#let's call it an “aura” is probably the cause of the size issue

[desultory-novice]

Silly question, BUT! What if, humor me for a moment please...

One of Adeleine's old bullies/people who tried to poison her and Noir, somehow ran into her on Popstar and discovered she not only is a well known hero, BUT ALSO has a bunch of terrifyingly overpowered creatures as friends?

Apologies Adeleine is not the type to hold a grudge. If such a person showed up, rather than publicly indicate to her giant hammer-wielding penguin friend that this was the person who broke her stuff and made her sad (and in an extremely roundabout way led to the death of her brother but SHE has no way of knowing that...) she would probably privately give them her best frown before BOOPing them on the face with her magic paintbrush and call it payback.

Then she would return to the people she cares about the most while leaving them stunned at how things have shifted since those days. (You get back what you put in!)

Adeleine's friends are, in the end, not tools of vengeance to flaunt to those who hurt her feelings back in the day. Her friends are there to celebrate the good times with her. (That said, big softie or not, King Dedede could be quite intimidating for her when needed. XD)

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Now, White-Haired Noir has some... stories ...from their past that Adeleine never knew. Stories that if they were to become known, ought to make the people he killed feel lucky their bodies are lost deep beneath the permafrost when the group reached Shiver Star.

I doubt much shocks Meta Knight, and Kirby, Waddle Dee, and Ribbon would probably be more sad than anything, but King Dedede? Who finds himself growing paternally protective of the siblings in either universe? That revelation would not be pretty...

[shokobuns]

“see”

in which you warm up to your stepdad while your mom’s not home.

prequel to feel.

pairing: stepdad!sukuna ryomen x reader

genre: smut, taboo

word count: 1.4k 

warnings: smut, parental stepcest, mutual masturbation (f/m), taboo, daddy kink, scenes (sex, overstim, size kink), slight mommy issues (only if you squint tho)

“behave while i’m gone, i gotta get something at the store.” she says sternly.

you nod, putting the last of your plates on the rack before turning on the dishwasher. “is sukuna coming with you?”

“no,” she replies, scrolling through her phone before slipping it in her purse, “he’s taking a nap right now. you better leave him alone.”

“i will.”

“alright. i’m not planning on leaving him any time soon. you need to warm up to him somehow, darling.”

after you hear the click that signified she was out, you groan exasperatedly.

sukuna.

he’s the only thing your mom had paid all her attention to these past few months. you want to be happy for her, you really do, but it almost feels impossible and you can’t pinpoint the exact reason why. you don’t know what it is about the man. the cocky expression on his face that never falters, his tanned skin clad in tattoos, his piercing gaze that always radiates an aura dominance, it all made you feel uneasy.

of course, your mom would notice. it wasn’t uncommon for you to keep your interactions with him short and limited despite the fact he had been living with you for months. it wasn’t uncommon for you to retire to your room once he came home from work. and for your mom, it was all translated to one thing; you simply just did not like him. at all.

if only it was that simple.

you truly wish it was that simple because you’ve been repulsed by people before. hell, you’ve disliked tons of people and still continue to do so. you know the uneasiness that hits you whenever you’re near them. you know how hard your teeth clench, how your chest burns, how your eyes roll to the back of your head at the sound of their voice.

but that wasn’t it. this uneasiness came with fast heartbeats, fluttering feelings in your stomach, and flushed cheeks. this uneasiness came with the inability to form sentences, unconscious stares, and invaded thoughts. this uneasiness came with imagination, slight jealousy, and damp underwear.

so, no. it wasn’t that simple and it would never ever be that simple. you don’t know who you should feel sorry for. maybe your mother. your dear, flawed mother who decided that you needed a father figure after eighteen years of its absence. maybe sukuna, who probably was just looking for a wife or some fun, not a family. maybe yourself, your own clouded mind betraying you with sinful lust.

nonetheless, here you are.

here you are, chores done, bedroom door wide open, pulling your shorts down and throwing them off somewhere on your bed. he’s in the master bedroom right across from yours in the hallway, sleeping soundly. you can just barely make out the little snores leaving his mouth which is enough just for you.

you can’t help but admire him while he’s in this peaceful state. he’s handsome with structured cheeks, black ink that adorns most of his skin, and big hands that can completely cover yours in his fist with ease.

your panties are damp, sticking to your wet cunt. they become more and more ruined the more you think about him and you sigh. it happens every time. it starts with a thought, some kind of seed that sows in your head, and your mind elevates it until the thought progresses to something dirty, something shameful, something that is so wrong.

you should be happy for your mom.

it all goes out the window when you think about the large hand that steadies your waist every time you almost fall, one with a tight grip that brings back that fluttering feeling in your stomach. more black ink that compliments the veins running through them and silver rings that decorate his fingers. you’re sure, positive, that they’re thicker than your own, able to reach deeper than you ever could by yourself.

your hand travels down to your clit, rubbing slow circles on the small bud as you sigh in relief at finally being able to touch yourself after weeks. you travel lower, your finger prodding at your hot core before slipping in until you’re knuckles deep. starting off with slow strokes, you build everything up until you’re ready for another finger. you squeeze your eyes shut, an image in your mind forming as it always does when you’re in this state.

and it’s sukuna.

it’s sukuna and his fingers that would fill you up nicely, stretching your hole to the point where the line of pain and pleasure is difficult to decipher. and he’s looking at you with that piercing gaze again, the one that demands control and submission. he’s pumping his fingers at a painstakingly slow pace and so are you. when you imagine him hitting that sweet spot, you curl your fingers.

your shirt is pulled up above your breasts, one hand massaging your tit as you get lost in your own pleasure. it all feels so good, the knot in your lower tummy forming and tensing while your pussy drools all over your sheets. you’re letting out involuntary squeaks, your senses being overcome by the impending wave of bliss.

a groan from the other room interrupts the scene in your head.

the sound causes you to freeze, eyes suddenly widening as you turn in its direction. there’s a smirk plastered on sukuna’s face as his eyes follow your figure intently. from what you can make out, it’s possible that he’s been awake for a while now. your heart pounds out of your chest, body shaking from the amount of guilt and embarrassment. does he know you were thinking about him? can he sense the lewd scene you’ve put together to get off?

a million thoughts race through your mind, but the most prominent one is louder than the rest; why was he looking at you like that?

he folds over the blanket, revealing an intimidating imprint that pokes through his boxers, all the while staring straight at you. your cunt still stuffed with your own sopping fingers and you take it as a silent demand to keep going.

you obey, something that any good girl would do.

“come on, princess,” he calls out from his room, his cock springing up to his stomach as he pulls down his underwear and it’s better than anything you’ve imagined. the pink tip drips with precum and like his fingers, he’s thick and long. he spits in his hand and you gawk at the sight, saliva spilling at the side of your parted lips and he returns with his usual cocky expression.

three fingers thrust into you, knuckles deep, while he pumps his pretty cock in his fist, eyes following your every aspect of your current position. you pinch your nipple, letting out a small mewl, while attacking the spongy spot that never fails to have you squirting all over your sheets.

but you wish it was his thick cock filling you up instead.

you know that if you ever got the chance to have him stuffing you full, it would ruin the sensation of your fingers. you know that your little digits would never be able to compensate for something that huge. and seeing him fuck his fist makes your walls convulse because you know that this isn’t one sided. any crumb of guilt that was there before is wiped from your mind.

the only thing you can think about is his cock splitting your little cunny in half, pounding into your cervix while you struggle to take his full length. he wouldn’t be gentle, you know that, but you’d prefer it that way. he would pin your knees to your chest, caging your body with his arms, balls slapping against the skin of your plush ass. he’d hit every spot that you couldn’t, driving into you ruthlessly. and it wouldn’t end there because he would want to ruin you. he’d want you cumming over and over again on his cock until you’re a ruined, babbling mess begging for him to stop.

“oh- oh fuck, daddy!” you breathe out between moans, feeling wet liquid coat your thighs as your walls clamp down on your fingers. he’s almost there with you, streams of sticky white spilling onto his stomach at the sound of your sweet voice. your back arches of the bed as you cream all over your fingers, panting exhaustedly while bringing them up to your mouth, sucking softly. he’s practically staring holes through your body, his cock twitching once again.

but your mom can be back anytime with the groceries. and he really needs to clean those sheets.

[hualianff]

Thinking about XL who used to be an heir to one of the fastest-growing technology companies in the world, “Xianle Tech.” When his family’s business was still thriving, XL attended a lot of charity events to meet with clients and cultivate important connections he would have to uphold as future CEO.

Everything seemed to be going according to plan, XL developing a respectable name for himself as he began business school. Once he graduated, XL shadowed his father at work, learning the ropes of how to run a successful company that competed with the best in the world.

However, the success was never meant to last.

Only three years down the road, XianLe Tech suffered a major setback when reports spread that their new product line caused harmful explosions after little use. After paying millions in indemnification for the damage customers experienced, another scandal revealed XianLe Tech had been profiting off of unpaid labor.

Within one month, the world XL had grown up to know crumbled all around him. And he could do nothing about it. All the “friends” XL had disappeared within a blink of an eye. No one wanted to be associated with the family who had resorted to dirty practices for their advantage, which is incredibly ironic considering the business industry is all about networking and using others as stepping stones to achieve selfish goals.

Nevertheless, XL understood that it had been wrong, that he and his parents were wrong to disregard the roots of their manufacturing process. XL wasn’t aware of his privilege up until now, but he sure as hell would learn how to combat this systematic inequity, somehow salvaging what he had left along the way.

XL becomes a social worker who is a Youtuber on the side, educating his viewers about class injustices, homelessness, poverty, and the same exploitation of lower-class resources that led to XianLe Tech’s downfall. He also incites them to engage in random acts of kindness whenever they can. He doesn’t have a huge subscriber following, doesn’t make money off of his videos. XL is just glad that some people watch his videos. He hopes he can make a positive impact on their lives, no matter how small.

After all, XL is a firm believer that despite the world being a scary and lonely place, having at least one person let you know you are cared for is enough to make a difference–is enough to save a life.

***

“I am sorry, but we cannot serve you at this moment.”

“But we talked on the phone a few hours ago. I have a reservation,” XL says calmly. He holds up his phone with the confirmation page pulled up. The waiter doesn’t even glance at the screen, sniffing as if XL is nothing but a nuisance.

“Still, we don’t serve people like you,” he says, eyeing XL’s outfit with distaste.

Ah, so it was an appearance issue. XL quickly looks around at the seated guests, catching sight of wrists adorned with miraculous jewels and pricey wristwatches, bodies clothed with expensive fabrics no doubt imported from overseas. The same aura of practiced prestige and sophistication lingers in the air.

XL doesn’t even have to glance down at his ripped jeans, cream-colored sweater, and flimsy white jacket to know he sticks out like a sore thumb. He internally sighs, slightly regretting taking SQX up on their recommendation to try out The Red Thread. If XL knew he would’ve been barred from in-dining eating, he would not have placed a reservation in the first place.

But XL doesn’t want to give up just yet. He still has a lot to learn about class discrimination and prejudices; if XL were to walk away now with his tail between his legs, it would be giving power to those who claimed superiority and unjust treatment in the first place. Instead of allowing this waiter to brush him to the side like a pest, XL stands his ground, adjusting his beige handbag on his shoulder.

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean. Could you please elaborate?” XL asks in a breezy tone. A sense of amusement bubbles in his gut when the waiter looks visibly annoyed.

“Sir, we don’t mean to be unaccommodating. However, there are standards in place that were set by the CEO himself. We are simply abiding by his standards,” the waiter says, presenting the matter like he had no choice but to turn XL away.

“Is it a money problem? Because I assure you I can pay for my meal, if that’s what you’re worried about,” XL tries again. The waiter narrows his eyes, making XL gulp nervously. He unconsciously twists the hair not pulled back in his half-bun.

A few more waiters gather around them, ready to jump in if things get too heated.

“Oh, I’m certain the former heir to XianLe Tech can afford our service,” the main waiter sneers unkindly. XL’s breath catches in his throat upon being recognized. The probing eyes suffocate him, probably taking into account how renowned he was years ago and thinking how far he has fallen to come to a Michelin-starred restaurant dressed like this.

XL feels himself losing steam.

“But we are asking you to leave. It’s up to you whether or not force will be necessary.”

“It’s not right to refuse service when there is no valid reason in doing so,” XL says, more desperate this time.

“You do not pass the dress code,” another waiter pipes up. “You are not fit to be here.”

The main waiter now walks towards XL, a grim expression on his face.

“Wait, I’d like to speak to your manager, if they’re here–”

“I am the manager. Don’t make things harder for yourself,” the manager replies brusquely. He stands tall in front of XL, an intimidation tactic used to make XL back down. XL’s face heats up as he realizes he’s caught the attention of other customers as well. He’s like a trapped animal being told to scram in the presence of merciless predators.

It’s not a nice feeling, not at all.

Humiliation seeps into XL’s bones. It’s been a while since he was last scrutinized by the general public, and while this is only a handful of elite gathered in a medium-sized building, the burden weighing down on XL feels like that of the weight of the world. He needs to escape. He needs to breathe. Because only then can XL continue saving himself.

Right as XL decides it might be time to let the reins go, he hears the whooshing sound of the doors opening. He doesn’t turn to see who has entered, but the surrounding staff who were observing the exchange go deathly silent. Their faces automatically mold into a mask of obedience, posture tightening up.

***

He is one of the oldest orphans in the orphanage. His age alone makes him fit for this task, and if he does it right, he can earn money as well as the good graces of his caretakers. He can do it.

He must. He must survive.

But there are so many people. So many plates and tables and silverware. Everyone is so tall, so big, so important. It’s been three hours, and his feet have developed blisters. The bruises from a couple days ago still throb. When he smells all the rich aromas coming from the kitchen, from the plates he carries upon both hands, his stomach growls.

He feels light-headed. Too many people, he thinks. Too much talking and boisterous laughter. He wants to leave but he can’t. He won’t be paid until the end of the night, after clean-up.

He continues to work.

And then it happens. It’s too fast. He wasn’t looking where he was going, just staring at the floor as he rushed to the kitchen. But he has bumped into another person, and judging by the clothes he wears and his pleasant scent, this person is very important.

He can only stare at the mess he’s made. There are gasps of shock and horror around him. He can’t breathe. He wants to disappear. To die, just freaking die already. He will never make it out if he can’t even complete mundane work like this.

As he’s ushered into the kitchens by the older male, he prepares for the yelling, and possibly the hits. They never come. Instead, he’s cleaned up by the older male, who asks a couple questions.

He answers them willingly.

“What is your name?”

“It’s nice to meet you, Xiao Hong-er. I’m Xie Lian, you can call me gege, okay?”

“Everyone makes mistakes, Xiao Hong-er. But they will never define you. As long as you remain true to yourself, you can achieve anything you set your heart to. Do you understand?”

“I believe in you.”

When gege left through the kitchen doors, back to the adult world, back to being important, another older male walks in. The other male frowns, then says one word.

“Fired.”

***

“What is going on here?” An authoritative voice demands, sending powerful vibrations through the air. The hairs on the back of XL’s neck stand up as the new person comes up from behind him. This must be an important figure.

The manager answers that a customer–who isn’t even dressed according to the standards–has been causing trouble. Already beyond mortified at the turn of events but refusing to let it show, XL slowly meets the newcomer’s eyes as he is acknowledged.

The man is tall, at least a head taller than XL. He’s broader too, dressed to the nines just like the other waiters and customers in the restaurant. His skin is hauntingly pale, slivers of ink peeking out from underneath the dress shirt he wears, top three buttons open. XL does not allow his gaze to waver as he instantly labels this guy one of the most handsome men he’s laid eyes upon, and it makes his heart stutter.

XL shoves down these uncalled for thoughts and refrains from giving any of his emotions away.

The most peculiar thing is the eyepatch settled upon the other man’s right eye. XL makes it a point not to stare too much. The eye left uncovered regards XL with interest. XL feels shivers run down his spine at that, steeling himself for the harsh words that will be directed towards him once more.

So XL finally bows his head and lowers his eyes.

“Never mind. I was just leaving. Sorry to be a disturbance.”

An awkward silence follows. The staff doesn’t say anything, but their faces are victorious at the prospect that XL has finally caved in. On the other hand, the taller man’s eye widens, and he only regards XL for ten more seconds before anger becomes noticeable in his gaze.

XL feels his stomach drop.

He goes to make his exit, except a large hand on his shoulder prevents him from turning around. XL looks at the taller man with confusion. The eye-patched man says only one word, expression solemn.

“Stay.”

As XL processes this with raised eyebrows, the taller man now glares holes into the manager who had spoken in the first place. With a click of his tongue, loud and clear, all the staff rushes back to their places, getting back to work. This includes the manager, who ducks his head to avoid the hostile energy of who XL now assumes is his boss.

“Sir?” XL addresses quietly as all the eyes that were once staring at him go back to their own business. The taller man now fully turns to face XL, hand slipping off XL’s shoulder.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t realize such standards were put into place since my departure. I’ll ensure there are consequences for the staff that has disrespected you tonight,” he says firmly, never breaking eye contact. This makes XL’s skin crawl, makes him feel alive. The other man holds his hand out, seemingly shrinking himself to fit XL’s comfort. “I’m the owner of this establishment, by the way. You can call me San Lang.”

XL is utterly speechless for a second, automatically taking SL’s hand and shaking while simultaneously admiring his undeniable attractiveness.

“M-many thanks, San Lang. I didn’t mean to cause such a commotion...” XL feels himself blush as he takes note that their hands have been intertwined for an absurd amount of time considering they’re strangers.

“I tried telling them I had a reservation, but they wouldn’t seat me—“

“They rejected your reservation?” SL questions sharply, dropping XL’s hand and curling his own into a fist.

XL bites his lip, nodding. He can practically feel the waves of irritation rolling off of the owner. “But I suppose I didn’t realize how high-scale this restaurant is. I mean, I’ve heard many great things about the food...”

When SL doesn’t say anything, the corner of his lips turned downwards, XL quickly backtracks in panic, realizing what he said must’ve been offensive.

“I’m sure your restaurant still holds true to its reputation, haha! I suppose...maybe I should’ve thought to dress more formally so this wouldn’t have happened,” XL says.

However, SL is already shaking his head. When he speaks, his voice is hushed, words tumbling out in a smooth baritone voice that XL could listen to for hours.

“No. None of this is your fault. Please don’t take whatever my staff has said to heart. They are the ones mistaken and they will be held accountable. Forgive me for disappointing you...?” He trails off.

“Xie Lian,” XL offers helpfully, offering a small smile.

“Xie Lian...” SL says slowly, as if testing the name out and decidedly liking the way it sounds. He whispers something else under his breath that XL can’t quite make out. XL chuckles at that, now wondering how old SL is. He doesn’t look any older than XL himself, perhaps even younger. Just the mere fact that SL is this young and so successful, XL is the one in awe.

They stand at the entrance of the restaurant in a brief silence, just staring at each other. XL assumes it’s time for him to take his leave. His reservation doesn’t matter much anymore, not like he wanted to dine and be served by the same people who looked down on him because of his underdressed self.

But before he can, once again, announce his exit, SL steps a little closer, a curious look in his eye.

“Say, Xie Lian, seeing as this was such a disservice for your night, would you be interested in going somewhere else? I know a few places that have just as delicious food,” SL offers, tilting his head innocently. His long hair is tied into a low ponytail, but his side bangs fall gracefully across his face.

“Wouldn’t that be showing me your competition?” XL asks good-naturedly. SL smirks at that.

“Competition doesn’t matter when the food in question is high quality,” he answers, holding his hands up while shrugging. “You came here for a satisfactory meal, and I’m saying I know a place or two that will be just as pleasing. If you’re up to try it, just say the word,” SL continues casually, arms now crossed in a way that makes the fabric of his long-sleeved dress shirt bulge.

XL is flattered by such an offer. He looks one last time at the inside dining room, the fancy tablecloths and expensive-looking candles, and the lavishly dressed customers who sit with their backs rod-straight, fingers pointing here and there.

It’s honestly a no-brainer. XL allows himself to smile graciously, nodding. “I would greatly appreciate it. I’m merely looking for dinner. Anywhere is fine.”

SL returns the smile, one eye crinkling at the corner. He seems relieved at XL’s response, and promptly goes to grab his coat that he had thrown at a waiter upon entering.

XL’s eyes widen at the bold, maple-red long coat SL puts on, accentuating board shoulders and his slim figure. XL puts aside his self-conscious thoughts of his ratty, second-hand clothes. SL gestures for XL to walk out the doors first, typing away at his phone, most likely making a last-minute call for a reservation.

XL thinks that for once in his life, luck seems to be on his side. What could’ve been a night of total humiliation and shame turned into a nice meal with a new friend. XL pushes the doors open with a newfound sense of happiness, completely missing the way HC makes a neck-slicing motion at the staff on his way out.

(HC)

(How To Piss Off Your Boss)

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Shaw’s Summer Night Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

This date makes references to Shaw’s Birthday Event, so be sure to read that first!

The date begins with a phone call.

MC: Hello–

Shaw: [deep sigh] What do you want? It’s early in the morning. You aren’t sleeping?

MC: It’s already 11am. What do you mean by “early in the morning”? Did you forget that we’re meeting today? Get out of bed!

Shaw: Huh… we planned to meet? I guess that’s fine. I have something to do today though. Look for me in school later.

MC: School? You have classes today?

Shaw: Of course not - it’s summer. There are no classes.

MC: …

Shaw: We’ll meet in the library.

MC: The library?

Shaw: 2pm in the afternoon. That’s all. I’m hanging up.

