#if i need to update those tw tags please let me know!

[aloeclown]

Details about the Black Rabbit Brotherhood/The Fox & The Cat, & overall Chapter 5 that reflect back to the original book of Pinocchio (Masterpost here)

Starting with the design of the Eldest Brother (seen below)

I believe that the noose around his neck is reference to the fact that in the book, the first time we are introduced to the black rabbits is when Pinocchio hanging from a tree.

Speaking of trees, there’s that one important tree in the game (you know it, you love it): The Gold Coin Fruit Tree

In the book, while Pinocchio is returning home with 5 gold coins, he meets the Cat & the Fox, who, eventually, tell him that if he plants his coins, a tree will grow and produce even more. (Obviously, a lie just so they can steal the coins later.)

Originally, I believe in an early patch of the game, the first harvest you obtain from the tree is in fact, 5 gold coin fruits. And of course, as you continue to play the game, you can choose to give the Fox/Cat gold coin fruit.

And back to the Fox & Cat in general: In the book, the Cat is going blind, that detail pretty much stays in the game. What I haven’t noticed in the game, however, is the fact that the Fox has a limp/lame leg as the book states (Fought her once, and she never mentioned anything regarding her leg)

Oh, and of course, it makes sense that you meet the Cat & the Fox right outside the Red Crawfish/Red Lobster Inn, since in the book, Pinocchio dines with them there! (And they ditch him there, just like they do before you fight the Black Rabbit Brotherhood for the first time)

And that’s all I really have I suppose! Perhaps I’ll update this post once I finally fight the Fox to figure out if she mentions she has an issue with her leg or not. Thanks for reading!

[pedrospatch]

a safe haven l ten

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: After a long night, Joel and Ellie take you home.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF AN INJURY SUSTAINED FROM AN ACT OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, PREGNANCY, CONVERSATIONS SURROUNDING PREGNANCY LOSS . PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. Ellie and reader are very close to each other, Joel deals with feelings of guilt, Joel and Maria make nice, Joel gives reader a bath and washes her hair, food consumption (i am just gonna apologize to my lactose intolerant folks right now, trust me i must pretend with you), both reader and Joel have some big feelings, reader mentions her deceased father, angst, soft and domestic Joel, fluff.

word count: 5k

a/n: i have not updated this series since october. :l i feel a a mixed bag of emotions updating after all this time, but most of all, i am grateful to know there are a couple of people out there who are still invested in this story. to anyone who has been waiting: truly, it means the world that you have shown me patience, support, and kindness. believe me, i am going to be seeing this story to the end, and it is all thanks to those who continue to show this lil story of mine a whole lotta love. special shoutout to the loveliest human @mrsmando who made me this beautiful mooodboard every single time i got stuck during this chapter, i looked at it and it gave me the boost of inspiration i needed. thank you mimi <33 this chapter is fairly tame, the next chapter is already in the works, and there are a couple of time jumps coming. overall, we are down to the last handful of chapters. let’s finish this story and give these two the ending they deserve, shall we?

“What the hell is taking Tommy so fucking long?” Ellie whines. She’s sprawled out on the couch with her head in your lap, and her arm draped over her eyes. Her feet are hanging, dangling over the edge of the couch at an odd angle after you’d warned her not to get muck from her sneakers on the linen fabric. Despite Joel insisting over and over that she head on back to the house, she had stubbornly refused, not wanting to leave your side. “It’s been over two hours! He’s taking fucking forever, man. What’s the fucking hold up?”

Joel bites back a sigh, masking his own impatience. Or at least, he tries. He’s grown just as restless as the kid, if not more. Much like Ellie, he’s desperate. He’s itching to take you home already, almost too anxious to watch you take that first step over his threshold, and into your new life with him and with Ellie. He aches, aches, to get you settled into the place where you would be spending the remainder of your days with one another, where you would be safe, and loved in the way you deserved to be loved—the place where he would cherish and adore you until his final breath.

“Don’t know,” he answers, his voice sounding rougher, more gruff than usual. Reaching up, he scrubs his hand down the side of his face, adding tiredly, “He might be a while longer, kiddo. It could be another hour, could be more. Like I already told you, s’probably best if you just go on and head back to the house without us, alright?”

“No. I’m not walking out that fucking door unless she’s with me.” She pauses and pulls her arm away from her face for a moment, just long enough to throw a teeny glare his way. “Unless you’re both with me. The three of us go home together, or it’s no fucking deal. Got it?”

He shakes his head in utter exasperation.

“Ellie, we’ll be right here down the fuckin’ road—”

Her hand shoots out and she flips him off.

Just when he’s about to chastise her, he stops himself, clamping his mouth shut. It’s pointless.

Kid’s too goddamn hard headed for her own good, and Joel knows he’s just wasting his breath with her.

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” you reassure them both, weaving your fingers through her hair to scratch at her scalp in an effort to soothe her. “Right, Joel?”

He meets your exhausted, worn down gaze from where he’s standing across the room, and his heart lurches in his chest. As the guilt begins creeping in, he’s forced to look away. He can’t imagine the living hell you had been through over the last twenty four hours alone. And the worst part about it was the realization that last night, while he was fast asleep in bed just a couple of houses up the road, that fucking bastard had his belt wrapped around your throat.

Joel feels sick to his fucking stomach all over again.

Horrifying, vividly real images of you helplessly trapped underneath Luke scratching and clawing at the leather around your neck with trembling fingers, struggling to breathe oxygen into your burning lungs as he tugged it tighter and tighter through the buckle flash in his mind, a gruesome nightmare turned into reality.

Exactly how far had Luke taken it?

Until you had grown too weak to keep fighting?

Until you almost lost complete consciousness?

Until he noticed the life threatening to leave your eyes?

Is that when he had finally stopped pulling on the belt?

Joel shudders, a bitter taste climbing up his throat as it sinks in. He could have lost you—and his unborn child.

This shouldn’t have happened.

He shouldn’t have let you walk away that night.

This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t let you walk away from him that night.

“Joel,” you say his name, quiet and weary.

His head snaps back in your direction and he glances at you, almost missing the subtle shake of your head. It is a silent warning telling him not to go there, though you know by the tight clench of his jaw it’s too late for that.

Joel makes the futile attempt to hide it, but he sees it written all over your face—you know what he’s thinking because you know him like the back of your own hand, and you just know he’s placing all of the blame for what happened to you on his own shoulders.

But can you honestly fault him for that?

How can you expect him not to feel like he is somehow responsible for this? Just how the hell is he supposed to make himself believe he hadn’t failed you?

Joel promised—he had fucking promised you—that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. He had sworn to keep you safe, made a vow to protect you from Luke, but here you are, your soft, delicate flesh marred with the painful evidence of yet another one of his failures.

And it was all because he had let you walk away on that fucking night.

He should have done something.

Even if it meant running the risk of you never speaking to him again—even if you never forgave him, spent the rest of your life angry and hating him for going against your wishes. He should have something.

“Joel—”

“Be right back,” he mutters, lightly shaking his head.

Shoving away from the doorframe he’s leaning against, Joel pivots on the heel of his boot and starts down the hallway. He walks into the kitchen where he finds Maria standing at the counter, tapping her fingers against the smooth, laminated oakwood as she waits for the coffee she’d offered him a few minutes ago to finish brewing. She’d offered to whip up a quick supper, but food was the last thing on everyone’s mind.

“Tommy’s been gone for a couple hours now. Girls are startin’ to get real tired of just sittin’ around waitin’ for him to come back,” he tells her, exhaling the sigh he’d held back in the living room. “What do you think could be keepin’ him so long?”

With her back still to him, Maria reminds him, “Well, he did mention he was going to round up the council and get them together for an emergency meeting.” She lets out a sigh that matches his own—it’s been a long night for her, too. When the last drop of dark roast drips into the glass pot, she carefully takes the pot by the plastic handle and pours the steaming coffee into a speckled, white and blue ceramic mug. “Do you take it with milk and sugar?”

“No thanks, that’s alright,” he declines as politely as he can.

“I also have cinnamon if you’d like?”

“Plain black’s just fine.” He gives her a nod of gratitude when she hands it to him. “Thank you. And I don’t just mean the coffee, but for, uh—for bandagin’ up my hand for me, too.” He clocks the brief look of surprise on her face and almost laughs. He doesn’t blame her for being taken aback, because truth be told, so is he. Since he’d met Maria, he had known she didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. There was something of a mutual understanding between them, a silent agreement they had made to keep each other at arm’s length, to only interact when it was absolutely necessary.

Never did he think he would be standing in her kitchen, thanking her for patching up his hand, and for making him a cup of coffee out of the kindness of her heart.

His brother wouldn’t believe it.

“Don’t mention it.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she leans back against the counter. “How’s it feel, by the way?”

“S’fine,” he replies, shrugging. “Nothin’ I can’t handle.”

There’s a momentary silence. A taste of tension lingers over their heads, and he knows at one point or another, he’s going to have to address the affair, the very reason everything had unfolded in such a terrible manner.

Guess now’s as good a time as fuckin’ any, he thinks to himself with an inward sigh.

Joel lightly clears his throat. “Listen, since we’ve got a minute alone, just the two of us, I was wonderin’ if, uh—if we could talk ‘bout somethin’? If that’s alright?”

“Of course.” Maria gives him the floor.

“I know that she—” Pausing, he shuffles from the heel of one boot to the other, his ears burning hot. He had known it wouldn’t be an easy conversation to have, but he underestimated just how uncomfortable it would be, regardless of what she already knew. “I know she told you and Tommy all ‘bout us, and ‘bout our relationship. See, the thing is, the first time I saw her—”

Again, Joel stops, the burning sensation now radiating, spreading from his ears to his face and down his neck, flushing his skin a deep, deep shade of pink. Unable to meet his sister in law’s gaze, he glances down into his mug, as if he will somehow find the right words to say somewhere in the depths of his coffee.

“It was never my intention, y’know,” he finally says after a minute. “Goin’ after a married woman. I swear, I never meant to fall for her. I just fuckin’ did. I think I might’ve fallen for her long before I even met her,” he confesses. He feels himself darken to a shade of maroon under her curious stare. “And somehow, for reasons I ain’t all too sure I’ll ever understand, she fell for me too.”

Maria raises an eyebrow at him. “Look, I’m not judging you, Joel,” she assures him, shaking her head. “If that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not judging her, either.”

He looks up at her, blurting out, “You’re not?”

She moves her hands to cradle her swollen middle. “Do I wish you two had handled everything differently?” she answers her own query with a nod of her head. “Oh, I’m sure we all do. But I’ve known her for a long time now. I know the kind of woman she is. And I’m starting to see the kind of man you are.”

“And what kinda man is that, Maria?”

He waits without the slightest clue as to what she could possibly say.

“Since you came back to Jackson, I’ve chosen to keep my distance from you—but make no mistake, I’ve been watching you like a hawk since day one. Waiting for any signs of trouble. Waiting for you to fuck up. Waiting for you to give me a good reason to throw your ass out of this community because I didn’t trust you. Not after all the things I was told about you.”

He snorts. “You goin’ somewhere with this?”

“You are not who I thought you were,” Maria admits, smiling wryly. “I’ve gotten to see a different side of you. You pull your weight around here by doing your job and doing it well. You stay out of trouble—for the most part. And more importantly, I have seen the way that you’ve stepped up to be a father figure to Ellie. It takes a good man to do that, Joel.”

“Think that’s the nicest fuckin’ thing you’ve ever said to me,” he muses, setting his mug down on the counter. “I stepped up because I love her. I love them both. Those two, they’re the best parts of me. They’re the reasons I keep goin’ and now I’ve got another reason on the way.”

Maria smiles, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears.

Catching her hesitance, Joel asks, “What? What is it?”

“What comes next is not going to be easy,” she warns him, lowering her voice. Even with the living room a fair distance from the kitchen, she doesn’t want to run the risk of you overhearing her. “For as hard as we’re going to try to contain the fire, it will spread, and everyone in this town will find out about everything—including the affair. People are going to talk, and believe me, they’re going to have a whole lot to say about it, Joel.”

He can’t help but roll his eyes at her.

“Think I can handle some fuckin’ gossip, Maria.”

“I know you can. But I’m not sure if she can,” Maria tells him, quietly. “It worries me. She’s been through a lot in just one night alone. I don’t want her stressing anymore than she already has. She is in a very delicate stage of her pregnancy right now, Joel. If she’s not careful, she could have a miscarriage. She had one about two years ago when her father became sick—” Observing his lack of a reaction, she realizes, “You knew that already.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. He knows where she’s going with this. “I did. She told me ‘bout it.”

“It makes her chances of having another one higher—”

Joel doesn’t even allow himself to think of it happening to you again. “I get it,” he interjects, trying not to sound too curt. “I’ll make sure she takes it real easy, alright?”

Lifting a hand off her belly, she reaches out and takes a hold of his forearm, gripping it tightly.

“Promise me something, Joel. Promise me that you’ll look after her,” Maria pleads him, gently. “Please. After everything she’s been through—I need you to promise me that she’s going to be in good hands with you.”

He nods. Without thinking, he places his hand over hers in an unexpected token of affection and reassurance. “You have my word, Maria. I’ll take good care of her.”

She gives his arm a grateful squeeze, then glances over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. “It’s getting pretty late. We don’t know how much longer Tommy’s going to be with the council. Why don’t we just go ahead and call it a night?” she suggests. “We can all get together first thing in the morning at your place to talk about it.”

“Yeah, good idea,” he agrees. “She really needs to rest.”

Maria gives his arm another squeeze. 

“Go on then, Joel. Take your girls home.”

“Finally!” Ellie exclaims with a dramatic flail of her arms as she shoves through the front door.

“Alright, kiddo. Get your behind upstairs and into the shower,” Joel instructs her, flipping on the lights in the foyer. “Y’smell like fuckin’ horse shit.”

She lifts the collar of her shirt to her nose, takes a whiff, and makes a face. “Yeah, I won’t argue with you there,” she mutters. She toes off her dirty sneakers and leaves them beside the door before dashing up the staircase, taking two steps at a time.

He shouts after her, “And don’t use up all the hot—”

“Yeah, yeah, I fucking know the rules, dude!”

Moments later, you both hear the shower going.

“Little shit,” he grumbles.

You exhale an amused huff through your nose.

Joel withdraws his arm from around your shoulders and reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together. “C’mon, darlin’.” He guides you up the stairs and down the hallway into his bedroom where he switches on the light before proceeding to lead you over to his dresser. “I’ve got a bunch of shirts in this top drawer here,” he says. Dropping your hand, he pulls it open for you and gestures to it with a jut of his chin as he takes a step backwards, moving out of the way. “Go ahead and pick one to sleep in tonight. Want you to be comfortable, so help yourself to whichever one you want, sweet girl.”

Nodding, you begin to rummage through the drawer, unaware of the moment he slips away. You reach for a t-shirt, but then a plaid green flannel catches your eye. You pluck it from the drawer, running your fingers over the soft, warm fabric. “Is it alright if I wear—?” You turn around, stopping mid sentence when you realize he’s no longer standing behind you. Puzzled, you follow the sound of running water into the bathroom where you find him kneeling beside the tub. “Joel? What are you doing?”

“Runnin’ you a bath.”

You notice the bloodied bandage beside him on the tile floor. “Joel, are you serious?” you scold him. “Maria just patched your hand up for you.”

“S’okay, peach. I can rewrap it when we’re done.” Joel sticks his injured hand under the faucet to check the temperature, the cold water soothing his cuts. Once it turns warm, then hot, he pulls out his hand, waiting for the tub to fill halfway before shutting the faucet off and rising to his feet. “C’mere, sweetheart.” He rolls the sleeves of his shirt up to his forearms, then beckons for you with both of his hands. “Let’s get you washed up.”

