#look I know this is a silly hill to die on but as a history nerd I feel I must die on it

[georgevilliers]

…

[themothwingedwitch]

Here is a reminder to the witchcraft community that you do not need to double down.

If you believe a common misconception, and someone else responds with evidence that the thing you believe is wrong and historically inaccurate, you don’t need to die on that hill. You can go “oh shit, I didn’t know that! Now I’ve learned!”

It wouldn’t be a common misconception if it wasn’t. Y’know. Common. Lots of people believe the fake thing. They’re wrong too. Sometimes you’re wrong, and that’s okay. You don’t need to get offended. You certainly don’t need to pull out easily debunked “sources” to try and back yourself up. You’re making yourself look silly. Just be excited you learned a new thing. It’s okay.

Also, if you’re going to claim that your blog is even vaguely concerned with history… maybe pay attention to actual historical evidence. That’s also a suggestion. Y’know. Just saying.

[mika-writes-fanfics]

Blue-Flamed Forest

Witch!Dabi x Fem!Reader

Tags/Warnings: Fantasy AU, mentions of religion, medieval AU, witch hunts, restraints (NOT IN SPICY WAY), witch curses, witchcraft (duh)

Synopsis: You're accused of witchcraft after your hair inexplicably and suddenly greys. Sensing that you'll be the next victim in the church's witch hunt, you make a run for it. You barely escape the church's men when you step foot in the forbidden forest. You're grateful for their silly superstition until you realize that the forest is legitimately cursed, as a wall of blue flames materializes at the forest's edge every time you attempt to flee. With no other option, you trek deeper in the forest, hoping to find some other way out.

Author's note: I literally fell down a rabbit hole of medieval history to write this fic. Reader in this fic has silver hair, but it's a plot point. Awkward interpretation of Dabi since he's been alone for awhile. Spicy scenes in part two. I kind of got carried away with the world building/plot... Also go like @shoucolate 's Witch!Touya artwork if you haven't already!!! It's fucking beautiful.

Word Count: 6K

Heavily inspired by this art by the lovely @shoucolate

Masterlist

Link to AO3

Part One

You hear the galloping of the men’s horses echo through the valley. Your breath is becoming ragged and erratic as you desperately attempt to flee from your potential captors. It’s hard to hear what they are shouting over the sound of your breathing and the thrumming of your heart in your ears. Your options are to die or to run. Clearly, you chose the latter. 

You can hear the church’s henchmen gaining on you, evident by the horse’s hooves thumping against the grass. With what little stamina you have left, you sprint towards a tree line. You wager it’d be easier to lose them in the forest. You are right, just not in the way you intended. As soon as your body crosses the threshold of the forest, you glance behind yourself. The church’s men yank abruptly on their horse’s reins, rearing them back. There’s a look of horror in their eyes. They dare not near the forest. One of the men looked with uncertainty to who you could only assume was the leader given his comparably adorned horse and garb, along with his domineering aura. The leader can sense his underlings' unspoken request for direction. 

“We retreat and report back to the clergy. No use chasing after her, she belongs to the witch’s forest now,” he commands, stating the last sentence with an air of derisiveness. With that, the men steer their horses away from you, leaving you alone in the tree line. 

Now safe from potential captors, you lean against the bark of a nearby tree to catch your breath. It feels incredibly relieving to rest your weary body and know that the men likely won’t find you anytime soon. After a few moments, your breathing stabilizes and your adrenaline starts to diminish. Upon calming down, your eyes pick up on how the tree bark is partially singed. Large swaths of the bark are blackened to charcoal. You notice that the nearby trees on the edge of the forest were also damaged by flames. It was as if a fire had only danced upon the forest edge. 

How strange. However, you have bigger worries than this natural mystery. With the men no longer on your tail, you could continue fleeing from the church’s influence. All you had to do was figure out where you were and go from there. It’d be best to exit the forest now. Still, there’s a gnawing worry eating away at you. What was in this forest that even those brutes do not dare to encounter? You begin walking out of the forest and toward the hillside. Before you’re able to cross the threshold, a wave of intense heat blasts you back. A wall of blue flames appears between the forest and the hills. Your lungs protest the inhalation of smoke, leaving you sputtering and coughing. You feel the heat still clinging to your skirt, evident by the singed color along the hem. Although your clothes have been touched by flames, by some miracle, your skin is left unscathed. You really are lucky today. 