MC: Huh?

Without waiting for me to continue, I hear the dull tone of the ended call.

MC wonders why Shaw is heading to the library – is it because he plans to steal some professor’s book, or is there some secret treasure that no one knows about? 

More importantly, she’s worried that her birthday surprise for him would be ruined

The fridge in the antique store looks like it’s on the verge of being spoilt. Would the cake I left there yesterday last till tonight?

MC: …I knew that celebrating Shaw’s birthday would be a very troublesome thing!

She heads to the library and does some work while waiting for Shaw

I am completely focused on my work, and am caught off guard by a sudden coldness on my face. I lift my head quickly.

Shaw is standing in front of me, one hand holding a can of Coke, and a playful glint in his eyes.

MC: You’re late again!

I straighten my back and look at him in an accusatory manner, but he just leisurely takes off his bag and sits down.

Shaw: I got it, I got it. It won’t happen again.

MC: That’s what you said the last time, and the previous time before that-

Before I finish speaking, Shaw leans towards me, and I can smell his fresh shampoo as he closes the distance between us.

Shaw: Shh. This is the library. Please refrain from making noise.

…he tells me to refrain from making noise, but he himself is saying this in a loud volume.

Students who were focused on their work lift their heads to look at us. One bespectacled boy even shakes his head after looking at us before continuing his work.

I push Shaw away, feeling embarrassed.

MC: ...move further away a little.

Shaw arches an eyebrow, his eyes smiling as they sweep over my face, before tossing a glance towards the people in the surroundings.

Seeing them lower their heads, he slowly takes out a stack of reference books and exercise books.

MC: You’re really here to study?

I curiously sneak a peek – These textbooks are completely new, and there isn’t a single crease or marking on the covers. Clearly, they haven’t been used before.

Shaw grabs one of the books, flips to the first page, and takes out a black pen from his pocket.

I stare at him silently for a long time, barely believing the sight before me – Shaw studying? It’s something you only see once in a century.

MC: Why do you suddenly have the passion for studying?

Without much hesitation, Shaw gives me an answer that is both surprising and yet not unexpected.

Shaw: Final exams.

MC: …huh? Mm… I empathise.

He’s a student after all, and has to put his studies first.

I put aside my initial shock and flip through my work proposal, deciding not to disturb this scholarship contender as he studies.

In order to celebrate his birthday without any issues today, I had already prepared everything since last Friday.

MC: …

After two hours, I finally cave in and look at Shaw, taking in his studious look.

He leans against the back of the chair lazily, his sleeves rolled up in habit, revealing a slender arm.

He can’t seem to internalize the contents of the textbook, causing him to exude an extremely serious aura. Yet, the speed at which he flips the pages leads one to click their tongue.

In just half an hour, he has flipped through a book that has several hundred pages.

One hand holds the book steady on his legs, while the other hand is in mid-air, toying with the pen in his hand. It’s as though the pen is being held by an invisible thread, moving from his palm to the back of his hand, and then interweaving between his fingers before twirling around his thumb.

…this skill is actually pretty cool!

I watch his pen twirling techniques closely and secretly take my own pen to copy his movements.

Lower the thumb, and then lightly push using the middle finger, like this…

I try to copy Shaw’s movements, but with a gentle push of my fingers, the pen slips out of my hands and in front of Shaw. The ‘thud’ of the pen meeting the table is loud!

Countless eyes look in my direction! I immediately lie on the table, burying my face in both arms, hoping to make myself disappear.

Shaw: …

As the tip of my ears and my cheeks redden, I can clearly hear Shaw’s teasing and playful light laughter.

I don’t look up but reach out in front of Shaw, trying to feel for my pen.

Before recovering from my embarrassment, Shaw has already leaned towards me, speaking in a joking manner, the warmth of his breath on my already burning ear.

Shaw: I already told you - this is a library, please be quiet.

I take the pen into my hand and use the tip of it to jab his elbow, silently telling him to continue with his studies and not be bothered by me.

Shaw: You don’t have anything to do?

I lift my head a little, but before I can answer, I see a girl walking over. She timidly puts a beautifully packaged cake box in front of Shaw and runs off without a word.

MC: …is that your friend?

Shaw: I don’t know her.

There is a yellow post-it note on the cake box, and on it is a drawing of a cake with a few candles, and below the cake is a cutely written “Happy Birthday”.

Looks like Shaw is quite popular among the girls in school.

I hold up my chin and shoot him a meaningful look.

Shaw lifts an eyelid, takes his bag and stuffs a few books into it. He stands up and proceeds to stuff my items into it as well.

Shaw: Revision is over. Let’s go.

I see him all prepared to leave, and point at the cake box on the table.

MC: The birthday cake… You’re not taking it?

Without turning around, he slings his bag over his shoulder, walking out the exit. I hurry to catch up with him.

MC: W-wait, where are you going?

Shaw: You know that today’s my birthday, so of course we’re going to celebrate. Let’s go to Live House then.

MC: No we can’t… Follow me!

The corner of Shaw’s lips curl upwards, his eyes squinting in a smile. He shifts backwards, letting me take the lead. His interest is clearly piqued, and his expression looks as though he awaits to see what I have planned.

Shaw: Lead the way.

MC leads him to the antique store

As they stand outside, Shaw speaks up:

Shaw: Tell me, how did you know that today is my birthday?

MC: You haven’t even entered, but you already know I’m going to celebrate your birthday?

Shaw looks at me with a smile that says, “Of course”.

I open the doors of the antique store. I walk to the middle of the store, and outstretch my arms to reveal the end-product of the day I spent decorating.

MC: Happy birthday!

Shaw was probably stunned by the exaggeratedly decorated store. He steps through the doorway with a hesitant look in his eyes, but after a few seconds, he can’t help but laugh aloud.

Shaw: If the old man sees the store like this, he’d be so angry that he’d comes back to life. I like it though. A birthday celebration should be this lively.

Looking at the smile hanging on his face, I no longer feel uneasy. I confess how I found out about his birthday.

MC: When you lent me your jacket the other time, I found your student card in the pocket… I’m not surprised that you’re a Gemini.

After a slight pause, I think back to his earlier words.

MC: Live House is too noisy, so I picked this location… Would your mentor be upset that I kind of tormented his store?

Shaw: Not really, I didn’t mean what I said. Anyway, he has given me the shop. This is my shop now, and as long as I’m happy, it’s fine.

As he says this, he reaches out to the balloons and ribbons hanging on the ceiling.

Shaw: If I’m happy, he wouldn’t mentor.

This is the third time he’s brought up his mentor.

The first time, he mentioned it in passing. The second time was when I borrowed an antique from the store. He rarely brings up his mentor, as though his mentor meant something special to him, different from other people.

MC: What kind of a person was your mentor?

Shaw: He…

Shaw is silent for a while, digging through his memories. He thinks for a while, and then laughs.

Shaw: He was a normal old man. Loved money, loved nagging, and he often let me talk to customers. Spent his whole life taking care of this palm-sized shop, he’s nothing special. But he treated me well, and even celebrated my birthday. Also, his cooking skills were not bad. But his business was too dull, so he didn’t have much to do. A pot of meat could stew for an entire day.

When saying all this, his voice contains his transparent emotions. He has tossed away his usual teasing tone. It’s as though he has finally taken off his prankster mask, revealing the teenager that he should be at his age, and the purity he originally had.

MC: I’m envious that you had such a mentor.

The sun has set and faint twilight streams in from the window, casting this person in a layer of quiet atmosphere.

The sparkling light is reflected in his eyes, giving his amber eyes a bright hue.

Shaw: Come with me.

Before I can react, my wrist has already been taken ahold of, and I can only follow him.

They end up sitting on the rooftop of the store. The sky is already completely dark.

MC: Happy birthday. Although… I thought this was a good idea when I was planning it. But it feels like spending your birthday like this is a little too quiet. I can’t help but feel that something livelier is more up your alley. If I had known earlier, I’d have bought fireworks for us to put off.

Shaw laughs.

Shaw: I don’t like lively things that much. This is good.

The evening wind rolls up the corners of his shirt, revealing a tight waistline. His eyes stop wandering, and he turns towards me, his eyes smiling.

Shaw: It’s easy to see fireworks.

He suddenly balls his hand into a fist in front of me. Seeing my confused expression, the corner of his mouth lifts up.

After that, he opens his enclosed hand slowly – light blue electricity appears before my eyes.

In his palm is a lightning-created firework, and every inch of electricity crackles and sparkles. It is incredibly eye-catching.

I am completely flabbergasted. You can use your Evol like this?

Shaw: Looks good?

MC: Yes! This is the first time I’m seeing such fireworks.

I can’t help but exclaim, and even reach out to feel it, but Shaw presses down on my hand.

Shaw: Is your brain working? This is electricity.

While saying this, he extinguishes the firework. With the bright light gone in a flash, the surroundings become even darker than before.

I hesitate for a moment before touching his palm with my fingertips, feeling the traces left behind by the lightning.

MC: …does it hurt when I touch it?

Shaw: Of course not.

Shaw lets out a chuckle, as though mystified that I’d ask such a silly question.

He brings his hand closer to me.

Shaw: Aren’t you celebrating my birthday? Where’s my gift?

MC: How could you ask for your own gift!

Shaw: Why not?

MC: There wouldn’t be a surprise then!

Shaw: The surprise isn’t important. The gift is more important.

MC: …fine, I’ll let you win this time.

I take out my phone from my pocket.

Shaw: Are you really going to send me a red packet? That’s so unoriginal, what kind of a surprise is that.

I ignore him, stuffing one side of the earpiece into his left ear while I put the other earpiece into my right ear. I press a button and music plays.

Right after Shaw is done speaking, he pauses for a second, his expression turning from one of dumbfoundedness to surprise. After a while, he clicks his tongue softly.

Shaw: Tch, you truly lack creativity.

As the melody continues playing in our earpieces, I bend my head towards him and laugh.

I found this song in the bin of his work laptop. Or rather, when I found it, it wasn’t a song yet.

The ‘song’ only had a few melodies here and there, but the style was perfect.

Playing with the band is just a hobby, so Shaw rarely creates something from scratch. He must have hidden things he wanted to say in his music, but never brought it up with anyone.

I spent a few nights writing the melody with the little skill I have, reading into the blank spaces the thoughts in Shaw’s head.

And then I sang it as a song, to be given to him.

This is what I felt was the only present that could show that I am willing to understand him, and that I genuinely care about him.

MC: Does it sound good?

Shaw laughs.

Shaw: It’s average. The singing is a bit much though.

I glare at him fiercely, suppressing the urge to punch him – The fact that I can sing like that is already very good!

MC: No matter what you say, this is my present to you. You should happily say that it’s quite good, thank you!

Shaw laughs again.

Shaw: Fine. Thank you.

Once he opens his mouth, I already feel like retorting, but suddenly stop myself.

MC: …hmm?

Shaw lifts his hand to push the earpiece into his ear, and starts humming along with the melody.

Shaw: [humming]

A voice flooded with youthful spirit fills the night wind and is blown towards the crowded street.

I plug out the earpieces from my phone and place them in his hand.

MC: This is also for you. It’s a double assurance, just in case you don’t like my song.

Shaw instantly plugs the earpieces into his own MP4, wraps it around several times, and puts them in his pocket.

Shaw: Not bad. I like it.

I dangle my feet over the roof and casually question him.

MC: Didn’t you say it’d rain whenever you’re happy?

I stretch out both hands, pretending to be waiting for the rain. I look towards him and shrug.

MC: It isn’t raining.

Shaw lowers his eyebrows, his lips suppressing a smile, his expression reflecting his amusement. After a pause, he suddenly stretches out his arm-

My first reaction is to hurriedly cover my head with my hands to defend myself, thinking he is going to flick my forehead.

MC: What are you doing…

His arm goes over me, hooking around the back of my head. With a gentle pull, he brings my entire self towards him. Caught off guard, my forehead is suddenly pressed against his.

Our foreheads are warm, our breaths are warm. The place where my arm meets his is warm. My skirt is damp from sweat, and where it sticks to my skin is warm.

The teenager’s amber eyes are warm too.

I avoid his eyes and lower my head. I see trickles of sweat covering his collarbone. Following the rise and fall of his chest with his breathing, the sweat drops trickle downwards.

Shaw: Do you have a little crush on me?

The purposefully low voice carries with it a smile and calm confidence, as if no matter how I answer, he would only accept the answer he has already decided in his heart.

Shaw: Where’s my birthday cake?

I mutter softly.

MC: …in the fridge.

Shaw: I’ll leave my birthday wish to you. You can try to make a wish, and maybe I’ll have a crush on you in the future too.

MC: I don’t need such a wish!

I’m about to push him away, but he loosens his hold on me first and hops down from the roof.

Shaw: Come down, let’s go have cake!

MC: …

Shaw: Come down, I’ll catch you!

MC: You better!

Shaw laughs and stretches out his arms, ready to catch me. Under the light, his eyes are full of light and heat. I can’t look away.

I take in a breath, let go of the roof, and fall.

🎧

Shaw’s post on Weibo (21 June 2020):

Shaw: It’s a suitable day to be up on the roof.

🎧

Phone call: here

Video call: here

[duraxxor]

Character Sheet: That Damn Trio

Uh oh, it would seem Duraxxor has gotten himself in a lot of trouble this time around! He’s been split into three pieces of his former self! Oh the humanity! Well there’s only one thing to do. What’s that? Well, we go on a wild adventure to put him back together, of course! That’s why I have decided to create character sheet to explain and every one of the fragments and their traits. So without further interruptions, let’s get down to the material! 

Character No. 1

Name: Daev  ( Pronounced just like Dave ) 

Race: Sin’dorei?

Height: 5′ 8″ ( down from the 6′ 4″ that he once stood at. )

Hair Color: Silver Blonde

Eye Color: None, his eyes are as clear as glass

Age:  “ I was only born not that long ago... I jest though... “ 

Physical Traits: When a person comes in contact with Daev, the first thing they may notice as his youthful appearance. Unlike Duraxxor as a whole, Daev has the physical body of a young adult that has suffered from lack of muscle. Despite this, he seems able to stand straight and maintain himself but is unable to physically apply the strength and running speed he once had. The scar that once dominated his features is now shrunken down and appears to have lining that almost reminds some of a stitching, so to speak. Perhaps even mending? The same can be said about the majority of his black attire that decorates his body other than the sleeve that appears to have torn on the right side. A thin trench coat and a pair of black leather britches that are only matched by a pair of boots below. One can also notice the pair of snake bites piercing on his lower lip that seem to have appeared as he no longer bears even a semblance of the elven fangs gene. 

Personality: Quiet and probably the most balanced of his former self. Daev seems to be given the nickname of being the Heart of the Trio. And with good reason considering he is probably the very being that keeps the other two in existence. He is never to quickly jump to violence and seeks to see how people function and feel. Selfless thought and under normal circumstances, kind to those that share a mutual respect for him and his space. Although he is the most attuned to multiple emotions, he has a hard time properly expressing them and it may even come out in a series of riddles. However, he does seem to have something to say for every type of person. 

Abilities: Lack of physical strength, Daev has to rely on his mind and quick thinking if he hopes to manage avoiding being killed off with the help of his familiars. It isn’t known whether he retains much of his weaponry training, other than having a dagger tucked away under his coat that appears to have a significance, or perhaps even symbolic value. Despite his familiars having their own personalities, he seems able to maintain control of them in certain moments and can even call them or dismiss them at will. Daev’s greatest ability is that he has so much untapped potential that is it unpredicted what he may learn in his stay within the Shadowlands. 

Character No. 2 

Name: Randdu ( Ron-doo ) 

Race: Familiar ( Bat ) 

Height: Unspecified, look to his Abilities for details

Hair Color: White

Eye Color: A mixture of Red and Yellow

Age: “ Look, man, give me a break. I only look old. “ 

Physical Traits: You feel a piercing gaze always watching you when you approach Daev with his avian shadow, Randdu. He takes on the appearance of most bats native to Azeroth aside from some defined features that make him appear more like a Fruit Bat from our world, bearing a canine-like snout beneath the leathery wraps that are his lengthy wings. Jagged claws appear to be on both the back legs and wing joints, giving him almost the look a humanoid if not for the fact he lacks thumbs. He is the definition of wild animal with personality. 

Personality: The reckless familiar that is highly regarded ( and prideful of himself ) as the symbol of Duraxxor. Randdu is also the loudest and most immature of the trio. He would rather pick a fight and see who is the strongest than listen to negotiations. He also possesses quite the appetite match this need for combat. However, this doesn’t mean he isn’t self aware when he is in over his head, being the quickest to also panic when he feels outmatched, that is until something goes right, then he will simply mock his foe. Warning: He may curse a lot. 

Abilities: Despite his reckless personality, Randdu is actually quite the powerhouse. He is physically strong and can easily pick up something that is three times his own size, which is only matched by the fact that he is able to grow and shrink his form based on the energy reserves he has obtained through his vampiric aura. The more he fights and succeeds, the stronger Randdu gets. Claws, teeth, and even a mind piercing screech are at his disposal. However, the magical affinity seems to lie more so in the fact he is able to cast a blaze of shadows about his form, giving him enough speed to perform a Wraith Flight, an ability that projects his vampiric aura outward and making mere contact results in the sapping of one’s raw energies. 

Character No. 3 

Name: Sphula ( Sph-ooluh ) 

Race: Familiar ( Serpent ) 

Height: 15′ 07″ in length 

Hair Color: “ Crimson Scales, you uneducated pig. “ 

Eye Color: Onyx 

Age: “ To old for you to know. “ 

Physical Traits: While Randdu is regarded to be the visible lurker, Sphula sticks to remaining hidden into his time is most appropriate. The lengthy serpent bears a strange familiarity to the Arcane Serpents of Northrend, but with many more rows of teeth and definitive fangs. He also lacks the ethereal skin until certain abilities are applied. Scales, bladed fings, and circular markings that are akin to chains, this crimson familiar seems to be the most colorful of the trio. 

Personality: Calm until provoked, Sphula recognizes his own intellect and will exercise it when it is most necessary. More often than naught, he is seen wrapped around Daev, whispering into his ear while chastising Randdu. For once to gain conference with Sphula would mean that you either have earned his respect or there is something of worth about you or upon you that he would sooner have you align yourself to their cause. Unlike the other trio, Sphula is not above breaking the rules in his favor. For he believes logic is more important in the case of survivability in the cruel world of a snake. There is one he deems the most worthy of his time: The Lady in the Red @sanguinesorceress​ . 

Abilities:  Not as physically strong as Randdu, Sphula is also a constrictor and has no issue wrapping his long tail around his foes or even applying it in a flailing motion to dispatch someone from approaching Daev. And speaking of which, did you know that snakes can actually jump three times their length? Not just this one, but he can also slip his entire length through objects much like a pocket space just to come out in a near forty yard radius. Sphula is also the strongest when it comes to the use of magic and intellect. He is able to conjure geomancy, hemomancy, umbramancy, and in some cases, cryomancy and pyromancy. But what would a snake be without his bite? Twin fangs possess a potent cytotoxin, which is a toxin that induces tissue necrosis. Keep your hands away from this snakes mouth!

OOC Information Station 

Rp Style:  When interacting with this blog or even the in-game character, I cannot always guarantee that you will interact with all three of them, just as I also cannot guarantee that one of the other’s won’t squeeze themselves into the RP. Otherwise, I am generally laid back and always up to most themes, including the dark and twisted. I am an adult writer and in most cases, I am not so easily triggered and easy to speak with. Please, don’t hesitate to ask questions as I may have an actual answer for them. I also would like to remind everyone that I have been roleplaying in World of Warcraft for nearly ten years. All I ever ask is your undying patience and kindness in return. 

Platforms: Tumblr, Discord, and In-game (Planned) 

If you have made it this far, congratulations. Now to get to the nitty, gritty disclaimer warnings and rules.

1. Roleplaying with The Trio means you have agreed to not knowing the original character Duraxxor is the true identity of these characters without the proper knowledge or permission. Should you regard him as Duraxxor, Alphus, Lord Daevara, Myotis, or any other former alias, it will be ignored in-character. Should this become a continuing habit, I will ask you personally to please stop trying to ruin the mystery of the characters. Let’s make this a fun plot for all, old and new. 

2. If you are seeking to fix the problem as quick as possible, then you have come to the wrong player. I am wanting this particular plot device to go longer than a few weeks or even months as the Shadowlands is going to obviously take longer than a single year itself. There’s going to be hurdles to make evolve these characters over time. You are welcome to speak about being a part of the plot where he attempts to fix himself though!

3. When addressing particular character questions, please specify who you are addressing to unless it is all the above or the mun. This makes my life so much easier and more engaging. 

4. Do not god mod my characters as I would not god mod yours. All of them have their own individual strengths and weaknesses and should be considered only through natural interaction. 

5. More importantly, be respectful and patient. This is a brand new concept I am playing with and I really wish to see it through to the very end and want those involved to have fun. 

Thank you all for taking the time to read this and I do hope that everything is clear! I look forward to roleplaying with everyone and enjoying the Shadowlands storyline! Happy Writing everyone! 

And if you have not read Chapter 1 to the Shadowlands storyline, here is a link to the story is here

[obeymeluv]

Ohhh how about the boys reacting to a lower demon hitting on reader? Like aggressively hitting on them that it’s already quite uncomfortable? Or it could be the shy, almost sweet type?