You remain standing by the door. “Joel, you don’t have to do this for me.”

“I know.”

“I’m capable of washing myself—”

“Yeah, I know that too,” he says, chuckling. “S’only fair, darlin’. Don’t you think?”

That’s when it hits you—how this moment is mirroring that night you had cleaned Joel up after you and Ellie had brought him home from the clinic with an injured shoulder. He allowed you to take care of him, and now, he was looking to do the same for you. And all you had to do was let him.

“But your hand—”

“Will be just fine,” Joel persists, stubbornly. “It’s nothin’ but a few cuts and scrapes. C’mon—or else I’m gonna march right over there and get you myself, peach.”

Knowing Joel, you certainly wouldn’t put it past him to throw you over his should and carry you to the bathtub.

“Fine,” you relent with a small sigh of defeat.

Setting his shirt down on the sink, you slowly walk over towards him and whirl around, letting him help you out of your knitted cardigan. You finish undressing yourself, inhaling a deep breath as you muster up the courage to turn back around and face him—when you finally do, it feels like a punch to the gut to see the heartbreak in his dark brown eyes, the subtle tremble of his bottom lip. You don’t have to look at yourself in the mirror to know it looks about a hundred times worse when you’re not wearing clothes.

Keeping your arms down at your sides, you fight every urge to cover yourself up. You’ve never felt so fucking vulnerable.

Clearing his throat, Joel holds out his hand. “C’mere.”

You accept it, and he helps you into the tub.

“How’s the water? S’not too hot, is it?”

You shake your head and he leans forward, kissing your temple so sweetly, your eyes flutter closed.

He washes your hair first, then takes a clean washcloth, lathering it up with a bar of milk and honey soap—the same soap he would smell on your skin all those nights. Admittedly, Joel preferred castile soap, but switched it when he found himself missing you during those weeks you were apart from him, when he needed the comfort of your scent. He is gentle with you, so gentle, as if he’s afraid you’ll shatter into pieces in his hands.

As he lightly drags the washcloth up your back and around your neck, you stiffen, prompting him to freeze too. “Fuck. Baby, did I hurt you?” he asks, and you hear the slight panic in his tone.

“No,” you say quickly, desperately trying to swallow the lump rising in your throat. “No, you didn’t hurt me. It’s just—” Every overwhelming emotion slams into you all at once, and you can’t seem to figure out which one to feel first. Humiliation? Fear? Relief?

The water sloshes around you as you pull your legs up to your chest and wrap your arms around your knees, giving yourself permission to feel them all. Bowing your head, you begin to sob quietly, hoping that Ellie, who is just down the hallway, won’t hear you crying again.

Joel says nothing. Washcloth still clutched in his hand, he leans forward over the edge of the tub and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, or at least, as close as the barrier between the two of you will allow him.

“Joel,” you choke, trying to push him off. “Stop it. Your clothes, they’re getting all wet.”

“Hush. Don’t fuckin’ care ‘bout my clothes,” he croaks, and for a second, you swear he’s about to cry too. But he doesn’t. He holds himself strong. Tugging you closer against his chest, he buries his nose into your soaking wet hair, whispering his reassurance. “You’re okay, baby. You’re safe, my sweet girl. I’ve got you, alright?”

He pulls back slightly, dipping his hand into the water, placing it on your lower belly.

You look down, your eyes glazing over his bruised and battered knuckles. Proof that Joel Miller really would do anything for you.

“I know you do,” you say, softly. “I know you’ve got me, Joel.”

A while later, you’re dried, dressed, and composed. You follow Joel out of the bathroom and back into his room, where he has you take a seat on the bed. Noticing you had missed a button on his flannel shirt, he does it for you. He plants a kiss on the top of your head and says, “Give me a minute while I change.”

He peels off his wet clothes, being careful so as not to further agitate his sore, injured hand. After changing into a pair of gray sweatpants and an old, faded black t-shirt, he turns around only to find you’re sitting in bed underneath the covers.

“Sorry,” you apologize with a nervous chuckle as you rest your back against the headboard. “It just looked so warm and cozy—and it smells like you. I couldn’t resist making myself comfortable.”

Joel pads over to the side of the bed. He leans over, planting one hand on either side of you as he dips his head and brushes his lips against yours. “Ain’t got no reason to apologize, baby,” he assures you in a gentle murmur. “This is your bed now too, peach. This is your room. This is your home. Alright?”

Home.

You’re home.

He touches the tip of his nose to yours, and then draws himself back up to full height. “There’s somethin’ that I’ve gotta take care of downstairs, peach. I won’t be too long,” he promises.

It’s almost midnight. Joel goes about the kitchen and he prepares you the quickest meal that he can think of. He plates the sandwich he’d thrown together and pours a glass of cow’s milk—he’s always sure to keep a pint of it in the refrigerator to make the kid her oatmeal in the mornings.

He heads back upstairs, only to find that while he had been gone, Ellie had joined you, making herself a little too comfortable on his side of the bed. He stands there at the door, watching the two of you.

“Hey, so is it true babies can hear stuff while they’re in there?” Ellie questions you, curiously.

“Mhm,” you reply with a nod. “They can hear music, for example. Voices—”

“Voices?” She smushes her face into your stomach and he hears a muffled, “Hey, dude!”

You giggle. “Ellie, I think it’s still a little too early.”

“When do you think it’ll be able to hear me?”

“I’m not too sure. In a few months, maybe?”

Ellie lifts her head, humming. “You know, I bet there’s baby books in the library,” she tells you as she sits up. “I’ll have Dina help me look for one tommor—oh shit.” She stares at you with wide eyes. “Dina! How are you going to tell her and Talia about Luke?”

Joel grimaces. He hadn’t thought of that, either.

“I—I’m not too sure.”

“You have to fucking tell them. Dina has to know about him. She has to know what a piece of shit he is, and so does Talia.”

Sensing your discomfort, Joel steps into the bedroom and intervenes before she can say another word. “Ellie, get to bed. S’late.”

“But—”

“Don’t make me tell you again,” he warns her, sternly.

She huffs, rolling her eyes. “Fine.” She climbs off the bed and on her way out, she eyes the plate in his hand. “That chicken?”

“Turkey. And it ain’t for you, it’s for her. So scram, kid.”

“Couldn’t have made me one while you were at it, old man?”

“Ellie, if you don’t get outta here right now—”

“Alright!” Ellie holds her hands up. “I’m leaving. Jesus.”

She disappears, closing the door behind her.

“Pain in my ass,” Joel mumbles, shaking his head as he walks over and carefully perches himself beside you. He hands you the plate. “Here, darlin’.”

“Joel, I appreciate this, but I’m really not very hungry.”

“Maybe not, but y’gotta eat,” he insists. “Baby needs it.”

Thankfully, you accept it without further protest.

“I’ll have Ellie get your things tomorrow,” Joel states as you’re eating. “Maria can go along with her since she knows the house. They’ll get your clothes and whatever else you might need outta there.”

“My father’s belongings.” You accidentally talk through a mouthful of turkey and bread. Swallowing, you tell him, “I have some boxes of his stuff in the basement. But they’re way too heavy for either of them to carry.”

“I’ll take care of that for you.” He reaches up, wiping a breadcrumb from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “I can ask Tommy to give me a hand. Don’t you worry, peach. We won’t leave your dad’s things behind, I swear it.”

Relieved, you shoot him a grateful look, then polish off the last few bites of your sandwich.

“Here,” he says, offering you the glass of milk. “Figured it’s good for you, and good for the baby. Y’know, since it’s got calcium and…stuff.” He shrugs sheepishly, no clue as to what he’s talking about. “Vitamins, right?”

Nodding, you grab the glass and take a reluctant sip.

“You hate milk,” Joel realizes, raising an eyebrow.

“I do,” you admit with a laugh. “But you’re right. It’s good for both me and the baby, so cheers.” And with that, you somehow force the entire glass down.

He sets the dishes aside on the nightstand, figuring he can take them downstairs first thing in the morning.

Without bothering to rebandage his hand like he’d told you he would, Joel turns off the lights and climbs into bed with you. “All those nights wishin’ I could bring you home,” he muses as you curl into his side. “Wantin’ nothin’ more than to hold you in my arms in this bed. In our bed.” His arm slips around your shoulders, a laugh rumbling through his chest. “Almost doesn’t feel real, darlin’.”

Tilting your head, you nuzzle your nose into the scruff of his beard, prompting him to laugh again. Then, he remembers his conversation with Maria, and his smile fades from his face, his lips pursing together.

You catch the sudden shift in his demeanor.

“Joel? What’s the matter?”

“M’fine, baby. It’s just—” He hesitates. “From this point forward, I need you to let me handle things.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want you gettin’ all stressed out, alright? I don’t want to run the risk of you—” He’s unsure of how to say it.

“Of me losing the baby,” you finish for him, quietly.

Joel winces, knowing he was wandering into sensitive territory. “Yeah. I—I really don’t want that to happen.” He pauses. “Maria mentioned to me you’re in a delicate stage. When do you reckon you’ll stop—how long until you don’t gotta worry ‘bout it?”

“After twelve weeks, my risk isn’t as high. If I make it to the second trimester in six weeks, then my chances of having another miscarriage are lower.”

Though you speak calmly, he clocks your anxiousness.

You’re worried, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t fucking worried out of his mind too.

Being a father at his age wasn’t ideal, but he wanted this child. It was part of him, and more importantly, it was a part of you.

Joel squeezes your shoulders. “I only ask ‘cause I was thinkin’ that, y’know, once we get to that point, maybe I can go ahead and start buildin’ the baby’s crib.”

“You’re going to build the crib?”

He nods. “And the highchair too. I can even make you a diaper changin’ table if y’want one.”

“Joel.” You can’t help but chuckle. “Our worlds were just turned completely upside down. You just found out that I’m pregnant, and you’re already thinking about building furniture? Aren’t we getting a little ahead of ourselves?”

“Hey, those things take a whole ‘lotta time,” he says in defense of himself. “Besides, winter’s right around the corner and I don’t wanna be out in the garage freezin’ my fuckin’ ass off. If I can get a head start now, I can have them all done in the spring by the time the baby comes.”

You fall silent.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I’m really scared of losing it,” you confess. “When I first took that pregnancy test, I wanted nothing more for it to be negative. Now, I’m terrified I won’t make it past my first trimester again. I really don’t want to lose it. I want this baby, Joel.”

He turns his head, meeting your eyes in the silver light shining through the lace curtains over his window. “S’why you’ve gotta let me handle things, darlin’. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“C’mere, my sweet girl.” Joel presses his lips to yours, murmuring against them, “I love you.”

His declaration comes with natural ease.

And so does yours.

“I love you too, Joel.”

[miso-sopas]

Hi so got any ninjago x reader recs? Ever since reading Wisps, it has affected my brain chemistry and now i crave for more ninjago x reader content but im picky when finding fics, so got any recommendations?

Hello there! I had fun sorting out my bookmarks and history so recommending fics might be a thing in the future?

Just to note, I am not sure how to really curate your taste so most of these are what I essentially enjoyed reading and been a fan of so forgive me if some (or all 😭 no hard feelings though) aren't your thing.

Let's see...

Honestly Wisps is the *best* so far in my opinion! I don't know if this is pure coincidental but I am also hunting for some ninjago fics to feel emotions again lmao! And I tried my best in remembering what I've read or interested in so hope these are all ok for you!

+ Second best in my opinion is the 'Infinity Series' by Joos according to their quotev because at ao3 it's orphaned [ao3; quotev book 1 & book 2 ]

Unfortunately, the author has stopped updating this fic but going back at it was really enjoyable like in the Wisps. The summary according to the first installment 'Infinite Serenity';

"[Name] has died and became reincarnated in a childhood TV show of hers. She is raised as the adopted daughter of Sensei Wu, training as the Master of Infinity. Once the plot of the show really gets going, a being resurfaces from her. They claim to have revived her and can help her unlock the memories from her previous life. Now, [Name] must rely on this being to help protect Ninjago, and discovers how her past connects with her present." TW: Suicide, self harm, child abuse, some gore and swearing (please pay attention to the tags)

Please please heed the trigger warning, I don't remember much from the content but I definitely recall the author tackling those tags in a respectful way. The love interests are Kai, Nya, Jay, Cole, Morro and platonic with Master Wu and her cousin Lloyd Garmadon. Again, second best recommended fic in my opinion.

+ Next one, this is not one series but user Circus4APsycho8 (they have ao3 and tumblr) in my opinion have the best x reader one-shots from the fandom! My all-time favorite work of theirs is 'Secret Someone' [Highschool AU! Lloyd Garmadon x reader]- this one is really sweet ❣️

Here's these links for their ao3 works and their tumblr ninjago masterlist. All simple yet sweet, I love their writing style.

+ The next one is purely Lloyd Garmadon x Female Reader titled 'Butterfly Effect' by samsea at ao3. I think they're still updating and I am a big fan of hero x civilian pairings and just they're cute and in love.

Summary: "If it was up to Y/n L/n, she would read the summer away, lost in history books and adventure novels, finding excitement in their written words. Meeting Lloyd Garmadon changed her plans. Suddenly, Y/n is living a life she'd only read about; summer romances and cotton candy dates. Perhaps this was a new normal she could get used to. But she's been fated - prophesied - to be with the Green Ninja. And where there's a green ninja, trouble usually follows." Warnings: "The butterfly effect has mature themes such as gore, violence, toxic friendships, sexual themes (no smut) and cussing. the butterfly effect is not intended for younger viewers. Trigger warnings will be placed on chapters as they are needed. if you have any questions or issues please contact me."

Again, heed the warnings but the writing and atmosphere overall is really sweet and for some reason all cuddly and sunny. IDK but maybe I am always soft for Lloyd lmao.

+ If you're up to reading only x reader head cannons then I recommend user mouschiwrites here in tumblr. Their requests are closed now but the head cannons they made are cute and entertaining, like I can definitely see this character doing that y'know. Here's their ninjago masterlist

+ Here's some honorable mentions, I believe they deserve some love too!

In the Shadow (Various love interests) by RoseRain at Quotev

Legend of the Lightspirit (Various love interests) by softie at Quotev

Actually, while finishing my school projects I'm also checking out from another user snazzilystoopid's ninjago recommendation. So far, I am enjoying their second recommended which is 'Element of Wishes' by yourfavoritecloud at quotev BUT this one is an Character x OC one so if it's not up to your alley they have few recommendations. Honestly, I am up to anything as long as it entertained my monkey brain.

Sorry for the long post! Hope these works are okay for your taste but the closest fic that gives off the same vibes as Wisps is the Infinite series. And these are all by my own opinions and the fics I remembered catching my eye. I am very much open to other recommendations or shout-outs.

Side note, there's not much Ninjago fics out there that I might let my monkey brain loose and create one myself LOOOL.