But despite the temporary blessings, you are still hopelessly trapped. If you couldn’t figure out a way past the fire, you truly would belong to the forest. Maybe your best bet would be to traverse deeper in. Surely this wall of fire couldn’t have surrounded the entire forest, right? You reason there had to be a weak spot somewhere along the barrier. Besides, you had already eaten through your rations. Another priority is to find food. 

You begin trekking further into the woods, investigating bushes you passed for berries and scanning foliage for fruit. So far, the forest seems barren. The lack of birds chirping makes you question if there were even animals around, that is, until you hear movement from one of the bushes. You tense. Your brain keeps recalling what the men on horses said about this belonging to a witch. Could there be something demonic lurking within that bush? Part of you feels ridiculous for falling prey to superstition, for believing even for a moment that this forest could harbor supernatural creatures and immense danger. 

Out of the rustling bushes emerges a black creature. To your relief, it is nothing more than a black cat. A well-cared-for black cat, at that. The feline has glowing blue eyes, reminding you of the blue-hued flames that surround the forest. Its long coat is remarkably shiny and fluffy. It sniffs the air in your direction as it stares you down. 

“Hello pretty, what’re you doing in a place like this?” You coo at the creature. The cat tilts its head at your voice. The church had instilled many false ideas that all cats were the offspring of the devil and attempted to enact doctrines to restrict felines from the city limits. You never believed such ideas, however, and you held nothing but fondness for the animals, despite not being able to see them often. Slowly, you offer your hand to the cat to allow it to smell you. The cat cautiously creeps closer. Something catches the cat’s attention, as it suddenly becomes alert. Its ears twitch and focus on some sound, yet you hear nothing. As if hypnotized, the cat begins walking away from you and deeper into the forest. Before it gets too far, the cat looks over its shoulder at you and stops, meowing at you. It wants you to follow. 

You oblige the feline, curious as to where it is seemingly leading you. The two of you wander through faint trails and hop over bubbling brooks. It seems you are wandering aimlessly until the little creature leads you to a clearing within the forest. The clearing consists of mostly open and raised meadowland but housed a singular, aged tree in the center. The cat hops through the thick grass and tall daisies, something you find endlessly entertaining. It’s cute to see the black cat’s head bobbing amongst the flora. You follow the feline up the hill, thinking that perhaps if you climb the tree, you could get a better view of the surroundings. Maybe you’d even be able to see an opening from there. When you climb up the sloping hill and arrive before the tree, you are able to see low-hanging fruit on its branches. You beam to yourself that luck was on your side. This tree is killing two birds with one stone. With no reason to hesitate, you grip onto a low branch and hoist yourself up. The feline loudly yells at you from the base of the tree, tail swishing in agitation. 

“Stay there kitty, you’re too cute to get stuck up here,” you warn the cat. The feline narrows its eyes in response but does not vocalize again. You shift your focus to climbing the branch. Your target is one of the lowest-hanging fruits, dangling close to the edge of the branch. The tree was so old that even its lowest branches were thick and sturdy. It isn’t too nerve-wracking to shimmy toward the end of the limb and pluck the fruit from the branch. You climb back down to safety and rejoin your feline friend at the base of the tree. 

You take a moment to further inspect the fruit. It doesn’t look like the native plants of the area. You had seen something like it once when you caught a glimpse of a traveling merchant peddling exotic goods. The fruit back then was colored like red wine and filled with seeds, remarkably similar to the fruit you held in your hands. You unsheath your knife from its gartered holster on your leg, using it to cut a slice into the fruit. A couple of red seeds fell into your lap, but with no one around, you care little for eating etiquette. 

With just a few bites, you start feeling satiated, but strange. It’s becoming harder and harder to move your body. Your fingers are already not responding. The world around you seems to blend into one haze. Sleep quickly begins engulfing your entire being. Everything is black, but you hear the distant voice of an unfamiliar man.

You begin to slowly regain consciousness, struggling to shake off the remaining dregs of drowsiness. Your mind feels hazy. It’s hard to remember how you fell asleep or where you were. You open your eyes, blinking a few times to clear the blurry vision. When you try to wipe your eyes, you realize your hands won't move. Your wrists are bound behind you. The blurry vision slowly starts to subside and you take in your surroundings. You’re in the center of a strange room, the shelves mounted in the wall displaying odd items; weathered books with spines in languages you cannot understand, flasks filled with potions of varying colors, glittering crystals shining in the rays of sunlight, and jars of dried herbs. The last thing you remembered was eating that fruit from the lone tree in the clearing, but now you’re in someone’s home? What is going on? Panic started to arise within you, especially when you hear the sound of boots coming closer to you. 