Hey there! Holy wow, how long has this been here? I usually check Tumblr from my phone and I guess message notifications don’t come through? So sorry T_T

Either way, Nonnie, this isn’t good :o

Divider from Glitter Geeks

♥.·:*¨¨*:·.♥.·:*:·.♥.·:*¨¨*:·.♥ ♥.·:*¨¨*:·.♥.·:*:·.♥.·:*¨¨*:·.♥  ♥.·:*¨¨*:·.♥.·:*:·.♥.·:*¨¨*:·.♥

“It cannot be helped, for I am born of sin and they inspire it in me.”

♥.·:*¨¨*:·.♥.·:*:·.♥.·:*¨¨*:·.♥ ♥.·:*¨¨*:·.♥.·:*:·.♥.·:*¨¨*:·.♥ ♥.·:*¨¨*:·.♥.·:*:·.♥.·:*¨¨*:·.♥

Lucifer

This is the BIGGEST, ULTIMATE NO

Like, all of Mammon’s past transgressions don’t POSSIBLY add up to this insult

At first Lucifer pays no mind because you seem to be integrating into the Devildom and furthering Diavolo’s grand plan. Good!

Then it starts to gnaw at him and he really pays attention. Call it the keen eye of an ex-angel, to watch over humans

Half of him is earnestly trying to plan things to say on the way over, not hearing how his own footsteps echo thunderously with impending doom, but half of him can’t even concentrate due to the overwhelming sense of wrong.

You seem very uncomfortable, this lesser demon is more incompetent than he thought possible, and there’s something hot and nauseating burning in him. It almost hurts to clear his throat, honestly

It feels like the part he’d forgotten about...almost all that Satan was. He honestly thought he didn’t have any wrath left in him, for pride seemed far nastier a thing to be stuck with

He lets those big black wings, once the pride of the Celestial Realm, unfurl in a great and terrifying display. He used to shine in the Celestial Realm when he revealed his true form, but in the Devildom it translates as pure heat

He fans his wings to cool the air around you but the lesser demon now knows his looming shadow and his terrifying presence

If the demon is bold enough to stick around, Lucifer introduces you as the resident human transfer, discourages them from making you late, and suggests any further interaction happen in the presence of one of your seven guardians (“Of which I am one.”)

Although he mentioned seven guardians, it’s clear that he’s the key guardian. The one who will oversee all, and that’s enough to send the demon skittering away.

It takes a few minutes for the air to cool and his wings to fold back in and Lucifer uses that time to glare a burning hole into the lesser creature.

Finally he looks at you and asks you how you’re feeling. Nothing bad happened? Do you need to file paperwork?

Would probably consort with Diavolo to cast a minor enchantment so you could protect yourself if one of the brothers weren’t around

Mammon

You think another demon’s going to get close enough to talk to you? While in the presence of your NUMBER ONE MAN?! Ha!

Mammon may complain about having to go to classes and tries to convince you to ditch more often than not, but he really does look out for you

And boy is Greed’s Avatar so he’s not going to skimp on the company

That also means he’s not going to share your company when he doesn’t feel like it

Mammon may not be openly flirtatious like Asmo, but he knows all about swindling people for their heart (for it is just as valuable as money) and he knows when this demon comes slithering up that he’s BAD NEWS

He’s clever with money-making schemes, has successfully stolen from almost all of his brothers to pawn things, and has brokered deals with witches in such a way that he’s barely affected. Boy’s going to know how to dodge a creep

And for a while, it works. He teaches you back passages and all sorts of little things

But, inevitably, you have to face it alone. He’s not going to always be there.

And he kicks himself when he’s not. Seems he’s only minutes late but ANYBODY who knows you--like your number one man!--knows you’re uncomfortable and THE GREAT MAMMON has to do something!

What does he do? The biggest, loudest, flashiest thing possible. THE BIGGEST SIGN YOU COULD GIVE ANYBODY

If the demon isn’t discouraged from Mammon yell-talking at you halfway down the corridor, Mammon gets to see the delicious way he deflates after he throws an arm around your neck and starts apologizing to ‘his human’ about being late

If he’s in a bad mood that day, he’ll probably toss the demon a single Grimm and tell him to get lost or go buy himself something nice.

The height difference is probably pretty significant so it’s easier for him to just scoop you under his arm and carry you down the hall. Or let his tail wrap around you and walk you down the hall.

Leviathan

I’d be interested to see Levi in this position, honestly. Part of me thinks he’d be too shy to do anything, instead sulking in his room, but part of me thinks once he sees you as a friend (or something more) he’s going to go to bat for you

If it’s that second one, he’d be slyly demeaning. Being the third-born, he’s probably got an intelligent sarcastic streak like Lucifer and a subtle underhandedness like Mammon.

As the Avatar of Envy, his main game is to make the lesser demon feel insignificant by pointing out how little they know you. They’re not your real friend like him so obviously they’re nothing.

He’s much better, anyways. They’re an NPC, he’s Player 1.

I’m also very, very curious about his position in the Devildom Navy. Is that some kind of a switch-flip moment where he can command a room no questions asked, or is it some kind of wickedly good strategy innateness?

Being a background person (and having Asmo as a brother), he probably overhears a lot of gossip. He’d probably drop some real gossip, something embarrassing. Probably say you were needed by Lucifer, as that’s more to-the-point and believable

The aim of the game is to send the demon away, to create distance. Mission accomplished.

Satan

He won’t intervene until he gets the idea that you’re uncomfortable. It’s a whole process with this one.

On the one hand, he wants you to be able to handle yourself. If you are not enough to send the creature away, then he’ll intervene. Partly because he’s technically responsible for you, partly because he cannot stand idly by and entertain this idiocy.

Satan has many tricks but his favorite one is to freeze the demon out by ignoring him.

Totally dominates/inserts himself into the conversation. Makes the demon feel like he isn’t there.

If that doesn’t work and your scrambling to corroborate him or just back out of the conversation, Satan speaks for you. (”We’re studying later.”, etc.). If the demon tries for another day, Satan just coolly adds ‘and tomorrow’ or ‘for the rest of the week’ until the point is made.

The longer this issue continues--despite his help--the more the Avatar of Wrath begins to reveal himself. That aura alone is usually enough to send anything running.

Kinda feels like he made an ass of himself no matter what, and apologizes after you two are alone. Is very cute and embarrassed.

Gives you a biting book. It’s an enchanted tome you can train not to bite certain people. You two are the only ones that can hold it. He looks forward to seeing how many people it bites before the week is over (a little too happy). 

Asmodeus

Oh the many ways this could be handled! Asmo has so many ideas!

At first his little heart skips a beat because how cute is this?! A cliche romance unfolding in the halls of RAD between a human and a demon? Then his little ‘radar’ begins to ping and he realizes not all is well or cute

He was kind of glad, honestly. You could do MUCH better (like him!)

It could be as easy as Asmo sliding in and charming the lesser demon to leave you alone, walking away in a stupor, or more complicated and sinister

Asmo’s never done anything truly, intentionally sinister but rumor mills can be pretty devastating. The lesser demon may find himself at the center of some unsavory rumors that cause him to slink around the general populous

The narcissistic fifth-born probably has something of a following. He may appoint some of his followers as body guards or just extra eyes to keep you safe

Or he could do a total 180 and make this lesser demon seem totally dreamy to others so they get chased and leave you alone. Yes, he quite likes that one!

Then there’s the traditional route, the most obvious (which Asmo prefers because, honestly, you two would be the CUTEST couple) where he’s your boyfriend and you guys didn’t want to tell anyone but OOPS! SECRET’S OUT! Great, now go away! Wait, take a picture for his Devilgram first! Okay, now go. 

Beelzebub

Probably takes Beel a bit to notice your discomfort. If he’s not distracted with food, it’s because he didn’t want to act in bad faith. What if you actually liked talking to that demon? What if you were just awkward like Levi? It’s a delicate matter.

Beel is no fool, though. He’s very friendly. If he introduces himself and the lesser demon doesn’t quit his behavior, Beel will then turn serious.

Tries to emphasize to the demon that you’ve said no

May show muscle or offer up a challenge. Sometimes people are hard-headed like that and need action.

“You want to date them? Beat me in an arm-wrestling competition.” (they won’t)

Beelzebub can be down-right crafty. “You want to date them? Beat me in an eating competition.” (he’s the undisputed champion).

I think he’d use his size in a good way. If this demon keeps cornering you/pestering you, Beel’s going to make a habit of walking between you or just picking you up until the demon gets the hint that if Beel’s around, he’s not talking to you

Belphegor

The smallest part of him is too tired to deal with this but he’s powered by the sheer amount of HELL NO and decides he has to fix it.

Fix it once and it stops

Belphie, like Satan and Lucifer, has  a low tolerance for stupid things. This demon is one of them.

Very cut-throat and point blank. “They’re not interested. Go away.”

Lord Diavolo and Lucifer expressly mentioned they couldn’t use their powers on YOU, not other demons. Belphie can probably make people really sleepy. He’d make this demon so deliriously tired that he couldn’t flirt with you

Definitely the type to make the demon pass out in the hall and leave him there. Head injury? No clue, he had to go to class. It’s okay, the other RAD students probably won’t step on them.

So mad about the demon. “Honestly!” as he fluffs his pillow angrily after you two have settled in your next class. It’s the angriest nap he’s ever taken.

I don’t think he takes his pillow to school but you can bet he’d but a brick or something in it and whack them. Maybe try to suffocate them. Probably wouldn’t risk his precious pillow like that.

I bet he’d fake nap if the demon tries to flirt with you in class. LOUD, OBNOXIOUS, GRATING fake snoring.  

Hope you liked it :)

[millenniumsilver]

Title: Vulnerable Heart

Main Character(s): Lee Myungbin. Kim Hana. Kwon Junseo

Summary: Ever since he was young, Myungbin realized the strongest ability he had was the power to make friends wherever he went. He picked up on the fact that socializing was one of his favorite things since he was a kid, and ultimately prided himself in being the social butterfly that charmed everyone. (Or: a look at how Myungbin decides to befriend people, and how it plays out for him in return)

하나

2006

When Myungbin was growing up, the first thing he remembered learning from his parents was that the best thing to carry himself with was a smile. At the young age of eight, he didn’t quite remember why his parents made such an emphasis on it, but it wasn’t like him to be bothered with it. 

He liked smiling, and even more importantly, he liked making people smile. He never had anything to lose when it came to the prospect of bringing some happiness into someone else’s life, even if it would be momentarily. 

Thus, it was no surprise that when his class got a new student in the middle of the year, he was the first to approach her. Myungbin, being practically the whole class’ friend, felt like it was his duty to make her feel as welcome as possible. 

And maybe it was also the fact that seeing her sit in the back, not having made any moves to get to know anyone, keeping her eyes focused on the windows that didn’t just sit right with the young kid. 

Ever the one to act before thinking things through, it was only a few moments before the school day was to begin that Myungbin had decided to march to the back of the class, right where Hana had just arrived. 

“Hi!” 

The voice was bright and loud, not a single semblance of care for anyone around them was present in him, simply wanting to talk to the girl that had him itching to move every single class. 

“My name’s Myungbin,” the kid’s smile rivaled the furrowed brows and blank look on Hana’s face, which only increased his smile in size (in an attempt to look all the more welcoming, even if there was a chance he looked like he was in pain). “but you can call me your new best friend!” 

A beat of silence was his instant reply, causing his smile to waiver in the slightest as his eyes finally met Hana’s, both of them staring at each other with different emotions flickering between the hues of their eyes. 

There was a small part of Myungbin that suddenly thought of how maybe Hana didn’t want to make any new friends, and maybe she was perfectly content sitting by herself every single day,

But the thought was too absurd for Myungbin who craved social interaction every other minute, so it flew out of his mind as immediately as it came in. 

Maybe she just thought Myungbin was weird. 

Maybe his parents lied about his smile being the best thing about him.

Oh god, his parents set him up. It was another one of their “learning experiences” that was meant to make Myungbin grow, but to be quite frank, as a young kid, he would rather leave the growing for the future. 

His thoughts silenced at once when he heard laughter slip in his ears, finally escaping his mind only to see that the blank face had dissipated and instead a bright smile had found its way onto Hana’s face. 

“If I’m calling you that, shouldn’t you call me the same thing?” 

Even though it didn’t seem physically possible for his small face, Myungbin’s smile had managed to grow even wider, feeling as if he accomplished something of worldly importance seeing Hana smile for the first time. 

“Duh! How else are people going to know about our friendship?” 

2019

“You’re the most ugly person I’ve had the displeasure of meeting, you know that?” 

Myungbin heard the annoyance pierce through the small cafe, the voice bringing an immediate smile to his face regardless of the words that were carried along with it. He turned his head around from the seat he was in, watching her walk from the entrance straight towards him, anger emitting from her; her brows stitched together, the way the corner of her lips dipped down ever so slightly, and her eyes that scorched a fire of irritation. 

Myungbin couldn’t help himself letting out a chuckle at the visual of her powering through the batches of people as if she was on a mission. He was quick to get himself to get up from his seat, a feeling of warmth scouring through his body: something he hadn’t quite truly felt since the moment he left everything behind. A feeling that only two people had ever managed to make him feel. 

“The smile’s only making you uglier.” A swift jab to his chest was accompanied by those words, only for Myungbin to disregard it all and wrap his arms around her, pulling her as close to his chest as physically possible. 

“Hana.” 

“Jackass.”

“I’ve missed you so much.”

“Is that why I didn’t know you were back until now?” Hana’s voice had simmered down from its attempt at anger at such a speed, if Myungbin hadn’t been friends with her for more than a decade, he would’ve grown concerned. 

It had only been 6 years of them being apart, but when it was under the comparison of them being friends for 13 years, it felt longer than just that. 

“I’m sorry, Hana.” 

Everything was so much more than it was at the surface of their friendship. Everything always meant so much more. Everything always mattered so much more. Everything always hurt so much more. 

“But, I’m back for good.” he whispered gently, as he felt her arms tighten around his back, his chin slightly lowering onto her head. 

The two friends reuniting after being apart for as long as they were, was probably a bit more dramatic than they both imagined, but neither paid any mind to it. Their communication didn’t halt altogether, but it was never the same when they were both used to seeing one another face to face, rather than behind a phone screen.  Being such integral parts of each other’s lives and having that fall apart the way it did just meant so much more now. 

Even if they had a missing piece in their friendship. 

준서

2019

“So, do you guys want to share contact info? I think it’ll be nice to start a group-chat just to get to know each other a bit more.” Hyunwoo spoke as he scratched the top of his head, the smallest of smiles playing across his lips, something all of the boys seemed to share.

It had only been an hour ago when the CEO of Crescent Crystal had held a meeting to announce what each boy had been suspecting ever since word had spread throughout the small company: five boys had been chosen to finally debut. 

Granted, neither of the five boys had expected to be informed that they’d be debuting in a group, and an idol/actor group at that. But it wasn’t like the majority of them had any issue: a debut was a debut, in whatever form it came for them. 

Thus, the five boys had been left with one another to “get to know each other”, with the CEO leaving only moments ago. 

“I think that’d be smart. Plus, we can plan stuff together through that.” Yejun spoke directly from the left side of Myungbin, the younger noting how although he spoke to the group, his eyes wouldn’t stop glancing at Junseo from across the table. 

“Cool, cool, I can set everything up, I just need your guys’ info and we’ll be set! One step closer to debuting, right?” Hyunwoo was the embodiment of both nervousness and excitement as he sat there with his phone out, the smile on his face fighting the way his hands trembled ever so slightly. 

To say there was an air of awkwardness would be putting it as simply as possible. As far as Myungbin knew, none of the boys really knew each other at all, and the thought of being shoved into a dorm with one another, and debuting in a group was something they’d all have to wrap their heads around. 

“Alright, Junseo, can I get your-”

“I’m good.”

The response raised Myungbin’s brow, watching the eldest of the five shrug off Hyunwoo as he continued scrolling through his phone. If Hyunwoo was the perfect example of excitement, Junseo was the quintessence of discomfort throughout the whole meeting. Avoiding eye-contact with any of the members, and giving short and curt answers to anything the CEO asked. Myungbin didn’t know much about the man personally, but from the way the meeting went, the way Yejun’s eyes lingered on Junseo every few seconds, and the way he didn’t seem interested in the slightest in regards to the other boys, Myungbin could tell he was going to be a problem. 

“What?”

“Listen. We’re in a group, right?” Junseo questioned, finally putting his phone down onto the table, turning ever so slightly to stare at Hyunwoo, the latter shifting in his seat. “As in, we’re working together for our careers, yeah?”

“Yeah, you’re-”

“So, we’re coworkers. Not friends. We’re a bunch of people stuck with one another in order to advance our careers, nothing more. I don’t want to be anything more. If you’re going to have this group chat, don’t count me in.”

Silence leaked across the room, Myungbin eyeing all the boys in the room in an instant; watching the way Hyunwoo’s face tinged with a pink hue as he turned away from Junseo, while Yejun’s stare at Junseo had lost any ounce of subtlety, and Minjun who had been the most quiet throughout the meeting had begun playing with the hem of his sleeves. 

“What a prick.” the words slipping from Myungbin’s lips were meant to remain as a thought, but watching the aura of smugness that followed Junseo’s movements bothered the young man beyond belief. 

“I heard that.”

“Look at you go! Figured out how to use your ears properly.” 

Junseo’s glare shifted from Hyunwoo onto Myungbin, watching the way his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched several times, showing his bad attempts at hiding his anger. 

“Thanks for proving my point as to why I don’t want to be in a group chat.” 

“I don’t think we really need you in the chat-“

“As if you don’t need me. Me being in the group is a favor for you guys, I already have a solid thing going, not like you three.”

“Or maybe your failed attempts here and there put you on the same level as people who don’t have things going just yet, huh?” 

Although Myungbin’s fighting words pierced the air in the room, the tone of his voice was anything but malicious. He found it the tiniest bit humorous how easy it was to get under Junseo’s skin, and although he didn’t have any intent to start an argument today, he didn’t really have any intention to stop either. 

It was kind of funny watching the way Junseo looked as if he was going to leap across the table and lunge at Myungbin. 

“Let’s stop.” Yejun’s voice cut through the building tension, his tone a contrasting warmth to the icy words that had been spat across the room. “We can talk more about this next time, no one’s obligated to do anything, and no one’s doing anyone favors. Let’s call it a day and meet up another day, okay?” 

His question didn’t require an answer, Myungbin watching the way Junseo’s eyes met Yejun’s for a split second before he was up out of his chair and out of the door. 

Maybe Myungbin already had a favorite amongst the boys. 

2020

“You have a kink for storming out of rooms, don’t you?”

His joke was met with a groan, and to be honest Myungbin was a bit shocked he didn’t have anything thrown at him. It had been the week the boys of Silver Millennium were told to move into the group dorms, and although none of the boys seemed particular excited about sharing living spaces with another, anything else was out of the question. 

An undying desire left Myungbin claiming Junseo as his roommate, even with Yejun attempting to lecture him otherwise, and Hyunwoo looking at him as if he had grown devil horns. He hadn’t had much contact with the elder short of glares being thrown his way whenever they crossed paths in the company. 

It was kind of fun for Myungbin. 

“You have a kink for going places you’re not wanted, don’t you?” 

“Yeah, the rejection of it all kinda gets me going.” Myungbin found himself leaning against the railing just as Junseo was, the elder rolling his eyes before letting out a quiet grunt, moving to get a cigarette from his pockets. “Listen, I came here to talk to you.”

“Talking to me would mean I want to talk to you too. You came here to talk at me.”

“Eh, I could never tell the difference.” it was obvious the humor emitting from Myungbin was there to make himself comfortable as opposed to cause laughter, watching the way Junseo kept his sight away from Myungbin, the thin straight line on his lips now twisting into a frown. “But, honestly, now that we’re roommates, I feel like we should clear the air.”

“So...apologize.”

“We should clear the air, hyung, both of us.”

“I don’t think I did anything wrong.”

“You just called me a gremlin in front of everyone and said that if we roomed together I’d be missing by the morning.” 

“Again, nothing wrong.”

Myungbin let out a laugh at the way Junseo shrugged him off entirely, more focused on raising the cigarette to his lips than paying attention to anything Myungbin was saying. 

“Fine, I’ll apologize for trying to antagonize you, it was just fun watching you quake in anger-”

“This is an apology?”

“I like cracking jokes, it makes me feel less like you’re going to throw me off this roof.”

“If I commit murder, I’m not wasting a prison sentence on you.”

“Whoa,” Myungbin finally looked away from Junseo, his eyes focused on the skyline of Seoul in front of them. “I don’t know whether to be insulted or not.”

Another grunt in response, Myungbin peeked a stare at the older of the two from the corner of his eyes. He watched the way the smoke escaped his lips, suddenly feeling a sense of nostalgia amongst the smell of smoke, the cold air nipping at his neck, and the dark sky giving both a sense of comfort and loneliness. 

“I want to be your friend-”

“Are we in grade school?”

“and I’m willing to take a fifth of the space in the room to get to that place with you.”

Silence lulled between the two of them, the noise of the city remaining to fill the empty spaces. 

“A sixth.”

“I’ll sleep on the floor so my bed won’t take space.”

“Deal.”

The two of them finally made eye-contact, the faintest of smiles dancing across Junseo’s lips, allowing for Myungbin to return the gesture. Myungbin wasn’t sure the two of them would grow to be the best of friends or anything of the sort, but all that he cared about was making sure he wasn’t the one driving a wedge between this group of boys. 

A part of him didn’t think he could manage being the reason why another of his friend groups fell apart the way it did. 

덕수

2021

Myungbin was a sole believer in soulmates. He firmly believed that there was something out there for everyone. For some people, maybe their soulmate was within themselves. For some people, maybe their soulmate was in the form of a friendship that would last till the end of time. For some people, maybe their soulmate was someone who had a missing piece of their heart.