Again, thank you for asking ( I feel honored for being asked by this, I'm a fanfic nerd 🤓)

[jakowskis]

torchwood fanfic resources

so i'm a chronic livejournal archaeologist, and fixating on 2000s media is particularly fun for me because it means i get to go digging on lj / dw / old fanfic forums. below you'll find some of the excavations from my torchwood fixation (give it up for month 6!) it's pretty much got every comm i've ever stumbled upon and found useful, or thought others would find useful. it's largely fanfic-oriented, though there's some more generalized comms, too. i hope you guys enjoy!

i was originally going to include a link to my reclist on this post as well, but it's still a wip, so i'll just post that separately in the future.

general disclaimer: most of the content here is from 2006-2013 or so. period-typical attitudes may pop up in places. i'm not sure if most modern tw fans have witnessed the original fandom at all, but i felt a need to say this anyway, because i've seen some icky stuff. i've warned for anything notable. gwen bashing in particular may unfortunately pop up in some of these comms, especially in the comments, so tread carefully.

if you're new to probing through old lj comms, remember to always have the wayback machine on hand, because you're going to run into a lot of purged accounts and seemingly lost fics, but sometimes you get lucky and something's been archived :)

as of the date i'm posting this, all of these comms are still accessible, but if you're from the future and some have been deleted, again, go ahead and give the wayback machine a try. additionally, livejournal has a system that includes 'cross-posting' in which, if authors choose to (and the majority of them do, to get their fics more visibility), fics get posted to multiple comms at once. so chances are, even if one comm gets deleted, the contents will survive through other comms. kind of like how reblogs continue to exist even when the original blog is deleted.

finally, ctrl + f is your best friend if you have a specific ship/character/trope you're invested in, especially in comms with less than ideal tagging systems. if a comm does have a substantial tagging system, you can find all of its tags by adding '/tags' the end of the urls i've provided.

ok... let's begin :-)

assorted livejournal communities

✎ torch-wood: this is essentially a torchwood subreddit. it started before the show even aired, and one of the highlights of it is episode reaction posts (easily accessible on the right side of the lj) that document how everyone immediately reacted to the eps, which is pretty damn cool, fandom-history wise. only thing i should mention is there's quite a lot of gwen and owen bashing in the comments of some of those reaction posts, so just be wary of that if you love those two like i do, 'cuz it's a bit of a bummer.

✎ torchwood-three: this comm is an extremely cool then-daily newsletter (that still updates sometimes?!) that compiled as much fan-content as it could find into cleanly organized lists. the posts made immediately after new episodes aired contain reactions, discussions, meta, theories, new fic, fanmixes, just about everything. very very cool to go back and see the way the fandom was thinking as the show was airing and as they were getting to know the characters. here's a direct link to all posts made in late 2006, during the airing of s1.

✎ torchwood-fic: exactly what it says on the tin. desktop layout is easy to navigate, tags are all there!

✎ torchwood-fic's profile page also features a list of affiliated accounts that's pretty handy. it's worth taking a peek at, in case i've excluded anything in this post that you might be interested in.

✎ twgenrefinders: handy dandy comm where people would ask for fics of a certain variety & be treated with reclists, or hyper-specific fics... pretty cool stuff, ive got several threads bookmarked to sort through the links later. ofc, please note that some of the things people asked for might be stinky. particularly i've seen a lot of ppl requesting gwen bashing fics :/

✎ twstoryfinder: cousin to the above comm; here, people would ask for a very specific fic they'd lost. it's kind of fun to find fics through because you get someone describing memorable scenes + hyping it up, so it's different than just a standard summary. this one still gets posted on, too, which is crazyyy.

✎ tw-unpaired: for gen fics! no romance allowed! there's some good character studies + friendship fics in there. stuff's tagged by character + authors are even tagged, in case you find one whose writing you particularly enjoy. this is v useful for when someone's main journal has been deleted.

✎ torchwood-decaf: a comm where janto is BANNED. nah i'm kidding, it's not anti-janto, it was just made because janto is so huge that it overshadows everything else. pretty smart, tbh; wading through the sheer mass of janto content can be tiresome.

✎ jack-in-cuffs: for dark tw fic, or uber smutty tw fic. as a fan of dark!fic, there's some goodies in here, but of course it's not everyone's cup of tea. most of the writers included warnings, but if you go a little further back, some people weren't as courteous; navigate with caution.

✎ jack-owen: for fic featuring our captain and his (second favorite) doctor. i know this pairing's kinda divisive nowadays, but i enjoy it a lot. the comm's got a dismal tagging system and, ngl, i don't truly like any of the fics there (i'm very intrigued by jack and owen's relationship but i've never found fic that really does them justice, and i still haven't figured out how to write them myself) - but i'll include it anyway.

✎ odetojoi: for fic featuring owen in the middle of a janto sandwich, for those of us who are allergic to women (/sarcasm). there's an oddly impressive supply of fics of the three of them, and a good chunk of them can be found in this comm. (everytime i see this comm i think of a certain abbreviation found in p/rnogr/phy... but i digress)

✎ halfwee-and-tea: for ianto x owen fic. haven't gone through this one much, truthfully. i hate when comms have no tagging systems agh.

✎ owenharper-fans: a comm for the saddest undeadest bisexualest doctor around. also features a few burn appreciation posts, which is nice to see pre-pac rim era. mostly just features a shit ton of owen fic, particularly owen x ianto fic. mostly sufficiently tagged. if you need me once i post this, btw, i will be balls deep in this comm.

✎ the pro-owen alliance: another owen-focused comm - i think this one was made directly in response to owen bashing. haven't combed through this one much but it's got a fair amount of fics.

✎ house-of-cooper: a gwen comm! made in response to gwen bashing. haven't gone through it, but i'm glad it exists.

✎ torchwoodcoffee: ianto comm! this one's hugeee. the majority of it's janto, but the pairings aren't tagged, which is really frustrating. about 6k fics on there, though! just untagged. fff.

✎ tw-femficfest: a comm for fic about any and all of the torchwood ladies. tagging's cleanly done & there's some handy fic round ups, too.

✎ tw-femslash: yuri!!! wahoo!!! a comm for f/f tw ships. there's quite a lot of fic on here, but unfortunately there's no tagging whatsoever. sigh.

✎ tw-classic: a comm for 'all things series one and two of torchwood'. was made after s3 and was popular around s4 out of nostalgia for the golden age <3 good amount of fic, discussions, etc.

✎ torchwood-house: this comm is, like, letterboxd, but for torchwood fanfic. basically a group of individuals who thought of themselves as having Good Taste would read Good Fic and then go in this comm and write a post about why they recommend it. it's well-made, easy to scroll through, and sells the fics v well, and it kinda gets you more excited to read them when you get to see someone hype them up with Fancy Words. it's like a little torchwood yaoi bookclub. we're eating quiche

✎ tw100: a drabble challenge; this thing's full of 100 word drabbles. ngl i hate drabbles but i'm throwing it in here anyway

✎ touchyerwood: i love kink memes... i love kink memes less when my favorite character/pairing is unpopular. the pac rim kink meme's been a blessing bc i'm a basic ass newmann - the torchwood kink meme? not so much. it's got a fair amount of shit, though, so maybe someone else will appreciate it. this one isn't the original, that one's been wiped off the internet, to my chagrin. keep in mind before digging that people in kink memes are horny & gross. that's your warning.

✎ reel-torchwood: for any and all movie aus... ok i have a bone to pick with this comm. i'm a big movie nerd, i love film, i've seen dozens of films i've thought would make good aus - i combed through this and there is not a SINGLE fic in there that piqued my interest. NOTHING. needless to say my disappointment is immeasurable and my day is ruined. i'm sure my experiences aren't universal though.

✎ torchwoodslash: ah, remember when we called it slash? gee whiz. i'm not big on this comm, it's not very user friendly + there's like no tags whatsoever so it's extremely hard to navigate. enter at your own risk & good luck, lol.

✎ rounds-of-kink: this isn't a torchwood-exclusive comm, but it's got a sizeable torchwood tag, which can be found here. pretty organized tagging system; makes me happy.

✎ tw-declassified: this comm was mainly used for running a 'torchwood bingo', which, i've been in other fandoms that do episode bingos and it's usually cute... this one confused me a little so i didn't bother peeking around too much, but still a cool little bit of fandom history.

✎ writerinadrawer: this was an annual torchwood writer's challenge that ran for four years... it's kinda hard to navigate but it does have some fic in it so i'm putting it here.

✎ dmarley-recs: a recs journal someone ran for compiling torchwood fic; it's got a l o t of recs on there, largely jack/ianto.

ok and straying from lj briefly for two other places to find fic...

✎ kink_bingo: this is a dreamwidth comm, and it's not torchwood-exclusive, so i've linked straight to the torchwood tag. this comm has a livejournal equivalent, but for some reason the tw tag is pretty barren on that one? not sure why. but on dw it's got a fair amount. the tagging system is rough, it tags fandom and kink but not pairing, which is irritating, and every post is hidden under a cut AND makes you go through a discretion barrier every single time (but probably only if you don't have an account? i'm not logged in) which makes navigation a pain. but i dunno, more smut, if you want it.

✎ whofic.com: this site is for doctor who fic, but it's got a very substantial amount of torchwood fic. i do not, however, like the formatting at all. i'm being overly nice; i HATE the formatting. it's very reminiscent of fanfic dot net but, like, worse. it reminds me of adultfanfiction dot org which was a NIGHTMARE to use. but! there is torchwood fic there so it's going in here.

aaaand there we go! that's all i have. i hope these prove handy! enjoy :D

[fangbangerghoul]

photo used for banner by: @labelle-fleursauvage Below is a masterpost of my Sam Coe centered fics, all links lead to Ao3 all fics MDNI, 18+, heed the tags please

Starfield Fanfiction, Sam Coe edition:

One Shots/Reader Fics:

Capacity Limit (Sam Coe x fem!reader) TW: Bondage, Cannon Violence

Reader and Sam Coe are on a mission to eliminate Spacers and Reader keeps picking up too much shit.

Tear You Apart (Pirate Sam Coe x fem!reader) TW: CNC, Facefucking, bondage, light forced voyeurism, it's very explicit and it's a pirate being a pirate so just be wary. This isn't your Sam Coe from Kansas anymore.

You are now Starborn in search for the remnants of what you have left behind in your new current universe. You rush to be reunited with a new version of those you cared deeply but things go awry.

soft leather and spurs (softdom!Sam x fem!reader) Tw: praise kink, soft breeding kink, language?

You are leaving the bar for the night after playing a game of let's meet like strangers with your favorite cowboy.

gameshot by me (one of the few I have ever taken lol)

Ghoul series: The fics chosen from the Ghoul series are ones that heavily include Sam Coe. (will be updated in the future)

1. Neon City Delights (completed)TW: Drug use, SA, Cannon Violence

Walter Stroud has finally decided to talk to you (Main character) like you are a person at Constellation. So, to prove to yourself and the companion the association has assigned to you as of late, Sam Coe, you now get to walk the streets of your hometown to complete a mission with your lead. What happens at the Astral Lounge doesn't need to be told, right?

2. Settling with the Stars(completed)TW: Cannon Violence, Alcohol

Being grounded to a planet is worse when you know you could be out doing something better with your time. Sarah Morgan wants our main character to lay low while others have been out doing quests of their own. How has our main character been settling with their down time since their near-death experience at Neon City?

Bonus story:

Ghoul Adventures (Halloween edition, on hiatus)

This Halloween edition of Starfield tales takes our Main Character and some of the crew of Constellation on a spelunking adventure in search of what is causing all of the spooky rumors at the local citizen outpost.

[kneelbeforeyourdogbabylon]

Sins of Knowledge Chapter 4 is up!

Chaptered fic (4/12?), WIP, posting every other week

More Than an Animal, Less Than a Man

Rated Explicit

CW/TW and tags: sex pollen/dubcon, ethical concerns, coercion, blackmail, human AU, university AU, more tags and notes at AO3, ****Tags have been updated for this chapter, and can also be found in the chapter 4 beginning notes under a spoiler tag -- please read one of those! Link to full work here.

Beta thanks once again to @cheeseplants and @gaiaseyes451! You two are amazing ❤️ also thanks to the @goodomensafterdark community as usual for being a talented, fabulous, and feral place!

Chapter Summary:

Aziraphale and Crowley mess around with a second potion, but the effects are somewhat delayed. Dinner, drinks, and regrets ensue, with a measure of fluff and pound cake (not that kind) to round things off.

Excerpt:

Aziraphale waited impatiently for Crowley to settle up, and as they stepped out into the street his whole face came alight again. “Oh, there’s so much to do in Soho. I live here, you know, and yet it feels like I’ve only been inside a few of these mysterious doorways.”

He stumbled toward one such urine-stained mystery, and Crowley took his arm. Aziraphale immediately leaned into him, oblivious to Crowley’s stiffening. He was so expansive like this! It was like a glimpse into a secret room, one filled with warm light and soft furniture, good smells like tea and bread and greenery. Crowley wanted to sidle inside, stay awhile.

“With Ana and Newt, they’re at a lecture tonight, though. Hopefully it’ll turn onto a date night, or at least Ana hopes so.” Aziraphale led him to a side door alongside a shabby-looking bookshop. “It’s lovely here. So many first editions! Not to mention the erotica in the basement. They let you sit and read all day if you like, and there was a nice large three bedroom flat to let above and we’ve managed to keep it for two years now.”

“Do you need to go up?” Crowley would’ve welcomed the chance to slow things down a bit. Also he may have been a bit stuck on the image of Aziraphale reading from a stack of dusty smutty books. He wouldn’t mind watching that in real time. He wouldn’t mind watching Aziraphale watch paint dry in real time. Ugh. Why. He bit his lower lip.

“Oh, no no! Perfectly fine. I just – ah, wanted to show you.” Aziraphale frowned, and then lit up again. “Let’s go be wild and free in London, shall we? What about karaoke? I’ve never done karaoke.”

Crowley had to straight-up laugh at that. “What, never? That’s actually a beautiful thing, Aziraphale, you want to keep that streak going.” 

“Well then, dancing.”

Oh. Crowley had a brief moment to imagine being in a sticky Soho club with Aziraphale, all dark with a feeble laser show, on a dance floor packed with bumping, writhing bodies, forced closer and closer until they were sweating against each other, that glowing fluff of white hair his only guide in the dark — fuck, his mouth went dry at the image — and then Aziraphale hurried on, completely oblivious, “Oh, no, that won’t do. Ana would never forgive me. She’s made me promise to go dancing with her at the end of term. In celebration, she said.”

Crowley swallowed, but then Aziraphale took a hard left into another tiny doorway, and sighed in happiness. “Ah. Here we are.”

Read the rest at the AO3!

Or start from the beginning here

[spooksforsammy]

Welcome to my page!! My names is Amy

Important things to know:

🫧 I am African and Native American and minor

🎧I was diagnosed with a speech delay at a young age and started speaking extremely late. I had a lisp and multiple problems pronouncing certain words and sounds. My language abilities change frequently but I still struggle deeply with expressing and understanding.

🕸️I have difficulties with social interactions. This includes engaging, initiating, and understanding the people I’m talking to. My interests are limited which means I don’t talk to or follow many people.

What you see here isn’t my full life. Don’t tell me how much I do and don’t struggle, I am a person on the internet you don’t know me

I respond to asks but please be patient! Promise will answer! If truly scared didn’t receive ask, feel free send another asking about it, won’t get mad and will probably help remember need to respond’

Other information!!

🧩I have ASD or autism spectrum disorder

🗣️I am semi verbal and have a moderate- severe speech impairment. I’m also a part time AAC user. My communication is off n ability n skills changes frequently.

🧠I have severe depression, anxiety, and PCOS. I suspect BPD, NPD and bipolar disorder but am not self diagnosing those

😆I don’t understand tone but tone tags also don’t help! I’m sorry if my tone is off, let me know your tone and give me some time.

💉I get sick frequently n document what symptoms/ problems that get. My account has a tw for sickness because of that. Be aware if things like that trigger you. All post like that are tagged accordingly.

Gender and identity

🏳️‍🌈I have multiple gender and sexuality identities. I’m grayromantic, pansexual, quoiromantic. I’m apagender and nonhuman. Don’t have other species though, just don’t feel human.

Pronouns it/ its or just use Amy!

I have an understanding on gender and different identities but low understanding on why; this makes struggle with other genders and pronouns. Tell me if get wrong but please understand even if try, might not get right. If just can’t use your pronouns will say so and ask for other options. Please understand this because of autism

Don’t have DNI!! I block freely. I don’t like fakeclaimers, I hate them with a passion. I don’t care the reason, what they did. Only way tell if faking is if they admit or professional evulate and say they don’t. You can’t decide that!

