stan squealed in delight. He scrambled from the kitchen table to throw himself at his brother’s legs. Ford, looking snow-flecked and rather frazzled, patted his head absently.

“Yes, yes, hello Stanley. Fiddleford.”

Fiddleford rolled his eyes and continued making the fritters. Trust Stanford to make a dramatic entrance. Still, he eyed the man as he took off his snow-covered coat and boots. Stanford looked… rough. Not physically, but exhaustion was etched into every line on his face.

Fiddleford tutted and poured the man a coffee. Ford blinked as it was pushed into his hand.

“Oh – thank you, Fiddleford.”

“Didja meet the unicorn?” Stan pulled on his brother’s shirt, his own tiredness evidently forgotten in his excitement. Ford sighed.

“Yes, though she still stubbornly refuses to give me any of her hair. I did manage to obtain the rest of the ingredients though, so as soon as I get the hair I’ll be able to ward the house.”

Unicorn hair? Fiddleford was confused for all of two seconds before he shrugged it off. With Stanford, everything was a surprise. You just learned to roll with it.

And now that Ford was here…

“Stan, wouldja do me a favour?” Fiddleford asked gently. Stan nodded. “There should be a blanket up in the closet upstairs, all red and gold with snowflakes printed on it. It’s my favourite one. Could you go get it for me?”

“Sure.” Stan chirped, darting out of the room. Ford made a sound of confusion.

“I don’t remember that blanket.”

“’Course ya don’t, I made it up as an excuse to get Stan out of the room.” Fiddleford put down the grater and turned to meet Ford’s wary gaze from across the kitchen bench.

“…okay.” Ford said. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Stanford.” Fiddleford fixed him with a serious look. “Yer little brother’s a good kid.”

Ford sighed. “Twin brother. We’re twenty-seven.”

“Well right now he’s just seven. And you’d better not mess ‘im up. I’m watchin’ you.” He added with narrowed eyes.

Ford laughed nervously. “Honestly, what do you take me for?”

“A scientist who’s obsessed with his work and has no idea how to care for a child, ‘specially not a child who’s been abused.”

Ford’s eyes widened. “Abused? I can assure you that Stanley hasn’t been abused.”

“I beg to differ!” Fiddleford said sharply. Ford had the audacity to look insulted. “With what the kid’s been tellin’ me, there’s no way he hasn’t been abused. For god’s sake, he doesn’t have glasses when he needs ‘em! And ‘e flinches when I so much as raise my voice – or my hand, for that matter. E’s got bruises all over, too. What am I supposed to think?”

“Stanley… he refuses to wear his glasses.” Ford said weakly. Fiddleford snorted.

“He’s been usin’ yer spare ones all day. Says ‘e likes bein’ able to see for once. In fact, he basically said yer father refused to buy ‘im glasses after his old pair got broken!”

“He’s been wearing my-?”

“Of course you didn’t notice. Have ya even laid eyes on the kid?”

“Of course I have.”

“So you did notice him wearin’ your spare glasses? No wonder ‘e thinks he’s stupid, he can’t read the words on a page two inches from his nose!”

Ford looked devastated. Right now, Fiddleford didn’t care. “But… no, that’s not right. Stanley always told me he hated wearing them.”

“Even besides that, what about the bruises?” Fiddleford challenged. “The kid’s covered in ‘em. And I’m givin’ you the benefit of the doubt here, because I don’t believe you’re the one who’s been roughin’ him up.”

“I – I-”

“So you’ll forgive me for bein’ a little concerned here! What kinda father would I be if I just sat back and ignored this? Yer brother’s been abused, plain and simple.”

Ford floundered. Fiddleford sighed, a little of his anger evaporating.

“Well... I suppose if ya are really twins, ya probably wouldn’t have had a hand in it. An’ I don’t know the full story. But I do know this.” He leveled a finger at Ford’s face. “That kid trusts ya, more than he probably should. An’ we’re gonna have words if you hurt him, or put him in danger, or do anything that’ll cause him harm. The boy’s suffered enough, I’ll not stand around and let it happen again. Ya understand?”

“Yes.” Stanford said quietly. “Yes, I do.”

“Good. Now that’s outta the way, I gotta ask; why on earth didja not tell me about him before? We went to visit Shermie and his kids during that Christmas break a while back an’ no one mentioned another brother.”

Stanford flushed. “It’s… a family matter.”

Fiddleford leveled a cold stare at him. After a moment Ford sighed and averted his gaze.

“When we were teenagers Stanley sabotaged my one chance at getting into my dream college. He says it was an accident, but… anyway our father kicked him out and I haven’t heard from him since.”

Fiddleford held up a hand. “Hang on. Are my ears decievin’ me? You’re telling me your brother, who got booted outta his own home as a teenager, hasn’t been mistreated? My friend, you’ve got issues.”

Ford opened his mouth to argue, but he was cut off by Stan’s return. Fiddleford turned his attention to the sheepish boy who was currently wringing his hands and wincing at the doorway. “Um, sorry Fidds. I couldn’t find it.”

“That’s alright, I musta left it somewhere else. Now, didja wanna help me with makin’ dinner?”

Stan perked up at Fiddleford’s breezy tone, as if surprised he wasn’t in trouble. “Jeez! Can I?”

“Well sure, why wouldn’t you?” Fiddleford flashed the boy a smile. Stan beamed in return and scrambled to join him in the kitchen.

“Pa says cookin’s for ladies and we shouldn’t do it.”

“Well, your Pa seems to be wrong about a lotta things. Now, you know how ta use a grater? I’ll show you.”

Fiddleford could feel Ford’s gaze searing into his forehead. He flicked his attention up from Stan and cooking, just for a moment, to catch the conflicted stare. Ford looked away when their eyes met and cleared his throat.

“I’ll just – um – put these ingredients away for later.”

“You do that.” Fiddleford agreed coolly.

Stanford walked away, more subdued than usual. The sight of his slumped shoulders was enough to send a spark of guilt through Fiddleford’s chest. He knew he was being too hard on the guy – especially with how wrecked Ford was looking – but his blood boiled for this gap-toothed child with his cute curls and nervous laughs.

Fiddleford couldn’t comprehend the idea of kicking out his son. The idea was as foreign to him as the idea that they should all put sticks of butter under their hats and walk on their hands instead of their feet. Tate was his son – his boy, his child. Fiddleford was sure that there was nothing Tate could do that would made Fiddleford throw him out. The idea of Stanley and Stanford’s father kicking out a helpless teen? No matter what mess that teen had gotten himself into, it shouldn’t have happened. He felt a fierce protectiveness rise up in him.

No, and it most certainly wouldn’t happen again. No kid was getting kicked out on his watch. Nor hurt, even unintentionally by an oblivious scientist of a brother. Fiddleford would make sure of it.

He made sure both the Pines boys were fed before packing up his things with the promise of returning tomorrow. Stanley hugged his legs with a surprisingly strong grip – Fiddleford crouched down to return the hug properly.

“I had a real good time today. We’ll have to do this again some time, huh? Now, you got my phone number? Good. Call me if you need anything. Especially if that brother of yours gets into any trouble, okay?”

“Yes sir!” Stan saluted enthusiastically. Fiddleford laughed and ruffled his hair before glancing up to meet Stanford’s eyes. Ford was hovering in the doorway, seemingly unsure of whether to join them.

Fiddleford took pity on him and offered his old friend a smile. “I’ll see ya later, Stanford. Take care of ya brother.”

Ford smiled back nervously. And maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.

 _______________________________________________________________

Stanford couldn’t smother the huge yawns that bubbled out of him. Curse this sleep deprivation! It made everything harder than it had to be. His sentences kept being interrupted by his own body’s involuntary reflexes.

Stanley followed him like a baby duck – a rather apt description, actually – while Ford bustled around the house. Ford sighed in annoyance when he very nearly tripped over his brother yet again, upon doubling back to retrieve a piece of equipment he’d forgotten.

“Stanley, shouldn’t you be in bed?”

Stan glanced away and rubbed his arm. “Well, I guess. But every time I go to sleep I get these weird dreams. I dunno, I was kinda hoping I could hang out with you?”

Dreams – dammit, Ford had forgotten to warn his brother! He dropped down to be at eye-level with Stan, who blinked at the sudden movement.

“Uh, what-?”

“You’re having odd dreams, correct?” Stan nodded so Ford continued. “Rest assured, they won’t be able to harm you, so long as you never make a deal. If you come across anything triangular or yellow while in a dream you must not talk to it. It will talk to you and try to be your friend. Don’t trust anyone with yellow eyes, even if – no, especially if that person is me. Don’t talk to it and never shake its hand. Do you understand?”

“Um, yeah, but why? This is all soundin’ like Ma’s predictions.” Stan perked up. “Can you tell the future too? Does that mean I can as well?”

Ford sighed. “No, I can’t tell the future.”

“…can you make the weird dreams go away?” Stan questioned hesitantly.

“Yes, when I manage to get that unicorn hair – though I fear it may be a hopeless endeavor.” The weight of the day’s events – how could he ever hope to be pure of heart with all the wrong he had done? – sat heavily on his shoulders. Ford lifted a hand to rub at his forehead. “Go to bed, Stanley, and remember what I said about people with yellow eyes.”

“Yeah, yeah, never make a deal, I get it.” Stan paused, eyes flickering to the journal resting in Ford’s pocket and lighting up. “Can you tell me some more stories from your book before bed? Yesterday we got to the hidey-thing!”

“I don’t have time to read you stories, I have important work to do.”

Stan pouted. He looked up at Ford with those big brown eyes that were bigger than usual. It was then that Ford noticed the glasses – yes, Fiddleford had mentioned them, hadn’t he? Stan was wearing Ford’s spare glasses and they threatened to slip down his nose at every movement, far too big for him. They also had the added benefit of making him look very, very cute.

“How about I lend you my journal?” Ford relented. “You can read it by yourself before you go to sleep. I can tell you other stories later.”

Stan hesitated. “…yeah? I can borrow it?”

“So long as you don’t damage it, you may.” Ford dropped the book in his brother’s hands and turned to gather up an armful of equipment. “Go along now.”

Stanley scurried off to read, and Ford descended into the basement where his work waited.

When he emerged at seven thirty the next morning, Stan was gone.

[brokenkingdom-forgottenempire]

Safe With Me (McReigns)

One night Roman got jumped by a group of strangers.

Long ass fic ... 

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It was past midnight. Roman just got off his night shift as a barista. The café closed quite late that night, and they still had to do some extra cleaning inside the shop. The café would be closed for three days for the holidays so they did not mind spending extra time cleaning the floor and other utensils.. 