Myungbin knew in his heart everyone has someone. 

But he didn’t think everyone was destined to be with their soulmate. And that sometimes in life, it wasn’t a rare occurrence to meet the one who you knew you were destined to be with only to wake up one morning and only have them in your memories. He felt that even if someone was someone else’s soulmate, that there was a chance they’d meet and become so intertwined in each other’s lives only to unravel as quietly as when the strings of fate brought them together. 

Whenever he was close to vocalizing these feelings, Myungbin was always cautious. 

He didn’t think most people would get that he felt like he lost a part of himself-a part of his heart, when he managed to slip between his fingers. It felt surreal that when his eyes landed on him he felt his whole world shift, as if something missing had finally come together. 

When he was younger, he didn’t think much of it. Always the one to poke fun at his friends being in love, he never imagined himself in the same position. And he never found himself to be in love until everything he had with him slipped away and shattered in countless pieces that wouldn’t bring themselves back together. 

Myungbin’s sentiment extends to his idea that soulmates wouldn’t stay together if their souls aren’t ready to meet one another’s. That instead of love feeling like walking down a flowery path, with the breeze of undying comfort lingering in the air, and the warmth of holding hands bringing an unconditional sense of security, it felt like having flesh ripped open and letting the heart remain vulnerable to any blow and hurt that came its way, unable to do anything about it. Myungbin thought that if it wasn’t the right time, that the love two people held so dear would be the reason they fell apart rather than be the reason they grew closer. 

Myungbin wasn’t sure when or if he would ever find the person he knew in his guts was ‘the one who got away’, and he wasn’t sure if their souls were meant for each other’s anymore. 

But sitting in the cafe right in front of him, seeing the same face that had lingered in his mind for several years, Myungbin felt his world shift once again. 

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #30: Martha

On today’s Fate and Phantasms, we’re building the matron saint of a lot of things that relate to hospitality and last of the original riders, Martha! In this build, Martha’s mostly a life cleric, but she does have a little monk sprinkled in for flavor. You’ll have your hands full keeping your party of likely murderhobos alive, but they’re your murderhobos, so you need to be able to teach anyone who hurts them a valuable lesson about exactly how much pressure you can put on their ulna before it snaps like a twig.

As always, a spreadsheet for this build can be found here, and a level-by-level breakdown is below the cut!

Race/Background

As you’d probably expect, Martha is a Human, meaning she has +1 in every stat. She’s also an Acolyte, giving her proficiency in Insight and Religion.

Abilities

Martha has a lot of Wisdom, both in the sense that she’s wise, and because she just gets along great with animals. Next is her Constitution; country living has made Martha pretty sturdy. Martha has to be pretty nimble to hop over a dragon-sized shotput, so after that is Dexterity. After that is Charisma: Martha is a nice person, but it’s not a huge part of the build, so it’s a little low. After that is Intelligence, for roughly the same reason, and finally dump Strength. Martha’s not a powerhouse; it’s all technique. It’s technique that flings a house-sized reptile at your enemies.

Class Levels

1. Cleric 1: I’m not sure what you’re expecting from someone with that much of a cross motif going on, but Martha is a Cleric, specifically of the Life domain. At first level, she gains proficiency with Heavy Armor, Medicine, Persuasion, Wisdom saves, Charisma saves, and become a Disciple of Life. When Martha heal someone with a spell better than a cantrip, add 2 + the spell’s level to the healing. 

You also gain Spellcasting, using wisdom as your casting ability. Clerics prepare spells, rather than learn them, so I’ll leave you to figure out the exact list you want for yourself. For cantrips though, grab Thaumaturgy and Light to strike the fear of Him into some people and Mending to keep everything in shape for guests. As a life cleric, Martha also gain Bless and Cure Wounds as domain spells, meaning they’re always prepared and don’t count against the number of spells you can prepare.

2. Cleric 2: Second level life clerics gain one use of Channel Divinity per short rest, in two flavors: Turn Undead and Preserve Life. The former forces undead away from Martha with a failed wisdom save and the latter can split 5 times her cleric level in healing among any number of creatures within 30′ of her, but it can’t heal a creature past being bloodied. The Lord helps those that help themselves, after all.

3. Cleric 3: Third level clerics get second level spells, and Martha gets two new domain spells, Lesser Restoration and Spiritual Weapon. The former heals a creature of one condition or disease, including, presumably, leprosy. The latter lets you magic another copy of your staff into existence, which can make attacks on your bonus action. In FGO you could heal yourself and attack on the same turn, but that obviously won’t fly in D&D, so this is a pretty good compromise.

4. Cleric 4: Use your first ASI to pick up a new UA feat, Crusher. This increases Martha’s Dexterity by one, and once per turn, whenever she deals bludgeoning damage she can more a creature by 5′ with no save, if they’re less than two sizes larger than you. Also, critical hits with bludgeoning damage cause attacks against the targeted creature to be made with advantage until the end of your next turn, because kicking someone really hard in the shins tends to be distracting.

Martha also gains a new cantrip, Guidance, letting Jesus take the wheel for one ability check.

5. Cleric 5: At fifth level, Martha’s Turn Undead becomes Destroy Undead, instantly destroying undead of CR 1/2 or less when they fail their save. She also gains third level spells, including her domain spells Beacon of Hope and Revivify. The former gives allies within 30′ of you advantage on wisdom and death saving throws, and they always gain the maximum possible amount of healing from a spell. It’s basically Dumping Ice Water on Bards: The Spell. The latter lets you bring someone who died in the last minute back to life. God would probably frown on muscling into Jesus’ territory, but it’s such an expensive spell that it’s probably a moot point.

6. Cleric 6: Sixth level clerics can use their Channel Divinity twice per rest now, and Martha becomes a Blessed Healer. Now whenever she casts a healing spell on another creature, she also gains the healing from Disciple of Life.

Now that Martha has a way to heal herself without neglecting her teammates, lets immediately abuse that and get on the front lines.

7. Monk 1: First level monks like Martha get Unarmored Defense, giving Martha an AC of 10 + her dex mod + her wis mod as long as she isn’t wearing armor. Surprisingly, Martha is one of the few servants who is clearly wearing armor in most of her ascensions, but her first stage is just clothing, so this can still work. Don’t worry, we won’t make a habit of this. She also learns Martha Arts, letting her use a d4 for unarmed strikes, use dexterity instead of strength when attacking with monk weapons, and make an unarmed strike as a bonus action after your normal attack action. 

8. Monk 2: As a second level monk, Martha learns to channel her Ki, letting her spend that ki to either A) make two attacks as a bonus action. B) Dodge as a bonus action. or C) Disengage or dash as a bonus action and double your jump distance. Unlike her Martial Arts, Martha can use these while wearing armor. She also gains Unarmored Movement, adding 10′ to her movement while not wearing armor.

9. Monk 3: Third level monks like Martha pick a tradition to learn from, and Martha’s pick is the Way of the Open Hand. At this level, Martha learns the Open Hand Technique. When she hits a creature with her flurry of blows, she can A) force a dex save, knocking them prone on a failure. B) force a strength save, pushing them 15′ away on a failure. or C) prevent it from taking reacitons until the end of her next turn.

Martha also learns to Deflect Missiles, reducing ranged attack damage with her reaction, and even send it back with a ki point. John 8:7 indeed.

10. Cleric 7: Seventh level clerics get fourth level spells, and Martha gets two new domain spells: Death Ward and Guardian of Faith. The first grants guts to one creature Martha touches, and the latter lets you summon a large, suspiciously dragonlike guardian that deals radiant damage to any hostiles that get within 10′ of it.

11. Cleric 8: With this next ASI, Martha becomes Resilient in Dexterity, adding one to her ability and becoming proficient in dex saves. her Destroy Undead is enhanced, destroying creatures of CR 1 or less now. Finally, she also gains a divine strike, adding 1d8 of radiant damage to her attack once per turn.

12. Cleric 9: Ninth level clerics get fifth level spells, and Martha also gets her last domain spells, Mass Cure Wounds and Raise Dead. The former, as its name implies, heals multiple creatures of their wounds, and the latter raises the dead within 10 days. A rich man can’t pass into heaven, but they can keep living on earth... something about that really doesn’t feel like it’s in the spirit of things.

13. Cleric 10: At 10th level, Martha can call upon Divine Intervention, asking the big man himself to sort out whatever’s causing a problem. She can do this once per day, but has to wait a week between successful interventions because again, he helps those who help themselves.

Martha also gets her last cantrip; grab Sacred Flame to keep a little fire power for yourself when Tarrasque goes on strike.

14. Cleric 11: Eleventh level clerics gain sixth level spells, and their Destroy Undead becomes even more powerful, destroying any undead at or under CR 2. You can expect these last few levels to become more streamlined, as they become more focused on having high level spells than any physical improvements.

15. Cleric 12: Martha’s next ASI is going into her Wisdom, which improves both her cleric and monk saves as well as her AC.

16. Cleric 13: Martha gets seventh level spells this level. This includes Resurrection, which finally gets around those time limits you’ve had to deal with up to this point. Well, you still have to get there within a century, but that probably isn’t an issue in most combat situations.

17. Cleric 14: At 14th level, Martha’s Destroy Undead powers up again, destroying undead of CR 3 or lower. Her Divine Strike also improves, adding 2d8 Radiant damage per turn.

18. Cleric 15: 15th level clerics get eighth level spells. There isn’t much at this point that fits Martha, aside from maybe Holy Aura.

19. Cleric 16: Martha’s last ASI will go towards improving her Dexterity. Now you’re almost at good at breaking bones as you are at mending them.

20. Cleric 17: For Martha’s capstone level, her Destroy Undead improves one last time, destroying undead of CR 4 or less. She also gains ninth level spells, and obtains Supreme Healing. Now healing spells always provide the maximum benefit, no rolling required.

Pros: Martha’s very good at keeping people alive thanks to her spells, and very hard to pin down thanks to crusher and her open hand technique effectively preventing three opportunity attacks if she gets surrounded.

Cons: Martha doesn’t deal that much damage, and almost all of it is either radiant or bludgeoning, so facing anything that resists either type is going to be a pain. Monk also isn’t a good class for splashing into; her Ki is very limited, so you’ll have to make tough decisions about when she’s going to use it.  Multiclassing also cuts you off from a cleric’s strongest feature, the guaranteed interventions at level 20.

[johns-prince]

I have a sort of weird McLennon AU idea: Reincarnated!John

I got the idea from reading this interview with Paul McCartney, where he claims if he had been a girl he could have maybe gone out and fought for John to keep their very close relationship and prevent Yoko from essentially “stealing,” John away. 

Then I got to thinking, well, what if, instead, John had been the girl? Which then lead to me connecting it too-- well, what if when John had been killed, on Dec. 8th, a little girl had also been born. Basically, John’s soul being reincarnated as a female. 

A little girl born a few hours after John Lennon was assassinated, December 8th, 1980, in a hospital in Liverpool England, named Joan Winifred Stanley. Jo, or JoJo for short. 

Now while this girl has John’s soul, heart, mind, and similarities feminized-- Joan is still an individual, with her own childhood and memories-- who’s growing up in the 80s, and is a lively, young, and lovely teenage girl in the beginning of the 90s. Her favorite rocker is Joan Jett, likes Blondie, Queen, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Bob Marley, Michael Jackson, and has a secret love for Elvis Presley... knows of the Beatles, but only see’s the band and their music as “alright, sort of antwacky.” though her mom fancies them. 

Joan has fiery auburn colored hair which reaches some past her shoulders, wavy and thick, can often be a big birds nest of a mess. Milk chocolate brown eyes that appear to have specks of amber when the sunlight hits them; while softened with heavy lashes, are burning and alert, a glare could possibly kill someone. Poor eyesight, hates wearing her glasses because she thinks they make her look like a total lame. 

[reference to what sort of glasswear her eyes required and the style of them]

5′5″, thiccc thighs, perky but rather small breasts, wide hips. Noticeable jawline and chin, though softened with baby fat, high cheekbones, sharp aquiline nose, bottom lip plumper than the top. Top two front teeth are crooked, slightly turned inward. It’s hard for me to describe her hairstyle during the very start of the 90s, so it’s something like this since she is an 80s child and for most of her young teens was in the crowd so;

See now, this is what I have for female John / Joan as far of what her face and hair may look like;

****[It’s still sort of rough, I know, I need to ink her in and then color her before I wanna show the full reference drawing. I honestly want to try and give her a bit more of a wider jawline, or a bit longer of a face-- but again, Joan is still her own person so she can’t look exactly like John, of course]

Sagittarius[John was a Libra], smoker of Luckies, musically inclined [perhaps sounds like a mix of Deborah Harry and Joan Jett? Though more nasally] loves to sing, learned to play acoustic guitar from her mother, and learned to play the harmonica from her grandda [the one good thing he had given to her as their relationship was generally soured since her mother’s parents saw her as nothing more than a bastard child] Could be considered a bit tomboyish but knows how to use her feminine wiles to manipulate, humiliate, and get what she wants. Tries not to be a horrible rebel as she hates to disappoint and stress out her mother, but can be a wild child and has a bit of an issue with authority and respecting rules and requests she deems unnecessarily stupid. Single child raised under a single mother as her father was never in the picture, and while her mothers’ parents were around they barely helped, so they lived in the manner of “we manage.” Coming from Liverpool, and in the poor-working class of society, her mannerisms of speaking are indeed Scouse.

Hot tempered, jealous/possessive of close friends and crush/lover, quick wit and sharp tongued, masks hurt with indifference and practically ghosting someone til she gets over it or they apologize adequately. Wants to love and own people, but does NOT want to be owned or tied down as it makes her feel caged. Freedom of self is incredibly important to her, and feeling like she’s losing it can cause her to act out and lash out. 

Now, in the early 1990s, I believe Paul is around the age of 49/50. This might be just me projecting, but that makes Paul the legit Daddy in this whole thing, if ya catch my drift. Paul is, in my humble opinion, rather attractive and handsome in his late forties/early fifties. So yeah, silver fox Paul is gonna be a thing.

I have a thing for older men, alright? Let me project just a little bit here in my own AU. 

I really haven’t thought much on how these two end up meeting, perhaps they meet during Paul’s World Tour during 1990? Again, Joan knows of the Beatles, and knows of Paul McCartney-- begrudgingly she does like a bit of his music-- but hadn’t the money, nor the greatest of utmost desire as many of her other female friends had, to get into to see him when he stopped in Liverpool. She thought it to be neat, but could live without seeing him. 

But fate would lead to the two of them meeting, in probably an unexpected sort of way. 

Anyways, right away Paul get’s this extremely strange vibe from this girl, this girl who watches him, squinting up at him, with such interest-- and despite being a well known [legendary] and talented musician, and veteran of the music industry, he suddenly feels like he’s been thrown back to the very first day he’d met the scruffy and polar opposite, John Lennon. He finds himself wanting to impress this young bird, because he feels as if despite all his credentials, they mean nothing at this very moment, and he’s stupidly nervous around some girl he had just happened to bump into [because she’s a young bird perhaps?? with burning brown eyes and a quirked, teasing mouth that reminded him of someone???], and it’s like being back to square one of having to prove himself, of his talent and passion, and in the end, the two appear to be sizing each other up, circling like predators do with prey.  It’s a painful comparison when he realizes it, realizes how far this whole interaction threw him back, back into memories and feelings he had long since tried to bury, as not cry and mourn over each day.

It’s her who tries to end the first encounter, because she also gets this awfully weird aura from this old rock n’ roller, but she has no memories to connect it too. It leaves her feeling frustrated, because she really can’t find any rhyme or reason to why she feels this way, why she feels that this isn’t their first time interacting. Despite being an older man, she can’t help but think he looks rather good, and while she can’t put her finger on it again, she thinks that if Elvis had lived to be a bit older, he’d look something like this McCartney fellow. And while she tries to hide it, act indifferent and barely moved that she’s talking to the Paul McCartney, she does feel a bit starstruck, and so she simply wants to end this and keep it as a personal, favorite memory that she may recount to her friends and mother, who’ll probably think she’s just bullshittin’.

But when she attempts to leave, again this McCartney man, who insists that she call him Paul, catches her attention with a light grasp of her arm and stops her instantly. He’s quick to drop the hand the moment she whips her head around, shooting daggers at where he had touched her, then to staring right into his eyes. Paul isn’t sure why he’s doing this, why he feels like he needs to see this girl again, but as an excuse, he claims that it’s been awhile since he’s been back in Liverpool, and so, perhaps-- perhaps she could be the one to show him about. It’s a pitiful attempt of avoiding that he simply wants to meet up with this girl again-- and Joan rolls her eyes and breathes out an amused laugh at such a poor front. 

“Aren't I a blind bit too young fe you?” Joan would say, and while the words are obviously a dig, a tease, Paul can’t help but feel as if she had slapped him, his face growing hot and red. Tries to explain, sputtering, almost insulted, that “No-- I mean, yes, I mean, I am not--” and Joan, at first with a relatively flat expression, raises an eyebrow and slowly a smirk begins to form as she watches Paul, the Paul McCartney, fluster and stutter about like the awkward teen boys she knows and have shot down. “Am jus’ skitt'n,” Joan would give in with smile and a laugh, that caused Paul goosebumps and his stomach to lurch, because while softer and higher pitched, reminded him of someone, someone once closer than close. 

“A’rite Sir Paul, I'll indulge you.” and so, while she reasons it’s to just be nice this old rocker who probably hasn’t seen a young groupie in some time, she makes it appear she’s writing down her address or phone number on his hand-- and before she makes her get away, Paul would point out she hadn’t officially given her name to him-- “No manners these kids,” Paul might tease, and the auburn haired girl, with a smile that reached her eyes and showcased her nearly straight pearlies, told him her name was Joan, Joan Winifred Stanley, to be precise. Without giving him a chance to respond to it, she bid him farewell with a playful two fingered salute-- and for a breathless moment, Paul swore he had seen John there, just for a split second.

When he finally gets himself grounded and doesn’t feel so hot anymore, he discovers that she hadn’t written her number down, nor even an address-- just simply a street name; Menlove Avenue. If he’s so interested in continuing their little encounter, he could just go up and down the street, was her reasoning. She didn’t believe he’d go through such trouble to find her again-- anyway, he’s touring, and he has a wife and kids. Weird for a man his age to want to what, make friends with a barely 18 year old bird from old dingy Liverpool? A nobody, Joan would think, almost bitterly.

I’m still putting a lot of thought into this AU, so a lot of things can change and such, especially the idea behind how Joan/John and Paul meet and begin to interact more regularly, how their relationship starts and builds and grows and changes, and of course how it might end [I’m fiddling with the idea that Joan ends up dying too, but that’s a bit too angst-y for me to really focus on so] 

Of course because I’m a fucking degenerate, I would like to have a moment where the two do end up having an intense affair-- though it’s just sensitive because, despite being not real at all, I want to give some respect to Linda and his kids around that time too, because I know Paul loves them dearly. So this AU is obviously full of fucking angst-y and complication and slow burn and miscommunication. 

I can’t even have my cake and eat it too in my OWN FUCKING AU. Typical. 

And yeah, there’s gonna be a noticeable age-gap in this AU, so if that’s not your thing, then that’s fine. There is gonna be a lot of coming of age shit attached to that, a bit of daddy kink, Joan having obvious daddy issues [John most likely had legit mommy issues let’s be real], first times, you name it. 

In the AU, Paul is slowly going to come to the outlandish idea/theory that this girl is John, or at least John’s soul reincarnated. He can’t help it-- she reminds him of John too much, it’s eerie how alike the two are that they might as well be the same person. Paul knows he must be crazy for thinking it, and hates it because it makes him feel as if he’s gone completely obsessed over John, the idea of John still being here with him. 

I will include an appearance from George and Ringo, with maybe Ringo trying to tell Paul that perhaps this is his way of handling the absence of John, and Paul, trying to justify himself, partially agrees. George ends up meeting this girl, and can’t help but agree that Paul may be right, just maybe, because even George can’t deny this girl reminds him of John too, and gives off this aura that is unmistakably John. Ringo thinks both of them are daft sods, but when Ringo meets Joan, he also finds himself seeing John in her-- though Ringo never voices it. But George is careful to not agree with Paul out loud, worried it might encourage Paul in an unhealthy and potentially dangerous way. 

That is, will Paul confront Joan about this and finally tell her that he believes she is John reincarnated? Paul wants too, he wants to tell her, but he’s not stupid, he knows it would probably freak the girl out and cause their budding relationship to instantly crumble and die. But whenever Paul talks about John to her once they’ve gotten close enough that he’s comfortable to divulge such intimate stories and memories about his best mate, Joan’s face would become pensive, almost a far-away look in her eyes, and would begin to comment on how she swears she’s heard these stories before, or that something even similar had happened to her to which had happened to John [even though many of the stories are personal, and kept rather private, so how would she know???] 

But Joan would simply shrug off those feelings of Deja Vu, laugh and shake her head, and just move on. She didn’t like getting those feelings, like she should have memory of something but just doesn’t. 

Excerpts from a fanfic I’ll never write:

It’s a mess, really. Paul falling for this young lively bird with a mean wit and soft lips and squinting eyes that desperately needed glasses, which still managed to observe and could kill someone in the heat of an argument. A girl with auburn hair that tickled his cheeks whenever they’d hug, a girl with a memorable nose, a girl who smelt of ciggies and Liverpool and vanilla and home.  “You’ve got kaleidoscope eyes,” Paul would try one afternoon, sounding like a young awkward teen again trying to impress a young but experienced girl. Joan would turn those fiery eyes to him, squinting, turning to an unimpressed glower that didn’t match the flustered smile. “Sod off, old man,” Joan would reply, snubbing him as she would do, though the smile still betrayed her. 