💬Anyone can interact! Just know am minor. If you uncomfortable with that or make me uncomfortable you will be blocked!

Tagging system

* all post here on out will be tagged based on the following

🌀#speech4amy: all post made by me

🌀#babyamy: anything related to age regression or age dreaming

🌀#amytalksaac: post written with aac or talk about my use with aac

🌀#personalamy: post about personal situations. These post might also have a tw on them

🌀#amy’spoetry: any poetry or related made by me

Updated as of April 27 2024

[aspens-dragons]

hi guys.

so if you're involved in the conservation/shelter/etc scene in paldea then you probably alr know about this but hide-n-seek 2024 is happening from august 12th to august 16th!! hide-n-seek is basically an annual event that hideaway does every year to share updates about what we've been up to, spread awareness, fundraise, and get the community involved! all three days will have food available for purchase and for days 1-4 the sanctuary will be open for extended hours! we'll also be selling raffle tickets from the beginning of day 1 to 3:45 PM on day 5! the raffle's gonna have a shit ton of cool prizes ranging from a set of PENCHAM brand pens to a limited edition conservation themed uno deck to art pieces of the pokemon here and even game consoles!

day 1 (august 12th) is going to be photography themed this year, where we'll be having a free workshop on wildlife photography and letting visitors with special day passes in to take pictures of the pokemon! important note: these day passes must be scheduled in advance. if you would like one please visit www.hideawaysanctuary/events/hide_n_seek/photography_day_pass

day 2 (august 13th) is going to be themed around ride pokemon!! we're gonna have a petting zoo open with some of our most gentle pokemon, and offering short rides on certain pokemon as well. we usually close early on tuesdays, but on the 13th we'll be open all day. the petting zoo does cost 645₽ per person, as do rides, so keep that in mind. this is one of the best days to come with kids though!

days 3 and 4 (august 14th and 15th), like always, are days specifically meant for trainers who are looking to adopt a new pokemon! we have plenty of pokemon of various demeanors, shapes, and sizes, so whether this would be your first pokemon or your 50th, there's no need to worry; there'll be a pokemon for you. for these two days our adoption fees are also 25% off.

day 5 (august 16th) is our day especially designated for kids and family! while all days of hide-n-seek are family-friendly and kids of all ages are allowed to participate, day 5 is when we host a variety of educational and fun activities for elementary and middle school aged kids! the girafarig feeding is one of those, but we'll also have the petting zoo from day 2, a safari activity, a falconry workshop for older kids, and a ton more! at 4:15 we'll also be doing the raffle drawing!!

ummm feel free to send in asks if you have questions, dont forget to schedule ur photography day pass if you want one (the deadline is august 10th), and make sure you buy a raffle ticket if you can!! theyre like 200₽ literally the price of a poké ball!!!

//OOC section under the cut!

I know this post is alr long as hell, please bare with me 😭

Just adding this ooc section to make it known that hide-n-seek is going to be a small arc spanning the next two weeks and ending on August 16th. While hide-n-seek is going to be very low stakes for the most part, on the 16th it will become a higher stakes event as the end of this arc converges with the end of patchwork sanctuary. As I figure things out more concretely for the end of the arcs, I might make a post that is more detailed, but for now, what I know for sure is that the ending of the arcs will involve a Pokemon attack and potentially a child getting injured. I'll be tagging with #tw animal attack and #tw child injury so feel free to block those tags if need be, as well as #patchwork sanctuary and #hide-n-seek

That's about it for now!!

[experi-sketches]

Beyond the Endless Day

Part Two

Part One I Part Three

Been a while, but here's Part Two! Thank you so much for the feedback/reblogs/likes on Part One! To recap:

Beyond the Endless Day is a whumpy slave-fic in a modern setting. AIBT is still my primary project, so updates to this story come as they will! I have no rigid update schedule for this story at this time.

This story will be NSFW and will contain explicit dubcon/noncon, so be warned! TWs will be listed for each chapter as they're posted.

If you'd like to be added to a tag list for this story, let me know!

Word Count: 5,327

TWs: slavery, mentions/discussion of sexual slavery, mentions/hints of past trauma (psychological, physical, sexual), on-screen anxiety, mentions of food restriction

-----------

Part Two

Tap. Tap. Tap.

It started as it always did: bright sunlight and the sound of crashing waves. Then sand, hot, coating his throat, burning his eyes. It stung him and made the air taste like dust. 

His body ached. His gums tasted like copper. The skin was raw on his knees and elbows, and the bruises on his wrists pulsed to the beat of his heart. There was blood between his thighs.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Then came high, screeching laughter, and with it came the familiar thrall of relief and terror, and the desperate need to please. To show respect, and to show that he understood just how very, very lucky he was. He needed it. He hated that laughter, and yet he needed it. Bulhar’s Keep, he wouldn’t survive without it. He was a good boy. He needed to prove that he was a good boy.

Tap. Tap. Tap. 

The world was shifting now, changing. Everything was changing. His head throbbed. The sand in his eyes grew sticky. He was aware of the heaviness of his limbs, the dryness in his mouth, the bright, harsh light bleeding through his eyelids—

Kiran awoke to a vicious headache. His temples hammered and his tongue was bone dry, sour from long hours asleep. He dared to open his eyes a crack and immediately shut them again, catching only a brief glimpse of piercing light.

He remembered, dizzily, that Horvath had fed him those awful drugs again, right after he’d told Kiran that it was his day to go to show—

Kiran went utterly still.

It’d been his turn to go to show. 

He took a hasty inventory of his body. He felt fine, no telltale aches or pains except the hangover from the drugs. His throat was dry and his eyes had too much sleep-sand in them, and there was the headache, but it seemed he’d escaped unmolested. The good news ended there, though, as he began to pay closer attention to his surroundings.

He was laying in a bed. A real bed, not one of the Complex’s flimsy regulation cots. The mattress was soft, the sheets clean, the pillow cool and firm. 

And there was the light. The room was filled with light, and not the cold florescence of the windowless dormitories at the Complex. Even through his eyelids he knew it was the warm, unyielding daylight that claimed habitual dominion over Aswein. 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Kiran held his breath. He wasn’t alone. The sound came from somewhere off to his right. He laid still, eyes closed, and listened. The tapping came again, followed by a soft sound of frustration. Male. The voice was deep and unmistakably masculine. Kiran’s heart quickened.

Purchased. He must have been purchased at show yesterday. His head reeled, groping through a hazy wash of drug-addled memories: a tall, dim figure through plastiglass, the claustrophobic, smooth white walls of one of the Complex’s private booths, Horvath’s wry laughter, a pair of sharp brown eyes looking down at him from impossibly far above—

That was all he could remember. Kiran had been purchased by a man. A tall, dark man with eyes like two piercing daggers. He shuddered.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Kiran dared to open his eyes.

The light was miserable against his throbbing head, but the hangover was familiar and manageable. It was a moment for the room to come into focus, and when it did, Kiran’s mouth fell open. He laid amidst cream colored sheets in a vast bed, surrounded by an enormous bedroom, the walls tastefully neutral and the ceiling high above his head. It was sparsely decorated with a few pieces of stately furniture. There was a door which led to an ensuite bathroom to his right, and to his left, blinding and terrible, was a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, curtains drawn back to allow in the daylight. Before the windows, nearly obscured by the assault of light, were two upholstered chairs arranged on either side of a small table to form a small reading nook, and, sitting on one of those chairs, was the largest man Kiran had ever seen.

His skin was dark—far darker than the deep olive or light brown of Aswein skin, and Kiran knew he must be Chuasi. Only people from the day-scorched deserts of Chuasal ran that deep. His hair was short and black, and his clothes…Kiran’s heart leapt into his throat.

Blood red. He wore a crimson uniform from head to toe, tailored trousers and sleek, high-necked tunic. Kiran recognized that uniform. It was a much finer version of one he’d seen many times before. One he feared greatly. 

This man was a sentinel. A slave, like Kiran, but one who had spent his life training to do one thing, and one thing alone: kill. Kiran hadn’t seen a sentinel since his days on the shores of Meles. Preath would sometimes take him along on trips to the red camps, and the brutality Kiran had witnessed there still haunted him. It was entirely different to the savagery in the white camps. In the red camps, it wasn’t just the handlers who delighted in violence. It was encourage among the slaves. Rewarded, even.

Kiran slid further down into the sheets. 

The sentinel lazed in one of the chairs. There was something in his hand—a tablet. He poked at the screen rhythmically, eyes narrowed in concentration.  

Tap. Tap. Tap.

His finger jabbed the screen and he let out another frustrated sigh, dropping the device into his lap. He muttered something that might have been a curse, and then, without warning, looked toward the bed.

Kiran wasn’t expecting it. He drew in a sharp breath as their eyes locked, temples throbbing in time with his racing heartbeat.

“Oh.” The sentinel’s dark eyes rounded. “Oh—you’re awake! Since when are you awake?” He shot from the chair. 

Kiran huddled deeper into the sheets, if that were possible. The man was tall—extremely tall—and had the streamlined, sinewy, wide-shouldered frame of someone who used their body for a living. He crossed the room with catlike grace, dark eyes bright with interest as he came to the bedside. The tablet was clutched in his hand; on its screen was a game of some kind, gaudy colors and flashing text that Kiran couldn’t read. Technology somewhat mystified Kiran. He’d never had much opportunity to use it.

“You should have said something!” The sentinel grinned. “How long have you been laying there? Bah, no matter. Your head must be killing you. Been years since I’ve had to take those drugs, but it’s not something you forget. Here.” He lifted a small tray from the bedside table and held it out to Kiran; it contained two white pills and a glass of water, and looked absurdly tiny in his large hand. “This is for you. Adam Sir said he wanted you to take it the moment you woke up.” 

Kiran said nothing, eyes jumping between the tray and the sentinel. The water looked extremely enticing, but the slave holding it less so. 

The grin faded. “What’s wrong? Can’t you speak?” 

Kiran’s throat felt tight. Did he want Kiran to speak? What was he supposed to say? This place was entirely new to Kiran—he had no idea what was expected of him.  

A wrinkle appeared between the sentinel’s dark eyebrows. “Whoa. Hey.” He put the tray down. “Don’t—what’s wrong? Don’t go all pale and shaky. Talk to me.” 

Kiran knew better than to disobey a direct order. “I…” his voice was little more than a croak. What was he supposed to say? “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“Sir? Whoa, no, there’s no Sirs here. I’m a slave, like you. You can call me by my name. I’m Zavian.” His smile returned, but it looked more careful than before. “Zaiv, if you like.”

“I, yes, I’m sorry, S—” Kiran stopped himself. Licked dry lips. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. How about you? Do you have a name?”

It was a long time since anyone asked Kiran that question. He almost didn’t know how to answer. “Kiran,” he said quietly. 

“That’s a nice name. Well, Kiran, the Sir wants you to take these, so I’m afraid I’ll have to insist.” He offered the tray again. “They should help with the headache. Go on.”

Moving slowly, limbs still heavy, Kiran carefully sat up and accepted the pills and water. The bed’s large, sturdy headrest was cool against this back; he was still wearing the standard-issue white tunic from the Complex. The pills stuck in his throat, but the water was bliss, cool and soothing, and he longed for a second glass.

Zavian took the glass when he was finished, setting it onto the table. “So I suppose an explanation is in order. I don’t imagine you remember much—you were out cold when those Complex goons delivered you—but I’m sure you’ve figured it out. You’ve been purchased. Do you have any idea where you are? Or who your new master is?”

Kiran shook his head, feeling ill. There were many things Kiran hated about his life, many things he feared, but perhaps one of the things he hated most was change. He hated new places, new owners, and new routines. Routine was comfort; routine was safe. When life was a series of predictable patterns Kiran knew how to behave, and how to protect himself. Without that, he was lost. 

“You’re still in Medrein. I’m not sure how familiar you are with the city, but you’re in the Glass Quarter. Posh stuff.” Zavian tipped a lopsided grin at Kiran. “You were bought by High Counselor Adamire Sonn. Have you heard of him? He works in the Department of Foreign Treatise. A lawyer, and an ambassador of sorts. He’s a very important man.” Kiran thought he detected a hint of pride in Zavian’s voice. “I’m his sentinel. Usually I’d go with him to the office, but he had business at Capital Tower today. They don’t allow private security in there. State-provided detail only. So here I am.” He shrugged one shoulder. 

Kiran didn’t know who High Counselor Adamire Sonn was, but he was relieved to hear that he was at least still in the capital city of Medrein. He was aware of the Glass Quarter, having heard tales of the city’s wealthiest district. One apparently needed special identification to even enter this part of Medrein. It was one of the few bits of information he’d learned of the outside world during his time locked away in the Complex’s stark, windowless corridors. Otherwise he’d only ever been told of the types of men or women who might purchase him while given a litany of drugs and trained, relentlessly and exhaustively, by an unending series of faceless, grey-suited Complex handlers. Horvath in particular had taken a special interest. Kiran shivered and pushed the memories away.

Since he hadn’t been asked a question or given a direct order, he remained quiet. The thick glass windows blocked any sound from the city outside, and silence hung like a low fog, the only sound the low, subliminal hum of the home’s cooling system. Zavian watched him, the steadiness of his dark gaze making Kiran itch. 

At last Zavian sighed and shook his head. “Maker, you are pretty. I see why Adam Sir bought you. You’re just what he likes.” A look crossed this face, the wrinkle returning. “I wonder how Derin…” His deep voice trailed off, and then he smoothed the expression away with a shake his head. “No—doesn’t matter. None of my business. How are you feeling? Are you hungry? I know you haven’t even since yesterday.” 

Kiran wasn’t sure what had just happened. “Yes, Sir.”

“Zaiv, remember?”

Kiran’s heart thumped in his chest. Bulhar’s Keep, he needed to be making a good impression, and here he was already mucking it up. “I’m sorry—”

“I’m not reprimanding you,” Zavian said quickly. “Just reminding you, is all. We’re equals. No harm done.” His smile seemed more forced, now. He pointed to the door off to Kiran’s right and changed the subject. “That’s the bathroom. Adam Sir said you should bathe. There’s clean clothes laid out for you, he had some things delivered earlier today. Did you know it’s almost two in the afternoon? You’ve been sleeping for hours.”

Kiran didn’t know how to respond, so he did the safe thing and said nothing.

Zavian cleared his throat. “Right then. Everything you need is in there. When you’re done I’ll introduce you to Miss Shani and she’ll fix you something to eat. She’s dying to meet you, of course.” He smiled again. 

Kiran swallowed. He was hungry, but he was so sick with worry he didn’t know if he’d be able to stomach anything. 