Roman sent a text to his boyfriend earlier to inform him. Drew tended to get worried whenever Roman arrived home late with no message. The café was owned by his friend, Seth, and Roman was more than happy to work there. Those two were best friends since high schools. Unlike Roman, Seth was married to Jon. Now, the three of them were more like family than friends. The café was busier earlier, people coming in and out to get their drinks, desserts and pastries. Seth handling the cashier, Roman and Becky were busy with the drinks, Sasha and Bianca baking and preparing the cakes and breads, Baron would served them. 

They all made a great team, and Seth would always tell his friends by the end of the day that this café would be nothing without them. Business had been great so they would have extra tips every night. Tonight was no different. The moment the gate was pulled down and locked, six of them were ready to go home, Roman observed as Sasha’s wife, Bayley, waited outside the shop, Becky’s girlfriend, Charlotte, was leaning against her car that she parked across the street, chatting with Bianca’s husband, Montez. Baron lived a block away from the café so he would walk home alone. The taller man was always so quiet around new people but he would rant to Roman and Becky about his boyfriend, Tyler once in a while. 

Roman smiled and bid Baron good night as the quiet man walked away and waved back at him. Jon was helping Seth loading some of the things he needed to bring back home at the backseat of their car. “Are you sure you don’t want to send you home, Ro? I mean, we’re heading to the same direction, we can just drop you off in front of the block?” Seth asked. He quietly hoped Roman would agree, but the Samoan just shook his head. 

“I’ll be fine, Seth. Go home and rest, I’ll text you or Jon once I reach home,” Roman chuckled as Seth pouted but the younger man gave in. Seth knew it was useless to argue with his best friend, especially after midnight and Roman probably wanted to take a walk alone to clear his mind after a long day at the café. 

Seth and Jon hugged the bigger man before leaving, “Don’t talk to strangers, Roman. Call us if you need anything. I have my baseball bat with me in the trunk so they better don’t mess with my favourite man,” Jon hugged him tighter and Roman just gladly hugged back just as tight as he whispered ‘thank you’ to the other man. The couple then drove off, and Roman walked home alone. He had his phone in hand. The wind was colder tonight it sent shiver down Roman’s spine. The Samoan tugged his jacket closer to his body to shield himself from the winter night breeze. 

After walking about 10 minutes, Roman was a block away from his and Drew’s shared house. He checked his phone to see if Drew sent him anything. It was almost 12:30am. Before, Roman could make a turn to his place, a voice stopped him.

“Hey, sexy. Need us to accompany you tonight?” A male voice. Roman turned to look over his shoulder and saw a group of five men standing not far away from him. Judging from the bottles they were holding, Roman guessed none of them were actually sober. The Samoan did not say anything in reply and continued to walk away. He had his hair up in a bun as usual but sure they had mistaken him as a woman...with a built physique. Roman was taller and way muscular than them. ‘Drunk ass can’t tell gender apart,’ Roman thought to himself. 

Roman tried to ignore the group but suddenly a hand grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked him back. He yelped in surprise, and before he could defend himself felt a fist made a contact with his jaw. He could taste the metallic taste of blood on his tongue now. ‘Oh God,’. 

The Samoan struggled and clawed at the man’s arm who still had his hand in his locks. Roman was never a pro fighter but he could still fight back. He drew his fist back before punching the man above him right at the middle, causing him to double over and loosen the grip on Roman’s hair. Of course, it was far from over. Before Roman could run away two of the men from the group grabbed him. Punches and kicks landed on his body. Roman fell on the ground, him arms shielding his head from getting a kick on the face. His knees tucked close to his chest to reduce the impact of the hit. 

“Strip him,” another male’s voice ordered. Roman froze in his position. What.

Roman did not manage to protect himself before two men held him down, a pair of hands unbuckled in belt, and another pair forcefully tugged his jeans down. 

“No! Let me go!” Roman trashed around, trying to break free but the two drunk men had a strong grip on his wrists, a knee pressed him down hard by the chest, and hands wrapped around his neck, restricting his air. Roman coughed out blood but he still struggled. He was getting raped. Oh God, he was going to die. Drew would be so devastated. Oh God, Drew.. “D-don’t touch me!” Roman’s wheezed out when he felt cold, sticky hands grabbed his naked thighs. The hands on his neck tightened and he felt dizzy. Drew. He needed to go back home to Drew. Black spots began to appear, his eyesight blurred out by tears. He was choking. No air. Roman’s eyes rolled back into his head. 

Then he heard a ‘thud’. Something fell? Then another one. Then another. The hands on his neck were gone and air rushed back into his lungs. Roman breathed in greedily but he ended up coughing from the pain on his chest. His body was too weak to sit up. What happened? Roman tiredly opened his eyes only to see Drew standing next to him, swinging a hockey stick at another attacker’s head. Roman whimpered as he watched the stranger fell down on the ground not moving. 

“Roman! Jesus, baby, you’re bleeding! Don’t move, I’ll call an ambulance,” Drew’s voice was filled with fear. Roman looked up at his boyfriend, the Scottish man fished out his phone from his pocket, ready to dial. The Samoan reached up and grabbed Drew’s arm, tugging at it for attention. “What is it, babe? Can you see me? Can you breathe? Say something, love. Oh God, I should’ve waited for you outside-” Drew was rambling. He never rambled. Drew only did that when he was in a panic state. Roman persistently tugged the other man’s arm and Drew had to bend down closer. 

Drew did not get to ask before Roman pulled him down for a kiss. Drew held to hold himself back, he did not want to hurt his boyfriend further when he tasted blood on his own tongue. Drew was the first to pull back. Roman, with blood trickling down the corner of his mouth, smiled tiredly at him. “You came.” was all Roman could say after a while.

“Of course I came, you idiot!” Drew huffed out. His boyfriend was out of it. They probably hit him in the head, and now Roman was completely out of it. “Enough talking, you’re bleeding! We need to go to the hospital now. I’ll carry you,” Drew was ready to lift his 260 pounds boyfriend but Roman shook his head. 

“No. Don’t want hospital. I want you. I’m cold. My jeans-” 

“I pulled your jeans up earlier when you almost passed out. You’re cold because you’re lying on wet sidewalks. We’re going to the hospital,” Drew scooped him up easily but the sudden movement caused Roman to whimper in pain, his leg hurt. Did they break his leg too? His chest hurt. Despite all the pain he was feeling on his body, Roman would rather stay inside their bedroom, warm and safe, than to spend the night on hospital bed. 

“Baby, please, I don’t wanna go,” Roman slurred out his words. He was too tired. He hated the hospital. He just wanted to cuddle up with Drew, warm in their bed. He almost got raped He almost died out here. He just wanted Drew. 

The Scottish man sighed heavily before leaning in to kiss Roman on his forehead. “Ro, we need to get your head check. They hit you, your head is bleeding, they strangled you too, “Drew’s eyes unconsciously darted down to Roman’s neck. Red trace of the attacker’s fingers and some bruises were starting to get more visible on the Samoan’s bronze skin. The sight made Drew want to just crack the asshole’s skull with his hockey stick. “I just need to know that you’re okay, Please, let’s just go-” A loud police siren cut Drew’s pleading off. Roman shut his eyes tight when he heard it. It was too loud for him. The Samoan just curled further in Drew’s hold as if it would help to reduce his headache. When did Drew call them? 

“Are you two alright?” Sheamus’s voice. Their neighbour. Drew’s officemate too. “I called the cops when I saw Drew started swinging. The medic should be here soon too. Are you okay, Roman?” The Irish man asked. Roman nodded weakly and gave his best (bloody) smile. 

“I’m alright-”

“No, you’re NOT alright. Shut up,” Drew cut Roman off before he turned to look at their neighbour. “God, thank you so much, Shea. I didn’t know what would ‘ve happened if I didn’t come out to look for him. They almost-”

“But they didn’t. Roman is safe now, the cops are here. You saved him,” Sheamus gently patted the Scottish man’s shoulder, comforting his worried friend. Drew’s eyes were teary as he held Roman tighter in his hold. Using all the strength he had left in him, Roman wrapped his arms around his Scottish boyfriend, burying his head in Drew’s chest. He could hear Drew’s heart thumping against his ribcage, unsteady and fast. Roman just nosed Drew’s clothed chest, inhaling his boyfriend’s fresh-out-shower body gel helped to calm him down. He was safe. He was with Drew. Drew was here holding him. 

The ambulance arrived minutes after the cops did. Sheamus and a couple of officers had to restrain Drew from attacking the assholes who hurt Roman. The Scottish yelled something about they were lucky he did not crack their skulls open for touching his boyfriend. All five of the attackers were handcuffed and jammed at the back of the police van. 

Drew had reluctantly left Roman to the healthcare workers. They were patching the Samoan up, checking for any broken bones or internal damages. Fortunately, they found none. Roman had sprained his knee when he fell earlier. There was an open wound near his hairline. Black and blue patches began to appear around Roman’s neck but it was nothing serious. The wound did not need stitching. No concussion. The medic did advise him to go to the hospital for further checkups but Roman turned it down. No broken bones, no internal bleeding, he was fine. 

The Samoan was thankful when they told him the blood that he spat out earlier was from the cut inside his mouth when one of the assholes punched him in the face. There was still a throb of pain around his chest area whenever he inhaled too deep, he would end up coughing, but of the health worker ensured him his ribcage was alright. Roman lifted his head up when he saw an officer approaching him. He calmly answered the questions regarding the incident and if they did anything else to him. Roman just shook his head and turned to look at where his boyfriend was standing with Sheamus, also being interrogated by another police officer. 

Roman told everything from when he left the café, walked down the streets and met the group. How they attacked him, what he felt when he was losing consciousness. Roman did not realize when Drew got to him but he surprisingly did not flinch away when the Scottish man reached out and intertwined his fingers with Roman’s, holding him tight when Roman paused his story. The police officer was patience enough to let Roman had small breaks in between too. 

Once the Samoan had done telling his side of the story, the officer told the couple that they would handle everything else from now. The medic just told Roman to rest more and to report if there were any rising concerns especially his head and chest. The couple thanked the workers and before they could go, a familiar voice broke the peaceful silence of the night time.

“Where are those sonofabitch?! I’m going to f*cking murder them!” Jon yelled put, baseball bat in hand, ready to swing it at anyone at all. Some of the officers from earlier rushed to surround him. “Don’t touch me! Where’s Roman?!” Jon charged front to stand face-to-face against one of the officers who told his men to hold fire. 