Paul would fall, fall and fall, like Alice, except there would be no floor to catch him. He would fall for Joan, because he fell for John. It’s a mess, really-- because as things escalated, Paul’s love for Joan and John began to blend and blur, and it was bad because who did Paul really love? Joan, the wild young thing who could tear him down just as easily as build him up in the same sentence and look, or John-- who could do the same but ten times over, and had. Joan though, Joan was putting pieces back together that he had tried to bury long ago, pieces that John had left the day of December 8th. 

“I’m not John,” Joan would say, blunt and straight, cigarette clenched between her teeth. Paul feeling as if the air had been sucked out of his lungs, sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. “I’m Joan,” she’d continue mercilessly, taking a long drag of the fag before ripping it from between her lips, smoke swirling out between the cruel words of reality.  “I’m not some catalyst for your best mate, for whatever you and him had.” Joan’s young face twisted angrily, her eyes filled with dark hurt as she glared at the old rock and roller before her. For a second, Paul saw John again, John with his sneer and his burning glare and his words of knives that dared Paul to say something back, to engage him in war.  It made Paul sick, all of it. He opened his mouth to argue, to protest what she was saying, what she was claiming has been happening all these months. But he can’t, because it’s true, it’s all true, and it burns his insides up.  “You love John, and, and I’m not John,” she’d say, voice cracking as she can’t hide the hurt that comes from finally speaking these truths, bringing them to the light. Her face looks broken, tears threatening to break just as her voice had-- cigarette forgotten between two delicate fingers.

When Paul could find his voice, all that could be said was the girl’s name, soft and almost like a plea; “Joan.”  “Don’t,” she’d bite back like a cornered animal, lip curling in disgust from just hearing her name come from those lips that had practically seared marks along her body. But Paul didn’t, he couldn’t stop, he’d still try-- tried reaching out towards her, a hand going to grasp at her free hand by her side, but all he got was grazing the tips of his fingers to the back of hers before she whipped her hand away, body following the violent motion as she stepped back, away. Those eyes, it’s like she wanted to kill him, especially as that had broken the dam and now her cheeks were wet and she was trying not to hyperventilate and finally she dropped the cigarette as her hands began to quiver.  “I don’t want to hold your hand anymore!  don’t you get it?” she might as well have slapped him, stabbed him, but Paul truly believed those things would have hurt less than what she had just said to him. 

Anyways, thanks for taking the time to read all this bullshit lol I’m really invested in this AU, and so expect more of it. I will be posting the full drawing of Joan once it’s finished, or I can’t bring myself to work on it anymore and thus claim it’s finished to the best of my abilities lol

[calliecat93]

Are we ready for a good ol’ fashioned Grimm fight readers? I hope you are! So this is the final chapter to contain footage from the trailer, and all that’s left from that are the outfits and the fights in the mines. So… this should be an interesting one. The past two chapters have been pretty strong, so can this one continue the streak? Well, let’s take a look~!

Overview

We actually get multiple perspectives in the beginning, so let’s go in chronological order. First is Clover briefing Ruby, Jaune, and Qrow on the upcoming mission, which is to clear the launch site for Amity Colosseum. The plan is to use an abandoned Dust Mine… but it’s Grimm infested, so they gotta get rid of those nasty buggers first. I really like seeing Ruby and Jaune there and being respected as the respective leaders of their teams. They feel like actual Huntsmen now… which if one zooms in on the holo-screen, we see that they’re labeled as active Huntsmen now! Yay~! Anyways, after the briefing, Pietro gives everyone containers containing their upgraded weapons, modified by both requests and based on what he saw in Vytal Festival footage, and new outfits! Everyone preps, including Ruby… but then Oscar approaches her. We’ll go into that one in a bit. For now though, everyone is ready to go, but Oscar remains behind in Atlas. Still, we see everyone use landing strategies, including Jaune. The boy has grown~! Also, new song~! Love it~!!! 

So it’s Team RWBY with Marrow and Harriet, JNR with Elm and Vine, and finally Qrow and Clover. We get a cute Bumblebee moment as Ruby feels cold, likely from the very brief amount of Aura she depleted when landing. Which we saw on Blake’s Scroll, which all of those were also updated! But when Blake mentions leaving Oscar behind, Yang stops Ruby to question about her lying to Ironwood. Ruby is clearly uncomfortable with this, but justifies it by bringing up the current state of Atlas and Mantle. Blake and Weiss back her up and agree that for now, they should hold back on revealing everything about Jinn, Oz, and Salem. Ruby even says that she /will/ tell Ironwood eventually… but she goes quiet when Yang asks about how Oscar took it. We flashback to Ruby handing Oscar the Lamp since… well, she’s about to go on a mission and having a Relic/Grimm Magnet out in the open could be a bad thing. But Oscar then asks the million-dollar question; isn’t Ruby doing to Ironwood what Oz did to them? We see Ruby look conflicted… but we don’t see her response.

For now, the mission is underway with all the groups going through different sections of the Mines. We get a few bits like Clover asking Qrow about being on a team before, but Qrow responding that working alone tends to be easier. Ouch. We have Nora trying to compliment Ren’s new look… but he dodges the topic. Because we haven’t seen that kind of scene in everything in existence ever. Over with RWBY, they run into a cave-in… which causes Blake to recognize the Mine that they are in. One where an explosion happened, and while no one says it, likely killed several Faunus. Hmm… could this be the same accident that killed Ilia’s parents perhaps? Anyways, this makes Weiss feel guilty for her father’s horrible actions as well as how complacent about it she used to be. Marrow, who is also a Faunus, even pipes in about how due to Atlas’ system/society, humans always stand back and allow his kind to be mistreated despite benefiting from them while they have to do nothing. Plus there are those who still willingly abuse them, like the Schnee Dust Company. After all, again it isn’t said, but remember what we found out was under Adam’s mask…

Anyways, they’ve found a way through via a gap and send Blake in since she can fit through/see in the dark. At first, it all looks clear and with no Dust around they can just blast their way through. But things quickly change as Blake encounters the Geist Grimm. As such, Harriet breaks the wall with her weapon, which seems to give her cybernetic armor. Nice! Before they can give chase, however, they are confronted by some kind of... ugh… bug Grimm. Centipedes maybe? Evil caterpillars? IDK, but they’re creepy as Hell and with my fear of bugs, you can only imagine how much of a joy this was for me.

Cue the action sequence! We get to see some of the upgrades as Yang can now attach miniature bombs to the Grimm that she punches, while Ruby can turn her scythe blade around which increases her trajectory. JNR, Elm, and Vine also get into a fight and we see that the blades on Ren’s guns now have grappling abilities. But we also get to see what the Ace-Ops can do. Marrow has a boomerang/sword/gun hybrid and seems to be able to freeze things… not like with ice, just stop them from moving. Elm can root herself in place while Vine is more or less Mr. Fantastic from Fantastic Four, but it looks like only with his arms. Harriet has a Speed Semblance, something that Ruby excitedly points out since she too has a Speed Semblance. Make a note of that for the end kids!

Back with Qrow and Clover, they’re facing the Geist as Clover tells everyone to head for his location. Unfortunately, it’s able to possess a boulder-sized chunk of ice and begins to have more form the body. Qrow sees that a metal grate is going to collapse due to this and just barely warns Clover, but the Geist is able to go down further into the mines. Qrow reveals his Bad Luck Semblance as to why he was able to warn Clover as well as how he can’t 100% control it. But Clover reveals his own Semblance, which as we all guessed, is Good Fortune. To say that Qrow looks less than happy about it, well… no, that seems pretty accurate. Less than happy. 

Everyone reaches the location, but the Geist has already proceeded to add what I assume is Gravity Dust to its body. So they can’t just smash it the way that RNJR did in V4 since… well… I imagine that exploding Gravity Dust would NOT end well. Before RWBY or JNR can do anything, Ace-Ops is already on the move. It’s a really cool sequence! We get to see how well Ace-Ops works together, seeming to know each others strengths and able to coordinate ad improvise very well off of each other. It’s like with Team RWBY when they coordinate attacks, but there’s this more… professional, higher-skilled atmosphere when watching them in action. They also are able to coordinate knocking off the Dust Crystals and catching them before they hit the ground. It’s an awesome display that clearly has RWBY and JNR awed, and I imagine it’s going to inspire them for later on.

The battle ends with Clover using his fishing line to rip the Grimm straight out of its ice body and Harriet delivering the killing blow. Daaaamn. With the Geist gone though, Dust Crystals start to fall and Ace-Ops starts to round them up. Before Harriet can grab the last one, Ruby beats her to it with the usage of her Petal Burst. But this brings up something… interesting. Harriet helps Ruby up, but she also points out that compared to other Speed Semblances she’s seen, Ruby’s Semblance… doesn’t appear to be Speed Based. Or at least, it’s not the main thing. There may just be something more to it. We don’t get a lot of time to ponder it though as Clover reports the mission as accomplished. But we don’t end on a happy note. We see Forest dropped off back in Mantle… where he runs into Tyrian. Our episode ends with Tyrian striking with his tail, and I think you can figure out Forest’s fate without me needing to say it.

Review

So far… this is my least favorite chapter. But that’s not saying much when we’re only three chapters in. And even then, I really enjoyed this one!

Let’s go over the outfits and upgrades first. It… was a little underwhelming. I was hoping for some more character stuff like Blake debating on cutting her hair and thinking about where she is now compared to back then. Instead… we just have her looking into a mirror. Jaune we at least saw tracing his fingers over his Pyrrha sash. Don’t get me wrong, I liked the sequences fine and I LOVE the results! Everyone looks so good! Even Jaune, who’s new hair I hated the most looks great! I just wanted… well, a little bit more. Still, very least nothing drags like they’d run the risk of if they did extend it, so it is what it is. The upgrades are all fantastic as well! Not sure if we’ve seen all of them, but Ruby, Yang, Jaune, and Ren’s? Love ‘em~!

I also wish that we had more follow-up after the last episode regarding Ruby. I’m happy that Yang and Oscar did question it and I liked Blake and Weiss voicing their support for Ruby. But we don’t get to hear from Ruby about how she feels about her own choices. We can tell that she isn’t happy, but we don’t get to hear her talk about it. I know, that’s kind of her thing and it’s gonna be a matter of when the floodgates finally break open. Still, I just wish that we could hear her perspective about it, but I guess we have to wait. But I did like it being brought up and Oscar asking about it being like what Oz did to them. Take that people who called it bad writing!

Those nitpicks aside, this episode was great! We get to truly see the Ace-Ops in action and they are fantastic! Especially at the end! All of them come off as very likable and have this sense of comradery between them. They work together incredibly well, feeling very coordinated and in tandem with each other. Might be because they’re a military unit, but still. My favorite one so far is probably Harriet since imo she has the most personality with her competitiveness, but has this older sister kind of vibe. Marrow is probably a close second though, especially with how he points out how Faunus are put down by Atlas’ system. It might have been his weird way of making Weiss feel better and not put all the blame about her complacency on her since it’s very much a society issue. It was nice to see someone who seems to be on top despite his status recognize the problem is still very much existent.

Speaking of, there’s a lot of good subtle things in this episode regarding the SDC. We see Weiss push snow off a crate, and her face when she sees the company initials just screams guilt. We see her express this regarding how she used to be and how her father treated the Faunus as she recalls his anger when the accident happens. Speaking of, the possibility of it being where Ilia’s parents died? Nice! Blake’s unnerved reaction as she recognizes where they are and how she clearly feels sad about the lives lost shows how dedicated to Faunus Rights she still is and how much better her and Weiss’ relationship is. We’re likely gonna see the true darkness of the SDC this volume especially after seeing Adam’s scar/brand, and it ain’t gonna be pretty for either girl, so it’s good to have that solidarity between them.

The Mines looked like… well, a mine. So not much to say on the design work, but it was good. The fights were great, especially with Ace-Ops. Music was good, both the score and the new vocal track that played, as brief as it was. I know it's WAAAAY too early, but… SOUNDTRACK NOW PLEASE! The pacing was good. Some nice bits like Bumblebee flirting, Jaune and Nora pouting at Elm’s comment about them not dying, Ruby fangirling over Harriet’s Semblance, Qrow’s still lingering self-loathing about Team STRQ and then meeting a guy who has Good Luck powers. There are just so many good things in this episode. I still have my nitpicks like what I mentioned above, and the ‘Nora compliments Ren and gets mad when he changes the subject’ scene because it’s just so… predictable and not funny, cute, or insightful. I’d have cut it personally. But nothing in this episode was badly done. It was standard RWBY quality, which is great~

Last thing that I can think to note is Ruby’s Semblance. As we learn from Harriet, there’s more to it going on than Ruby may have believed. And… I am all for this! It’s been said multiple times how Semblances constantly grow and evolve over time, and we’ve seen that with people like Weiss. It’s been debated a lot about how it doesn’t seem like Ruby’s Semblance is simple speed with rose petals trailing her since at least Volume 4. What is the true extent of her Semblance? I don’t have an exact idea, but I do believe that the rose petals play a part in it. Especially since my headcanon for a long time is that Summer’s Semblance is being able to turn/scatter into rose petals. Which… has me concerned considering the “Thus Kindly She Scatters” inscription on Summer’s grave. Does Ruby have a similar ability? IDK, but I’m excited to find out~!

Chapter Four Predictions

So as it turns out, the thumbnail/description for this episode came out the same day as the premiere. So I have a good idea of what’s likely going to happen. Going off the title, ‘Pomp and Circumstance’ I think that this is going to mark the return of Jaques Schnee. I know, I hate it too, but it was gonna happen sooner or later. Makes sense since he’s likely going to launch some kind of campaign in Mantle and stir up trouble there that’s likely gonna effect RWBY’s efforts to help the city. Especially for poor Weiss cause as Chapter 2 demonstrated, Mantle does not have a happy view of the Schnee Family. Not sure if we’ll see Mama Schnee or Whitley, though the latter has a good chance, but yeah, asshole dad may very well be making his return. I hope that Weiss kicks him.

But on the upside, due to that and them being in Mantle, I think that we might have a very good chance of Robyn finally appearing. Chapter 4 feels like a very good place to bring her in and let her counter Jaques efforts, as well as letting us see what she and her allies can really do. She is Robin Hood after all, so she’s probably up for some thievery and mischief! We also might hear about Tyrian’s murder spree cause that’s probably gonna cause some tension between Mantle and Atlas. It’s gonna be Beacon all over again kids!

Episode Stats

Favorite Character: Harriet Bree and Marrow Armin Favorite Scene: Ace-Ops vs Geist Least Favorite Scene: Nora and Ren scene in the mines Favorite Voice Actor: Anairis Quinones (Harriet Bree) Favorite Animation: Harriet activating her Semblance against the Grimm Bug things Rating: 7.5/10

Final Thoughts

Overall, competent episode. Not my favorite since I felt it was lacking a lot of the tension and drama of Chapter 2 and the draw-in power of Chapter 1. But by no means is it a bad chapter. It accomplishes all that it set out to do and did it well. It fleshed out the Ace-Ops and made them more interesting characters that you want to see more of. It’s a fun episode that may not progress much in the way of plot or drama outside some minor bits, but it was an enjoyable watch. Which at the end of the day, is all that I could ask for~

[oumisblog-blog]

Whatever it was, it was wonderful

People say forget and move on, yeah, cause it's easy to say it than yo do it. Missing someone isn't just an emotion. Missing someone who was a part of your life is missing a part of your soul. It's like they left and took with them a part of your heart.

You know how hard to wake up in the morning and relise that that person isn't a part of your day anymore. You know how hard to relise that you're not going to hear his/her voice everyday or almost everyday. It isn't easy to wake up and realise you will never know news about that person again, he will not be available there for you to listen to the silly things you did in your day. You're not going to wait late nights to talk and share your thoughts .You know how terrible you feel when you put your head on the pillow and all the memories start showing in front of your eyes. Like a trailer of a movie, and that movie would be called "Once upon a time".

That person used to be the person you want to talk to after each exhausting day, the one you complain to and share small jokes with even though you're both too tired to laugh wholeheartedly, the one who listens as you go on and on about life is treating you, the one who makes u smile when you're feeling low. The one who calls you from time to time to know how you feel from your voice. The first person who comes to your mind when something goes right or wrong. The one who understands your mood and deals with your anger, the one who knows your not perfect but loves you anyway, the one who shares almost everything with you.

Trying to deal with a situation that wasn't supposed to happen or an unexpected situation is harder that anyone could imagine. It's like you have no shoes and the only option to walk is to wear one smaller than the size of your feet.. It hurts!

The fact that a dear person with whom you shared everything, with whom you spent nights talking in nothing and everything is no longer that close; Kills! It"s like feeling extremly happy and you used to share it with that special person, but he/she isn't there anymore. It's like when you feel so sad and you only need a hug from that person, or just a few words to feel better, but you can't find him/her.

Missing someone is hard, you start imagining conversations that they would never happen, you start only blaming that person in your head, you start remembering the old you with a silly smile on your face that hide gallons of tears in the inside. You sit at night, staring at that dark sky, with that beautiful moon and shiny diamonds, suddenly, the beautiful period you both spent is being drew in the sky, and you have nothing to do but stare.

What a killing feeling when you hear a song you both used to like, or when you smell his/her frangrance while walking so you just stop and feel blocked and ask your self "Wait, what? Is he/she here? Is he/she walking next to me? What should I do? What if he/she saw me? Should I act normal? Should I say hy? What if he/she concidere me a stranger now?"....

It never ends, that feeling when you think about the memories between the both of you and beeing nostalgic for the days when you were together.

It's not that you miss something specific no.. you miss the whole presence their spirit, their heart maybe, or their aura. Whaterver it is, you know in depths of your soul that you can search every corner of the earth and still not find another "Them".

You'll wait a text from him, even if you are surounded by people, you'll feel alone, cause he is the one and only who let you feel safe and magical. You're going to tell your self why the hell is this happening, he has hurt me, but all you want is him. It will ripp your heart out of your chest. Yeah, you don't deserve to live this, and you deserve to feel better, but the thing is, you don't want anything more than him. Maybe the fact that you think you will never love again, maybe because he is the only one who can pull you from the darkest of your feelings into the light.

I have to admit it, I never knew the power of love until I had felt it and it honestly destroyed me. I'm just exhausted of taking upon so much pain as my heart cannot take it. I'll never forget you, the way I desperatly tried to hold on onto you, and the way you turned your head sideways, forgeting I was ever there.

I wish you knew that all I want is you even though you stab me in the back.. or maybe it's my own fault I stab myself in the back. I loved your flaws, I accepted you as you are. You replaced me! Why the hell! Or was it my fault again? Did I missunderstood you, did I put hight hopes? Did I dreamed a lot? How could you?

Well, now, it's probably the end of a long trip! I will never forget what we shared.

You know what hurts? I keep making excuses for you, like ,"Oh he is busy now" or "probably I'm bothering him" or "Probably he thinks about me".. But the truth that you don't! Cause if you did want to, or if you wanted to text me, then you would already do it! A men is never too busy for a women he wants to talk to.

I felt confused, one day you loved md and the next you don't. Strange isn't it? How fast someone's feelings can change ans there's nothing you can do but accept it. I have to sit there and accept the fact you're completely in love with someone who doesn't give a shit wether you come or go and frankly they would rather it if you didn't come at all. And that sucks.

Yeah, I know I've been jealous, and asking billion on questions, and it's not my right, cause we aren't in a relationship..

I never stayed mad at you, never! I'm emotional I know, I'm annoying too. I'm acting crazy sometimes, over protactive sometimes.. But it's only because you mean a lot to me. You have trust issues and I tried a lot to let you feel comfortable when you are around me and you can say what hurt you, but I failed. I wanted you to get you to trust me, to lower your defenses and let me in (I still want that). And I'm still in love with the idea of loving you. I wanted you to let me gently break down your walls, I wanted you to let me inside your heart so that I could really get to know you. You mask your feelings with rage, but I see through it. Because I don't think that I was in love with you, but do I feel likz I will never love someone like I loved you?

Now I'm forced to believe that you were just a random person like the rest. Sometimes it hurts to know that the boy who made you feel buterflies, is the same one who planted thorns in your heart. I wanted you to want me as bad as I wanted you, and all you did was treat me like I didn't matter because you assuled I'd always be around... but I'm not.

You may ask from now to whenever it take, why did I start to distance myself. I start to distance myself once I feel like I'm being taken for granted, or my feelings are stronger than yours. There's no point in calling, texting or keeping in constant contact with you like I did before. One day, you'll wonder why I'm no longer paying attention to you. Reciprocity is what I'm looking for, if you can't give me that, we're both just wasting our time.

Sometimes you have to walk away from people, not because you don't care, but because they don't. When someone hurts you time and time again, accept the fact that they don't have you best interests in mind.

I'm a detail person, I notice the small changes start beoing more obvious, the excuses start coming more frequently.. I notice! But I assure you, I can't force you to do something, I can't force you to communicate with me, I can't force you to keep your word, I can't force you to stay and fight. It's crazy how you were so excited to start a conversation with me, and now you only stay online with no text. It's crazy you can go from being excited to talk to me to feeling like I'm forcing the conversation. Where does the spark and infatuation from the beginning go? Once upon a time, you told me that you're going to stay with me till the end, forever.. Is this end? It's so dramating this change, we went from laughing about everything to arguing about everything.. I start wondering if the motions were real, if you did really care or I was just creating beautiful dreams in my mind.