“I see you’ve awoken already. You have impressive tolerance,” the man muses. His voice grows closer and closer before he shows himself in front of you. “No matter, you’re not going anywhere anyways.”

He has an unusual appearance. His neck and arms are decorated in thin scrawls of purple ink, each line arranged in symbols you’ve never seen before, letters in a language you do not understand. The ink travels from his neck and onto his jawline before lines of strange lettering connect with his eyes. Even his under eyes are lettered. You’d shudder at the idea of tattooing such a delicate area if you didn’t have bigger concerns. He’s crouched in front of you, gripping your chin, with his painted black nails pressing crescents into your skin. His glowing electric blue eyes study you. He hums in interest before gently lifting a lock of your hair in between his thumb and forefinger of his opposite hand. The juxtaposition between the gentle gesture and the tight grip on your jaw has you uneasy. 

“What an unusual hair color for a human so young,” he comments. You whisper a timid ‘yes’ in response, unsure of what else to say. You know it’s odd. You know it’s unnatural how your once h/c strands changed to silver. But you don’t have any explanations for it, it just happened suddenly. The drastic change in your hair is what drew the attention of the church to you. He seemed to study the strand thoughtfully before a dark look flashed on his face. “So unusual it makes me wonder if you even are human.” 

You’re instantly taken aback. ��What are you even saying? Of course I’m human,” you defend. You desperately felt as if you had to prove your humanity to this stranger. If he were accusing you as a witch, that could mean grave consequences. Burning at a stake or being sunken to the bottom of a well were just some of the dark fates for those accused of witchcraft. You nervously chuckle, “What else is there to be? Witches and demons are just tales.” 

The man looks at you, a bit stunned, before genuinely laughing. He releases his hand from your jaw and stands up straight. You wonder in slight horror how this could be entertaining to him. He chuckles a bit more as you stay silent, before giving you a taunting grin. “You poor, innocent fool. What do you think I am?” 

“No, that can’t be. You’re lying!” you accuse. How repulsive it was to you, for him to even insinuate such a thing! Really, he must take you for an idiot if he expects you to believe such a tale. The strange white-haired gives you an ominous grin and lifts a hand. You can barely hear him whisper foreign words and your eyes catch a few of the purple runes adorning his body begin to glow. A wisp of blue flame dances in the palm of his hand. 

“This change your mind?” He inquires. You’re taken aback, still reeling in shock from what you’ve seen. It’s hard to believe it’s true, but it’s even harder to deny what just happened was outside of human ability. He conjured flames with nothing, even handled such heat in his bare hands. You never really believed the church’s claims of witches lying in plain sight, but you can’t help but think back on what you’ve been told about witches. It scares you a bit to be faced with what appears to be one, based on the tales the church had told. 

“What will you do with me?” You ask, your voice unsteady with fear. You’re holding onto your breath, preparing for words depicting your cruel fate, to admonish you for being so foolish as to step into a witch’s forest. Only, the words never come. He merely hums in deep thought. 

“If you are really telling the truth, then nothing,” he answers, cryptically. You hear him whisper out an incantation under his breath again. With a snap of his fingers, a blue flame burns away your bindings, leaving nothing behind but ash and the sensation of warmth on your skin. You rub your wrists, thankful to be released, but a bit confused. The temperature of his flames is scalding, you had seen as much along the forest’s edge, and yet, you remain unscathed. Something is awry.

He turns to walk away, before glancing at you from over his shoulder. “There’s an extra room down the hall. You may stay there for now. Follow me.” You can’t help but display your confusion on your face. The white-haired man gives you whiplash from all the switches in his demeanor. First, he was cold and accusatory, and now he’s being accommodating? Why did he go through the trouble of restraining you, only to later allow you to stay in his home? Was he merely testing you? If that’s the case, is he still testing you? 

He leads you out of the room and you follow. Silence settles between the two of you while you contemplate your situation. You never arrive at answers, only finding ways to generate even more questions. Nothing makes sense anymore, but you suppose a confusing life is better than being dead. For now, you’ll just have to see where this strange situation takes you.