Slowly he slipped from the bed and headed for the bathroom, keenly aware of Zavian’s eyes on his back. 

~~~

Kiran wasn’t sure how to work the shower—again, technology—and eventually Zavian had to come and turn it on for him, but after that Kiran managed on his own. He still felt lightheaded from the hangover, but the pills had reduced the pounding in his temples to a mild buzz. 

In the shower, behind a closed door and separated from anyone else’s eyes, Kiran cried. 

It came on quickly, and he was surprised by it. He fell to his knees on the red-sand tiles as the bathroom tipped around him, heaving gasps of humid, soap-scented air, and cried as quietly as he could. Where was he? He knew where he was, technically—Zavian had told him as much—but he didn’t know anything about this place. He didn’t know its rules, or its dangers, or its people. Once again everything was changing, and Kiran was powerless to protect himself. What kind of man was Adamire Sonn? Was he fickle? Was he stern? What did he like, and what would he do if Kiran couldn’t please him? Would he punish Kiran, hurt him? Or perhaps he would make someone else hurt Kiran in his stead. Someone like Zavian, who was trained in all the many ways a body could be hurt; who had, mostly likely, hurt people many times before.

High, screeching laughter echoed in the dark recesses of his mind. Kiran choked on another gasp and sat quivering on the floor, lost in the tangled urge to both hide from that laughter and wrap himself in the cruel comfort it offered him.

He moved through his grief quickly. He couldn’t keep Zavian waiting. 

Kiran eventually stood on wobbling legs and washed thoroughly. If Adam Sir had ordered him to bathe, Kiran knew what that meant. Afterwards he dressed in the white tunic that was hanging in the…main room, he supposed? The bathroom was massive, partitioned into sections all made of glass and tile and soft, golden light. The shower and toilet were each in their own separate rooms. 

He dressed in front of the mirror above the double sinks, unnerved by his reflection. It wasn’t often Kiran had a chance to see himself. He felt oddly detached from the fine-boned, pallid creature that looked back it him, eyes only slightly red-rimmed from the crying. Kiran hoped Zavian would it assume it was from the drugs. The new tunic was much nicer than the standard-issue Complex one. Its soft fabric hugged his sides, pure white and sleeveless with a scooping neckline to display the pale column of his throat and sharp notches of his collarbones. It was shorter than the old one, ending mid-thigh. Kiran would have preferred something longer, but he was glad to have clothes at all. Preath hadn’t often allowed him the privilege. Most days he’d made Kiran go naked, unless they were leaving the property or going into the camps.

Kiran paused before he left the bathroom, closing his eyes. He need to be calm. He needed to be good. Zavian was likely a well-favored slave and would no doubt report back to their owner. Kiran needed to show that he was a good boy. With one last deep breath, he opened the bathroom door.

Zavian was back in the chair, poking at the tablet’s screen. 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

He looked up when Kiran appeared, and his face brightened. “Now look at that!” He stood, setting the tablet aside, and went to Kiran. “Good as new! And it fits like a glove.” His eyes did an appreciative slide up and down. “Figured it would. Your measurements were listed in your papers. Made it easy for Adam Sir to place a quick order.”

Kiran kept quiet, deciding not to risk a pointless thank you. He knew better than to speak out of turn. The back of Horvath’s hand had taught him that lesson. 

After a moment, Zavian cleared his throat. “So then. Food? You want to eat?”

“Yes, S—yes, please.” Never wise to turn down a meal. 

“Right. Okay then. Let’s go.” Zavian gestured toward the door. “I’ll show you to the kitchen. You can meet Miss Shani.” 

Kiran wasn’t prepared for the home that lay beyond the bedroom. 

He’d never seen anything like it, not even Preath’s property in Meles. It was wealth like Kiran had never witnessed. High ceilings, tasteful, neutral-toned walls, and stately, expensive furniture. The bedroom’s plush carpet gave way to gleaming hardwood floors. Kiran felt like a minuscule speck among such grandeur, ragtag and messy with his damp hair and knobby knees, out of place among this man’s other fine possessions.

The feeling only worsened as they journeyed across the home. They were in some short of high-rise tower, the windows far above Medrein’s sun-blasted streets, and if the length of their trek was any indication, it seemed the home took up the entire floor. Zavian had said Adam Sir was an important man—a government lawyer of some kind. Kiran shivered. 

They arrived at a large, swinging door. “Here we are,” Zavian said with a grin and pushed through, holding it open for Kiran.

Kiran entered an enormous kitchen, all sleek, dark tile and gleaming steal. Along the far was a long stone countertop with a large stove in the center, and before it, turning to greet them, was a middle-aged woman in a long apron. She gave a broad smile, setting down the spoon in her hand.

“Miss Shani!” Zavian boomed. Kiran flinched, blanching. “Look who’s awake!”

She was hurrying over, wiping her hands on her apron. “Hush! Easy, can’t you see you’ve startled him?”

“Sorry.” Zavian sounded sheepish, but he was grinning. 

“Sorry indeed.” Miss Shani smiled down at Kiran. “Never you mind him. Zaiv’s all bluster and no bite. Well then, look at you, up and about! I thought you were going to sleep the whole day away. Here, let’s have a good look.” She didn’t touch him, but Kiran obeyed, lifting his face to meet her gaze.

She was free citizen. He could tell that much at a glance; she did not wear the blue uniform of a domestic slave. Her common garments were modest in comparison to the splendor surrounding them, a simple, dark blouse tucked into long trousers, all covered by the apron. She was Aswein—her brown skin crinkled at the corners of her eyes as she smiled down at him, and her dark hair was pulled into a tight bun, slightly greying at the temples. Hired help, most likely. Adam Sir seemed the sort who could afford it. 

“Look at that face!” Miss Shani grinned. “I’ve never seen anything like it. But you’re so skinny. Don’t they feed you at the Complex?”

“By precise weight, from what I remember,” Zavian said in his deep voice, saving Kiran from having to answer. “Miss Shani, this is Kiran. Kiran, this is Miss Shani. Adam Sir pays her to help with the cooking and housekeeping. She’s a free citizen. And she’s brilliant.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” she said.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Kiran bowed. “An honor to meet you, ma’am.”

“Oh, none of that.” She waived her hand. “We’re all on equal footing here, as far as I’m concerned. I’ve never owned a slave in my life and I don’t see much sense in treating you boys like I’m better than you. Now, you must be starving. Here, sit, sit—”

She herded him onto one of the stools at the large island in the center of the kitchen. Kiran perched awkwardly on the seat, the stone countertop cool beneath his palms. Zavian followed, standing to lean easily on the island, looming at Kiran’s side like a tall, crimson shadow. Kiran tried not to lean away, acutely aware of the power coiled in the body beside him. He felt small again. Small and unprotected. 

Shani produced a tray from the massive fridge and set it before him, and Kiran went still as he gaped down at it, thinking, for a moment, that there had been some sort of mistake: a bowl of cold soup, a sandwich stuffed full of some variety of thinly sliced, pickled vegetable that he couldn’t identify, and a dish of mysterious, deep purple berries. He had no idea what any of it was. Preath had only ever fed him scraps from his own plate, or the same flavorless gruel served in the camps. The food at the Complex had been similarly bland—processed and colorless, a mere vehicle for calories.

This was food. Kiran almost didn’t know what to do with it.

“I wasn’t sure when you’d be up,” said Miss Shani apologetically, “so I thought something that could keep in the fridge would be best. But I’ll have a warm meal for you tomorrow. I promise.”

Kiran blinked down at the dishes stupidly, suddenly and painfully aware of just how empty his stomach was. Was this really all for him? If felt like a trick, like one of Preath’s games.

But then Miss Shani said, “Go on,” and Kiran saw in their faces that they were expecting him to eat. So he did. 

It was delicious. The first taste of the soup—some sort of chilled vegetable concoction that was sweet and bright on his tongue—sent a shiver down his spine. Miss Shani seemed pleased as he fell upon the rest with fervor. She and Zavian left him to it, chatting while Miss Shani tended whatever bubbled on the stove. 

They seemed comfortable with one another. Zavian offered no formalities as they laughed and joked, as though they were two free people having an easy conversation. If Kiran weren’t so distracted by the food, he might have been scandalized. Etiquette and respect where important lessons. Their edicts had been drilled into Kiran relentlessly: he was not a free citizen, he was beneath them in every sense, and he needed to show respect. Always, it came down to respect and deference, and pliant submission—to any free person, really, but especially to his master.

His master. His new master. Who he knew nothing about.

Kiran set down his spoon, swallowing a mouthful of cold soup. He’d suddenly lost his appetite.  

“All done?” Miss Shani asked at a lull in their conversation. 

Kiran nodded, then remembered himself. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”

She looked as though she was about to say something, then let it go with a smile and cleared away the dishes.

She and Zavian chatted a bit more while Kiran numbly sipped some water Miss Shani placed before him. His nerves were a mess, but the food had at least driven away the last of his hangover. 

Then Zavian’s hands thudded down onto the island’s countertop and startled Kiran again. “Well then! I think it’s about time for a proper tour, don’t you?” His eyes gleamed as he grinned down at Kiran.

Was that a real question? Was he supposed to answer? Kiran felt his heart crawling up his throat, pulse quickening in his ears.

“Ah—Adam Sir wanted me to show you around, once you were on your feet,” Zavian quickly went on, saving Kiran a second time.

“Don’t you run him ragged,” Miss Shani warned. “Not everyone has your energy, you know.” 

“Oh, it won’t be that bad. I’ll just give him the two-minute tour.” He looked back to Kiran and nudged his head toward the door. “Come on. It’ll be nice and quick, I promise. Sir’s orders.”

~~~

It was not quick. 

It wasn’t so much Zavian’s fault as it was the sheer mass of the home. Kiran kept quiet as he was guided from one grand, high-ceilinged room to the next, completely overwhelmed. 

There were so many places intended simply for existing. There was living room, a sitting room, and a den. A receiving room, an office—several of those, actually, one in each of the home’s vast wings—and a reading room, and a smoking room. A parlor. A solarium, whatever that was. Kiran’s head spun. All of this surely couldn’t belong to one man. Kiran wondered if Adam Sir had a family. He’d seen no one else beside Zavian and Miss Shani, no photos on the walls or mentions of children, husbands, or wives. Zavian had said a name earlier—Derin—and that same name had come up once or twice in his conversation with Miss Shani, but each time they’d quickly moved on as though the subject was better left alone. 

In the western wing was a small dormitory with four single beds, only one of which looked slept in. Zavian explained that it was the slave’s quarters. Before Kiran, Zavian had been the only slave in the home. Miss Shani only worked during the daytime and went home in the evening. After preparing diner, she’d travel across the city to her own apartment in one of the more reasonably priced residential quarters, leaving Zavian to serve Adam Sir his meal. Zavian said he didn’t mind. He was Adam’s Sir’s sentinel, not a domestic slave, but it was all just as well to him. He was glad to be of any service to his master that he could.

There was one other room in the western wing that caught Kiran’s attention: the pen. Kiran was well familiar. Most households wealthy enough to own slaves also had a pen. A room used for punishment, most were equipped with the tools needed to manage an insubordinate slave—cuffs, canes, muzzles, whips, and whipping post being the most common. Adam Sir’s was small but well-stocked, and dusty with disuse. Still, it existed. Kiran went a bit green as he peered at the tools hanging on the walls, his lunch sitting like a stone in his belly. Zavian quickly shut the door and hurried them away.

Eventually they ended in the formal dining room. It was a beautiful space, with tall, floor-to-ceiling windows along one wall that offered an unobstructed view of the Glass Quarter’s skyline. Kiran came to an abrupt halt as he was suddenly faced with the sun-drenched reality of the outside world, startling as a slap to the face. The Glass Quarter was a fitful mountain range of glass and steel, a sea of jutting towers against the sky’s fierce yellow, each blazing like a pillar of fire. Luckily the windows were dampened to dull the glare, or else it might have been blinding. The rest of Medrein sprawled off into the distance behind, a living grid-work of buildings and streets, and beyond all of it, far off on the edge of the world, was the ocean. It shimmered like a ghost on the horizon, obscured by wavering heat and city smog.

Speechless, Kiran went to the window. It was his first proper look at the outside world since waking up in the massive bed—his first good look, really, in over a year. There were no windows at the Complex—none that he could see, anyways—and he’d arrived there just before his nineteenth birthday. He was twenty now. This was the first he’d properly seen the city he’d spent more than a year of his life in, and still he was still separated from it by a thick layer of insulated, tone-adjusting glass.

The street below was unnervingly distant, people and vehicles moving about like insects on bleached concrete. An odd sense of vertigo overcame Kiran as he looked down at them, mesmerized. There were so many people—so many free people, all going wherever they pleased. Doing whatever they pleased, whenever they pleased. Saying whatever they pleased. Eating whatever they pleased. Living however they pleased. It was such an alien concept that Kiran almost couldn’t hold it in his mind. 

His hand drifted absently to the skin over his left bicep, searching, not for the first time, for some sort of bump or scar, but found nothing; the tracker had been installed flawlessly. There wasn’t even a mark on his skin where they’d put it in. It was one of the first things they’d done after his arrival at the Slave Complex, while he was still reeling from the shock of Preath selling him. A tracker had been inserted in his arm, buried deep beneath the flesh. Kiran knew it must already be programmed with Adam Sir’s information. The Complex would have seen to it before shipping him off to his new master. He couldn’t go anywhere without being traced. He likely couldn’t even leave this building.

No matter where he went, Kiran would always be a slave.

Zavian appeared beside him, hands tucked into the pockets of his red trousers. He scanned the skyline with Kiran, his dark skin burnished by the sun, glowing in it, made to withstand the daylight. “Amazing, isn’t it? All this—the view, the house. It’s like a different world. I’ll never get over the things money can buy.” He looked at Kiran. “We’re lucky to be here, you know. I know it can be frightening, being somewhere new. But you’ll be safe here, Kiran. You’ll have a good home. Adam Sir really isn’t so bad. He’s a nice man. And Derin—well, he’ll come around, I think.”

Something clenched in Kiran’s chest.

They were quiet for a moment, and then Zavian sighed. “That’s pretty much the whole tour. You’ll learn your way around as you settle in.” He hesitated a moment. “There’s just one more thing to show you. It shouldn’t take long. Come on.”

Zavian led them to a large, stately door in the home’s eastern wing. He stood before it, but made no move to open it, leaving it tightly shut.

“Adam Sir wanted me to show this to you, specifically.” There was an odd stiffness to his voice. “We’re not going in. He wanted me to make sure you knew this room is off limits. You can go anywhere else you like. Anywhere. Except here.” He paused. “You are never to enter this room. He said…that the punishment will be very severe, should you do so. He wanted me to say that.”

Zavian must have seen the fear on Kiran’s face, because he quickly went on, “But don’t worry. You’ve no reason to go in. You’ll be fine, Kiran. You never even have to look at this door again. Really, don’t let it bother you.”

Kiran tried to obey those words, but as they headed back toward the kitchen he couldn’t help a brief glance over his shoulder. The door looked just the same as any of the others in the home, and yet Zavian’s warning made it seem larger and more sinister. He quickly tore his eyes away, turning them down to watch his bare feet pad across the hardwood floor, and resigned to never look at that door again.

_____

Tag list: @burntcoffeewhump @generic-whumperz

[chronically-enthusiastic]

Hello there, thanks for stumbling across my blog!

(Here's a lil comic I made for a school assignment)

Artblog: @chronicallyartistic

Audio drama blog: @chronically-listeningtopodcasts

I'm going to start putting my social energy levels in my bio... There's a lot of stuff I want to respond to but i currently dont have the energy to do so, and so if I don't respond within like a day, check my bio and see that...

Who am I / Where else can you find me?

First of all, feel free to call me Eli!! I'm on the waiting list for an autism diagnosis. I am agender and aroace-spec.

I am verrryyy enthusiastic about the things I am interested in (hence the URL hehehe). And currently, those are: podcasts (theres a list at the bottom of the post), good omens, ofmd, bbc merlin, star trek!!!!, lotr, and probably more things that I am too tired to think of right now!

I use the queue! Im not awake at the ungodly hours i sometimes am seen posting at, I just dont want to utterly flood peoples dashes! I do reblog fandom stuff and things ive added anything to immediately, so if you see a few posts in short succession, im online!

I am a very big fan of the oxford comma and double brackets. Semicolons are pretty cool too. And ellipses are incredible.

i love all of my mutuals dearly!! Making cookies and hot chocolate for you all <33

I try to use tone tags as much as possible!

Boundaries:

Things I am okay with sharing/doing:

My age, gender/sexuality, things about my guinea pigs!!, and most other things

Things I am not okay with sharing/doing:

The city I live in, pictures of me/anyone I know, my full name, my birthdate, my phone number/email address, meeting up with people irl, sending/receiving money/gifts, dms (<- though if we're mutuals and interacted a lot dms are fine!!)