I can stay writing a book of 100 pages and it would never end.. Well, in the end of this, there's nothing to add but, What ever it was, it was wonderful .

[rosetowersfanfic]

New Feelings Part 3

Mark and Graves’ feelings finally come to head when Graves realises there’s photographic evidence of a certain incident online.

Graves, once again, berated himself for taking this stupid job. He was supposed to hang around Beaks and pretend to be his bodyguard during the day, then periodically sneak into McDuck’s money bin to steal ideas. Dragging his nitwitted boss away from the paparazzi was not in his job description.

Yet here he was, running through the streets of Duckburg, his hand clasped around Mark’s (no, Beaks’) wrist because for once the parrot had decided to walk to get coffee instead of taking the limo. It had been something to do with a new app recording his steps, or some new fad online.

They ducked into an alley and let the crowd of reporters run past.

“Well, on the plus side, all that running added a ton of steps,” Mark (Beaks!) grinned, fiddling with his phone.

Graves rolled his eyes and was about to tell him to call the chauffeur when he heard heavy footsteps approach from the dark end of the alley.

“Well, well, well, if it ain’t Mark Beaks,” the shortest of three Beagle Boys grinned.

The largest scratched his head in confusion. “Uh, but it IS Beaks, Big-Time.”

Big-Time rolled his eyes and wacked his brother’s head.

“Shut up, Bouncer.”

Graves cracked his knuckles.The Beagle Boys had a lot of muscle, but were severely lacking in any concept of strategy or finesse. This would be easy.

Big-Time turned all his attention to Beaks, big mistake.

“Alright, rich boy. Gimme something valuable, and I might let you and your boyfriend here go…”

Big-Time was interrupted by Graves’ fist in his face, knocking him out and likely leaving a painful bruise. Bouncer growled and swung his own fist at Graves. He dodged, grabbed his larger opponent's arm and spun, throwing Bouncer at his skinny brother.

With all three Beagles out for the count, Graves turned to check on his employer and saw Mark staring at him with an expression that could only be described as starstruck.

“Call the chauffeur.”

“Guh? Right!”

                                                       ~~~

A couple of hours later, Graves was walking back to Beaks’ office from the company’s cafeteria, a styrofoam cup of tea in hand.

He was exhausted. Between the unexpected morning jog and the short tussle with those thugs, Graves was at the end of his rope. At least they made good tea here.

Another issue was how his “co-workers” had started to behave around him recently. Before, there had been a healthy aura of fear when he passed by, as well as some anger from the security guards. Now, however, when he passed by there was whispering when they thought he couldn’t hear.

Graves usually ignored it, but by this point he was seething. He heard more whispering as he passed a pair of interns at the front desk, and even heard a snicker. Graves focused his hearing and caught something deeply troubling.

“I mean, why else would he hire him…” “Desperate much…”

The first logical thought was that they knew Graves was a corporate saboteur. A select few in the company knew of Graves’ actual job: the scientists in Research and Development, and a couple of interns. The interns who believed Graves couldn’t hear them weren't supposed to be in the know.

Graves turned on his heel and approached them.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear your little chat about our employer and I,” he loomed over them and narrowed his eyes. One of them, a young looking dog, looked about ready to wet himself. The other, a pelican, smirked at Graves, unfazed by his intimidating size and glare.

“Oh, ya mean the employer who had to pay for someone to date him?” he snickered as his friend started tugging at his arm in a vain attempt at getting his friend to stop digging his own grave.

“Or how you need money so bad you’d accept money for dating him?”

Graves dropped his coffee.

“W-what?”

The pelican rolled his eyes. “Ugh, please. Everyone’s seen this pic of you guys by now.”

He brought out his phone and turned it to show Graves a picture of him and Mark caught in a moment he had been trying his best to forget.

That stupid impulsive decision Graves had made - wiping some foam off Mark’s beak - with the caption “OMG does Beaks have a bf? SO CUTE!”

It was online, for all the world to see. All except Graves who didn’t use social media.

Mark (no, BEAKS) knew. The picture was a few weeks old. Beaks KNEW.

Graves growled and grabbed the phone; he then stormed off, ignoring the intern’s whining, as he made his way to Beaks’ office.

“BEAKS!” Graves roared as he marched in. Beaks jumped six foot in the air and dropped his phone.

“Woah! What’s the big idea? I was in the middle of something!” Beaks snapped, not bothering to get up from behind his desk or bend down to pick up his phone, instead reaching into his hoodie to grab a backup.

“Your employees appear to be under the impression that you’re PAYING me to date you!” Graves snapped, slamming his free hand onto Beaks’ desk.

Beaks paled. “I- what?! Where’d they get that from?!”

Graves thrust the intern’s phone in his face, showing him the picture that was effectively ruining both their lives. “Does THIS seem familiar?!”

Beaks pinched the top of his beak and groaned. “Ugh, you’ve gotta be kidding me- wait, who’s phone is that?”

Graves snarled. “That’s not the point! You knew!”

Beaks glared back at him. “Hey, this is not my fault! I’ve been trying to get it taken down. Besides, it’s really your fault.”

“MY FAULT?!” Graves crushed the phone to pieces. “HOW IN THE WORLD IS THIS MY FAULT?!”

Beaks stood up and leaned into Graves face. “You’re the one who got up in my bubble and wiped my face. In public.”

Graves leaned closer to Beaks. “You had foam on your face. It was driving me crazy so-”

“-You coulda told me to wipe it off instead of doing it yourself like that?” Beaks raised his eyebrows.

“Something ya wanna tell me, Gravesy?”

Graves growled. That was it, he’d had enough of this spoiled, annoying brat. He thought he could do and say whatever he wanted because of his money and intellect and the adorable way his brow creased when he was actually working on something…

Graves grabbed Beaks’ shoulders, ready to throttle him regardless of the consequences. He looked deep into Beaks’ hazel eyes; for the first time - other than at the coffee shop - he looked unsure, worried even. Graves felt a strange stab of protectiveness for the parrot, and he gripped him tighter, now breathing heavily as he finally processed how close together they were.

“Uh, Gravesy?” Mark gulped.

Oh no. No, no, no, no, no.

Graves held Mark closer; their beaks touched.

He was making a mistake. He needed to stop, he needed to put Mark (Beaks!) down and walk away, and hope he wasn’t fired. He needed to calm-

Mark interrupted his train of thought by shutting his eyes, leaning his head forward, and kissed him.

Graves’ eyes widened with shock. The kiss itself only lasted ten seconds, but it was plenty of time for him to silently panic.

Mark was kissing him. Mark was kissing him on the beak and anyone could walk into the office at any moment and Graves wasn’t sure if he was going to be fired now.

Then the kiss ended and Mark drew back an inch and opened his eyes.

They stood there, leaning over Mark’s desk, staring deep into each other’s eyes. Mark gulped again, visibly worried by Graves’ lack of reaction.

Well, Graves thought, he’s gotten me to make a lot of stupid decisions already, one more couldn’t hurt.

With that in mind, Graves pulled Mark towards him and kissed back. The parrot squeaked softly at the impact, bringing his hands up to grip Graves’ shoulders as they deepened the kiss.

Graves felt the tension leave his body, and could even feel Mark relaxing in his grip. They stopped again after a minute, panting softly as a shy smile graced Mark’s beak. He then climbed up onto his desk, grabbed the back of Graves’ head, and resumed their… well, it was basically a snog at this point. They really couldn’t deny it.

Graves wrapped his arms around Mark and held him closer as they kissed; Mark started letting out soft whimpers, Graves groaned when Mark ran his fingers through the bodyguard’s head feathers. Nothing could ruin this moment, everything would be fine so long as they didn’t have to stop kissing-

“Dude, just get a new phone! It’s not worth it!”

“Grow a spine, Bert. Alright Graves, gimme back my phone or- HOLY MOLY!”

Graves jumped back in shock, quickly trying to come up with some sort of excuse and failing.

Well, this was it.

“Woah, Graves. I mean, I knew ya needed cash but I didn’t think you’d be this desperate- hey! What happened to my phone?!”

Mark was probably going to fire him, he’d be broke again within a year, no other job opportunities available, and this twit was upset about his phone being in pieces on the floor.

Mark had dropped his own phone onto the desk at some point during their make out session; he picked it back up and started tapping at it. Suddenly, most of the lights went out, the remaining few turned red, and the door locked behind the interns.

“Hey, so this is pretty awkward, right?” Mark hopped off his desk and approached the two frightened interns.

“I mean, you really shouldn’t have seen that. It would totally be a nightmare dealing with the press if this got out, huh?” He waved Graves over.

The bodyguard, though still in shock, got the memo easily enough. He put on a stoic expression, walked over to the interns and went up behind them. He then grabbed them by their collars and lifted them into the air.

“Of course, they already are, especially with that pic, which was totally taken out of context btw.”

He rubbed the back of his head, feigning awkwardness. “But look, I’m gonna need you both to keep this on the down low, cuz this would send everyone into a frenzy and then,” he chuckled, “well then I’d probably have to fire you and make sure you never work again, even interning would be off the table.”

Mark smirked at them in a way that caused Graves’ heart to skip a beat. This was actually a lot of fun. He could feel the interns shaking in his grasp, feel the malice roll off Mark in a way that was surprisingly attractive. It was like finally kissing him, finally admitting he was attracted to this ridiculous, adorable, amoral parrot had flipped some switch inside him. Possibly inside both of them.

“So, ya know. Keep quiet, got it?”

The interns nodded furiously; Mark tapped at his phone again and the lights turned back to normal, and the doors opened. Graves turned around and dropped the interns just outside the office.

“Awesome,” Mark beamed, his demeanor instantly changing, “see you guys around.”

With that the interns scrambled away, leaving Mark and Graves alone with each other.

Now Mark seemed genuinely awkward as he rubbed the back of his head again. He wasn’t alone, with Graves clearing his throat as he tried to find something to say.

“Hey, I- I gotta head to marketing, so…”

Graves nodded. “Right, of course…”

Graves kept his eyes to the side, avoiding eye contact.

“Uh, you can stay here, ya know if you want,” Mark continued.

Graves nodded again. Mark mumbled something else before slipping out of his office.

As he stood in Mark’s office, rubbing his temples and sighing, Graves only had this to say.

“I’m doomed.”

[ununniliad]

Writer's Block Person #36: "Capture Card Driver"

Whisperion, mystic hero of growth and life, sat on the pink couch in Writer's Block Person's apartment. She was playing Jaipur, a card game about trading along the Silk Road in medieval India. Her opponent was the cosmic being/deep time meddler/big nerd Chaos Theory, who was going all-in on an "all camels" strategy.

You...

You can't win with all camels. You need other stuff. It's literally impossible.

Anyway, after losing two games in a row, Whisperion got up and stretched. "Hm. I wonder what Writer's Block Person is up to." They hadn't actually seen them today - Writer's Block Person had made their apartment a hangout for their friends, and everybody had a key.

Chaos Theory sat down on the loveseat and shuffled the deck - they were extremely good at randomness. "Oh, probably something adorable and domestic... huh, that's funny."

"Hm? What is?" Whisperion squinted out the window. Why did the neighbors still have their grill out in January, anyway?

"Something keeps trying to come to the top." Chaos Theory turned and tossed the deck of cards into the air.

Whisperion rolled her eyes and turned to make a snarky comment - before noticing that the cards were still hanging in the air, frozen mid-toss.

The pieces of cardboard floated for just a moment. They rippled like a wave, then all of a sudden flew towards each other, forming a shape of overlapping rectangles, like a bird, without a head but with curling, overlapping claws, and at its heart, a single card, radiating a dark mist that curled around the rest of them and bound them into shape.

Its wings flapped, and a plume of dark mist exploded from them. A chill gripped Whisperion like the hands of a prison guard. This - the fun, relaxed afternoon - the lovely moment of warmth in the middle of winter - the casual goodness of this place - the success of her life as a hero - all of it - on the edge of being lost - she had to curl up and defend herself - - -

"EMOTICONVERSION!" A voice that was warmth and relaxation and fun blew through her mind like the first zephyr of summer. "CODE POINT WEARY CAT FACE!"

Whisperion spun. Behind her stood Writer's Block Person, fully transformed and holding up their transformation pen. A giant CGI emoji, the size of Writer's Block Person's body, appeared in front of them - a cartoonish cat face, eyes wide and blank, hands pressed to its cheeks, mouth open wide in a silent scream. It moved towards them and collided, breaking apart in a flash, pieces spinning around their glowing silhouette and merging with it.

When the glow faded, Writer's Block Person had had a redesign. Their armor was bright orange, but covered in black triangles, placed haphazardly and radiating out from their elbows, their knees and the center of their chest. The overall look was as if their body had been frozen at the point of breaking through a pane of dark glass, and the glass had become part of them. Stylized eyes were painted on their visor in orange, looking steadfastly forward. Their helmet had catlike ears and black whiskers painted over the cheeks. Black rubber ran down their neck, dipping down over their chest like a triangular hemline. Their bodysuit was saturated teal, with a black cape, and the jewel in the center of their chest had changed to the shape of a horizontal oval with two triangles poking out of the top.

"I know who you are!" they shouted, and pointed the pen at the birdlike thing. "PEN IS MIGHTIER! KINDNESS OF RAVEN!" The pen lengthened into a glittery purple staff, and sprouted a rounded, stylized raven's head at the end.

Writer's Block Person spun the staff like a color guard, turned it horizontal. The bird-card-thing rippled, and a screech emanated from its substance. It flew at Writer's Block Person, and they clashed.

Writer's Block Person thrust the bird away with the staff, twisting and turning it and striking out with the raven's head. Where it touched, dark mist left the cards, and they fluttered away, a piece of the bird shape disappearing; and the mist was sucked up along the staff and entered Writer's Block Person's body, and each time, they jerked like an ice cube had been touched to the base of their spine.

Writer's Block Person danced and spun and dodged and turned and parried and thrusted, and the bird dissolved thrust by thrust, leaving only the single card and its aura of anxious woe. Writer's Block Person paused, and the card hovered in place, radiating mist. For a moment, they regarded each other...

And Writer's Block Person flung their arms wide, and threw away their staff. And the card flew forward, and the dark mist collided with them; and it sucked into their body like a great steaming geyser thrown into reverse, and Writer's Block Person convulsed, the soul shuddering within the house of flesh, throwing their head back, falling to their knees, the shivering darkness overtaking them...

"...whew." The card fluttered from their breast to the ground, and Writer's Block Person straightened up, sitting on their heels. "Hey, y'all~"

"Holy fuck! Writer's Block Person!" Whisperion dropped down and clapped her hands on their shoulders. "WHEN DID THEY LET YOU BE BADASS."

Chaos Theory put their popcorn to the side and got up from the loveseat. "Yeah, that was pretty neat. I thought you were doing demons, though, and not weird cards."

"Ah!" Writer's Block Person held up the card. "It's 'cause I got a quest in my quest!"

"A what in your what?" Whisperion examined the card. It had four images on it, abstract figures rushing around in different poses, and a title at the bottom: THE LOSS.

"This emojiform comes with an entirely different plot-device-of-the-week. I'm re-confronting all the old resentments and anxieties that I moved past but never fully overcame. I think it's a parody of the revival of Card Captor Sakura?"

"Of course it is." Whisperion smirked and got up. "Well, that's quite emotionally healthy, then. One question, though."

"Yeah?" Writer's Block Person opened up a deck box on the belt of their armor and slipped the card in.

"Has your ever heard of this new thing they have called 'therapy'?"

Writer's Block Person giggled. "In this economy? Who can afford it?"

Chaos Theory finished putting the cards back in the game box and closed it up. "I mean, for net.heroes, resolving your emotional issues usually involves beating someone up anyway. May as well beat up your issues directly and skip the middleman." They slipped the box back on the shelf. "And--"

There was a rattle, and they turned around. A different card game - Slash - was rattling in its box.

Writer's Block Person stepped forward, reached out a single finger, and poked it. The cards exploded out, forming into a vague humanoid shape that flexed and roared its defiance.

Writer's Block Person took up a defensive stance. They stretched out their hand, and the staff flew into it. They peered at the floating card, surrounded in darkness... "...oop, this next anxiety's kinda, um, kinda sexual." They looked over their shoulder. "Could y'all, um, just kinda..."

"Oh, sure!" Whisperion picked up her bag and her keys. "See you later!"

"Bye, Drew!" called Chaos Theory, opening the door for her.

"See ya~!" Writer's Block Person's voice echoed merrily, and then shouted, "CRISIS FLASH!"

The two of them stepped out and walked down to the bus stop on the corner. Whisperion sighed. "Y'know, you ever think, 'Wow, my life got weird?'"

Chaos Theory looked off into the distance. "Sorry, what was that? I was just intercepting a gravitic wave from a pair of linked black holes a thousand lightyears away. They're trying to solve the problem of induction, and they wanted my opinion." They cocked their head. "Or a fourth for bridge. I'm not sure."

"...never mind. Have a good game! Or philosophical debate!"

Chaos Theory waved, and with a clap of reverse thunder, disappeared. Whisperion leaned against the fence. "What a bunch of adorable nerds."

[daxfarroh]

Chapter 3

“Ah, Rey. Thank you for joining me.”

Rey nearly laughed at the hilarity of this greeting, issued by the most magnificent woman in the galaxy. She would join General Leia Organa anywhere—in the fiercest of battles and in imminent death. Surely, she would meet her in this cramped corner of the Falcon for lunch.

“I’m sure you’re wondering what I’ve been doing here in my little office, all shut in for the past week,” Leia said, gesturing at a rather intimidating mess of maps and data pads. She sat down heavily with a cup of milk tea and a plate of rehydrated bread Rey had brought her. “Please, sit. Have some tea. Or something stronger—I don’t mind. God knows you probably need it.”

Rey collected her own cup of steaming tea from the galley just a few feet away and took a seat as Leia studied her with a furrowed brow. She looked horribly tired.

“I’m afraid I’ve neglected you, Rey. I know you must feel very alone.”

It was true that the just the thought of being so close to Leia every waking hour was one of the few pleasures of being packed into this ship with a dozen other souls, and it was true that Rey had seen much less of her than she’d hoped. When she wasn’t alone in her “office,” pacing back and forth, making calls and hovering over a holomap, her time was consumed with grave questions from Poe and others, asking about rations and plans and whether or not they were doomed.

“But I promise you you’re not alone,” Leia said now, placing a soft hand over Rey’s. “You are of great importance to the cause, Rey, and to me. I will train you as best I can—as soon as there is time. I can help you read the texts and make sense of all that dribble drabble.”

She winked and Rey grinned. Those texts had been nothing but a massive headache thus far. “I would like that very much. But I know your work here is more important.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” Leia responded, slumping a little in her seat to stare at her lap momentarily. “I’m afraid saving the Resistance has come down to food, water and a place to rest. We need to lick our wounds for a while. But once those needs are met, when we get a bit of time, we will rebuild. I’m sure of it.”

“I am, too,” Rey said. “Do you have a plan?”

“’Plan’ is a strong word.” Leia rose to her feet and turned on the holomap, summoning before them a hovering planet of swirling earthen colors. “I would call it a ‘proposal’—a proposal for charity which I’m going to make to an old friend. Have you ever been to Ryloth?”

Rey shook her head.

“Of course you haven’t, I’m sorry. My old brain,” Leia palmed her forehead in embarrassment. She then returned her attention to the spinning globe, moving her hand over it wistfully.

“Ryloth is a beautiful planet in the Outer Rim, inhabited by a fierce, freedom-loving race called the Twi’lek. On Ryloth, there are supporters of the Resistance, as many fear the First Order will soon cast its eye on them. And, on Ryloth, there is an abandoned shipyard from the Old Empire—one that still houses at least one viable battleship. But most importantly, my friend Yendor lives there. He’s retired and old, like me, but still respected in government. And he owes me a favor. … I believe he’s good for it, though I’ll admit it’s a longshot.”

“And if he can’t help us?” Rey asked.

“Well, then at least we’ll have a place to lay low for a few days and get our bearings. I don’t think B--,” she stopped herself, drawing a sharp breath. “I don’t think the First Order will come looking for us there. At least not for a while.”

A pang struck Rey as she wondered if she should share what she had learned last night. She was terrified to tell anyone about the Bond, but she wasn’t sure she could keep anything from Leia.  

“I could use some fresh air and a break from this tin can, couldn’t you?” Leia patted the rust-stained wall of the Falcon as if it were a living creature. “No offense,” she told the ship, her eyes wandering its dusty corners, seeing ghosts that Rey could not. “You know, I can feel him so clearly here. I keep catching myself outside the cockpit door, expecting to find him and Chewie inside, arguing. He sure did love flying this rusty bucket under the radar, where even I couldn’t find him. … Is it wrong to be jealous of a ship?”

Rey, all but speechless at this moment of intimacy, struggled to hold the stately woman’s raw gaze without betraying the chills that were overtaking her. “I miss him, too,” was all she could think to say.

“He is with Luke, in the Light.”

Leia sat down again, opposite Rey. For the first time, Rey saw the weight of age on her. It was the heaviest she’d ever seen, as if this woman was a thousand years old and had suffered the loss of a thousand loves. But, in truth, she had, Rey realized. Perhaps no one alive had witnessed more death. Now, here on this ship, who did she have? What planet did she call home? Leia Organa was, in fact, the loneliest person in the galaxy. And yet, still, she maintained this aura of purpose, of perpetual fortitude. What for? Rey wondered. How does she breathe, let alone lead us to yet another redemption?

“I’ll be joining them soon.”

The words wrenched Rey out of her own thoughts. “What? What do you mean?”