The two of you make the short walk to the room in question. He opens the door, revealing a modestly sized room. “This room is mostly used for storage, but it should suffice,” he explains. You glance around the room and see what he means. There’s a wooden wardrobe tucked in the corner and chests lining the wall, presumably filled with his various possessions. He turns on his heel to leave you to the room, but stops at the doorway, looking over his shoulder to add, “I think you already know this, but just to be clear, it’d be unwise to fight me. I’m not your enemy, but I can be,” he warns. 

You nod in understanding, seemingly satisfying him enough to leave you be. The room is now incredibly quiet, leaving you with some time to reflect on everything that just happened. You were accused of witchcraft, abandoned your job, fleed from the church, accidentally entered a cursed forest, ate a fruit that knocked you out, woke up in another person’s house, discovered that witches are in fact real, and are now staying in a witch’s guest bedroom. You’re alive and unharmed, but still a bit unnerved by the witch’s initial actions. To say this has been a wild day would be an understatement. A wild day that is, thankfully, coming to a close. 

The light inside the room begins to dim as the sun sets. You find yourself growing weary, desiring to prepare for bed. Only, you realize you don’t have any of your belongings, and therefore, no nightclothes. The witch must have taken your cloth bag as a precaution against you harming him. Since your reflection, you realize it was likely he initially saw you as a threat, and as such, thought to ensure you wouldn’t use something in your pack to harm him. Maybe you could explain this and ask for it back? 

Deciding it’s worth the attempt, you pad down the halls in search of him. You notice how all the candles in his home are lit with his blue fire. Clearly, this was a trademark of his. You search around his home until you notice the door to what you assume is his study is ajar, with glowing blue light illuminating the room. Given how brightly lit the room is, you wager he’s in there.

 You’re about to announce yourself and walk into his office when you hear him already speaking. There is no one in his home but you, who would he be speaking to? Your curiosity gets the best of you and you hover closer, peering through the ajar door. The witch sits in front of a table, with many books opened and littering his desk. His black cat, the one you saw earlier before your impromptu slumber, hops up on the desk and interrupts his readings. 

“You were much too trusting with that silver-haired stranger, Coal,” you overheard the witch whisper to his cat, the same fluffy feline that accompanied you through the forest. Despite chastising him, the witch was speaking to his pet with gentleness. The thought of this scary witch acting so tenderly to his animals put a small smile on your face. Perhaps witches were not all cruel as the church led others to believe. 

His cat protested with a loud meow in response, to which the witch replied, “That doesn’t matter, had it been another witch, you could have been hurt.” It was as if he could understand his pet. He shoos his feline off of the desk, and says, “Now leave me be, I have to figure this out.”

The witch seems rather stressed as he pours over his texts. You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, contemplating. You decide against disturbing him, not wanting to add to his stress for your own sake. Besides, he said that the room was once for storage, perhaps there are some clothes you may wear in there. You quietly leave from your spot in the hallway and make your way to the room. The first place you look is the wardrobe and to your delight, you find it filled with clothes. However, as you search through, you take notice of how high quality all of the clothes are. It’s bizarre, you think, for a witch in the woods to have clothes made from fine silks, velvets, and cotton. Nonetheless, you keep looking through, hoping to find something suitable for nightwear, only to stumble across an article of clothing that takes you by surprise. 

In the closet, tucked and stashed far out of sight, hangs a remarkable cloak, unlike any you’ve ever seen before. On the rare occasions a noble requested your seamstress services, their clothing felt nowhere near this luxurious and wasn’t made of such rare materials. The craftsmanship is truly impeccable, far beyond what even the wealthiest of nobles would wear. Thick white fur embellishes the opening of the cloak, joining with the deep blue velvet that makes up the rest of the garment. Its lavishness clearly suited for royalty. Your fingers trace the fabric, until making contact with a metal clasp. You gently push aside the folds of velvet, allowing you to inspect the buckle. It appears to be a coat of arms, one that you’ve never seen before. Although you’re unsure of what family the crest belonged to, there are two things you were certain of; one, the clasp was made of high-quality silver, and two, this cloak once belonged to a very distinguished family. But where most crests included a lion or horned horse, this one depicted a phoenix. You abruptly retract your hand from the cloth upon remembering a particular tale. 