“Jon! Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Please excuse my husband, he’s just worried-” Seth tried to pull Jon away from the cops. Some of them had guns in their hands, waiting for orders. Seth apologized over and over again before turning to calm his husband down. “Babe, please. Don’t do this. I don’t want anything to happen to you too,” Seth’s hand moved to stroke Jon’s face. The man with the baseball bat huffed and tucked his weapon away, arms crossing over his chest. 

“Seth! Jon!” The two men turned their heads when they heard Roman’s voice. Seth did not seem to bother when the officers tried to stop him as he ran to hug his best friend. 

“Jesus, Ro! What happened?! Drew called Jon earlier and told us you were attacked? Oh God, look at you! I should’ve forced you inside the car-”

“Seth, I’m fine. Breathe. Calm down. I didn’t mean to scare both of you. I’m okay now. Drew beat them up with the hockey stick.” Roman did not push Seth away and just tightened his hug when he felt Seth crying on his shoulder. The Samoan shushed the younger man, his head throbbed in pain but he ensured Seth that he was alright. 

“Next time, we’re not taking a ‘no’ from you, Ro. We’re driving you home or we’ll drag you home.” Jon’s voice made Roman turn his head. He did not realize Jon was standing so close to him at the side. Roman reached out and pulled Jon into a group hug. His strong arms wrapped around the couple as he tried to calm his still racing heart caused by the incident. 

“I’m sorry.” Was all Roman could say. 

Seth slapped his chest lightly at Roman’s apology. “Don’t apologize, you big goof! I’m just so glad you’re okay!” Seth’s eyes were still glassy, tears still leaked at the corners. Roman nodded in reply before pecking both of their foreheads. It had become his habit now. Even Drew knew about it. Speaking of Drew, the Scot just silently approached the trio, Sheamus was still with him, telling Drew how to make their area safer for all of them. 

Once the police officers and medics left, Drew and Roman invited them into their home for some drinks, and Roman just could not stop apologizing to his two best friends and their neighbour, Sheamus for causing all the trouble. Sheamus shook his head and patted Roman’s back, telling the Samoan that anyone would do the same if they saw their neighbour being attacked like that. Seth was still clinging onto Roman’s arm, and Jon had to convince Seth that they would visit Drew and Roman again tomorrow, and Roman needed to rest. That did it for Seth as the younger man slowly loosened his grip on Roman’s arm. 

Seth went to hug Roman and Drew once last time before they left. Jon did the same and thanked Drew for telling them because they both knew Roman would keep it to himself for the rest of his life with the excuse that he did not want to worry the couple. Sheamus bid everyone good night (or morning) and went back inside. 

Roman watched as Jon’s car drove away before he let Drew guide him back into their home. Drew’s arm wrapped protectively around his boyfriend’s waist. Once they were safely inside their bedroom, Drew wasted no time as he dragged Roman to lay down on top of him on their king sized bed. Roman did not protest and just wrapped his arms around Drew, holding onto him like an anchor. God, he almost got raped and died in the attack. 

“I love you,” Drew whispered.

“I love you too, baby. Thank you. I love you so much,” Roman moved up a little to kiss Drew full on the lips, deep and long. All the fear from earlier vanished, knowing that he was safe in here, with his favourite man. 

“I’m walking you home next time. Or Seth and Jon can drive you home. If I ever find out that you walk home alone again, I’m tying you to this bed. Screw your job at the café. Do you hear me?” Drew’s warm breath washed over Roman’s face. The older man just nodded silently. 

“Make love to me?” Roman asked suggestively before he moved to straddle Drew. The Scot just stared at his boyfriend as the Samoan spat on his hand to stretch his own hole. “Make me forget about them?” Drew did not need to be told twice. He stroked his dick as he watched Roman stretched himself open. Two fingers in, Roman began writhing in pleasure, causing him to moan shamelessly. The Samoan moved his hips up and down, riding his own fingers as he fixed his eyes at Drew’s blue ones, lust was evident in both of them. Roman did not want to remember the cold hands gliding up his bare thighs as his jeans were yanked down. He wanted to forget the smell of smoke and liquor as they held him down on the hard concrete ground. He wanted to forget fingers that wrapped around his neck, suffocating him to almost unconsciousness. 

Drew grabbed a small bottle of lube he kept on the nightstand next to their bed, and squirted some directly on his dick, making sure he would not hurt Roman. Drew gripped at the base of his dick as Roman moved to hover his hole right above the head, aligning them before the older man slowly eased down the fat length. 

“That’s it, baby. Take it all,” Drew’s deep voice was almost too much for Roman. The Samoan continued to slide down his boyfriend dick, whimpering as he felt the meat went deeper within him. Drew knew Roman did not like to take it slow, he would usually tell Drew to just shove it in, but he would let Roman lead tonight. He was not sure if Roman was in the right headspace for some rough sex either. 

“Ahh fuck, babe!” Roman cried out as he had finally seated on Drew’s dick, balls deep. The Samoan began grinding his hips, hole muscles massaging Drew’s hot meat. Drew’s head fell back as he groaned in pleasure. He really wanted to slam his dick hard inside of Roman but the band aid on the older man’s temple was set like a reminder for Drew to go gentle unless it was Roman who wanted it. 

“You feel alright, Ro?” The Scot asked, gently pulling Roman down to give him a kiss. Roman smiled and nodded his head as returned the kiss. “Promise you’ll tell if you feel lightheaded.” Drew planted a kiss on Roman’s forehead.

“I promise. Please fuck me hard, Daddy. I need it. Please.” The older man slowly lifted his hips and brought it down again on the thick length, grunting loudly as he felt the head went deeper and deeper every time he moved. 

“Get on your back, baby. We need to put less pressure on your knee.” Drew ordered, and Roman moved without arguing. He needed this. He needed Drew. The younger man grabbed both of Roman’s legs and spread them apart as he settled in between. Drew did not waste anymore time as he slid in almost smoothly, causing Roman to arch his back. Drew leaned in, capturing Roman’s lips with his, swallowing muffled moans as he began bucking his hips. 

Drew pulled his cock almost all the way out before he slammed it back into the Roman’s twitching hole. Their bedroom was filled with the sound of skin slapping skin. Roman’s long, ink black hair splayed on the white pillows. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the bedsheet tightly, almost ripping the fabric off. 

“Fuck, Drew! You’re so- ah - deep! So fucking deep. So good.” the man below panted, eyes rolling back when Drew hit his spot. 

“Fuck yes, baby. I want you to feel me. And only me.” Drew’s mouth trailed down on Roman’s back thigh, kissing the exposed skin and biting it. “I want your body to remember how my dick feels like. No one else can touch you. Only me. I’ll break them in half if they dare to even think about touching you. You’re mine, baby boy.” He moved to plant more kisses on Roman chest and down to his navel. The older man gasped when Drew teasingly bit the skin around his belly button. 

“Yes, Daddy, yes! Harder please!,” Roman’s voice cracked, feeling his prostate being assaulted over and over again by Drew’s hot rod. “Please, I’m about to come. Harder, baby.” His hands reached up to hold onto Drew’s biceps when Drew sped up and ram into his boyfriend harder. Roman’s breath hitched at the pleasure. His mouth fell open in a silent scream. 

“Come for me, Roman,” Drew’s voice was enough to bring Roman to the edge. He came without touching his dick. Ropes of cum spurted out every time Drew slammed in, and it landed on Roman’s stomach and chest. That was one intense orgasm for Roman, his body was sensitive all over. However, Drew had not come yet. He gently hooked Roman’s legs on his shoulders, big hands spreading the fat cheeks more before he began thrusting in again. “Ooh fuuucckkkk. Slow, babe, please. You’re getting too deep.” Roman’s whispered plead was it for Drew. The Scots continued to fuck harder and deeper, milking more pleads and cries of mercy from his older boyfriend.

After several thrusts, Drew came inside Roman, painting the walls inside white. Roman whimpered as he tried to milk Drew’s spent cock more with his oversensitive ass muscles. 

Before pulling out, Drew leaned in to kiss Roman once again, stopping few times to tell Roman ‘you’re safe here, baby’, and ‘I love you’. Roman just hid his face at the crook of Drew’s neck, he breathed in the Scottish man’s scent and he knew no one was going to hurt him. Drew was there with him. Drew would protect him. 

Drew dragged Roman to their bathroom, helping the older man to take a quick shower. Once they were done, Drew pulled Roman back down into their bed, tucking the older man’s head under his chin. Roman’s arms came to wrap around Drew’s waist while Drew’s big arms pulled Roman closer to his chest. They fell asleep like that... in each other’s arms. 

[marshmallowprotection]

Ok, I think I'm ready to give it a try! I saw that matchups were open, so I'd like to request a romantic matchup! I absolutely adore your writing and the way you analyse every detail - you're a huge inspiration to me in terms of writing.

So, I'm a russian bisexual cis girl. I don't think appearance matters much, but I'll write down the basics just for fun! I'm quite short(5'2) in comparison with most of my peers, considering, that I'm 23. I'll be lying if I said that it doesn't bother me, since all my life people were making fun of my height and weight. I was always very short, thin and pale due to bad upbringing. I'm learning to love my body, but it still bothers me from time to time. I have very long deep brown hair (down to my waist) and green eyes. I'm actually quite proud of my hair! It was always my dream to have long hair, but my mom would cut it short each time. She still makes comments about my hair, and that it's 'gross', even though I take very good care of it. I've also been wearing glasses for my whole life, since I was born prematurely and my eyesight is just HORRENDOUS. But it doesn't bother me at all, since I've been living like this my whole life.

Okay... I think that's enough for appearance! As you probably guessed, my familiy's really not the best one out there. And that's putting it lightly. I don't talk about it much now, since I don't live with them anymore and I got over my trauma, but... My childhood was VERY rough. Sadly, it really affected what kind of person I am now, so I'll go over the basics. My mom was extremely abusive: verbally and physically. My dad was always busy at work and she threatened me not to tell him anything, so... I never told about it to anyone. I never cried, since she would get angry at me for 'looking scared'. I used to be proud of that, but now I know how much it was ruining me. Long story short... My dad found out, they divorced and he and took me away. I suppose, that's a happy ending, but I was already 12 at that moment and the damage already has been done. I have some trust issues, although I've gotten WAY better, and I'm still working on myself. Still, it's hard for me to open up, since I'm always expecting the worst and I don't want to be hurt again. There's also some triggers that I have to avoid in my everyday life, but I've learned to deal with them in my own way. Still, they're there, and sometimes they can get the better of me.