^ this applies to everyone im not in the discord with

I will let someone know if they cross boundaries, and *really* would like other people to let me know if I cross theirs!!

DNI: people who are here to spread hate and anger. Just, stay away. I dont engage in discourse. I know DNIs dont deterr these people, but this is a demonstration of my core values :)

Tags:

(At the top cause otherwise it will get lost) ALSO #tw body horror

I block quite a few tags but most notably #tw war and other ones to do with the war in israel/palestine. This is not because I don't care. I care so so so much about what is happening and I cry every time I see a post about it. It breaks my heart that such horrible things are happening. However, I really struggle with high empathy, and seeing a post about it can really affect me for a while, and I need tumblr to be a safe space away from the real world problems. If I follow you - please could you tag things to do with war. Thank you <3

Updated to clarify - I do block the generic tags such as Israel and Gaza, which most of the posts are tagged with by the op, so if you forget its no big deal!!

A list of all the podcasts I listen to because y'know, its fun:

Fiction:

The Amelia Project

Wooden Overcoats

The Adventure Zone

Sherlock & Co

Alba Salix

Unseen

And a whole lot more that i no longer listen to either because they havent updated or they are a little too creepy (Welcome to Night Vale falls into the latter category)

Science:

The Sci Guys

Lets Learn Everything

Lingthusiasm

A podcast of unnecessary detail.

Comedy/other:

Dear Hank and John

The Unmade Podcast

Books Unbound

Lateral

A book list of recommendations from mutuals for my own use:

abigail by Magda Szasbo (@mack-anthology-mp3)

The Alphabet of Candice Phee (@jamie-dinow)

A list of music reccomendations from mutuals:

in the lap of the gods revisited by queen, why can't i be you by the cure, pyramid song, and lucky & the tourist by radiohead, when the sun hits by slowdive, dancing barefoot by patti smith, tangerine by led zeppelin, autumn sweater by yo la tengo, rubber ring by the smiths, water by pj harvey (from @/mack-anthology-mp3)

imi hendrix’s all along the watchtower (from @/catholickedd)

[chunkypossum]

I know one or two people are waiting for a new chapter on Kerosene over on Ao3 so here is an update!

It’s complete!

… Sort of … Kerosene is completely written including:

25-30 chapters (some might be broken into two as I edit)

2 epilogues in a ‘choose your own ending’ style

1 chapter in an entirely new fic that jumps off from the end of one of the epilogues.

So the next steps in the process will be:

edit the drafts of chapters 20-30.

Then I will check through the whole thing for inconsistencies. I think some minor things might need to be changed in previous chapters.

Update past chapters, tags and descriptions

Set up a posting schedule for the last few chapters!

If you think you wanna be on a tag list for this fic just dm me and let me know.

Excited to share the rest of this story with y’all! For spoilers without context for new chapters scroll to the end …

There is something sinister targeting the courts of Prythian and the Night Court’s Spymaster finds it increasingly aggravating that he can’t pinpoint the source. What will he decide to do when he is faced with the possibility of losing so much, even things he didn’t realize he had?

TW: violence, torture, child abuse, contains smut 18+ only please!

Ch. 1 Snippet.

Drip. Drip…… Drip. The echo of water on stone is his only lullaby, his only steady comfort in a world of darkness. Darkness so deep it has settled in his bones and manifested itself in wisps of consciousness that skate over his skin cooling the still healing burns on his hands. If it weren’t for the comfort of the shadows Azriel wasn’t sure he would have bothered waking up after passing out during the torture his brothers had put him through. His father had been furious at Azriel for allowing them the opportunity to do such damage.

‘I had a plan that is wasted now unless you regain use of your hands.’ He had screamed, spittle from his mouth hitting Azriel on his cheeks, already damp from his useless tears. Azriel knew he messed up when he trusted that his brothers meant him no harm. He had always been desperate for their attention, even if that attention ultimately hurt him, which it always did. He thought this time might be different, and in a way it was different, it was much worse than it ever had been before. Apparently, lighting bugs on fire until they popped had lost its charm and they had wanted to see what his flesh would look like as it bubbled and crisped under their ministrations. They had been delighted.

Eventually, he had passed out from the pain, waking up only briefly to hear his father screaming at him before passing out again. At some point, his hands had been bandaged but they still felt like they were on fire. IT was a feeling he would live with for a long, long time.

Azriel didn’t know what it meant to die but death’s song sang to him anyway. It had sounded so sweet in that inky blackness of his mind and he had been so tempted to follow it wherever it led. It was only those shadows, incessantly tugging and whispering to him that kept him tethered to his body.

Not yet. Not now.

They chattered.

Someday. Someday. Not yet. Not now.

‘I’m ready now.’ He tried to tell them but they just brushed cool tendrils into his matted, shaggy curls rousing him from blissful sleep.

The smell of stagnant water and decaying moss in his lightless cell greeted him first, even before the pain of the burns. That pain rose slowly to greet him as he opened his eyes and sat up. Little whimpers escaped his lungs and fell away in the dark while he tried not to bend or flex his fingers beneath the bandages.

Azriel could taste the salt caking his cheeks still damp with tears he had been shedding even in his sleep. The shadows whispered snippets of conversation to him they had gathered from the house and village above and around him and his young brain pieced together the news. His brothers had been sent away to his father’s country estate to the south somewhere, someplace he would never see. The villagers had eagerly spread the news that his sons had been spirited away in the night, a scandal that they were desperate to learn more about. No one could truthfully claim they knew the whole truth, yet many tried.

Azriel didn’t understand most of what was said, but what had become horribly obvious to him was the fact that no one mentioned him at all. Not that it was expected, he had known his father kept him locked away for a reason but he hadn’t realized that reason was to make sure no one knew he even existed down here.

Maybe he didn’t exist. That thought was almost comforting until a pain, bright and hot, exploded from his hands as he absentmindedly tried to clench them into fists. He nearly passed out from the pain but as quick as it bloomed, the shadows were there, soothing and banking the fire cutting across his skin. If he existed he must be crazy at the very least, to find friends in the shadows. That must be why his father would rather people don't know he existed, something was wrong in him, broken in him....

You can find the rest on Ao3

_______________________

Spoilers without context for the new chapters:

[bitchysunflower]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚Steddie Fanfic Rec List˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

This is going to be HUGE so for simplicity I will not add big summaries or CW/TW but please check the tags on the fanfic before reading! Also all are completed unless I state otherwise.

I'll keep updating this, there's still a lot more to add :) 01/16/2023

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

❣ actual good plot not just mindless fluff:

We'll Have Dancing, Meanwhile by whatdoyoudesire :. or accomplished tourney knight, Eddie Munson meets the breathtaking King Steven of Loch Nora at the festival for his twentieth name day

One need not be a House by OhlioOh :. Or: The one where Steve Harrington is a ghost, and Eddie is a paranormal investigator. (THIS IS BEAUTIFUL, NOT COMPLETE THO)

We'll Know for the First Time by KikiZ :. OR: Eddie gets to have a good life.

Date me instead by Zhuletta :. Or: Eddie proposes a crazy idea to see if there's something wrong with him, Steve finds the fact that it works is even crazier.

We Should Just Kiss (Like Real People Do) by OonionChiver :. ‘I’ve never loved anything the way I love you, Steve Harrington,’ Eddie says, dark brown eyes moving between Steve’s own. ‘This isn’t the moment, sweetheart.’ (this has lots of porn but like emotional bsdm porn WITH PLOT)

The Worst Mixtape Ever Made by nbfutureboy :. There’s an art to making a mixtape - and Steve Harrington has decidedly ignored all semblance of art in creating a mixtape for Eddie Munson. Too bad Eddie’s fascinated with how impressively terrible his song choices are. (you need an ao3 acc to read this one!)

❣ fluff. that's it. that's the plot.

Paint Nights by AnnetheCatDetective :. Steve is looking for something for Dustin, but when he walks into the game and hobby shop, he sees something he likes.

you got a lot on your mind (and your heart it looks just like mine) by picklebaby :. Steve wakes up with a migraine and Eddie knows just how to take care of him.

All That You Ever Wanted From Me Was Sweet Nothing by t1red_gay :. Five times Eddie tells Steve he loves him, and one time Steve lets himself say it back. (I'm not sure if this fits in this section but I'm putting it here)

run my heart through your gentle cycle by cheatghost :. That’s how Steve finds himself doing his laundry at the college laundromat every Sunday night. It's how he ends up stumbling upon a metalhead with dark brown curls and even darker eyes, sitting on top of his machine. (the angst is like for half a chapter so its in the fluff section)

you're my sunshine (and I want you to know) by througheden :. Steve tries to right that wrong and gets something unexpected in return.

you’re just like a dream by joehardys :. Or, Steve, from Eddie’s point of view.

and here we are in heaven, for you are mine at last by obsceme :. Or: 5 times Steve steals Eddie's clothes, and one time Eddie returns the favor.

i'm your man (don't you know that?) by thatsadorable :. 5 times that steve and eddie go on a date +1 time that eddie realizes that they are dating

when no one's there (please take my hand) by coupe_de_foudre :. "You look good. Do I need a reason?"

❣ want some angst with a happy ending? I gotchu

Take a Joke by towardthesun :. Steve has spent his whole life trying to learn how to take a joke, trying to figure out how to not take everything so personally. His first big fight with Eddie shows him he might not be the only one struggling

All's Well That Ends Better by througheden :. Vecna dies, but Steve nearly goes with him. An AU where Eddie drags Steve out of Hell.

i've got you. by througheden :. He sighs and drops his head to stare down at the carpet beneath him. It breaks his heart, seeing Steve hurt like this.

palm split with a flower with a flame by laundrybiscuits :. Steve and Eddie take a roadtrip. (hanahaki au)

Press Those Honeyed Lips To Mine (And Call It A Lullaby) by StarlightDreamer16 :. There were upsides and downsides to hiding his and Eddie's relationship for the past decade. (check this out, one of my favorites)

in the blood orange sun by ghosttotheparty :. or; Steve is scared of water, and tries to just deal with it.

hope i cross your mind by rogersharringtons :. After a messy breakup five years prior, Eddie sees Steve for the first time with a date that looks a little too similar to a certain metalhead from years ago.

uh-oh, love comes to town by 96tears :. So, when Vickie and Robin set Eddie up on a blind date with Vickie’s cousin, Steve figures he feels weird about it because he’s the only one without a date.

Keep It Secret, Or It Won't Come True by NoBinoDino :. Or: 5 times Steve Harrington felt alone on his birthday, and 1 time he didn't.

Three Shots by steveharringtoned :. Steve Harrington watches his own blood pool and trickle over a series of hands pressed against him, small and large, soft and rugged, and for a moment, wants to stay like this. He can’t. (SO GOOD READ IT)

Support Local by Ijustlikereadingcutefics :. Or: the one where Steve is obsessed with watching Eddie play the guitar.

it’ll be fine by dusk light (i’m telling you, baby) by Anonymous :. "You leaving?" Eddie gives him a smile, sad around the edges where it reaches his eyes, says, “Yeah,” and Steve knows he doesn’t just mean for tonight. (cant believe I didn't put this one here sooner ITS SO FREAKING GOOD)

my way, your way (anything goes) by rogersharringtons :. Rockstar!Eddie Munson au set in the summer of 1988 where Corroded Coffin opens for Guns N’ Roses after Eddie ran away from Hawkins. Steve sees him for the first time in over a year and old feelings resurface.

❣ got stuff for the horny bitches too don't worry

i'm not busy (this is what I was prepping for) by whatdoyoudesire :. Or Steve walks in on Eddie cockwarming a dildo and can't help himself.

Don't Let Your Gaze Linger by scrunglebungus :. Thus, the Prince and Consort play their favorite game. (very hot, I gotta say)

Just a Taste by AnnetheCatDetective :. steve thinks virgin!eddie is straight and tries to help him out with sexual advice

Heaven's On Fire by oscarwilderobbieross :. eddie and steve accidently meet up in a BDSM bar and hookup (there's a little more to it but don't want to spoil)

Fall Morning by KxxxFrost :. A fall morning to enjoy because certain metalhead woke up a little bit too horny

i'm not busy (this is what I was prepping for) by whatdoyoudesire :. Or Steve walks in on Eddie cockwarming a dildo and can't help himself.

Don't Let Your Gaze Linger by scrunglebungus :. Thus, the Prince and Consort play their favorite game. (very hot, I gotta say)

Just a Taste by AnnetheCatDetective :. steve thinks virgin!eddie is straight and tries to help him out with sexual advice

Heaven's On Fire by oscarwilderobbieross :. eddie and steve accidently meet up in a BDSM bar and hookup (there's a little more to it but don't want to spoil)

Fall Morning by KxxxFrost :. A fall morning to enjoy because certain metalhead woke up a little bit too horny

you're the singer and i'm the song by ruinations :. After hearing a rumor that Steve's fantastic at eating pussy, Eddie asks Steve to prove it to him. Steve is more than happy to oblige.

i'm not busy (this is what I was prepping for) by whatdoyoudesire :. Or Steve walks in on Eddie cockwarming a dildo and can't help himself.

Don't Let Your Gaze Linger by scrunglebungus :. Thus, the Prince and Consort play their favorite game. (very hot, I gotta say)

Just a Taste by AnnetheCatDetective :. steve thinks virgin!eddie is straight and tries to help him out with sexual advice

Heaven's On Fire by oscarwilderobbieross :. eddie and steve accidently meet up in a BDSM bar and hookup (there's a little more to it but don't want to spoil)

Fall Morning by KxxxFrost :. A fall morning to enjoy because certain metalhead woke up a little bit too horny

i'm not busy (this is what I was prepping for) by whatdoyoudesire :. Or Steve walks in on Eddie cockwarming a dildo and can't help himself.

Don't Let Your Gaze Linger by scrunglebungus :. Thus, the Prince and Consort play their favorite game. (very hot, I gotta say)

Just a Taste by AnnetheCatDetective :. steve thinks virgin!eddie is straight and tries to help him out with sexual advice

Heaven's On Fire by oscarwilderobbieross :. eddie and steve accidently meet up in a BDSM bar and hookup (there's a little more to it but don't want to spoil)

Fall Morning by KxxxFrost :. A fall morning to enjoy because certain metalhead woke up a little bit too horny

you're the singer and i'm the song by ruinations :. After hearing a rumor that Steve's fantastic at eating pussy, Eddie asks Steve to prove it to him. Steve is more than happy to oblige.

down down down on my knees by Anonymous :. Steve Harrington was a fucking beefcake. Soft fat over layers of muscle, thick thighs and biceps. No showboating shit, Steve was an actual powerhouse. He could bench press Eddie, easily. It was so fucking hot. (there's more plot than it seems)

Why is Eddie Munson at Your House? by MeaMeaAudio :. Eddie is used to it being fast, quick, and dirty. But this. This is not something he’s familiar with. Steve The Hair Harrington pushes him up against a brick wall in a dark alley. His mouth soft and tenderly kissing him as if asking a question over and over again.

[devildevotee]

i recently changed my url! this is altargarden!

introduction.

hello! my name is bun, virtue, and vice. i'm 29, he/him pronouns, and this is my sideblog specifically centred around my religious and magical practice. I currently worship Aphrodite, Lucifer and Leviathan, with occasional workings added into the mix with various other deities, spirits, demons, angels, and saints. in this blog you'll see mentions of theistic satanism, luciferianism, demonolatry, witchcraft, folk catholicism, saint work, angel work, and hellenic polytheism. i want to create a safe space for people to find resources, information, personal experience, and ask questions. this is a side blog, where my main is @/teacup--witch - i'm very inactive there and it hasn't been updated in years, however, so don't feel like you have to follow. i also have a blog dedicated to pop culture paganism and magic: @popculturealtar :) feel free to check it out!

dni.