You remembered hearing stories of a long-lost prosperous kingdom, ruled by a red-haired fiery tyrant. This kingdom from long ago was notorious for its power, always leaving behind desecrated battlefields that proudly displayed a phoenix flag, the nation’s symbol. The ruler, King Enji, was known for his cold demeanor and the strength of his knights. Despite his rumored cruelty, the kingdom prospered nonetheless. You always found it ironic, how the nation symbolized by a phoenix fell apart after a fire, unable to rise out of its own ashes. Almost nothing remained of the once glorious kingdom, save for rumors and legends. A devastating fire destroyed all traces of the castle, taking the life of King Enji with it. Legends diverge from that point on, with some reporting that two of his sons perished. Other variations depict the youngest son surviving while the eldest lived, and vice versa. 

There was always one particular iteration of the legend that stood out to you the most, never failing to elicit a chill down your spine. This cursed legend claimed that the fire was no ordinary one, rather, it was magical in origin. The flames that leveled King Enji’s castle to ashes burned an unearthly blue hue and reached temperatures far beyond that of human blacksmith forges. Elders that whispered this tale claimed the forsaken, eldest prince wielded such flames and cursed the family in retaliation for his exile. The eldest prince was said to be physically frail, a trait that King Enji believed tarnished the family name, and as such, was sent away from the castle. His claim to the throne was given to the youngest, most favored son.

On the fateful day of the fire, the eldest prince returned to the castle. Over the course of the Prince’s lonely exile, drastic changes had occurred in his body, for his once vibrant, red hair grew stark white. What’s more, he gained the ability to wield magic, manifesting in the manipulation of blue flames. It was implied that the eldest prince became a witch, or, was born one all along. Whatever the case was, his apparent state horrified King Enji. Before the king could order the guards to execute his son, the prince enacted his revenge, burning his father to death, alongside the castle. The elders said the prince escaped and warned that he may still be roaming the land, to this day. You had figured this version of the story served to scare curious youths from wandering past the city’s limits, claiming that their carelessness would end in their demise at the hands of the white-haired witch. 

You’re not sure what any of this means. Why did this witch have a cloak that appears to have belonged to the royalty of the fabled kingdom? Better yet, whose cloak was it? Judging by what you’ve heard of the King with his hulking figure and immense wealth, it certainly couldn’t have belonged to him. The cloak was much too small and not lavish enough for a king. No, it must have belonged to one of the princes. But, which one? 

The questions you have only result in grim answers. Thievery or murder would be the only ways the witch could have obtained a prince’s clothes. You’re starting to think it’s time for you to make your leave. Given the witch’s blue flames and the stashed away cloak, you fear he may have killed the Prince and stolen his goods. He said he didn’t know what to do with you, but you don’t want to wait for him to decide your fate. Should you linger, a dark fate may await you. Perhaps you should inquire about how to leave, pretend you’ll stay longer, and then slip unnoticed in the dead of night. It sounded as good a plan as any, and with nothing else to lose, maybe it’ll work out for you. You decide to bring up the matter in the morning. With that decision made, you strip down to your chemise and retire to bed.

Your sleep could only be described as fitful, at best. Endless tossing and turning kept you awake, mind racing with questions and imagining grim scenarios. You awake to the morning sun, feeling poorly rested. The light shining through the windows only brings you anxiety, reminding you that the time for confrontation is nearing. When you hear stirring in other regions of the house, you don your clothes for the day and with great trepidation, exit the room. You find him in his kitchen, joined by his loyal black cat, preparing food. He momentarily acknowledges your presence with a passing glance, before looking away. 

“I do appreciate the, um, hospitality, but I do wonder, how would I leave here when it is time?” You ask, breaking the silence. He abruptly stops trimming the vegetables, putting down the knife and looking at you with a serious expression.

“You know you cannot leave here, right?” 

“But why not?” 

“Judging by your singed clothes and boots, you saw the flames, no?”

“Well yes, but… if you control fire, then can’t you will the flames away?”

“It is a curse, one of many I placed in this forest,” he explains, assuming that would be explanation enough. 

“If it is a curse, why can’t you just break it?” You debate. He responds with a sigh of exasperation. 

“You don’t understand. The curse prevents all who enter from leaving, so others can’t find me and destroy my forest. That fruit you ate was also cursed, it puts humans into an eternal sleep with just one bite,” he explains. Your hope dwindles with every word. “No one else has ever survived either my flames or eating that fruit. Do you understand what that means?” You shake your head.