My tragic backstory aside, I'd love to share some more positive details about myself! Currently, I'm studying psychology and working part-time at a bakery. I guess my experience with trauma taught me a lot, and so I decided that I want to help people the way, that I wished someone would help me then. Sure, I've managed to heal and move one by myself, but it didn't have to be that way. I want to help people and make them feel heard and understood. I love my work as well! I find something comforting in this kind of routine, but maybe it's just because I enjoy cooking so much. Yeah, cooking is one of my passions! As I mentioned before, I barely ate when I was a child, so now I'm trying to eat as many different things as I can! God, I especially love korean and japanese cuisines! And I'd love to cook for my partner every day. Or, maybe, we could cook together! Although, in terms of intimacy, it's hard for me to be open with someone. Not because I don't want to be close to my partner, but simply cause I have no idea what I'm doing. I was never even hugged as a child. This kind of affection is... foreign to me, even though I do crave it. I totally don't mind physical affection, but my partner would probably have to take the lead at first!

In terms of hobbies... I love writing. Although that's a very personal one, than I keep mostly to myself. Oh, I'm also a huge science nerd! I was one since childhood, haha. Instead of toys, I was always reading some kind of book. My favourites are probably biology and paleontology. I'd absolutely love to share with my partner many random facts about animals or other stuff! People always told me that it's boring and lame, so... It means the whole world to me if someone actually appreciates my interests. Oh, I'd love to watch some nature documentaries and add my own knowledge here and there! I'm also a huge animal lover. When I was a kid, finding a connection with animals was always way easier, then with other kids. Gosh, I used to spend the whole day with a bunch of chickens, haha. Everybody always told me that they're stupid, but I found that they are actually quite smart and caring animals! And it's not just chickens: I've had a tendency of 'taming' street animals, such as cats. Everybody hated them, and called them 'rabid', but... they were just scared. Sure, it always took some time to earn their trust, but I don't mind that at all. In fact, every single animal that I have today has been previously abused or abandoned. I guess... I have a personal connection to them in some way. Nobody wants an aggressive animal and nobody wants to give them a chance. It's not like they WANT to be this angry all the time. I also really want to own a parrot in the future! A cockatoo, to be exact. They are a very difficult bird to own and that's why I'm waiting for the moment, when I will be able to give it the care it needs. It has been my dream for a long time! Now, in terms of kids... I don't know if I'll ever have one, so that's important to consider. And even if I will, I totally don't want to go through pregnancy itself. I'll probably adopt. But... then again, I'm not sure if I ever will. I love kids, sure, but actually raising one... it's such hard work, and I'm not sure if I'll ever be ready for that responsibility. I'm fine with my animals, haha. But, I appreciate someone, who could take me out of my comfort zone from time to time. I have a tendency to chicken out due to my self-doubt, so a small dose of occasional tough love would be welcome. Oh, I'm also currently learning korean! I plan to study there after I finish my degree here, so that's something to think about, haha.

Music is also one of my passions! I'm ALWAYS wearing headphones, so that could probably be annoying, I guess lmao. I listen to pretty much everything: from musicals to pop. Although, I definitely prefer to have some meaning in songs I enjoy. In fact, I tend to overanalyze the stuff I enjoy to ridiculous extend: from music to characters in shows I watch. People often find that stupid, sadly.

My ideal date would be... something, that has a special meaning to us. It doesn't have to be something elaborate or loud. For example, going to the specific place in the park, where we first held hands or something. It sounds ridiculous and cheesy, but... I love to show people I care about just how much they mean to me. And that means finding deeper meaning in everything we do.

Okay, I think that's wayyy to long, but I'm done lmao

I'm very interested in reading your take on things!

I match you with...

Zen!

You've got a passion for what you love. It means a lot to you to lose yourself in the music and imagine all sorts of things. it just makes you feel good inside. Even if others don't understand that you're in a world of your own... it's everything to you. It makes you feel nice and being able to share that with others means that you trust them. And, despite what you've gone through, you've got a positive outlook on life ahead of you, you just want someone that understands your limits and your desires.

The reason why Zen stands out here is that you need someone who understands you. Your love of music is so much like his love of arts and the theatre. When you talk about what makes you happy, he just starts to smile and laugh. He's always wanted to hear someone who is as passionate as he is. He could listen to you for hours. He wants to watch the stars with you and talk about everything and anything at all.

He also empathizes with a parent hating at your looks. He wants you to know that you're lovely and beautiful, even if your parent told you otherwise. It's not true. You've always been lovely. He wants to make you feel special and seen. Think about all those selfies he wants to take with the two of you!

[youarejesting]

BTS365 Prompts.Week 41

[Full Masterlist] [Prompt Masterlist] [Tag yourself here]

Please tag me in your work if you use my prompts. I want to see your work. Ever your Jester. Tell me your birthday and I will tag you on your special day!

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           Oct 8st - 14th

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Kim Seokjin - curious

Jin never thought he would ever get dirty, that he would ever go somewhere so foreign to him. But here he was in the ridiculous yellow suit and hat provided to him by the staff and producers. The others looked cool in their outfits and colours and he just looked like a banana. The others teased him and he tried to force the redness from his face, neck and ears.

They started the safari, walking around when something dropped on his shoulder. Seokjin froze and the monkey crawled around his body sniffing and looking for the snacks Seokjin had in his pockets to feed said monkeys when they reached the enclosure.

“That’s our monkey George he loves the colour yellow, we named him after curious George” 

“That’s who you look like!” The boys all cheered, making Jin’s ears turn red once more.

Min Yoongi - party

Yoongi didn’t like parties, he didn’t like the volume, the capacity he didn’t like dressing up and dancing and yet he was always trying to please his friends and go to the parties anyway. Today he couldn’t take it, he thought about somewhere to hide and thought perhaps a room, but people would wonder why he is sitting around and he would have to awkwardly explain himself.

He could hide in a closet but people would most likely think the room is empty and then if they found him they would think he was waiting to peep on others. He looked around a room about to leave when he heard a giggle from out the window. Ducking his head out he didn’t see anyone but he heard another giggle this time from above. He turned his head up to see two feet dangling off the edge of the roof.

Climbing over the edge he saw you lying there looking at your phone and giggling. “Hey are you okay?”

“Yeah, just uh… escaping,” You smiled “I don’t like parties, too loud and awkward”

Jung Hoseok - old

“Harabeoji” A small voice shouted and footsteps patted across the front porch, where you and your husband were sitting softly on an outdoor bench swing. “Harabeoji look what I drew at school today?”

“What did you draw my son?”

“I drew our family, look mum dad and then there is you and Halmeoni?” You looked over at the picture and laughed.

“What are these lines?” Hoseok asked, pointing at the picture.

“Wrinkles because you are old?” Your grandson laughed

“It’s okay my love, you may be old. But I still love you?” You chuckled “We have been together for sixty years now, and you are still my hope”

Kim Namjoon - farmers

He knew nothing about farms but his grandfather gave one to him in his will, he could inherit all the money as long as he lasted one whole year living on the farm. He thought it would be easy. He was wrong. 

What started as a dream holiday became a nightmare in moments, no electricity, no hot water, no internet. But this little farm has something the city didn’t. It had you. 

Park Jimin - lace

The fans were going off thanking you, the head stylist for Jimin's latest outfit. You smiled, they thought you were doing it for them, the fans when really you also wanted to see them wear these things. But you couldn’t just start putting them in risky outfits all the time or they would suspect so you saved them for special occasions. 

You were planning the next outfit sketching it out and sighed the boys in crop tops and some in skirts. It was a fantasy come true. You knew you couldn’t, but you set about making the outfits anyway. 

A week later the boys were going to a gala and you grabbed the bags with their names on it and handed the items to them. Each one got changed and stepped out for you to help them with their suits before heading off to the hair makeup artists. 

“Ah Noona, I think you gave me the wrong outfit”

Jimin stepped out blushing, he was in a lace crop top and a skirt and you felt heat in your face. It was so hot Jimin shouted “Noona your bleeding”

Kim Taehyung - skeptic

Taehyung was your business partner, and the two of you were pretty famous on youtube. You were a ghost hunting duo called the ‘Spooky times’. Where the two of you would travel around the world to some of the most haunted locations and try to find evidence of ghosts and other paranormal creatures.

“Hey rollerghosters welcome back to another BOO-tiful location, today we are at the LaLaurie Mansion in New Orleans which is one of the most famous haunted locations. And we are going to find ourselves a ghost” Taehyung smiled into the camera and you laughed from the corner of the screen you were dressed especially cute today. 

Everyone within the fan base knew you were not afraid of anything, you would also encourage Taehyung when he found something. Talking up every whisper and creak that it could in fact be a ghost. Taehyung wasn’t scared either, finding everything rather amusing and wanting to speak to a spirit was his ultimate goal.

The cameraman Hoseok and the Sound guy Yoongi were two of the jumpiest in the group. The two crew members were fan favourites, Jhope was known for his extreme reactions, once or twice throwing the camera and running out of the building. Yoongi was rarely ever seen but often heard his slow drawl when he complained about having to take eight flights of stairs in an old hotel because someone had been complaining about walking in the attic. 

There were many compilations of the cast and crew on youtube . Some of your favorites include Yoongi, trying to fist fight ghosts and Hoseok’s collection of funny noises. Of course you and your co-star had your fair share, most were shipping videos but there were one or two of Taehyung being adorable, funny or sexy and some of you staring and talking to ghosts.

The fans believed you could see them, and they weren’t wrong. What they didn’t know was that you were a high ranked demon, old and powerful. As you stepped into haunted buildings you could see other ghosts and entities within and glared down any who got too close to your friends.

This had resulted in a few clips of you talking to nothing, but you just made the same excuse that you were documenting your surroundings and noting the architecture of the building. They would never know.

Jeon Jungkook - intergalactic

You were the only humans on the ship among a few species of aliens, well aliens from your perspective you assumed as to them you were the aliens. You were sitting next to an Alzothian named Daa, he was bigger and had more advanced optical nerves. All round the Alzothians had amazing eyesight, it had freaked you out at first as they could see, xray, infrared, ultraviolet light and more things that you hadn’t the science to comprehend.

“You are blue eart’ling, what ‘as caused you to feel the emotion you ‘oomans call sad” The deep voice spoke the vocal cords and lung capacity of the Alzothian were minimal. It meant the H sound was tiresome so they skipped it when they could, preferring to speak further back in their throats to prevent the unnecessary exhaling.