⛧ minors. no offense to young practitioners, i'm just nearly thirty and don't have interest in interacting with younger people. ⛧ people against BLM or ACAB. ⛧ exclusionists. ⛧ TE//RFs, SWE//RFs, tr//anmeds. ⛧ M//A//P//S. ⛧ pro//shippers and an//ti-an//tis. ⛧ appropriators of any sort. this includes those who appropriate lilith from judaism. ⛧ s//exual blogs. artistic nudity and occasional n//s//f//w or suggestive content is fine, but blogs that are 110% dedicated to n//s//f//w posts aren't for me. ⛧ people who are prepared to ask me about h//elluva boss or try to involve me in talking about it. if you like it, fine, but don't crash it ontop of my head. i don't want it. ⛧ people who intend to use my askbox for traumadumping, or otherwise fill it with questions better suited for a therapist. i am not a professional, and asking for advice is one thing - but using me for therapy is something i'm deeply uncomfortable with. ⛧ people who have any intention of placing me on a pedestal and treating me like i'm an authority on satanism and demonolatry. this also makes me greatly uncomfortable. ⛧ people who exhibit behaviours or beliefs that are racist, islamophobic, antisemitic, zionist, transphobic, lgbphobic, & so forth will not be tolerated.

please keep in mind.

⛧ we are a DID system of around 30 alters. please do not intentionally try to trigger one of us to the front, or exhibit DID-specific ableism. additionally, if you fakeclaim or try to include us in discourse/syscourse we will collectively come at you with a hammer.

⛧ i am mentally ill and disabled. the condition that affects me the most is my chronic fatigue paired with arthritis which makes it 10x worse, so i can't promise i will always be here.

⛧ i am neurodivergent, which affects my ability to read unformatted, large chunks of text effectively. i will try to make my text as readable and followable as possible, but if there's anything i can do to help that, please let me know.

⛧ i am white. if that's something you need to know and/or avoid, please don't hesitate to keep yourself safe!

⛧ i live in australia. my active hours might be a little wonky.

⛧ i don't know a lot of people here. if i reblog from anyone who is nasty, please don't hesitate to let me know. ⛧ i tag all my posts with trigger tw, eg. death tw, bare chest tw etc. if you ever need anything tagged, please don't hesitate to reach out. i want to make my blog as gentle on others as possible.

pleased to meet you!

[dreamingofimpalas]

A quick hello and welcome to my new followers and mutuals ❤️

Thanks for following me! I hope you're all doing well and feel free to reach out whenever. I'm on sporadically, so I may not always respond right away, but I'll get back to you when I can. Keep it kind - I don't tolerate or condone hate anons, bullying, discrimination, etc. Additionally, trigger warnings are always tagged as TW ____ (such as "TW blood").

About My Blog

My blog is a place for multi-fandoms, multi-shipping, and "ship and let ship" (for new users/those who don't know, that means no ship bashing, please!). Just a reminder to minors, please block and do not engage with the NSFW tag! Here's my taglist in case you need to block anything. It's undergoing construction at the moment, so things may change in the future (I'll update my pinned post if that happens). A few of the fandoms I post about: Supernatural, Marvel, Sherlock BBC, LOTR and The Hobbit I also reblog: Star Trek (occasionally), anime, art, movies, tag games, and more. (Note that Twilight has moved to @twilight-volterra so that I can post my aesthetics there) Fandom welcome messages below for fun ❤

For the Supernatural fans, we keep the pie and beer in the fridge, the hunting equipment in the trunk of the Impala, and the rock salt on hand at all times. When in doubt, don't panic - there's always Devil's Traps, angel wards, and Bobby's panic room. Sit down for a while and enjoy the best of Led Zeppelin and AC/DC. Most importantly, remember that "family don't end in blood," so if you need a place to vent or some cheering up, my DMs are always open and my anons are on.

If you're here for Marvel posts, welcome to the mayhem! You might see some other variants here (cosplay, Loki series, Marvel movies, and Loki in Norse mythology). Loki keeps us on our toes around here, always welcoming change and breaking routines to keep us at our best. Additionally, I'm Lokean in real life, so if you have any questions or just want to discuss working with Loki, I'm down for it.

To my fellow consulting detectives (or, alternatively, their counterparts), join us at 221B Baker Street! We might play the violin at odd hours, get drunk and play a game of "Guess Who?", and there's always a possibility of a nice cuppa with Mrs. Hudson. Make sure to grab your "I Believe in Sherlock Holmes" pin at the door and don't mind the holes in the walls (Sherlock gets bored sometimes). Want to discuss Anderson's theories or John's (awful) mustache? Feel free to message me or send an ask!

For those that carry the One Ring, Legolas will lend you his bow (and Aragorn, his sword). Welcome to the Fellowship (or Thorin's Company, if you prefer)! Feel free to grab a second breakfast, celebrate with Pippin and Merry, and travel through Rivendell, Mordor, and the Shire. I'm always interested in trading bits of lore and cool fanart, so go for it!

[insomniac-ships]

Hi! Hey! Hello!

Are you proship and want a chill place to hang out? I have a Discord server now! I'll put the rules under a read more, but here's some real quick information!

》 Proship safe! Ages 13+ welcome!

》 PluralKit for systems of all kinds!

》 Custom/Personalized roles and colors!

》 Largely inclusive of good-faith identities!

》 Tons of channels for fandom, art, and more!

》 Well-vetted and safe!

Please be aware that I may be a little bit picky about who receives invites. This is to keep the server members safe from targeted harassment and keep the server safe from raids. All invites will be single-use, but will not expire!

If we're mutuals, or I see you in my notes or the proship tag frequently, you'll get an invite with no issue!

About custom/personalized roles and colors:

🔶 All roles are strictly cosmetic with the exception of the moderator, gaming, and NSFW access roles. 🔶

In #🏷role-requests, please include:

▸ your desired role name (whatever you want, really!)

▸ the hex code of your desired role color (ex. #DAF7A6)

Would you like to join? Send me a DM!

Server rules under the cut!

➼ 1.) Be Respectful

Simply treat others the way you wish to be treated. Intentionally bigoted or inflammatory behavior will result in being banned.

➼ 2.) Keep it Civil

Everyone has differing opinions and views. Please keep things civil and agree to disagree if necessary. If you are asked to change the subject, please do so. Polite and respectful debate is perfectly acceptable. Argumentative and obstinate behavior is not.

➼ 3.) Profanity is Fine

However, please refrain from using sexual, insulting, or defamatory language toward other users.

➼ 4.) No Spam

This includes but is not limited too: loud/obnoxious noises in voice chats, @mention spam, character spam, image spam, and message spam.

➼ 5.) NSFW Channels are for Adults Only

Access to NSFW channels will be provided if asked, as long as you are over the age of 18. Minors will not be given the role. Lying about your age in order to gain access to NSFW channels will result in a ban.

➼ 6.) Mind the Blacklist

Please be mindful of the blacklist! Provide trigger warnings when necessary outside of spoilered text.

〚 Example:

TW specific blacklisted topic

||Text containing the mentioned blacklisted stuff.|| 〛

If you need anything added, please let me know! If you'd prefer to do so anonymously, you can send me an ask on Tumblr instead.

For those of you with access to The Nope Zone: blacklisted topics in the Nope Zone category do not need to be spoilered, but should still be warned for accordingly!

➼ 7.) New Rules may be Added as Needed

An announcement will be made if new rules are added, as well as when the blacklist is updated.

Three Strikes and a Baseball Bat

We operate on a three strikes system, with the addition of a Mega Strike dubbed "a Baseball Bat".

《×》×《×》×《×》×《×》×《×》×《×》

► A user will receive a strike if they break server rules. This is usually a verbal warning and a 10 minute time out if necessary.

► A user will receive a Baseball Bat depending on the severity of the rule breaking. A Baseball Bat is the equivalent of two strikes. Two Baseball Bats is a kick from the server.

► Each strike will last 30 days.

► Baseball Bats last 60 days.

► Users will be informed when they get a strike, as well as the reason why.

► Instant bans will be doled out in certain circumstances, including but not limited to:

encouraging suicide/self harm, victim blaming, serious threats of violence, doxxing, stalking, deliberate use of hate speech, etc.

《×》×《×》×《×》×《×》×《×》×《×》

If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask!

[aheckinmess]

(One-shot series 2/3 chapters posted - posts regularly on Saturdays. If anyone knows who to credit for the Hizashi fanart, please let me know!)

Read on AO3.

Tags: Graphic violence, Hizashi Yamada x OC, Present Mic, Present Mic saves the day, Hizashi Yamada is a ray of sunshine, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, pro hero to the rescue, fast friends, hibachi date, time for therapy

Word Count: 4,612 words

Summary: Breaking free of Kigai’s control grants Ichijiku the freedom she’s always dreamed of, but recovering from it isn’t easy. With Hizashi’s help, Ichijiku is able to make more progress towards a normal life, and maybe even a normal relationship.

Author's Note: I haven't posted fanfiction in years, but after a two-year obsession with My Hero Academia, I have more than enough content to share. This first series is pretty dark, but there's some comfort and sweetness along the way. Enjoy.

TW: Implied/Referenced Sexual, Physical, and Emotional Abuse, PTSD Flashbacks

Chapter 2: Nightmares & New Horizons

Ichijiku (Tigress)

Sometimes lullabies keep the nightmares away and sometimes Kigai sings them to me in my dreams. Life hasn’t been the same since he’s been locked up. It’s a far cry better, but an adjustment. Still, it feels good to stretch my legs and breathe again.

As days stretch into weeks, I find Hizashi again. He’s sitting on a bench outside the arcade with that huge smile stretched wide, hands behind his head, and head bopping to the beat of his headphones. When I tap him and he opens his eyes, he lights up.

“Ichijiku! Wow, hey!” He immediately gets up and makes like he’s going to hug me, then seems to think better of it and puts his hands in his pockets. “How’ve you been?”

I still find myself glancing around in public to keep a periphery watch out for Kigai, and I can’t stop myself now. The feeling of dread he imparted on me hasn’t left, it’s merely fading into the background. “I’ve been…it’s been a lot of work, you know, trying to move on. But, I think I’m doing okay.” I want to be optimistic about the whole endeavor. My therapist says that’s what’s helped me survive this long: the hope of a better horizon. I want to keep that part of me alive and prove Kigai was wrong about everything.

I want to prove that to myself too.

“How are you?”

“Well, I…I’ve actually been thinking a lot about you.” He admits sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “See, a lot of times we can’t get solid evidence on people like…your ex.” He’s very careful not to say his name. I can’t tell whether I’m grateful for it or not yet. I don’t want to be afraid of him anymore. Wounds take time to heal, Little One. “So they frequently get back out because of how well they hide the damage they’ve dealt.” It’s the first time his smile hasn’t fully reached his eyes as he looks at me, but it’s back in place soon enough. “But I’m glad to see that you’re still on your own and thriving! I mean, look at that outfit! Those curly locks and those sparkling eyes! You’ve made a lot of progress since I last saw you.”

“That means a lot, Hizashi.” A real smile graces my lips. How different he is from Kigai. If it weren’t for people like him…I’d still be stuck in hell. “Hey, why don’t I grab your number? I can keep you updated on things. And I’ll need a friend for certain assignments given to me by my therapist. I don’t really have anyone to keep me accountable for the hard tasks.” Worry and guilt suddenly swirl in my stomach and I stop pulling out my phone midway. “I-I mean. That’s a lot to burden you with, I’m sorry. I should have asked and not offered–”

“Hey, no sweat!” Hizashi looks like Christmas came early. He pulls out his phone, presses the new contact button and taps it against my phone peeking out of my pocket. “I imagine finding new friends…learning what feels like a whole new way of life…that has to be difficult. I’ll gladly help you out when times are rough!” 

“Thanks.” I sigh in relief as I look at the contact number and picture now synced to my phone. I snort. “What is this picture?”

“That’s my best friend’s cat, Cloud! He…got a little too enthusiastic about hogging the camera while I was taking a profile pic.” He laughs.

“It’s adorable!” A notification pops up and I start walking away, giving him a wave. “Oh! Got an appointment, gotta run!” 

“I’ll see you later!”

. . . . .

 Hey, Zashi, Kigai isn’t staring at me from the hallway, is he? I take a picture of the ghost in my hall, frozen with fear as tears glisten on my cheeks. “I’m sorry, Kigai, please go away.” 

His eyes bore into mine. You know the consequences for disobeying me, bitch. You weren’t supposed to tell anyone! I can smell the eucalyptus on his shirt and the minty tang of his gum. “Please, Kigai, I’m sorry…” I whimper, scooting around while feeling for the door to my bedroom. He’s going to hit me. He’s going to punish me so bad! Get away from him, Cub. Get a door between the two of you and lock it.

My phone rings and I bolt. I slam my door behind me and lock it. I search for the first thing I can to put between me and Kigai and start heaving my dresser in front of the door. Then I rush into the adjoining bathroom, lock the door, and hop in the tub, pulling the shower curtain. 

I finally answer the phone. “Zashi?” I choke out. “Zashi, he’s here. I need help.”

“Hey, Ichan, hey. I saw the picture. Kigai’s not there.” Hizashi’s voice swirls in the background. “Take a few deep breaths.”

My body jolts as I hear his voice screaming through the door. You know better than to run from me, whore! “Zashi, he’s trying to get through! He keeps yelling at me, please help…” I sob, clutching my phone close to my ear and clenching my eyes shut tight. “Stop, stop, stop…please, stop, I’m sorry…” I pant, peeking out from the shower curtain and feeling grateful Kigai hasn’t made it through the barriers I’ve set between us.

“Ichan, you’re having a flashback.” Hizashi coos through the receiver. “I need you to take a few good deep breaths for me. Tell me what you see.”

I try to listen. I really do. I suck in a heavy breath through my lips and grip the lip of the bathtub so hard my knuckles turn white. My chest aches on the exhale and I shove my free palm into my eye so hard I see spots. 

“What do you see, Ichan?”

I swallow and pull back, opening my eyes as my body trembles.

“Th-There’s,” You better open this goddamn door, brat! “Th-There’s my shower curtain…and…” Who the hell are you talking to?! 

“What’s on the shower curtain?” 

“Zashi, if he finds out I’m talking to you, he’ll hurt you.” I whimper. I’m scared to hang up the phone and face punishment. I’m scared to keep talking and watch Kigai hunt Hizashi down.

“Ichijiku, what’s on the shower curtain?”

“There’s seashells.” After all I’ve fucking done for you.

“What kind of seashells? What colors?”

“There’s a light pink…and lavender…blue…” I once again peek out the curtain.

And I promptly let out a shriek and throw my phone across the bathroom. What the fuck are you doing in the bathtub hiding from me?! “I’m sorry!” I cry, curling up against the porcelain and covering my head. Rough fingers grip my arm and I hear his voice growling in my ear. You know who you belong to, don’t you? Why the fuck are you letting those nobodies look at you like that?! Pain bleeds through my back as I try to placate him. “Please, Kigai, they didn’t mean it. Please stop.” I’ll stop when you know no one else’s body but mine. His hands grip my thighs and dread settles in my bones.

I don’t know how long he spends growling obscenities in my ear and raking his fingers over every surface of skin he can touch. But I know I hear the door open and my whole body clenches. No. If someone comes in here Kigai’s going to kill them! 

“Ichijiku?” Hizashi’s voice echoes in the bathroom. “It’s me. It’s Hizashi.” 

You know this sleaze just wants to take advantage of you while you’re vulnerable, yeah? You belong to me! I whimper and try to draw air in my lungs. “Zashi, run!” I beg.

“Ichan, take a deep breath.” He says on the other side of the curtain. “Take a big, deep breath. You’re safe. Kigai’s not here.” You fucking whore!