“You are not human. I don’t quite know what you are, but it seems you haven’t the faintest clue either,” he iterates with certainty. “Which means even if I wanted to break the curse, you’d only leave to later end up hunted.” 

You feel tears prick at your lash line, threatening to overflow at any moment. The church was right. You are a monster. Your lower lip trembles at the revelation. Everything seems to come crashing down all at once; the sadness you felt abandoning your shop, the fear you experienced while running from the church, the confusion you feel in the witch’s presence, all of it unloading from your soul and out of your eyes. The tears freely fall, much to the witch’s surprise. 

“I… realize I’m not the nicest guy and staying here with me is unpleasant, but, I hate seeing you cry,” he says, softly and somberly. He’s trying to apologize, in his own way. His hand gingerly brushes away the tears from your cheek, an act of softness you’ve not yet seen from him. He speaks again, attempting to reassure you, “Nothing bad will happen to you. This is the safest place for you now.”

Your lip still quivers. A bitter thought crosses your mind, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s truly being genuine with you. You wonder if the former prince was led to believe the same and if the witch used that false sense of security to cut him down then. Your voice is wobbly as you accuse, “Do you tell the others who have wandered in the same thing?” 

Immediately, he retracts his hand from your face, as if he had been burned by your words. The walls he had placed come back up, as his voice is much colder when he responds to you. “What do you mean?”

“You have the possessions of dead men in your home,” you assert. 

“What are you referring to?” He eyes you with caution, guarded against your next allegation. 

“The cloak, in the closet. It belonged to a royal prince, did it not? Given he’s not around, I wager he’s not alive.” He sighs at your accusation and runs his hands through his hair out of stress.

“I suppose there’s no point in hiding it now,” He reasons aloud. You swallow thickly, nervous at his next admission. “It’s true that the unlucky souls who have wandered in my forest and eaten that cursed fruit have died, and it’s true I may have… helped myself to their things. But, that is not the original purpose of the tree.”

“So do tell, what is the purpose then?”

“The curse is too strong for normal humans, but for witches, it’s a mild sedative. Due to my past, I have… difficulty sleeping,” he admits. “Besides, that cloak does not belong to a dead prince, it was once mine.”

“You were a prince?” You ask, incredulously.

“Yes, I was King Enji’s son,” he clarifies. 

“So the tales are true, the Todoroki Dynasty really did exist,” you whisper in awe. He lets out a light-hearted and soft chuckle, clearly amused by your amazement.

“And you were unsure before?” He teases.

“All that remains of the kingdom are tales. Many do not believe in such legends,” you explain. 

“I suppose it is the nature of humans, to forget such distant things. It has been a long time,” he muses. “But to answer your question, yes, the kingdom did exist. It seems my father’s legacy died with him, on the day I burned him.” The gears start turning in your head. 

“So, does this mean you were the eldest prince? Prince Touya?”

“You are correct,” he answers. One legend said that the King’s murderer was the eldest prince, it seems that one rang true. “Though considering there’s no longer a kingdom I belong to, wouldn’t it be more fitting for you to just call me Touya?” 

“R-right, I suppose that is true,” you agree. It feels a bit intimate to call him by his first name, without any titles, especially considering you now know of his lineage. Despite that, it’s nice to finally know his name. However, there was a nagging question in your mind. “But wait, if you are the Prince then why do you look so…” 

“So strange?” He says, attempting to finish your sentence. You can only imagine he’s referring to his tattoos and snow-white hair. 

“Young. Why do you look so young?” You clarify, “Your kingdom existed long ago, yet you look to be in your twenties. Why is that?” 

“Witches live a long time,” he reveals. “I’ve lost count of the years.”

“I see…” you trail off, absorbing all the information. 

“Is that everything you wanted to ask?” He questions. You nod in response. “And do you still wish to leave?”

“I’m not sure anymore. I suppose staying here wouldn’t be terrible considering I have nothing left to go back to,” you answer, your voice taking on a wistful tone. You feel a bit safer here, knowing what you know now. There’s still this sense of melancholy, as you miss your old life. But alas, there is nothing to be done. You’ll just have to adapt to your current situation. 