“I am just feeling lonely,” You sighed, “I get like this sometimes, when I miss human contact, do not worry”

“You are not alone, I am ‘ere” Daa gestured to himself and you gave a short laugh. “And your eart’ling friend mister goo as you call ‘im, is on the ship to, I will call your ‘ooman companion”

“Hey, what is going on?” Jungkook appeared with another Alzothian; this one was Crolyt who was learning about human anatomy and biology and the bodies limits.

“The female Eart’ling is feeling the emotion sad and needs ‘ooman contact.” Daa spoke

“Do you need a hug?” Jungkook asked you and you blushed but nodded wrapping your hands around his waist and pressing your face against his chest. Jungkook hugged back his arms around your shoulders gently rubbing your back.

“Success you are no longer blue” Daa smiled

“Daa we should leave from what I ‘ave gathered this seems to be the beginnings of their mating ritual” Your cheeks went bright red and when you looked up you saw Jungkook’s ears also crimson kissed by embarrasment.

[scaryshortstories]

The House

The old, battered house on the corner of Upland Drive and West Street, at the edge of the village I grew up in, always had a grim fascination for the children in the neighbourhood. There were all kinds of playground rumours about the nature of its occupants, from a family of cannibals who plucked unsuspecting victims from the street after midnight, to a lonely old man who had a crazed look about him and who could be seen peering from the upstairs windows on occasion, terrifying passers by with his unblinking stare.

Of course, the temptation to terrify your peers was too much to resist, and so my friends and I would, on occasion, be forced, on fear of humiliation, to sneak up to the front door, ring the doorbell, and stand on the front doorstep for as long as we dared before running off. I think the longest I managed was about 10 seconds before the indescribable noises growing louder from within the house became too terrifying to bear.

Another story that was passed around by the youth (and some of the parents, who frankly should have known better) was that poor Tom Brand, a timid child only a year younger than I was, who had died of some rare incurable childhood disease, was actually snatched by whomever occupied the creepy old building and was never seen again. Nobody really gave any credence to this theory, but it certainly added a frisson to the dares and challenges that occupied so many of the locals in the days before you could scare the shit out of your mates with a YouTube video.

Many years later, for reasons which aren't important now, I found myself back in the village, which was now more of a town, and while the creepy house was still there, and still seemingly occupied, it was no longer on the edge, and was overlooked by an estate that had appeared on what used to be fields on the other side of the road. The building had a charm about it that was accentuated by its condition - maintenance work had clearly been carried out throughout the years, so there were boards nailed over gaps in the tile roof to maintain a semblance of weather proofing, and broken window panes had chipboard stapled to the frame from within. There were still plenty of weeds in the garden, and no real lawn to speak of, yet it wasn't totally out of control.

I decided I would photograph the building, out of a combination of curiosity and nostalgia. I suspected many of my friends from the time we all lived here would be grimly fascinated to see how little it had changed in the intervening years. I took my phone out of my pocket and grabbed a quick eye level snapshot. Looking at the photo, I noticed a face in one of the upper windows. I'm not the sort of person who believes in ghost stories, so I looked up and, sure enough, there was someone watching me from upstairs. He looked like a frail old man, with wispy grey hair, watery eyes and thin lips, but there was a keen sense of intellect behind his face. He didn't look the least bit creepy; quite the opposite in fact, and gestured to me to wait where I was before disappearing back inside.

A few moments later the front door opened, and he appeared, grinning. 'Nick, isn't it?' he asked. "I remember you well - always out photographing things that nobody else noticed. I can just about forgive you for those doorbell pranks; I was young too once, hard as it is to believe, looking at me now." He waved his walking stick to emphasise the point. "You've hardly changed a bit!"

It was a while before I recognised him. "Mr... Anderson?" I offered.

He grinned. "Yes! Well remembered! Seems I haven't changed that much either!"

Mr Anderson had worked at the primary school I went to. He wasn't a caretaker as such, but he was quite handy with tools so would often help out with maintenance work where needed. From what I understood he volunteered his time for free - it gave him something to do in his retirement, and saved the school some money through not having to hire contractors to do the work. Looking at his house, and the state it was in, I was surprised to find that its occupant was someone who really ought to have been able to take more care of it.

He must have read my face and guessed what I was thinking. "I know, I know, I really should take more pride, right? But I have my reasons... hey, why don't I put on the kettle, and I can tell you what's been happening since you and your family left?"

I checked the time on my phone, hesitated for a few seconds, then thought, what the hell? Opportunities like this don't present themselves every day, and the chance to get to the bottom of all those unsavoury rumours and put them to bed was hard to turn down. I nodded, and walked in.

He showed me to an armchair in his front room. The interior of the house was pretty much what I expected from the outside - it was showing its age, but functional, with the minimum effort expended on every piece of repair work. Peeling wallpaper had been ignored, but socket in the wall had a screw missing but had been gaffer-taped in place. A hole in the wall where the light switch used to be had been covered by a piece of cardboard, and there was no bulb in the bare light fitting, suggesting that this room was not used much, if at all. The chair I was sat in had a distinct smell of age, and several holes in the upholstery had been darned up, but it served its function and was surprisingly comfortable.

I could hear the noises of Mr Anderson preparing drinks from the kitchen at the back of the house. "Tea or coffee?" he shouted back. I chose tea; I'd usually prefer coffee but didn't want to gamble on his choice of instant.

After a while he came back through with two cups, a pot of tea and a plate of Custard Creams. He poured the tea and placed the biscuits on a table in front of me - "Help yourself," he said, "I know they were your favourite!" When he saw the question on my face, he grinned and added: "Oh they were everyone's favourite back then!" That was a fair comment, so I helped myself to a couple. They were a bit soft, and had an odd metallic aftertaste, that I put down to age.

The tea was good, as was the conversation. Mr Anderson (it turned out his first name was Jens; he was Swedish by birth but had lived in England for as long as he could remember) told me all about the pranks he had had to endure back when we lived in the village. Doorbell ringing in the middle of the night, groups of children standing outside his house then screaming dramatically and running off when he went to the window to look. He would often receive unpleasant packages through the letterbox, and I started to feel a bit sorry for him. He had done a lot of good work for the school, and how had the children repaid him? When I mentioned this to him he was philosophical: “oh, you were just kids, and you needed to have your fun. If it wasn’t me it would have been someone else, and I’d rather it were someone who could handle it.”

I asked him how come his house was so unkempt when he was so good with his hands. He stared at me and I worried I’d overstepped the mark. Then he laughed, “Ha! I’d ask the same question! You see, the thing is…” 

I blinked hard, more than once. My head was starting to spin, and his voice was beginning to sound distant. He didn’t seem to notice my discomfort and carried on talking, gesticulating around the room as he spoke. Eventually I lost all the strength from my muscles, the teacup fell from my hand and my head started to drop. As my eyes began to close, I was aware of Mr Anderson looking at me intently, before standing up and walking towards me. Then the night descended.

I woke from a dreamless sleep. Moonlight was streaming in through a hole in the wooden board that was stapled over the window. I was lying down in what seemed like a bed, but with no pillow, so my head was tilted down against the mattress at an awkward angle, but it wasn’t painful like it should have been. I had no awareness of my body, and couldn't detect the position of my arms or legs. In my peripheral vision I could see a blanket that seemed to be covering me up to my neck,

I couldn’t move, and all I could see in front of me was the silhouette of what looked like a child’s head, no more than a few inches away from my face. The hair was patchy, backlit by the moon, but the face was hidden by the darkness. I closed my eyes again and fell back into unconsciousness.

I woke again a few hours later - I knew this because the moonlight had moved across the wall slightly. It must have been striking a mirror as it was reflecting onto the face of the figure opposite me. I couldn’t see much, but immediately I recognised the features of Tom Brand, the boy who had been taken from us so cruelly young. His face hadn’t aged at all. Were the stories true? I remembered his funeral - did they have an empty casket? Questions started to buzz around my head like flies around a corpse.

The thing that looked like Tom opened its eyes and I would have cried out but was silenced by what else happened. My eyesight seemed to shift so that instead of just seeing what was in front of me, I had a fully three-dimensional awareness of the entire room. I wasn’t seeing from a single viewpoint, but was somehow seeing through both Tom’s eyes at the same time as my own. Fear rippled down my body; what was happening? How was this possible? Was I still dreaming?

The door opened and the light was switched on. Mr Anderson looked at me. “Now you can find out what I do that keeps me from my household chores!” he said cheerfully. He lifted the blanket covering both me and Tom from the bed. I didn't even have to move my head - our four eyes could take in the full horror of what was now lying on the bed.

My naked torso had been fused at the waist to Tom’s, which was covered in scars and wounds. Our four legs emerged at unnatural angles from below our hips. As Tom regained consciousness I became aware that I was sharing his thoughts and memories and could now remember, as though it had happened to me, the day Tom had been playing Doorbell Dare on his own and had waited just a few seconds too long on the doorstep. Mr Anderson had opened the door, yelled “you fucking kids!” and knocked Tom clean to the floor with a cricket bat. Memories of unspeakable experiments with the human anatomy blurred into each other as Tom’s brain had tried to block out the horror. And now he finally had some company. 

My mouth opened in a scream, but no sound came out. “Oh, no use trying to make any noise,’ said the old man. He held up something in his hand, a jar with some form of human body parts inside. “I’ve gone to the trouble of removing your vocal cords.”

Tom and I watched, with all our three dimensional awareness, as Mr Anderson placed the jar with my voice trapped inside it on a bookshelf alongside other jars of body parts. He walked over to the abomination that Tom and I had become, checked my pulse, flashed a torch into my eyes, nodded to himself, wrote in a notebook, then left, turning the light off and returning us to our eternal night. 

[edgewoodrp]

Congratulations, Kya! You have been accepted as your desired character, Spencer Hawthorne. Please be sure to complete the steps listed on the New Member checklist and send in your account within the next 24 hours.

Welcome to Edgewood. There’s no place like home.

OOC INFORMATION

Name (or alias): Kya

Age: 27

Pronouns: They/Them

Timezone: EEDT / GMT+3

CANON CHARACTER APPLICATION

Character: Spencer Hawthorne

Gender & Pronouns: he/him, sometimes they/them

Sexual Orientation: (Optional, if up to roleplayer)

WRITING SAMPLE

It was one of those things that always managed to calm him down, calm his mind. Beside Max and Dominic that is. Being in the garden, surrounded only by plants and trees, had a way of making him feel more centered, especially after using his powers to get away from crowds.

In earlier years he would find himself drawn more often to the estate’s gardens, sometimes not even by conscious decision. Spencer simply felt drawn there. Lately he didn’t feel the need to escape as much anymore, but he still maintained his regular visits.