I choke on the oxygen I’m trying to take in but dammit I breathe. I inhale and I exhale. Kigai’s hands tilt back and forth between feeling ghostly and real. I inhale and I exhale. “Zashi, you have to run…” I whimper.

“You’re safe, Ichan.” The warmth in his voice starts wrapping around me again. “Kigai’s not here. You’re safe.”

I inhale and I exhale. I slowly uncurl from my ball when I no longer feel Kigai’s hands roaming my body. I inhale and I exhale. The smell of eucalyptus and mint fades into the rusty smell of the tub. The sound of my air freshener spraying out apple cinnamon seems to emphasize the dismissal of his scent all around me. I inhale and I exhale.

I slowly rise in the tub and ease the shower curtain back.

Sitting against the bathroom wall, Hizashi looks at me with glistening, patient eyes. My phone still sits on the floor right beside him. When he notices I’m looking, he makes a big show of taking a deep breath in, and a deep breath out.

I inhale and I exhale as I sluggishly crawl out of the tub.

“Zashi?” I breathe, looking warily around the bathroom. I creep towards the door, open it, and then hop back out of view. I look in the mirror to see if anyone’s in my room, but it’s empty. “Is he gone?” 

“You’re safe, Ichan.” Hizashi says, looking up at me. “Kigai’s not here.” 

“You’re sure he’s gone?” I whimper, creeping to the doorframe and eyeing every crack and crevice that might be out of place. Nothing has moved except the dresser. “Did you move the dresser?” I ask frantically.

“Take a deep breath, Ichan.” He tells me, and I inhale and I exhale. I listen, and he starts slowly standing up, grabbing my phone along the way. “I picked the lock when I heard you scream. I had to shove the dresser back with the door to get in. I wanted to make sure you were safe, and you are. You’re safe, Ichan. Kigai’s not here.”

Security blankets me and as my pulse evens out, a heavy wave of exhaustion washes over me. My eyelids are harder to hold open and my shoulders sag. He’s not here. He never was. It was a flashback, just like he said. You’re strong, Little Cub. We made it through another flashback. It’s going to be okay. We’re safe now.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” Hizashi asks. “Give you a hug? I don’t want to frighten you.”

I survey my emotions and analyze how I’m feeling. When I’ve taken a few more deep breaths and feel more confident, I nod. 

Two, strong arms pull me into a warm chest. I hear the steady beating of Hizashi’s heart and close my eyes, drinking in the security that just being near him brings. I breathe in time with that strong beat of his heart. 

“You’re safe.” He whispers, and I squeeze him a little tighter. Please don’t leave. 

“I’m sorry.” A few of my tears decorate his shirt. “I didn’t mean to.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” He croons, rubbing up and down my back. “Flashbacks can be vivid. I’m just glad I was able to help. You don’t have to worry about him anymore, though. I’m here.” 

. . . . .

For the next few weeks, my therapist asks me to write down detailed accounts of my flashbacks so we can analyze my triggers and try to minimize them. It sucks, but writing them down helps us figure out that eucalyptus is in the Stress Relief pillow mist I use and causes most of my flashbacks at night. We also learn that I’m more sensitive to auditory triggers, like songs he used to play in the car or abrupt loud sounds.

It doesn’t happen every time, thankfully, which is good considering Hizashi’s been trying to help me acclimate to a normal life. He’s been taking me out to different places in the hopes of showing me the finer points of life. We’ve been to the arcade, had a picnic in the park, and he’s even taken me to a music store and serenaded me while playing the piano. I’ve also met a few of his friends: Nemuri, Shouta, and Oboro.

Both myself and my therapist are impressed with the amount of help he’s offered to my situation. We’re both cautiously optimistic, though. 

Kigai started out all sunshine and rainbows, too, after all. 

Which table are you at? I text Hizashi as I step into the hibachi restaurant. The heat of the room feels good as the impending winter sets in. I love cold weather. I look around for a pair of familiar orange sunglasses. 

Hey! The table in the far back. You won’t be able to see me from the front.

I start heading that way, and smile when his yellow eyes meet mine. I’ve never been more grateful to hear blissful silence accompanying a tender gaze.

“Hey, glad to see you found the place okay.” He hops up the second he sees me and pulls the chair out for me to have a seat. It’s been a while since I’ve been pampered by an actual gentleman. “This place has a great atmosphere, and the food is amazing!”

“Yeah, it’s really warm and vibrant.” I agree as I get situated in the chair and he pushes me in. I twirl a piece of hair around my finger nervously as I look around at the crowd of people at other tables. What if they’re watching me? Kigai will– He’s not here, Dear One.

“Look at me.” Hizashi says, staring across the table and drawing me in with his essence. “There you go. No need to worry. I’m here.”

“Thanks.” I chuckle nervously, still twirling my hair as a comfort. “What would you recommend from here?” 

“You’ve got to try the freckled lemonade. Unless you’re allergic to strawberries. Then, don’t.” Hizashi laughs, opening his menu. “But aside from that, the shrimp hibachi is killer! I’m salivating just thinking about it.”

I’ll grab the shrimp hibachi then, as it’s probably the simplest and one of the cheaper menu items. I wasn’t exactly left with a lot in my bank account to compensate for what Kigai took from me. I think with some financial anxiety. 

Once we’ve made our decisions and the waiter has taken our orders, there’s a group of girls that walk by laughing. One of them gives me some side-eye and I instantly start fussing with my outfit. I pull up the shoulders of my burnt orange blouse and adjust my cardigan. Fatass. You know if you ate less I might have fewer men looking at your thick curves.

“You look gorgeous.” Hizashi says, and I snap my head up with worry. He flushes and holds up his hands, waggling them nervously. “I-I mean, you seemed worried about those girls and I just wanted you to know that you didn’t have to fix up anything. They were probably just jealous that you look so good…I-I mean! Well…oh man…” He rubs his shoulder as he fumbles over his words.

“It’s okay, Zashi.” I also flush, but only because I don’t think I’m worthy of his flustered manner. “I’m probably just overreacting anyway. I can’t…seem to turn off my anxieties.”

“It’s to be expected. You’re doing great based on what you’ve gone through.” He reaches across the table and squeezes my hand, rubbing his thumb over the sensitive skin there. “You don’t have to be afraid around me.”

“I know.” I breathe, looking at our hands and feeling  a strange combination of terror and warmth. Am I afraid of how good he makes me feel? You’re afraid of getting close and getting hurt again. I don’t want to be afraid of Hizashi. 

“I’m sorry.” Hizashi pulls his hand back and gives me a smile. “I forget that touch is still hard for you. As I’m sure you know now, I’m a dramatic and expressive person. If I ever make you feel uncomfortable, please let me know.”

“You don’t.” I promise, looking up at him and instantly regretting the absence of his touch. “I’m…just scared.” I look down. “I’m scared of getting too close to you. I enjoy your company, but I’m afraid you’re too good to be true. I’m afraid you’ll either end up like Kigai or I’ll do something wrong and you’ll leave.” My eyes start watering.

The silence between us stretches on as we eat our food and Hizashi looks thoughtful over his next words. When he swallows a bite of rice, he opens his mouth to speak again.

“I can’t make you trust that I’m not like Kigai. That’s something I know will come with time. But I can do my best to reassure you that even if you do something to upset me, I’m willing to communicate with you and not just leave you.” He opens and closes his mouth a few more times before sighing. “I care about you too much as a friend to leave you without trying to save the relationship first.”

When the words as a friend cut to my heart, I understand why I’m so scared. I take a deep breath. I’m falling in love with him, and I’m scared. You’ve been hurt. You’re allowed to be afraid…but you’re also allowed to love again. I don’t know if I’m ready to love again. And that’s okay. You can take your time. But I don’t want to lose him, either. I don’t know if I’m ready to watch him find love with someone else, but I don’t know if I’m ready to claim him as my own. I’m too scared. Then tell him that. In those words. I can’t…

I fix my face into a smile. “Thank you, Zashi.”

For the rest of dinner, I stew over my thoughts while I laugh at Hizashi’s jokes and stories. Between the ambient atmosphere and his glowing presence, I feel full of optimism as he walks me home.

It’s while I’m digging for my keys at the door that he throws me for a loop.

“Hey, um, Ichijiku?” His voice shakes, which is unusual for him.

“Yes, Hizashi?” I turn, pulling my key ring from my purse. 

He takes a step forward until he’s close enough I can smell his cologne. 

“I know that you’re going through a lot right now, and I want you to know that I’m proud of you for pushing through.” At first, he seems ready to leave it at that, but he opens his mouth again and looks at me with pink cheeks. “So, I have no right to ask this given what you’ve already gone through, but is it okay if I kiss you?”

I hold my breath. My chest gets tight and my muscles seize. You belong to me, got it? “Hizashi…”

“If the answer is no, that’s okay.” He says quickly. “I’m not trying to force you into anything and I certainly don't want to bring up any unhappy memories for you. I just…couldn’t go any longer without seeing where you stood. I was scared if I waited too long, I might lose the opportunity.”

Why does that sound exactly like what I was thinking in the restaurant? How do I tell him that I love him but I’m not ready? Say exactly that. Once the ground beneath me stops swaying and the beat of my heart returns to normal, I look up at him.

“Zashi, the answer is no…but not because I don’t have feelings for you.” I watch as his eyes dim and light up again. “I don’t know if I’m ready to make that kind of commitment. I want to be. I wish I could tell you yes, but I can’t.” I reach up and caress his cheek. His hand wraps around mine as he leans into my hold, his expression akin to that of an adoring puppy. “And it’s not fair of me to want you this much and ask you to wait for me.” My voice gets tight. I want you to hold me and keep me close, but I’m afraid if I let you, you’ll choke me. And I’m not worth the wait. I’m not worth the work and the effort so I know you’ll walk away and I’m sorry. “So, you don’t have to wait for me. But if it’s any consolation, I think I have it in me to do this.” I lean up on my tiptoes, and place a tearful kiss on his cheek.

“I love you, Hizashi, even if you’re not meant to be mine.” I swallow thickly and turn away to unlock my door before disappearing inside.

. . . . .

Hey, Ichi, can we talk?

Ichan, are you there?

I’m going to grab frozen yogurt later, want to join?

I’m starting to worry about you. Can you at least tell me if you’re okay?

Ever since the night we’ve had dinner, Hizashi has still checked in on me regularly. I’ve been trying to distance myself in the hopes that by doing so, he’ll stop trying to reach out and move on with his life. 

He proves to be rather stubborn.

I’m sorry if I’ve worried you. I’m fine. I finally send, not wanting him to think I’m in any sort of trouble.

I’m glad to hear it! The response comes in seconds. Are you free?

That’s where I stop. I can’t entertain this. I’ve already told him that he’d have to wait for me, and I’m not worth the time. Shouldn’t he get to decide what’s worth his time? 

I hug my knees to my chest on the couch and stare out the window overlooking the city. Everything is colder now that winter’s hit. Frost paints the windowpane and people walk down the streets blowing smoke from their lips. The cold would be much more enjoyable if I had Hizashi’s warmth to complement it.

My jaw clenches as frustration mounts. I don’t want to push him away but… Then why are you? Isn’t this how it’s supposed to be? Shouldn’t I be proud of myself for communicating my needs clearly? My therapist is certainly proud I’ve set boundaries and worked on coping skills. With all of this handled, we’ve been able to work on how to respond to my flashback triggers and implement strategies to work through them. 

But even she thinks I’ve been a little extreme cutting all communication with Hizashi. 

Yeah, I’m free. I send the text before I can talk myself out of it and then pull my blanket around myself to hide from whatever might follow.

A knock sounds at my door. I peek out from under my blanket as my breath catches.

“Who is it?” I call.

“The one! The only! Hizashi Yamadaaaaaaaa!”

One voice. One voice and spring blossoms in my veins amidst the cold winter storm. 

When I open the door my body moves on instinct. There is no thought in my mind when my arms reach out and pull him in. There is no question or hesitation when tender arms meet my back and squeeze tight. There is only Hizashi.

“You never let me answer that night.” He breathes in my ear, before pulling back and tilting my chin up. His expression is inescapable. “I love you, too, Ichan. You’re worth waiting for.”

“I’m so sorry.” My chest quivers. “Hizashi, I’m so sorry. I was afraid.”

“I know.”

“I thought you’d want a better life without me.”

“That life doesn’t exist for me. Not if you’re out of the picture.”

“I’m not worth the wait.”

“You’re worth the world, lovebug.”

I hug him for the next three minutes, thanking God for His mercy and kindness, and I thank God for Hizashi. He feels so good. I don’t ever want to leave. Why don’t you start there then? The idea comes to me quite by surprise, and I look up at Hizashi with newfound hope burning in my chest.

“Hey, Hizashi?”

“Yes?” His thumb strokes my cheek.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for a kiss…but would you settle with cuddles on the couch?” 

The corners of his lips turn up into that heartstopping grin. “I’d love that.”

. . . . .

We start small. For the first few weeks, we’re barely close enough for it to be considered cuddles. I mainly sit by him and rest my head on his shoulder. Gradually, however, we start making some headway. Leaning on his shoulder turns into sitting in his lap and curling under his chin, which turns into laying beside him, which turns into fully wrapping myself around him and taking well-earned naps.

It’s a little scary at first, being so close to him. I imagine it a little like being too close to the sun, always on the lookout for getting burned. But he’s attentive, gentle, and patient. When a small miscalculated move makes me flinch or freak out or freeze, he’s apologetic and understanding.

And thus, we manage to move into those bigger steps together. Doubts and fears of Kigai become less pervasive the more Hizashi shows me he’s not going to hurt me. With each passing week as he proves it, I find myself more and more open to his touch. I find myself more expectant of it. But most of all, I find myself more eager for it.

“Ichi, where’d you get this beanie? I need one!” Hizashi turns the blue and orange striped beanie in his hand.

“That? I made it. You can have it if you want.” I chuckle, wrapping my arms around his middle and sighing into his back. “It was meant to be a craft experiment. But it turned out sort of ick yucky.”

“Ick yucky? It’s magical!” He uses my token phrase as he pulls the beanie on and poses. “What do you think? Am I runway ready yet?”

I reach my fingers under the beanie and give his hair a good ruffle, effectively messing up his hair and sending the beanie to the floor. “Now you are.”

“Wa–heeeeeyyyyyy!” He pouts and bends down to look at me with sad puppy eyes. “How am I supposed to look like a model now?”

One moment I’m giggling at his antics and the next my lips press against his. My fingers wind up his chest and around his neck and I’m hanging onto him like he’s my last chance at oxygen. When his hands move to my hips, I’m violently yanked back into reality and I pull back hard, gasping.

“I’m sorry. Should I have stopped you?” Hizashi reaches out for me, but doesn’t close the distance. “Do I need to give you some space?”

“Was that your first kiss?” I blurt, before hiding my face as Hizashi’s face wavers between his and Kigai’s. I take a few, steadying breaths and Hizashi is himself again. “I’m sorry. I should have warned you. I don’t…know what came over me.”

There’s a sad smile on his face. I don’t like it. His features don’t model sadness very well. It doesn’t fit him.

“It’s okay. No, it wasn’t my first kiss, I regret to say.” He looks sheepish before his eyes sparkle. “But it was definitely the best kiss.”

A few moments pass. I did it. I wasn’t thinking about it, but I did it. And it didn’t trigger anything. Maybe…I could try again…I think I want to.

“If I move slowly…do you think we could try that again?” I ask.

“Please.”

So we do. I taste him again and spring blossoms into summer. Sunshine sinks into my veins and hope blossoms in my chest. Light brightens the dark fear in my mind and joy sings through my heart.

And Hizashi doesn’t let me go.

Continue Reading -> Ch. 3