Leia sighed, taking time to choose her words and muster her token half smile that always padded the worst of news.

“Rey, after I was blasted out of the ship, I haven’t exactly been feeling my best.”

“I’m sure you haven’t. That was terrible. But you’re getting better. You’ve been getting stronger ever since, though I’m sure the food here isn’t doing you any favors,” Rey was spewing out sentences, delaying whatever was about to be said, because she knew she did not want to hear it. “But you’re doing better—”

“Rey,” Leia stopped her gently, taking her hand once more. “Perhaps twenty years ago I could have come out without a scratch, but let’s face it: I’m no spring chicken. The doctors told me, when I woke up, that my time is limited.”

“How limited?” Rey snatched her hand away, feeling cold. “How much time do you have left?”

Leia sighed again and, for once, appeared unsure, as if she was weighing all the consequences of telling her. After what felt like an eternity, she made her decision.

“Weeks. Maybe months, if I’m lucky.”

It was as if the Force was holding Rey in her seat, squeezing its ruthless fingers around her lungs and making her head spin. No, this wasn’t computing. This couldn’t be right. Not Leia. She was immortal.

“Rey?”

Suddenly, Rey’s senses flooded back to her all at once and the blood rushed to her legs, compelling her to leap to her feet and run from Leia without any explanation. When she returned, she was holding an ancient, leatherbound book the size of her own torso.

“I can’t really read it, but I’ve been studying some healing practices.” She opened the book to the marked page and pointed at the strange text. “If you help me, I can probably heal you.”

A smile lit up Leia’s face—the proudest, fondest smile Rey had ever received—but it didn’t reach the general’s sad eyes.

“I’m aware of the Jedi healing practices and, unfortunately, you can’t fix being old. Someday soon, you’ll be able to mend a bone with just a touch, but you can’t fix the damage I’ve endured. So many years of damage, Rey. So much living and suffering. It’s been one hell of a life, and I’m going to make sure I don’t waste a second of it.”

Leia smiled again as a tear slid down Rey’s cheek. There wasn’t a dry eye between them, but Leia had more to discuss.

“Enough of this depressing stuff. Let’s talk about the future.”

“The future?”

“Mhmm. You, my dear, are going to play a very important role in it. Are you ready?”  Rey nodded, though she was not ready for any kind of future without Leia.

“As you might have guessed, Poe is my heir apparent in this. I think we both know that it doesn’t really matter who I choose—it will be Poe just the same.”

Rey’s mouth formed a watery smirk at the thought of Poe, as she had recently come to know him. She liked to think of him as a friend. Their comradery had been immediate upon introduction. He liked calling her his “torture buddy,” since they had both survived an interrogation from Kylo Ren. Yet she also knew him to be a pilot who would fly through a sun if it got in his way. And he didn’t care much for taking orders.

“Poe has the potential to be a great leader,” Leia continued. “He takes leaps that others would consider suicide, which is how I’ve gotten this far. And he’s a bit insane. Which is why you must be his guiding light.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. You are not only, well, you, Rey, but you are also the last Jedi. You represent all who came before you and carry all of them with you. When I am gone, my soul, too, will live on inside you, because mine is the soul of a Jedi. When Poe goes astray, you must bring him back, as I would. Do you think you can do that?”

Without hesitation, because it was Leia who was asking her, Rey replied, “Yes.”

“Good. Now, call me Master Leia.”

[owl-quill]

Anybody remember the ficlet I wrote for Strange Magic Week last year that involved Bog catching Sunny while Sunny was stealing Bog’s tomatoes? And which I started rewriting in March?

Here’s part two.

Bog started at the sound of keys in the front door. Right, his mother had given Aura a spare key. At least she had the decency to call out “Bog, the doctor’s here!” before stepping inside.

Thang took up barking and snarling, at the same time wagging his tail. Stuff padded up to the visitor quietly to sniff her legs, and the battered black case she was carrying.

“Hi kids!” said Aura. “Causing trouble, are you?”

“Thanks for coming,” Bog greeted her. She was wearing bright turquoise eye shadow that matched her dress. And her hair. Given that as far as he knew she was about of an age with his mother, it seemed an odd choice, but well, it was very Aura.

“Oh, I really can’t miss having you owe me a favour.” She ignored Bog’s small unhappy sound. “Where’s the patient?” She held the battered doctors’ bag up. It looked utterly out of place with her partygoing outfit.

“In the kitchen.” He held the door for her, and slipped through behind her quickly enough to close it before the dogs could follow. “Do you want a drink?”

“Not before work. Let’s see what we got.”

She walked over to the obvious container. Bog looked over her shoulder and saw his prisoner had pulled a tangle of chickweed over himself. Bog dared barely breathe, wondering if Aura saw what he saw, or a small animal, or nothing at all.

“My, that’s a shy one.” Aura leaned forward and peered through the side of the terrarium. She did not say something for a few seconds, then gave a bright little “Oh!”

“Oh?”

“Looks like you caught an elf.”

“Elf. Like, small person, pointed ears?”

“Yes!” Aura smiled brightly at him, like a perky primary school teacher happy about a shy student giving a correct answer.

Bog let out a huge sigh and sagged with relief. “Thank god, I thought I might be losing my mind.”

“I’m not really qualified to treat psychotic breaks, you know.”

“Yeah, but you’re weird enough to not deny what you see, no matter how crazy.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Yes. And he seems to have been injured and you are qualified to treat creatures that size.” He had seen the hamsters. The photos had gone viral, even.

“And you’ll cover the bill? How nice of you.” Bog snorted, and Plum leaned closer to the elf. “Hi, I’m Doctor Aura Plum. Do you need help?”

Sunny peered up at her through the grated lid, keeping tight hold of the plants he had hidden under. “Um.” He peered at Bog.

Bog got himself a glass of water. “I’ll leave you alone with your patient. Don’t let him get away, though, I still want to talk to him about vegetable rustling.”

“Okay.” While carefully prying the lid off the terrarium, she said to Sunny in a conversational manner, “You know, my keys and socks keep mysteriously disappearing. I usually find my keys some weird place, but some of the socks were gone for good. You wouldn’t know anything about that?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Oh, pity. It’s nice having a patient who can answer for a change, though. So, where does it hurt?”

Bog left them to their chatter and went out onto the back porch for a bit of fresh air, the dogs on his heels. The glass Bog had grabbed was a branded beer glass, and he examined it carefully. The writing on and around the brewery crest was perfectly legible, and between that and seeing colour, he was nearly completely sure he wasn’t dreaming. He was running out of ideas what else could make him see things that weren’t happening, so this seemed to be actual reality. He braced one hand on the porch railing and looked out into the garden. Everything seemed exactly as he left it. No sign of other elves or gnomes or goblins or whatever. The borage was abuzz with bees even in the lessening light, and there were more gnats and mosquitos and small, brown moths around than he cared to try to identify.

A flash of vivid colour caught his eye. Deep blue, almost purple wings. Could that be a morpho? He wasn’t entirely sure about their range, but had been under the impression it fell under the general heading of “not here”. He squinted as it stopped fluttering around almost in the bushes at the back of the garden and instead flew straight towards him. Not a morpho, the body was too brightly coloured. A drawn-out yell startled his brain into readjusting itself and the “butterfly” came into focus as a fairy, coming at him with a battle cry, sword raised for a strike.

Bog reflexively raised a hand to block, and hissed in pain when that got him a cut on its back.

The fairy circled back, her flight now as hard to follow as any butterfly’s. Thang barked and jumped, trying to catch the fluttering intruder, but she kept high enough to keep out of range.

At the next attack, Bog threw the remaining water at her, but she dodged upwards and kept coming. A hasty retreat had him stumbling over the blasted terrier and falling on his backside, empty glass hitting the deck with a thunk and rolling away.

He had only time to lever himself up on his elbows before he saw someone very, very close.

“You be very careful now, or I’ll take your eye out!”

The fairy had braced one foot on his cheek, the other against his nose, anchoring herself by grabbing a tiny fistful of his eyebrow. Her sword was aimed at his left eye, so close it brushed his lashes when he blinked.

“Whoa.” Bog had to curb an impulse to raise his hands. It could be too easily misunderstood.

Thang kept barking, but Bog had taught him to not jump on him without permission. Stuff came up and made as to sniff the fairy, but shrank back when the little thing snarled at her.

“What did you do to Sunny?” The fairy had an amazing glare for her size. The dark probably-makeup helped her light brown eyes stand out, and the way she thrust her jaw forward and bared her teeth was downright savage.

“He was injured, I think not seriously. He’s inside.”

She let go and flew off, straight through the door and into the house, calling the elf’s name.

Bog levered himself up and absently patted Stuff. So that had happened, too.

A louder scream sounded from the kitchen.

Shit. “Aura!”

“She’s okay, she was helping me!” he heard Sunny’s voice on the way running to the kitchen.

Bog grabbed a frying pan off the wall. The fairy stood on the kitchen island, between Sunny and Aura, in a defensive pose, but faced Bog, considering him obviously the greater threat. He held the frying pan off to the side at waist level, just to have it ready in case she came at him again.

“I’ve had it. You steal from my garden, attack me, come into my house uninvited and menace my guest! Where the hell do you get the nerve?!”

The fairy flinched, and a quirk of her expression made Bog think that it was not just his volume, but that guilt was involved. However, she gathered herself to an approximation of righteous indignation.

“I was worried you were planning to feed Sunny to your beasts!” She gestured with her sword at the door. The dogs were not in sight. Them missing made Bog feel a little guilty, too; his yelling in all likelihood scared them.

“They are dogs. And they’re really sweet.” Aura offered from where she stood, leaning back against the edge of the counter top. As an afterthought she added, dipping her chin in an acknowledging nod, “Though I guess at your size they might be alarming.”

Bog snorted. “All I want is for him and you and all your friends to leave your grubby paws off my tomatoes.”

“Ah. I guess we have to apologise.” The fairy straightened up from her battle-ready crouch and after a moment’s hesitation put her sword back in her belt. “Usually if we take anything it’s so little nobody notices, but we had a bad harvest this year…”

Bog scoffed, but lowered his improvised weapon, too. “That’s what he said, too.”

“Excuse me, can I finish that bandage now? Thank you.” Aura returned to her patient.

Bog ignored her while the fairy turned her head. “Your story would sound more believable if you had concentrated on things that kept well, rather than tomatoes.”

The fairy turned back to him, with a tiny frown on her tiny face. It lifted after a second and she said, “Oh, we can preserve plant material pretty well.” She tugged on the edge of her tunic, which did look like it might be made from flower petals, veined pink edged with green. “It’s mostly a size issue - a lot of things humans grow are too big for us to transport.”

“Yeah, right, fine. Never mind I raised everything out there from seeds, I water and weed it and pluck off those goddamned slugs, and you folks walk in and take whatever’s convenient.” Bog snarled. “The least you could do is take some zucchini.”

Sunny piped up defensively, “We didn’t take any of those!”

“Yeah! That’s the problem!”

“What?”

The fairy raised a hand. “Soo… are we negotiating?”

“Oh, why not. I’m willing to. Do you have authority to negotiate?”

She actually curtsied, lifting an imaginary longer skirt she wasn’t wearing. “I’m Marianne, Crown Princess of the Fair Fields.” Her grin looked more impish than royal, which was just as well. “And my father will gladly accept any zucchini you might want to get rid of.”

“A fairy princess!” Aura clapped her hands. “That’s delightful!”

“Seriously?” Bog’s voice was flat.

Marianne apparently felt he was addressing her, not entirely insensibly, seeing how he was still staring at her. “Well, not any that are already rotten. And big ones would be a problem to transport.”

Bog nodded, closing his eyes, and finally put the frying pan back in its place.

Aura asked her patient, “How’s the bandage? Not too tight?”

“Perfect. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

Bog suggested they move over to the breakfast nook and, in a reflex that his mother had trained into him, asked if anybody wanted something to drink. Sunny was still too nervous to ask for anything, Aura asked for water.

And the fairy, Marianne, Bog reminded himself, asked, “You got any beer?”

He nodded, befuddled, and told Aura, “If you stick around here now I expect to not get a bill, understood?”

“Deal!” She smiled brightly.

Great, so he had offered drinks to a fairy before thinking if he had anything she could drink out of. Shot glasses were too big, in relation to her looking more like big buckets. Checking the medicine cabinet produced a measuring cup from an over the counter cough syrup that seemed more suitable. It would be like drinking out of a vase or a pitcher, but it was the best Bog could do. He poured himself half a glass of beer first, then filled the little cup, over the sink because, as he’d expected, it overflowed. The carbonation was a problem. He wiped off the spillover and carried both glasses over to the breakfast nook, where Aura had again started with her theory that fae folk were messing with her belongings. She was showing the fairy princess something on her smartphone.

Marianne was saying, “Let’s see, I know that park, and your place is three blocks over… No, I don’t think anyone from our neck of the woods is behind that. It’s too far from any place where we can cross over.”

“Aww,” went Aura. Bog had no clue if she naturally and un-self-consciously acted like a little girl sometimes, or if it was a show she put on. Right now, he ignored it, just in case it was the latter, and added the two glasses for himself and Marianne to the table.

“So, negotiations?”

“Yup.” But first Marianne sat down on the table and took a deep draught from her cup, wiping her lips afterwards. She seemed to like it. “All right, so. What we want is food to get through the winter.”

“I don’t mind sharing the harvest of kohlrabi, carrots, and onions, but I want my remaining tomatoes off limits.”

Marianne nodded.

“The zucchini produce more than I can give away. I can harvest them when they are about this big”–he held his hands about four inches apart–”does that seem transportable to you?”

Marianne fielded the question to Sunny with a look. “Yeah, if we don’t have to hide from you, that’s no problem at all.”

“Good, and you can have all the apples you want. I have no clue just how much apple sauce is in jars in the cellar, but it’s plenty.”

“Don’t forget the gooseberries and apricots,” Aura threw in.

“Oh, right. Not a good year for apricots, but what’s there, I don’t really need, either. What amount of food are you looking for, anyway? I have no clue how many people you are.”

“I think the apples alone would get us through the winter, though some variety would be nice, if you don’t want to change the offer,” Sunny said, his face having a faraway expression.

“No, it’s all right. I want it understood, though, that if you want anything from my garden in future, it’ll be by agreement, in a trade, not just coming in and taking it.”

“That seems fair,” Marianne said, “If you don’t tell anybody about us.”

“Sure,” Bog agreed with a half shrug. “It’s not like anybody would believe me.”

Aura nodded. “If I tell someone that I think fairies are stealing my socks, they either think I’m joking, or they think I’m deluded.”

“Hah! All right.” Marianne considered for a moment. “So we need to figure out something we can offer in exchange that you’d be interested in.”

“Do you have anything that helps against slugs?”

“Hmm. I might. If you don’t mind troops of goblins coming to hunt in your garden…”

“If they can be trusted to not damage plants, including seedlings. And I should know in advance when they show up, to make sure the dogs are inside. Uh, speaking of, Aura, could I ask you for a favour?”

“Another one?”

“A minor one. Could you make sure Stuff and Thang are inside and close the door? I left it open when I came in.”

Aura gave him a dainty little scoff, but went to do as he’d asked.

Marianne had finished considering. “I guess that should be workable. If they are interested. They are subjects of an allied realm, not my father’s, but as far as I know they consider slugs good eating.”

“Well, there’s time until next spring to figure that out, or something else.”

“No?” Marianne shot to her feet, eyes wide. “We need additional food this winter!”

“Yeah, this year is an exception. Emergency famine relief.”

“You’re just giving all that to us?” Sunny sounded flabberghasted. “And I was worried you’d feed me to the dogs.”

Bog snorted. “I’m not a monster. I just look like one.”

Marianne’s dismissive gesture didn’t quite fit with her grin “Aw, don’t feel bad. You can’t help that humans grow so freakishly tall. At least your face is nice to look at.”

“I think you’re drunk.”

“Not from that small a sip.” She got up smoothly and propped her hands on her hips.

“In that case, keep your mockery to yourself.”

“I’m not mocking you! Your face is all angles. It’s interesting. But okay, if it makes you uncomfortable, let’s drop it.”

“Yeah.” Crazy little creature. But well, if she was friends with goblins… and if he looked closer, she didn’t really look like a miniature human. Too long limbs and fingers, not enough white in her eyes. Maybe she did have weird ideas of aesthetics and had not been mocking him. “Thanks. For dropping it.” Bog cleared his throat and tried to come up with something else to say. “So, anything else you need, or would find useful?”

Sunny raised a hand tentatively. “Ah, sorry, but… Was I imagining things, or did that box smell of mice?”

“I thought I had cleaned it thoroughly…”

“I didn’t think humans keep mice.”

“Some do. I breed ‘em.”

“Well, there might be room for trading to diversify breed lines, then. You don’t breed them for milk, do you?”

“Nah, I breed them to feed my snakes.”

Sunny’s eyes went huge and his eartips drooped; Marianne’s wings snapped open and she bent her knees to drop into a slight crouch. She practically oozed disgust. “Did you say you feed snakes?”

“Yes. They’re my pets, so I damn better take care of them.”

A shudder ran through Marianne, and she crossed her arms, rubbing her upper arms with her hands, and turning away from him.

“Aw, come on, tough girl. You attacked me, and I’m a whole lot bigger than a snake.”

“Yeah, but humans don’t usually eat people my size. I knew humans liked dogs and cats, but why would you keep something like that as pets?”

“I like them. They’re pretty. Mind, they don’t usually eat people my size.” That did make a difference, he could see that. But then… “Want me to introduce you? Controlled meeting? A snake who’s not hungry, and I can translate body language, if needed?”

“Maybe some other time.”

“As you wish.”

They wrapped up negotiations with agreeing on organising transport the evening of the next day, or someone delivering a message if there would be a delay.

[sleepywinchester]

Mysterious Hazelnut Pt. IX | REAL CHAPTER

Summary: Coffee have always been key to lighten up your mood in cloudy days. Specially when its made by your favorite barista.

Author: @sleepywinchester prev. deanwincehster-af | Mobile Masterlist

Pairings: Barista!Sam x Plus Size!Reader

Words: 5.2k

Warnings: Kind of Angst. Language. 

A/N: THIS IS A REAL CHAPTER LOL I’m kinda sorry for fooling y’all on April Fools into thinking that chapter real. This chapter is really long and it’s mostly backstory and introduction of new characters into the history. Really hope you guys like this, if you do, please leave me a comment or message? I love those and motivate me so much. Feedback makes me feel like this is not crap lol Anyway! Enjoy and till the next one! xoxox.

The road back to the place you once called home was just like you remembered it; dark, empty and long. While Dean and Melissa drove in Dean’s SUV, you were holding onto Sam on his Harley. Scott noticed your boyfriend’s good taste for wheels, you saw it in his smug stare as he watched you hop on the bike.

Riding alongside Scott for two days straight, brought memories of the long rides you would take with him. Some of the were just for fun, others would be club business related. It didn’t matter the reasons behind them, riding alongside your brother was something you used to enjoy deeply. The both of you would put aside the club and have fun, it didn’t matter how short it lasted.

The Wolves of California wasn’t just a motorcycle club, it was a lifestyle, it was a family and one that came with a price. To be part of that life you needed to be dedicated and that wasn’t something you wanted to be a part of after Max died. His recent death overshadowed the good memories, after his funeral your eyes opened.

“Welcome to Charming,” you mumbled as the sign became something on Sam’s bike rear mirror.

Soon enough you began to recognize the path Scott was leading. Your brother always have been the popular guy since he was a teenager or even a little boy. Everyone in this small town knew who Scott Telford was. It showed as he was in front, waving at a couple of people that were walking on the sidewalk. You knew who these people were, you grew up with them, even went to highschool with some. Charming was a small town where everyone knew everyone. Subtly you shifted your face and hide behind Sam’s back.

Suddenly the Teller and Morrow Garage came to view and with it thousands of memories. It amazed you how good it looked from the outside. You were curious if the club house still looked the same after all these years. Seconds later the club house came to sight. Your heart skipped a beat to see two familiars faces hanging outside. 

Scott’s glance found you and he followed your look to the man with long hair sitting on top of the wood table. Your brother scoffed with a teasing smile.

“Yeah,” Scott breathed out after parking his bike. “He’s still around.”

You tried to ignore his comment and keep bottle up the urge to punch him. Sam who parked his bike next to Scott’s looked at you.

“Who still around?” Sam asked taking off his helmet and putting his hair back into a half bun.

“Nobody-,” you tried to speak before Scott but it was too late.

“Her ex,” Scott spoke over you, complimenting his words with a teasing smile. He glanced towards the clubhouse, “the one with long hair.” He turned back to see Sam’s reaction.

Sam breathed heavily and clenched his jaw, “Any other surprises I need to know?”

“No,” you sighed hopping off Sam’s bike.

You continued to fix your clothes and grab your maroon bag from Dean’s trunk. It didn’t took the guys much time to recognize your presence as you walked towards the club house. The first to freak out was Happy, one of the only sociopath’s and nut case you loved in this world. His nickname was odd as the large amount of happy faces tattooed to his body. One happy face per killing.

“No. Fucking. Way!” Happy shouted.

You flashed a grin, extending your arms and watched him run faster in your direction. It wasn’t a surprise when Happy suddenly wrapped his arms around your hips and lifted you. He began to do spin in circles as he screamed ‘Ahhhh’ like a crazy but immensely excited person.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” Happy shouted, “This is fucking amazing!”

It was impossible to be mad with him. Since you were a kid this man always knew how to make you laugh until your stomach ache.