It wasn’t like his father didn’t pay enough people to keep the gardens in order and Spencer knew to not mess with other people’s work. Some time later, after talking to the workers, he ended up with his own corner, out of the eyesight of his father. After all, he knew his father would only address it with critique, either at his capabilities or calling him silly for needing it.

More often than not, these days, he would go tend to his little corner without really needing to get away from people. Those times were also when he would end up conversing with one of the gardeners, depending on who was working that day. Helen was his favourite for tips on how to care for one of the plants when it showed to not do so well. She was around his parents’ age and obviously enjoyed gardening. Sometimes Spencer contemplated if he projected onto her, searching for affirmation for certain parts in his life, but more often than not he acknowledged it for what it really was: a friendship.

When it came to cooking suggestions and advice about which herbs to use, which vegetables were in season, Spencer would go to Joseph. He was a few years older than him, sometimes slightly brash, but Spencer enjoyed the few talks. They didn’t have much else in common beside that, having grown up in different worlds.

As it came to be, as it sometimes happened, that day his plan to check on his patch and maybe get some of the basil back home, it just grew much better outside than on their windowsill, had his mood quickly turn sour. When he turned the corner to head down the path deeper into the gardens, his father stood there with his phone in his hand. Before Spencer could step back and out of sight, James looked up and their eyes met.

“Spencer!” his father exclaimed, what Spencer called his ‘business smile’ firmly in place, a cold smile that never reached his eyes. “To what do I owe this rare pleasure?”

Spencer wasn’t about to correct him, after all he did everything to try and avoid him whenever visiting the gardens.

“Just came to check on the gardens,” Spencer replied, thigh-lipped.

“Don’t trust the gardeners?” He laughed once, sharply.

Spencer didn’t like lying, nor was he good at it. It was always easier to use half-truths than outright lies. “We ran out of basil, just a quick errand run for dinner.”

“Ah yes, you cook now,” James’ smile faded slightly, before steeling it back into place, “I could just have our cooks throw something together for you and your friends.” He was already half-turned by the time he finished speaking, as if to call out some order.

“No, thank you,” said Spencer hastily, he wanted to leave right there and then, but somehow feared his father might find out about his secret garden and he’d lose that small oasis. “I really ought to get going, dinner to cook and all that. Goodbye, father.”

“Don’t be a stranger!” his father called out after him, not even pointing out that he didn’t get what he came for.

Whatever good mood Spencer had before arriving at the estate was gone then and he just wanted to get home as fast as possible. See Dominic and Maxine. Be close to them. Get that awful feeling he always got around his father off his mind and just cook some dinner for the three of them. His lips started to spread into a soft smile as he thought of the two of them, as it often did, maybe his father didn’t ruin the day for him completely after all.

[t4t-lumpygrab]

Lemongrab 1 headcannons (long)

(I tried to group these around the theme of free time/hobbies)

🍋 After like… 3 days of not being in the candy kingdom after he was relocated to the earldom he was bored out of his mind and did all sorts of bonkers stuff to entertain himself. Like try to build a parachute out of old sheets and jump out of the highest window, or go surfing down the stairs on an ironing board. Does he seem like the sort of person who should be left unsupervised? No. It’s a wonder he didn’t die doing all the dumb things he got up to.

🍋 at some point Lemongrab probably built himself a playground in the empty courtyard in his castle so he could entertain himself and have fun but either lost interest half way through building it, or burnt all the things down one by one in anger after he hurt himself playing on them. Like he fell off the swing and decided the only way to make it pay for this humiliation is to blow it up, and accidentally Ka boomed everything else along with it.

🍋 Too Young showed that Lemongrab is far sighted and can’t read properly or see things clearly up close, so he didn’t read books at all and instead preferred to watch films. And if he did read books he’d have to use a magnifying glass as his reading glasses didn’t seem to help him much (he still squinted and leaned forwards).

🍋 His infallible recall meant that after he’d watched something he could recite it off by heart, so he would destroy any film copies he has, which is why his castle is empty. Libraries and dvd rentals hate him. He is banned from every single dvd rental in Ooo.

🍋 he probably went through a phase where he tried to make his own films but none of them were very good and he didn’t have the focus to finish anything. All of his works such as the Comedy film “man with phobia of food gets job at a restaurant” which is just Lemongrab wearing a chef hat standing in his kitchen screaming at different vegetables for 2 hours straight, are all lying somewhere in the attic. 

However it was a lot of fun for him and as he made lots of films he became pretty good at it. This is why he has the necessary equipment to make his propaganda in the Lemonhope arc, and why his propaganda is pretty good in terms of actually film quality. I mean we have a slow panning scenic shot at the beginning, flawlessly executed voice over, and fast cuts of the lemon people set against him talking as well as text overlay, fading shots, and background music. Fella clearly had film making talent if nothing else. 

🍋 When the lemon people were made he would force them to star in his films alongside his brother. 

🍋 On the subject of art, Lemongrab 1 also seems to be a pretty talented artist. I mean in one of the advtime comics Marceline organises a zine made up of comics drawn by the other characters and Lemongrab’s submission looks like this. 

And as you can tell from the shading and the composition and his colour choice, while he definitely has a bit of a way to go, he’s actually really good at drawing. So I imagine lemongrab 1 really liked drawing pictures though given his horrible eyesight he probably had to use a magnifying glass to correct his vision. 

I’d also like to add that Lemongrab 1 using sound effect symbols in the third panels implies that he knows what those mean, which he’d only know from reading comics. So he’s secretly a comic book fan.

And when you think about it his infallible recall would give him a huge visual library. If he can remember a map from just glancing at it then he can probably flawlessly copy it, and was therefore a really good realistic artist with a bit of practice.

🍋 One of the other hobbies he picked up was engineering and science, which he mainly attempted in the hope of making his mother proud of him. He designed the sliding doors and reconditioning chamber in his castle,and  also made the torture devices in his dungeon as well as various robots that do completely dumb and pointless things.

🍋 One of these was a soft cloth robot that was designed to be physically affectionate with him and act as a surrogate mother of sorts but couldn’t get it to fulfill his precise demands so he destroyed it in a hissy fit.

🍋 he generally got a lot of his engineering ideas from Pb’s experiments and inventions that he’d seen lying around her lab or seen blue prints of when he went over to spy on her. He’d copy her but put a lemon twist on her stuff.

For example, the pink lemonade lemon sea 

we see in the lemon sea comic was made using the same technology as the butterscotch lake Pb made for uncle gumbald. But with a bomb instead of a grenade.

🍋 Because he made the pink lemonade sea he was the one who made all the aquatic lemon creatures we see in that comic. He was really excited that his lemon sea would finally have an ecosystem he forgot he had only a vague idea of how fish work, so there’s penguins and lemon coral reefs in the same place and it’s all very inconsistent.

🍋 He also quite enjoyed gardening and growing trees. Mainly because lemons are the only food he can really eat properly, and also because trees... are fun. He was especially interested in tree sculptures (which is when you grow trees into certain shapes) which is what the tree in his throne is all about. 

The reason it looks like that is because it’s a sculpture in process- the finished thing would be a tree throne. It was, however, never finished as he cleared most of his projects out before Too Old. 

🍋 Lemongrab actually quite likes a lot of music, he just hates harps as he has upsetting memories associated with them as I’ve explained here.

Lemongrab's favourite types of music were genres that had "screaming" in them. So stuff like heavy metal, opera, yodelling. He had pretty eclectic tastes but punk music was his favourite because the defining mood of that genre is anger, which he can obviously get behind. 

Also Punk vocalists tend to not have conventionally nice sounding voices when they sing. Like screaming, snarling, and ranting more than singing are typical punk musician features. In other words, kind of like Lemongrab. So the first time lemongrab ever heard someone who sounded like him was listening to punk music, and I imagine it brought him a bit of comfort 

🍋 On the subject of music, as  he liked punk music he would’ve run into Marceline and the scream queens sooner or later. While he has mixed feelings about Marceline due to her being his mother’s ex girlfriend he really enjoyed a lot of her music 

Lemongrab’s favourite Marceline song was I’m just your problem as it’s as a song about dealing with not being enough for someone- that someone being Pb SPECIFICALLY. Lemongrab heard the line “I’m sorry I’m not made of sugar and I’m not sweet enough for you” and became a groupie on the spot. 

🍋 He even went as far as to write his own fan cover called “I’m just your problemon” which bore no resemblance to the original song beyond the title and was just Lemongrab yelled about his mummy issues for an hour with out of tune guitar in the background. There is still a very poorly made recording of it up in the attic. 

[anghraine]

“the jedi and the sith lord” - chapter seven

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Last chapter:

“But what would you call yourself, Miss Lucy?”

Kavashti, thought Lucy, though she’d almost never even heard the word, only the Basic equivalent.

Freeborn.

On Tatooine, or at least the part of Tatooine that she knew, freeborn didn’t mean just anyone free from birth. It referred to the ones who would have been born into slavery, if luck had not intervened—the children of freed slaves and of slave families. Among the people Lucy had known, it was as often an insult as not. But Beru said that kavashti was a term of honour and joy among the Alsarai.

This chapter:

“So Senator Amidala was … some unknown species?”

Tisix turned its head to stare at Tuvié.

“Nobody said I couldn’t tell her,” she said.

“Hmph. Well, all reports list Senator Amidala as fully human. The most likely explanation is that your other genetic contributor is the responsible party.”

chapters: The Adventures of Lucy Skywalker– prologue, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six, chapter seven, chapter eight, chapter nine, chapter ten; The Imperial Menace–chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six, chapter seven; The Jedi and the Sith Lord—chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six

-

Darth Vader knew the truth, even without the helpful prompting of the Force.

Jerjerrod was plotting against him. Probably Varti, too—they were friends from their Academy days and had always operated in tandem. But Varti could cover up his emotions; Jerjerrod exuded schemes. 

The Force did not, however, tell him the form that the schemes would take. Vader could stay on guard, but he always did that. Otherwise, he could see no way to prepare, except preemptive action. And Jerjerrod was a favourite of the Emperor. Vader could hardly just walk in and choke him or slide his head off, despite the temptation.

His jaw, one of the few parts of his body in good condition, tightened.

On top of that, Lucy had proven completely intractable. He had not seen the flaw in his plan to convert her to the Dark Side until too late.

He had no idea what to say to her.

Certainly, he’d tried to explain some part of the necessity to her, but he didn’t sound convincing even to himself. In retrospect, he’d recalled that it had taken Palpatine—sly, smooth-talking Palpatine—ten years to turn him. At her age, he’d have seen no more clearly than Lucy. But he knew perfectly well that, in this respect, he didn’t possess Palpatine’s abilities. And he didn’t have ten years. Palpatine would insist on her death long before then, even if (when) they crushed the Rebellion.