Nearly a week has passed since that tense conversation, and you find yourself establishing a routine with Touya. You’ve taken on some light, daily duties of your own accord, just to keep your mind focused and prevent boredom. Not that you think you’d ever suffer from boredom with Touya’s strange antics. He appears to be serious in figuring out what you are. None of his methods are uncomfortable or unpleasant, just mildly entertaining or odd. For instance, he gave you a silver bracelet and told you to wear it, only to immediately and feverishly write something down in his journal. You took a peek and saw the words ‘definitely not a werewolf’ on the page. Truthfully, you weren’t sure whether you should be scared upon realizing werewolves existed, insulted from him even assuming you turned into a hairy beast upon full moons, or relieved that one less condition has been ruled out. Other than moments like that, your time with Touya hasn’t been unpleasant. Living with him felt natural, all else considered. Though, you were beginning to feel cabin-fever. 

Your desire to be outdoors is especially distracting today. Although you and Touya are still getting acquainted with one another, he’s able to discern that something is on your mind. He notices today that your gaze often lingers on the windows. In those moments, he steals plenty of glances at you, relishing in the opportunity to admire you. You’re pretty, he thinks. More gorgeous than the high nobles his father had proposed he marries. He remembers how, much to his father’s dismay, he was uninterested in them. You had a way about you that captures his full attention. If there’s anyone he has to live alongside in his cursed forest, he’s secretly glad it’s you. Your smile and insights deserve to be protected. He won’t let you live on the run like he once did. 

Whatever is on your mind, he wants to show that your arrangement is not only out of convenience, but also one of trust. He wants to help you sort out what’s bothering you, he’s just not sure how. Maybe a bit of fresh air would do you some good? 

“Come with me,” he says, interrupting your trance. You peel your eyes away from the window to look at him. “If you are to stay here, you should become familiar with the forest. I’ll show you.” He offers you his tattooed hand, to which you hesitantly take. Touya leads you outside of the house. After taking a good few steps, you glance over your shoulder so that you may fully see the house and your surroundings, only to see the house is gone. No trace of it remains, as if it vanished in thin air.

“Huh? Where did it go?” He chuckles at your bewilderment. It’s endearing to him how you do not yet understand magic. 

“It’s still there, just hidden with a spell,” he assures through a smile. You tilt your head in confusion, wondering why such a thing is necessary. He seems to pick up on this, and explains, “I don’t usually like ‘visitors’ barging into my home.” You understand the reasoning. If you hadn’t eaten that fruit and instead wandered around the forest, you’re certain you’d barge into his house demanding answers. You suppose you can’t blame him, as you’ve discussed how he was treated by others prior to him settling in the woods. 

He guides you along, helping you by the hand over particularly rough terrain or over slippery creek stones. You nearly stumble into him, at times, but he’s ever patient with you. Though, that’s not to say he doesn’t tease you about it. The encounters make you flush, both out of embarrassment and from being so close to him. You’re never left to dwell on it for long, as he strings you along from place to place, pointing out things he deems important. He’s in the middle of guiding you to the next point of interest when you stop in your tracks. 

Your ears pick up on some rustling in the bushes. The sound makes you halt, bringing the attention of Touya. You tug on his sleeve and gesture to the brush. “Should we be concerned?” You ask. He shakes his head. 

“It’s probably some sort of animal,” he reasons. “It’s not all barren here, animals do occasionally wander in, after all.”

On cue, a scraggly-looking cat pushes through the shrubbery. Its fur is flying every which way, with little leaves nestled into tufts of fur. You feel pity towards the feline and release your grip on Touya’s sleeve to approach the animal. “Aw, poor thing. You look terrible,” you soothe. The cat’s tail swishes, almost in agitation. You turn to Touya, and plead, “Can I take her back with us? Look at how ragged she is, the poor thing needs some rest.” 

‘I’m not ragged! I’m just having a bad fur day from chasing after YOU this whole time. I mean really, you couldn’t have stayed in one place?’ The cat counters. 

You tilt your head in confusion. Surely you are mistaken, you must be hallucinating, there’s no other explanation. Cats cannot talk. And yet, here you are, questioning such a fact. Your mind tunes out all of Touya’s words as you focus on the scene unfolding.

‘Really? The silent treatment? After I come all this way, you don’t even speak to me? Some witch you are,’ the cat taunts. You turn your head to Touya, hoping to find him reacting to the cat’s words, only to find his expression incredibly neutral. 