“I am,” letting out a squeal as he kept spinning, “but I’m dizzy now.” You chuckled, “Can I get back to the floor, Hap?”

“Okay!” Happy put you down and watched you chuckle. He scratched the back of his almost bald head, the happiness in his eyes was immense. “I missed you so much kiddo.” His wide smile and sparkly eyes couldn’t believe you were actually standing in front of him.

You sighed with a smile and hugged him quickly, “I missed you too, Hap.”

“Did you missed me, laddie?” Scott wrapped his toned arm around Hap’s neck. The both grown men laughing as they playfully wrestled for a minute. “I’m so fucking hungry,” Scott spoke as everyone walked towards the clubhouse. “Did the lads cooked anything? We’re back!”

You watched your brother shout and kick the door wide open and walking inside. His kick made it wide enough for you to get some glimpses of the interior. For where you stood, it looked just like old memories and you wanted to see more.  Scott laughed to the top of his lungs inside. You couldn’t see him but there was no doubt he was being mobbed by fellow club members.

It wasn’t until then that your eyes connected with Tyson’s cold stare. When you left six years ago, you caused a lot of pain to the club and family. That day there wasn’t a lot of goodbyes but the one you gave to him was the hardest one. Tyson was your partner and confident. You loved him and you were supposed to marry him. Instead you decided to leave the engagement ring over his bed and walk way selfishly.

Dean, Melissa and Sam, unsure glances let you know they didn’t had the remotely idea of how to act in this new environment. They didn’t know if stroll into the clubhouse and follow your brothers steps or to stay outside and wait for you to give them a heads up. Strolling inside without knowing everyone in the club or being a patched up member or prospect wasn’t the greatest or smartest idea. They needed to be formally introduced to the club. Back in Chicago you almost begged Dean and Melissa to stay, bringing Sam with you was dangerous, bringing two more people with you to this town heighten your concern. Given the fact that this town and The Wolves weren’t the biggest fans of strangers.

When you were about to let your friends and boyfriend know to stay put, the one and only Chibs Telford strolled out of the club house. The aura of superiority and completely confidence roamed around the Irish man. Chibs Telford wore his leather and sins with pride, the dark shades disguising his dull eyes. He used to tell people you had your mother’s glare, when the truth was that piercing glare was his heritage.

Your father put the shades inside his black leather cut. Piece of clothing that represented his club, the president’s patch represented his status in the club. He’s been using that same cut for years, it showed on the lines around the neck and the couple of re-construction stitches. The ambient shifted into a quiet and tense one when he walked out.

Years have passed but Chibs still glared at you with the same betrayal look, he gave you six years ago. It wasn’t like you expected his reaction to be like Happy’s or his glance to be as excited as Trig’s or Rat’s. Your father’s glance was the look someone you used to know but don’t trust anymore. You understood the glance and where he stood without speaking with him. He needed you but he definitely didn’t trusted you like he used to.

“Would you look at that,” your father let the smoke out, his face remained neutral. “She came back to this nasty town after all.”

His words made you reminisce of the day you left, the last words you said were, “I’ll never come back to this nasty town’. It was quite surprising, you hoped for a higher level of bitterness in his tone and words. You scoffed, breathing in the harsh tasting air.

“What can I say?” you shrugged, “I’m a woman full of surprises.”

Your father scoffed with a half grin, “You got that right.” Chibs lost the focus on you and glanced at Sam, Dean and Melissa that stood a couple steps near you. “Who are these people, Y/N? You know we don’t like strangers in our town.”

One thing you noticed that his voice got thicker and huskier, making his Irish accent and barely understandable. ‘Probably the side effect of smoking two packs of cigarettes on the daily basis.

You turned to look at your friends who were standing straighter than a pole. “These people are my friends, Dean and Melissa,” you pointed at them, “and Sam.”

“Let me guess, the boyfriend,” your father’s eyes connected with your boyfriend’s. The two of them had a stare off for a moment, Sam not letting him show any type of weakness. Chibs scoffed shortly as he glanced away to the parking lot. You knew what he was doing a little too well, he was looking for Sam’s wheels.

“Nice bike, lad,” Chib looked at Sam as he took the last drag of his cigarette and shifted his glance towards you. “Thought you wanted to get out of the life,” he spoke sarcastically. “Guess ‘biker boyfriends’ were too good to stay away from.”

You mimicked his unamused scoff, “I’m not here to listen your sarcastic comments, dad.”

“Well, I’m happy you’re here!” Trig hold your shoulders, giving them a soft shake. “Let’s go inside, have a couple shots and talk.” He tried to ease the tension with his smile and fresh tone.

You breathed in deeply and faked a smile, “Yeah. We can talk about the family issues later.”

Instead of saying something sarcastic back, your dad’s glance traveled around everyone before turning around and strolling into the clubhouse. Once the door shut behind him, you glanced at Trigger’s, the man with the piercing grey eye look. He could be the coldest man on earth to everyone outside the club. But to you he was the uncle you never had.

“Uncle Trig!” you hugged him.

He hugged you back tightly, “Baby.” He said the word smoothly, “It’s been so long. I’ve missed you.”

“I know…,” you looked at him, “I’m sorry, for leaving and-”

“Shh,” Trig shook his head with an understanding smile, “you don’t need to apologize. Let’s go inside and get you and your friends something to drink. I’m sure it was a long trip.”

“You coming, Ty?” You heard Happy in the background asking your ex-boyfriend.

After a brief silence Tyson replied saying, “Na’...” You oddly felt his eyes on you, “I have work to do back at the garage… Call me when everyone goes to church.”

You’d be lying to yourself if hearing his deep voice made your entire body shiver. Tyson Danielson was once someone very important in your life. Back in the day where things were hard but you live through it.

“Hmmm,” Melissa grabbed your arm, making you realize you were staring at Tyson. “I don’t know about you but… I see some resemblance.” She said turning her look to Sam who is talking with Dean.

“I have a type alright,” you muttered as you strolled into the clubhouse.

Melissa chuckled, “A great type.”

You shook your head ignoring Melissa’s comment and your inner thoughts about Tyson. Looking around the inside of the clubhouse. It was just like you remembered.

“Wow,” your pupils scanning the entire place. “It looks the same-” Your eyes glanced at the bar, where your dad was having a beer with Scott. You turned to see Sam, Dean and Melissa also staring at The Wolves headquarters. “Like the explosion never happened.”

“It took us a long time,” Scott spoke, “but we got it done.”

You turned to your brother and shared a smile with him. The feeling of being in this place was so strange, it wasn’t like you remembered, and it surely wasn’t as horrible as you thought it would be. Being in this place where you once called home brought so many memories. You could hear your mother’s steps and her voice around. It was like she was here in spirit.

As you kept looking around, you saw the wall of fame, “Oh my, God,” you spoke amused. “Did you guys really put this thing back on?”

You turned to look at Scott’s guilty face over your shoulder. Turning back you stared at the wall full of mug shots of all past and present member of The Wolves. Scott, Sam, Dean and Melissa stood by your side, also staring at the pictures in the wall.

“You didn’t turned my mugshot upside down,” you spoke staring at your first mugshot hanging on the wall. It was a weird sensation to see how tough, angry yet amused you looked in that photo.

“I couldn’t,” Scott mumbled, “I told dad to do it if he wanted to,” he looked down to you. “He also couldn’t… Neither of us could. You are too important to this club, Y/N. You’re family and we couldn’t put you as a traitor... Not even if the law said it.”

“As a traitor?” Sam spoke, “If someone leaves the club, that makes them a traitor?”

You looked at Sam and nodded, turning back to the wall full of mugshots, “Guess I’m lucky to be the president’s daughter.”

There’s when your eyes found Max’s picture hanging in the front row next to his old man, who also died in a motorcycle accident. Taking the photo off the wall, you hold it and turned your body facing everyone in the room. You had the urges to cry as you stared down at the picture of Max, “I miss him.”

“We all do,” your father spoke softly for the first time.

Happy handled you a shot of bourbon and did the same for Dean, Sam and Melissa.

“For Max,” your dad rose his beer.

You rose yours and glanced at him, “For Max.”

////

“Alright girls, you know the drill,” your father spoke leaving his phone inside the old cigars box over the pool table on his way into the chapel. “Trig, call Tyson!” He shouted and glanced over his shoulder to see you already staring at him. He slightly smirked on and continued his way to his seat.

Your eyes narrowed suspicious of your dad’s look, either he was planning something or his plan was already in motion. Ignoring the conspiracy thoughts, you turned around and to see Scott holding something you once cherished.

“You have to be fucking kidding me,” instantly your mouth dropped as you grabbed the leather cut off your brother’s hands. “I thought I’d never see this again,” you said as you looked at the piece of clothing.

It remained like  your memory of it; beautiful and badass.

Scott pull his arm around your shoulder, “I just couldn’t throw it away.”

“Don’t lie,” you playfully pushed him, “you just hoped I’d come back someday,”

He chuckled, “Put it on, we need to talk about business.”

“Put it on?” Sam asked in the background.

You turned holding the leather close to your chest.

“It’s a rule,” you told him, “no cut - no seat on the table.”

Sam glanced down at your leather cut and reached out for it. Acting out of instinct you pulled back and took a step backwards. Your eyes widened when you realized your actions. Sam gave you a confused glare, his eyebrows pinched.

“I’m sorry,” you shook your head, “old habits…” There’s when you handle it to him.

“First Lady,” Sam read the patch sewed on the right side of the vest. He squinted his eyes as the bridge of his nose wrinkled. He didn’t understood the meaning behind some of the other patches.

Grabbing the leather off his hands, you continued to put it on. The second that piece of clothings was over your shoulders, it gave you a feeling you haven’t experienced in a long time; power.

“I was the first lady to be part of this club,” you told Sam holding his face before tip toeing your way into a kiss. “I’ll explain everything once that meeting is over. Okay?”

Sam licked his lower lip and slightly pouted afterwards. “I assume we can't go in with you?”

“No,” you shook your head slowly.

“Let me guess,” Sam breathed deeply, “club rules?”

You nodded staring into his eyes. The corners of your lips curved when Sam winked. “No patch, no seat,” you said.

“Y/N?” your father shouted from the chapel. “Get your arse in here, we don’t have all night!”

“Well that brings some memories,” you scoffed, “I’ll be right back.”

Leaving your cell phone inside the old cigars box, you strolled into the chapel and closed the big door on your way in. You were greeted by everyone’s looks. You knew almost everyone sitting at this table, except for the newest member whom’s name you didn’t know yet. No one sat on the seat at the other end of the table, which was the one you used to occupy.

“Is that seat-.” you began to speak.

“Still yours?” your father spoke, “yes.”

“There’s no need to treat me this way,” you spoke seriously.

Trig pinched his eyebrows, “What way? Like you’re family? Baby, you are family.”

“I left the club,” you looked at Trig. “I shouldn’t even be wearing this cut,” you touched the leather vest. “If I was a man, the first thing Happy would gave me was a beating not a warm hug. I shouldn’t be wearing this cut and I shouldn’t sit there. It’s the law.”

“Fuck the law,” your dad leaned backwards. “You are my daughter, the first and only lady member of The Wolves. You will seat where you belong.”

“Don’t trying to be rude but-,” the newest patched member spoke, “she said herself, she left, she shouldn’t be treated so nicely.”

You looked at him, “I’m not talking to you, prick.”

“You’re talking to the club,” he replied, “I’m part of this club.”

“I’m talking to the ones I grew up with,” you glared at him. “I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Luke,” he stated.

“Hmm, nice name. Wanna know something?” you smirked arching an eyebrow, “I don’t care what your bullshit name is either.”

The club smirked at the way you spoke to the boy. The were proud and a little surprised that your sass was still intact. Being the only woman in a motorcycle club meant having bigger balls than them. You were not part of this club but you still didn’t liked when people spoke to you with the wrong tone.

Happy slapped the back of Luke’s neck, “Shut your mouth and show some respect.”

“I grew up in this club and I know the law, like the back of my hand. Even though I left, I still respect it,” you said walking towards the seat and standing behind it. “I won’t seat, speak or listen a word of club business until we are all clear of why am I here and why I left.”

“What do you mean, baby?” Trig spoke.

In that moment Tyson strolled in and both glances connected for a quick second. Tyson shut the door behind him and looked away, having his seat next to your father.

“I need come clean,” you spoke, still looking at Tyson who didn’t looked back. “I left because Max told me to on a letter.” Your eyes went to your father, who after six years is about to listen the real truth. “Max always wanted to get out of this life. This life took everything from him, his father, his mother, his wife, even his own life. Max saw something in me… Something that I never saw in myself before he died, potential. Max knew I could do better with my life, than being part of a MC.”

You smiled weakly. “This club was my life before my mom and Max died.” Everyone looked down for a moment at the mention of your mother and Max. “And after their deaths all I could see was evil,” you took a breather, “and I didn’t want to live like that, so I packed up my things and left.” You took a deep breath. “I came back because I want to help finding Lance and looking for the truth. I know him and I know he would never rat on this club. And like I said, I know the law and I know my father,” you looked at him. “I came here because I don’t want anything bad happening to Lance. The club has lost too much already.”

“We won’t kill Lance if that’s what you mean,” your father spoke. “Anything else?”

“Yes,” you nodded, “once he’s found and everything is settled… I will leave.” In that moment all the members of the club frowned. Your stare never broke with your dad’s, “I want you to swear on The Wolf that you won’t call, seek or-.” you paused, “send for me, ever again.”

Your father grabbed the gavel, looking at it as he turned it around on his hands. “Let’s throw it on a vote,” his eyes connected with each member before locking into yours. “Y/N leaves unharmed and doesn’t go through any of the scripted punishments for banishing the club after we find Lance…”He took a deep breath in before saying his vote, “Aye.” His look went towards your brother.

Scott clenches his jaw, knowing saying ‘Aye’ means not seeing you ever again. “Do you really want this?” He looked at you.

You nodded, “I need peace in my life.”

He nodded, biting his lower lip, before winking at you and saying, “Aye.”

Next is Trig’s turn to vote whom looked at you with sadness in his grey eyes. “I’ll miss you, baby,” he gave you a weak smile, “Aye.”

With Tyson’s turn to vote, you looked at him, hoping for him to look you in the eye but it didn’t happen. Instead his eyes were sticked to his hands.

Tyson clenched his jaw and muttered, “Yea… Whatever.”

“It sucks but- yeah,” Happy says.

“Yea,” Rat followed also with a weak smile.

You glared at Luke waiting for his vote. At this point his vote didn’t matter but you wanted to see if he had the balls to throw the vote he really wanted to give.

“Yeah,” he said with a bittersweet tone.

“That’s what I thought,” you whispered with an arched eyebrow.

“It passes,” your father spoke, “The Wolves won’t bother you after we find Lance.” He finished by knocking on the wood with the black gavel. “I want everyone here tomorrow at 10am.”

After your father’s words everyone walked out of the chapel. The first pair of eyes you met where Sam. He looked down at you, noticing the redness around your eyes.

“They made you cry?” Sam asked, his voice deep and protective.

You shook your head, “The tears fell down by their own as I said why I left.”

“And?” Dean and Melissa stood next to Sam.

“I will be free once I find Lance,” you spoke with a weak smile. “They swore it on The Wolf.”

Melissa squinted, “Which means…?”

“It’s absolute,” you told them and watched the relief in their eyes. “Anything swore on The Wolf it’s absolute and can’t be broken. They won’t bother me after this is over.”

“Y/N! Look who came to see you!” Scott shouted from outside.

Your eyebrows frowned, walking outside curious of who is Scott talking about. Once out of the clubhouse you saw woman with a familiar face and three kids by her side.

You took a step closer, “Wendy?”

She instantly smiled and hugged you.

“It’s so good to see you,” Wendy said as she broke the hug.

“It is,” you nodded, a wide smile on your face. Looking down to her side, you saw the resemblance this kids had with Max. “Abel and Thomas?”

Wendy nodded, “They are all grown up.”

You chuckled looking at the kids who looked back at you with foreign eyes. “Hey,” you smiled with charm.

“Kids,” Wendy touched Abel’s, Max’s oldest son shoulder. “This is your Aunt Y/N.”

“I didn’t know we had an aunt,” Abel spoke with squinted eyes.

“She’s lives over seas,” Wendy said a white lie, “but she’s here now… say hello.”

“Hey,” Abel and Thomas said.

You looked at the third and youngest blonde kid, “And you?” You glanced at Wendy. “You had another one?”

Wendy nodded with a smile, “That’s Max Jr.”

“Well hello, Max Jr.,” you said.

He smiled at you, “Hi.”

“Mom can we go play with Tyson? He’s working on his bike.” Abel asked to Wendy. You noticed he had Max’s old ring hanging out on his golden necklace.

Wendy glanced at Tyson quickly before looking back at her son. “Sure but careful with the tools-”

“Kay, mom!” Abel shouted as he ran towards the garage, Thomas and Max Jr. following his steps.

You chuckled, “They are the vivid image of Max.”

“They are,” Wendy sighed, watching the kids play with Tyson.

You smiled observing Tyson lifting Max Jr. and spinning in circle motions. “He’s still good with kids,” you sighed softly.

Wendy nodded, placing her hands over her hips. “Yeah,” she turned to look at you. “How are you, Y/N? It’s been a long time.”

“It has,” you said glancing around before looking at her, “yet everything looks the same. Minor the kids, they are so big and Max Jr.? When did that happened?”

“Before Max died we hooked up,” Wendy shrugged with a soft chuckle. “He knocked me up… Again.”

You scoffed with a smile, “Yeah… Where’s Nero? Thought you moved with him back at his farm”

“We still live over there,” Wendy told you. “The kids love the farm, there’s all types of animals and stuff. We came here once in awhile, you know for the kids to see everyone.”

“I see, to stay in contact,” you said.

Wendy nodded with a smirk and looked over your shoulder. “You brought company.”

You turned to look at Sam, Dean and Melissa chatting with a couple of the guys. Wendy took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one.

“Yeah,” you breathed in deeply as Wendy let the thick smoke out.

She arched an eyebrow and extend her hand with the cigarette box over.

“Want some?” She gave you a small smirk.

You shook your head, “I quit.”

Wendy chuckled under her breath before taking another drag of her cigarette. You narrowed your eyes unsure of her amusement.

“What’s so funny?” you asked.

“Nothing,” she blew off the smoke, “it’s weird to have you back.” She looked you in the eye with an brow arched. “You’re wearing that cut but-” Wendy shrugged, searching for the right words. “It doesn’t look as it used to. You don’t look as you used to.”

“Really? And how do I look?” you folded your arms and shifted your weight.

Wendy took one last drag in before throwing the cigarette to the ground. “You look like someone who’s having a lot of mixed up feelings. Someone who doesn’t know where they belong anymore.”

///

“And here is where you two lads are going to sleep,” Scott opened the door of one of the clubhouse room. Dean and Melissa were already settled in one of the rooms.

You looked around and breathed in, “I’m surprise it doesn’t smell like alcohol or skanks.”

Scott laughed at your words. “This room hasn’t been used in years. I sent one of the girls to change the sheets and clean it for you two.”

You couldn’t disconnect your eyes from the old pictures hanging around. Everything inside this room was stuff you left behind. Things that you left in Scott’s, Tyson’s and your dad’s, six years ago.

“You guys really dumped everything in here?” you turned to look at your brother. “You could just… throw it away. Y’know?”

Scott shrugged, “Like I said… We had hope.”

“Not everybody had hope,” you murmured.

You and Scott had that rare silence communication. He knew what you wanted to say but couldn’t say. He knew that comment was about Tyson not speaking to you.

Scott reached your side and pulled you into a hug. “Trust me,” he whispered, “We did.” Once those words were said, Scott stepped back and sighed deeply. “I’m gonna go… Let you lads alone to settle in.”

After your brother left, you kept browsing around, until your eyes met with Sam. He was observing you in a different way. Like he was trying to figure out what’s going on in your mind.

“What?” you gave him a half smile.

Sam placed his hands inside his pockets, “You look oddly happy of being here.”

You shrugged having a seat on the edge of the bed. “I-, I don’t know what I feel…”

“What do you mean?” Sam frowned, leaning against the door.

“I’m not going to lie, a part of me is happy of being here…” Your voice tone was soft as you spoke. “Which surprises me, I thought that when I got here, I would hate this place even more… Instead, I’m here and I feel… good.”

Sam fold his arms against his chest, “It was your home.”

“It was but… I have this other feeling…” You said laying your palm over your chest. “This void inside me. I guess is because my mom and Max are not around.” Sam watched you with a curious stare. “Stop staring at me like that.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam chuckled, “you just look like a different person.”

You chuckled softly and looked down to your cut. “When I wear this-” you touched the cut, feeling the leather. “I feel like a different person,” you looked at Sam. “And the fucked up thing is that… I know that person. This-” you stood up, spreading your arms and scoffed, “This was my room before everything went to shit.”

Sam observed you as you walked around and turned towards him.

“Everything was burn to the ground and I never thought I’d see it again. I thought coming back here I would only think about the bad times but I was wrong.” You shrugged feeling the single tear go down your cheek. “I’ve found myself thinking about the good memories I had between these walls… And I just realized something, I didn’t had a problem with the people or the club, I loved them… They are family,” you sobbed, “I had a problem with the life that has costed me too much. I didn’t get that until I got back and it’s scares me, Sam… It’s scares the crap out of me because…” you bit your lip, “It means that person I used to be, it’s still in me and I don’t want you to know her… That person that would anything for the people she loves, no matter the cost is still in here and it’s scares me.”

PS: Yeah, the dude from the gif is Tyson Danielson, reader’s ex-boyfriend.

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