And Vader needed her strength to help defeat him and finally, finally bring true order to the galaxy. Anything else was intolerable. Yet he could see no way forward.

At least her eyesight was returning, however slowly; she didn’t need it, least of all with the Force as her ally, but he doubted she could accept that. And he’d felt her grasp at the Force. Not the Dark Side—she’d blazed like the suns—but at least she’d listened on that occasion. It was a step forward.

It had to be. 

Meanwhile, there was the matter of Padmé. He rarely thought of her in his conscious hours; he couldn’t afford to. Even in death, she was his vulnerability. But it was natural that Lucy would think of her.

For a fractional moment, he’d thought of telling her something—nothing that would expose his weakness, but something. The Larses hadn’t known her. Obi-Wan had, apparently, disclosed nothing; Lucy hadn’t even known that Padmé was her mother. 

Familiar fury stirred in him. Obi-Wan had filled her head with lies about the Jedi and the frail Light Side, placed Vader’s lightsaber in her hands, but couldn’t spare a word for Padmé?

Vader supposed Obi-Wan couldn’t have known how delighted Padmé had been with the pregnancy, how much she’d looked forward to Lucy, ignorant of the fact that her daughter would never know her. But he had called himself her friend. 

Of course, Vader knew how little Obi-Wan’s friendship was worth. Still, he’d been surprised. But perhaps he shouldn’t have been. A daughter should know something of her mother, but no doubt Obi-Wan considered that dangerous attachment, as the Jedi had thought of Shmi. Or maybe Padmé’s memory simply hadn’t suited the end he hoped to use her for.

It hardly suited Vader’s, either; he was honest enough with himself to know that Padmé would have been even more horrified at Lucy turning to the Dark Side than she’d been when Vader did it. But Padmé hadn’t understood. She was too blinded by the Republic and Obi-Wan’s lies—or duplicity, anyway. If she’d lived, she would have come to see the truth. They could have ruled the galaxy as a family.

Well, they would, even if it was only him and Lucy. They would overthrow the Emperor and cleanse his corruption and wasteful displays of power. They would rule as father and daughter.

They would.

-

Lucy didn’t encounter Vader for three days after she’d asked about her mother. It turned out that he’d left again on some Imperial business. Tuvié thought it had to do with some power struggle he was enmeshed in, but Lucy couldn’t help fearing it spelled some new disaster for the Rebellion. For all the dread and aggravation of his presence, it at least meant he was here and not up to trouble out there.

But she could hardly do anything about when and where he chose to take himself. The understanding should have brought her more acceptance than it did, but she felt more and more restless. She was here on the inside, and seemed relatively secure from harm. She should be doing something. Leia would come up with something. Han would at least get up to trouble instead of playing nice. It felt almost like a betrayal of those who’d died or suffered at the Empire’s hands to trot around without protest, eating fine meals and draped in fine clothes. 

Keep your eyes and ears open. Find out everything you can. Be ready.

Lucy calmed a little. All right. All right. She had to think of it as—as an undercover mission, of sorts. She’d never done anything like that; it wasn’t exactly in her skill set. But she had an idea of what they were like. Her job was to maintain her cover. She could do that. Leia would understand.

Force, she missed her. She missed Han, too, and her squadron, and her friends, and in a different way, Yoda. But Leia most of all—Leia’s sharp tongue and stealth gentleness and unflagging strength and decisiveness.

I can be strong, like you, she imagined saying. What would Leia tell her?

You’d better be. 

Lucy smiled and opened her eyes to the second day without Vader. She blinked rapidly; the shadows had resolved into colours and shapes, if blurry ones. The walls were a sleek white, and almost everything else bright silver-grey. It looked a bit sterile, but at least not actively menacing; she’d rather expected Imperial colours. 

Lucy let her gaze travel across the room. The wardrobe was even bigger than she’d realized—but then, it probably had to be, to contain all of Padmé’s clothes. But actually, everything was bigger than she expected, including the room itself. There was a long table lining the wall by the fresher, a round one on the opposite side of the room, and both left large amounts of space around them. Lucy stared up at the arching ceiling. What was the point of all this? Was it really just some hamfisted attempt of Vader’s to lure her over?

“Good morning!”

Lucy looked over at Tuvié, curious to actually see her, even with fuzzy edges. She almost matched the room—Lucy could make out a steely grey frame, deep blue plating, and where visible, pale prosthetics. She looked rather like a protocol droid, a replica droid, and a medical unit fused into one.

Lucy squinted. Tuvié had something odd about her waist. A belt? And two longish, narrow objects hung from it on either side. They seemed to have handles. Were those knives? 

“Uh,” said Lucy. “Good morning. How are you?”

She winced as soon as she’d said it.

“How nice of you to ask! All my processes are operating at optimum capacity, Miss Lucy. You needn’t concern yourself with any dangers, if there were any here! Which there are not!”

“Right. Thanks,” said Lucy. More brightly than she felt, she said, “I can see! Not perfectly, but things are just a bit blurry.”

“Your processes are almost optimal as well? Wonderful!” Tuvié said promptly, with no sign of the dismay that had touched her earlier. “You must be very happy.”

“Well, um.” Lucy didn’t like lying, even to Vader’s droid. “It’s a big relief.”

She prowled about the castle that day, calculating distances between halls and rooms, taking in the mingled stone and metal grey of the walls and floors and high ceilings. It looked like … well, a fortress, much more than her bedroom or the blandly decorated dining hall. The practice room she’d visited was, she now realized, further away than she’d guessed, and very much bigger, with even higher ceilings than her bedroom and a long stretch of empty space. At the back, however, platforms hung at varying heights in the air, presumably suspended by something. Maybe for some kind of climbing exercise, though she could also make out something that looked like rungs along the walls. 

Lucy strode over to peer at the equipment case, her nose almost touching the glass—if it was glass. Padded armour and various mechanical devices, but nothing more helpful than that. They seemed even blurrier than everything else, though. Cautiously, she ran a finger along the edge of the case; the finger came away dirty. The floor felt dusty, too. Whatever its purpose had once been, it appeared that nobody had used this place in a long time.

The next day, her vision had completely sharpened. Tuvié definitely carried knives, and a blaster, and Lucy suspected she knew very well how to use them. Did she do double time as an assassin, or simply a guard? The former was very difficult to envision, of course, but—well, either way, Lucy suspected Threepio would be horrified at this sort of stepsister droid. Lucy herself couldn’t help feeling a little impressed.

As soon as she told Tuvié that she was fully recovered, the droid in question all but dragged her off to see Tisix—a standard medical droid—who poked and prodded at Lucy’s face and even took a blood sample. Lucy didn’t like the idea of the last, but couldn’t see any way to refuse, and from their comments when she’d first woken, suspected they already had a sample anyway.

“You seem to have fully recovered your sensory capacities,” Tisix reported. “Your test results are within normal ranges for a female humanoid adult.”

Lucy hesitated, remembering Tuvié’s strange insistence.

“What do you mean by humanoid?” she asked. “I mean, what species does the bloodwork turn up, if I’m not fully human?”

Tisix gave a thoughtful clack. “None on my records. But the divergence is quite slight—”

“Right, right.” Lucy paused. “So Senator Amidala was … some unknown species?”

Tisix turned its head to stare at Tuvié.

“Nobody said I couldn’t tell her,” she said.

“Hmph. Well, all reports list Senator Amidala as fully human. The most likely explanation is that your other genetic contributor is the responsible party.”

Anakin? But he was Alsarai. Wouldn’t Beru have said something, if they weren’t human? In fact, Lucy was pretty sure Beru had described them as human. Had she just not known? But maybe Anakin’s father, or what went for a father in his situation, had been some near-human. Lucy didn’t know anything about her grandfather, though she didn’t have the impressed that he’d been Alsarai.

She supposed it didn’t really matter. At least, it didn’t change anything about her situation here or in the Rebellion. Lucy nodded at Tisix, and after a few more questions about her tests (she still didn’t know what the hell midichlorians were, except that she had a lot of them), let Tuvié lead her away.

There was still plenty more of the fortress to explore, but Lucy thought she’d seen the most relevant locations. She frowned to herself as they walked; she couldn’t just wander aimlessly around forever.

“Did my mother leave anything, um, maneuverable?” she asked. “Clothes-wise?”

Tuvié looked at her. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“It’s hard to move around quickly in these,” Lucy said, gesturing at the stiff blue skirts of the current work of art she wore. “Or to do much of anything other than walk. Did she ever wear anything ordinary?”

“Hm,” said Tuvié. “I don’t know about ordinary, but we’ll see what I can find.”

There wasn’t much, but in the back of the wardrobe, Tuvié dredged up a high-collared tunic and soft pants. Both were very pretty and the material still seemed alarmingly fine, but Lucy suspected it was the best she was going to get. She changed her clothes, aided by a muttering Tuvié, and headed out to the practice room. 

Now she could see that the place was, indeed, all but abandoned, with a thick layer of dust over virtually everything. Dirt and indistinct clutter had formed into small piles throughout. But the place would at least give her the chance for some exercise. Especially those platforms, if they didn’t collapse right under her. Lucy ran the length of the room and clambered up the rungs along the side of the wall, then leapt from the wall to the nearest platform. It wasn’t that far, but she almost missed the jump. She’d definitely gotten out of shape.

“Oh, Miss Lucy, be careful!” called Tuvié. “I don’t know what Lord Vader would say if you fell!”

Good riddance, probably. But Lucy suspected Tuvié was quite capable of following her anywhere she chose to go. She reached for the filaments of the Force she could manage and took a running leap back towards the wall, climbing down. 

“I think I need to spend more time here,” she said, a little breathless. 

“Well, all right, but—”

Lucy tripped. Looking down, she saw that she’d walked right into one of the piles. She shook her feet out of the dirt, a long, narrow stick flying a short distance away.

Tilting her head, she examined the stick. Maybe—

She walked over and picked it up. It was about the weight of her lightsaber, if distributed a little differently. Swishing the stick in the air, she smiled, then stabbed it forwards. This should work just fine. 

“Miss Lucy?” said Tuvié, hurrying over. “What are you doing? Someone really should clean up this place, but it’s been so long—you shouldn’t do it, anyway—”

“I’m not,” Lucy said. “I just need to practice.”

Tuvié’s optics flickered as she contemplated the stick. “I do not see how this item enables you to practice anything.”

“It’s a bit like my lightsaber,” said Lucy. 

She settled into the first stance Obi-Wan had taught her and moved forwards into the next, swinging the stick up as if she could parry an attack without it. Nearly tripping again, this time over her feet, she frowned. She still wasn’t doing it right.

“Your … lightsaber,” Tuvié said blankly.

It occurred to Lucy that she probably shouldn’t have mentioned that to Vader’s droid. She had no idea how much information he chose to share with Tuvié, but it certainly didn’t seem too extensive. Apparently, she hadn’t known this much.

Well, there was nothing to be done about it now.

“I used to have one,” Lucy replied, and tried to shift stances again. That time, at least, she avoided fumbling, even if it wasn’t perfectly seamless. 

“I don’t understand,” said Tuvié. “Aren’t those the weapons of Jedi traitors?”

Lucy’s grip on the stick tightened. 

“Vader has one,” she said. “He’s a Jedi.”

“Well, yes, but … that’s different.”

“How?” said Lucy, trying to dart forwards with a wide sweep. Her feet fell into place, but she nearly dropped the stick. 

“He’s not like the others,” Tuvié said, sounding genuinely troubled. “The Jedi were corrupt and faithless. He had to help root them out to keep them from sabotaging the security of the Empire. He believes in their—oh, I forget the word. All this Force business. But he would never betray the Empire!”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t,” said Lucy. “It’s just—”

She didn’t know where to begin. Especially considering Tuvié’s knives. 

“My lightsaber was my father’s,” she said at last. “It was—it was all I had of him. He died when I was a baby, like my mother.”

Tuvié gave a soft whirr. “Oh. I see. It was a … oh, I’m wretched with word retrieval today. A sentimental object you inherited?”

“Yes,” said Lucy, not feeling the need to tell her that she’d gladly used it on any number of occasions in the fight against the Empire. “ It was painful to lose it, so I’d rather not talk about it any more. I’m going to run some more. That all right with you?”

“Of course, if it makes you happy!” said Tuvié, thankfully restored to her usual tones. “I shall observe! And make sure there are no unauthorized observers!”

Lucy exhaled, forcing herself back into something dimly like Jedi calm. “Thanks, Tuvié.”

-

She kept practicing, feeling more human—ha!—than she had since her arrival. Maybe even before. Dagobah had been wild; this room was carefully designed for its purpose, if faded and grimy by neglect. Still, she replicated her exercises as well as she could under Tuvié’s fretful eye, stretching, exercising, taking off her boots to run over decaying mats and somersault into the air, and clambering up any surface that allowed it. She thought she was getting a little better at the lightsaber exercises, too, though of course it was hard to tell with just a stick. Tuvié found those ones particularly baffling, though Lucy managed to avoid explaining herself.

When she felt particularly strong-willed, she settled down and tried to commune with the Force, ignoring Tuvié as well as she could. Sometimes it slipped away from her all over again, but now and then it came readily to her grasp, feeling almost comfortable, like sitting with a good friend. Lucy even laid down on the dirty floor sometimes, sending a quiet apology to her mother’s undoubtedly well-dressed spirit as she let the Force flow quietly through her, her eyes fixed on the ceiling or the windowed platform near the top of the room. 

You are never alone in the Force.

It always came as a relief and something of a comfort, though it wasn’t the same as someone she could talk to. There was Tuvié, but she always had to be so careful of what she said, and—she wished Obi-Wan would appear, or the monk, or someone who could guide her. Sure, she was old enough to stand on her own feet, but she was also a prisoner of Darth Vader. She wished she could trust someone, anyone. 

But at least she had the Force with her now to strengthen her reflexes and her resolve.

Sometimes.

On the fourth day from Vader’s latest departure, Lucy was standing on her hands, eyes closed as she strained to see anything through the Force, when she felt a familiar sharpness in the Dark Side. Well, she wasn’t going to interrupt herself just because he’d shown up somewhere in the castle. It was his castle; he might be anywhere in it at any time, and with or without him, she had to keep practicing in any way she could. 

She was proud that she managed to maintain her position when the door slid open, even with the sudden menace of his breathing. Yoda would be proud. Maybe. 

“There you are,” Vader said.

Lucy opened her eyes. He didn’t look nearly so intimidating upside-down. 

“Here I am,” she replied, and launched herself to her feet, flipping her braid back. “Is it Dark Side o’clock?”

She suspected his next breath might have been a sigh.

“What are you doing here?”

“You’re going to have to answer that one,” Lucy said, bending down to pull her boots on. 

“In this room,” he clarified.

She shrugged. “Exercising. It’s pretty good for that.”

In her ears, her voice sounded almost conciliatory. Ugh. 

“I have not used it in many years,” Vader told her.

“I noticed,” said Lucy.

Before he could reply, if he meant to, Tuvié clattered over. “My lord! Excellent news!”

Vader’s mask turned towards the droid. “Yes?”

“Miss Lucy’s optical abilities have entirely returned! I took her to Tisix and Tisix’s tests all came back positive!”

“Excellent,” Vader said.

Lucy nearly shivered.

“Also—if I may—I have a request, sir,” said Tuvié, sounding deferential but not really intimidated. “May I have the use of a contingent of cleaning droids? I am not at all suited to the task.”

“What task?” Lucy and Vader both said.

Lucy scowled.

“Why, this room!” Tuvié said, looking from one to the other. “If Miss Lucy means to keep using it, and all information suggests that she does, I do think it should be hygienic. It wouldn’t do for her to damage herself in some way!”

Lucy glanced at a nearby pile of debris.

“I don’t think dirt is a major risk to my life,” she said.

“Do as you wish, F-2VA,” said Vader indifferently. “And stay here. Lucy, you will come with me.”

She really didn’t like following orders from Vader, and certainly without protest. But she also didn’t want to risk herself over something stupid, either. Her scowl deepening, she followed Vader out of the room.

“Your connection to the Force is stronger,” he said, slowing his stride. “Good.”

No thanks to you, she thought. 

“To the Light Side,” she told him. 

“Yes,” said Vader. “That would be difficult here. It is a credit to your strength, if not to your sense.”

Lucy’s jaw clenched.

“Once you see the necessity of turning to the Dark Side, you will make an impressive Jedi,” he went on.

She tilted her head back to stare up at him. 

“Are you trying to flatter me into turning?” she said. “It won’t work.”

“I am explaining the situation,” said Vader shortly. “If you were not so blinded by Obi-Wan’s false teachings, you would see the truth—and your value—more clearly.”

Lucy wasn’t about to tell him about Yoda. Instead, she replied,

“I know my value.”

Vader turned down a familiar hall—the one that led into the room where he customarily received her. Now, his steps quickened, and she had to nearly run to keep up.

“I think not,” he said. “Not to its full extent.”

She decided there wasn’t any point in arguing with him. It wasn’t like she’d ever get through to him, anyway. Or like there was anything to get to, at this point. She withdrew into sullen silence until he turned into the main room, and the door shut behind her.

Lucy glanced around the room, now that she could see it. It was large and extremely stark, with metallic grey walls, a handful of metal chairs, and a small metal table dwarfed by the rest of the room. It also had a barred window that let in a shaft of faintly greenish sunlight. If anything looked unhygienic, that was it. 

Vader gestured vaguely at one of the chairs as he strode over to the window, his armour gleaming and his gloved hands locked behind his back. Lucy, determined to avoid obeying every command, folded her arms and remained standing.

“Let me be clear with you,” he said. “I told you when you first woke up—”

“—first got captured—”

“—that we have a common enemy,” said Vader tightly. “This remains true. Surely you, of all people, understand that the Emperor must be overthrown.”

Lucy’s eyes widened. She’d wondered if he meant that, but—

He would never betray the Empire.

“Somehow I think I understand it a little differently than you,” she said. “You were on the Death Star!”

“I was commanded to be,” said Vader. “It was Krennic’s and Tarkin’s project—a waste of resources that pretended to power that only the Force possesses. This is why the Force guided your destruction of it.”

Her jaw nearly dropped. What?

She wiped her bewilderment off her face just in time. Vader turned around, the mask directly facing her.

“They, however, were only tools of the Emperor’s vision,” he said. “That is the kind of waste, of useless and destructive displays of power, that he indulges himself in. The galaxy needs real leaders to take command. To resolve this conflict and bring peace and order.”

Lucy felt like she’d just entered some alternate reality, everything twisted just that bit from what she thought she knew. This must be a trick, though she felt no deception in the Force. Maybe it was what he told himself. Or … it wasn’t wrong, exactly, but not … he couldn’t understand, not really.

“And you think that leader should be you?” she asked skeptically.

“I said leaders,” said Vader. “Regardless, the Emperor’s strength in the Force is such that I cannot defeat him alone, and neither can you. Even together, we will never be strong enough unless you turn to the Dark Side. It is stronger—”

“No, it’s not!” she protested. “It’s just easier—”

“Have you touched it?” said Vader. “No. You only know the Light Side. Palpatine only knows the Dark. I, alone, know both, and I know the Dark is stronger. You will never defeat the Emperor without it. The good of the galaxy rests on your choice.”

Lucy swallowed.

“The longer you cling to this foolishness, the more the galaxy suffers,” he added.

Her heart ticked in her ears. He’s wrong, she told herself. Yoda had explained it. He had to be right. Vader didn’t understand. 

At least, she hoped he didn’t.

“Maybe some of all that is right,” she told him. “Some. The Emperor has to be brought down, sure. But the Dark Side is evil. You can say what you want about the good of the galaxy and all that. Good can’t come from evil.”

He said, “You yourself are proof of the contrary.”

More troubled than she’d admit, Lucy shook her head wildly.

“Me? No, I’m—I don’t care what you think you know about me. You don’t know anything!”

For a long moment, he just stood there, the mask appearing to consider her. Then he moved forward.

Her skin prickled; she had nothing and no one to protect her, no weapon, no anything. Lucy rocked back on her heels, every instinct telling her to run, or at least to back away. It took all her self-command to root herself where she was, as a Jedi should.

“I think,” said Vader, “that you have forgotten what you come from, kavashti.”

Lucy had been startled and overjoyed to hear Alsaraic from Threepio. Now, she could feel only horror. Had Tuvié—but she hadn’t told her that word, she—how—had he known an Alsara, like Threepio must have? But he wouldn’t be old enough—and why would they—unless—unless he was Alsarai himself. But that wasn’t possible, surely. They were gone, she’d always been told that, they—

In the turmoil of her feelings, a familiar sense of quiet affirmation grew. She wasn’t the last of her people. There was another, living still.

Darth Vader.