“Can you not hear her?” You ask Touya, nervousness clear in your voice. Have you lost your mind?

“She’s just meowing. Why, do you hear something different?”

“Yes, she speaks,” you affirm. “You really cannot hear it?”

“This certainly explains things,” he states pensively. 

“Explains what? What does this mean?” You frantically ask him. 

“Relax. My darling, you are a witch,” he assures. “And this seems to be your familiar. Really, I should have guessed sooner.”

“But how did she find me?”

“They always do, familiars have a way about them, even I do not fully understand it,” he explains. There’s a nostalgic tone in his voice, clearly reminiscing on his own past. Your brows are still furrowed, lost in your thoughts and attempting to absorb the revelation. He seems to pick up on this and places his hand on your shoulder, reassuringly, and says, “It was long ago, but I once felt what you are feeling. It’s confusing at first, but I’m here, I can teach you. Your familiar will also help. You’re not alone in this.”

‘Can we skip the touchy-feely and get to the witchcraft already?’ The cat complains. You scoop the cat up and hold her in front of you. 

“We’ll start once you learn some manners,” you scold. Touya earnestly laughs. 

“Never a dull moment with you, is there?” He laughs. You pull your familiar closer to your chest, smoothing over her fur. You offer Touya a genuine smile and he smiles back. He can’t but admire you in this moment, with the sun hitting your face, looking legitimately happy. 

He’s glad to have met you.

[nietr]

it really sucks being a silent hill fan for years and years now... its always sucked being a silent hill stan ever since post golden years (post sh4), our fanbase has been fucked time and time again and unfortunately it has led to some shitty things that have directly effected the overall disposition of the entire community at large extremely negatively and this makes me sad.

first of all, nowadays the community is absolutely toxic. it seems like konami is actually trying their best (for the most part) this time and the community behind silent hill just nitpicks every single tiny little thing. like, i don't think konami could ever in a million years make this community happy no matter what bloober or any other developer would do with any sh1-4 remake. the nitpicks i see people complaining about are just... silly at times. that's not to say some of them aren't valid. there are things i've seen in the trailers i'm not a fan of at all. it's not like im stanning and defending the remake, willing to die on the hill of "it's going to be good no matter what, it's a silent hill 2 remake." It's not like that, it's just that this community is absurdly toxic and salty. and the sad thing is, i get where this vitriol comes from. this community, we have been constantly just thrown under the bus. the IP has had its history of just, absolutely not handled with respect at all and it has sucked, so the community is in this place of, "we're going to be salty no matter or how good it is." it seems like.

look, i'm not a fan of consulting firms being hired for a fucking horror game for 'inclusivity', like what the hell is that? I don't get it myself. But that's not the point. The main contention and memes i'm seeing are solely based on Angela's face rn being a little bit more boxy and not up to par with the absurdly realistic faces of other characters.

Okay, well, it is a trailer and not the final product so seeing all these memes and mockery (as funny as some of them have been), i have a feeling her face will be changed, probably quite a bit, like James' face was. Maybe her character's face was not completely finished, I don't know. But, her face did need the most work. She is supposed to be a teenager and looked like she was ~30 in the original, so I get needing to completely rework how she looks. That being said, her character was always going to look completely different from the original in a reimagining in a game with photorealistic character design. the character design for Angela wasn't always the best out of the lot of all of them, so ofc she needed the most redesign and i'm not even mad... idgi and this is coming from someone whos favorite game of all time is SIlent Hill 2.

It's just, so much of this criticism seems very contrived and it seems like people are just shitting on the small knit-picky bullshit things because its the bandwagon thing to do.

Meanwhile, the first trailer had some problems. This second trailer shows Bloober team willing to listen to the community and tweak the problems people were having with what they saw and I was blown away by some of what I saw...

I'm just willing to have an open mind to all of this, because at the end of the day this WILL be the best Silent Hill installment we've gotten in YEARS, and despite the couple of gripes I personally have with what I've seen so far, I was BLOWN away by this reimagining of Silent Hill 2.

Again, this is coming from someone whos favorite game is Silent Hill 2. I personally think this is an absolute massive undertaking, because at the end of the day, I do believe Sh2 was a literal masterpiece. I think it is a must play game because it is. in my opinion, one of the most profound pieces of modern media, period. So, I'm willing to accept the fact that a remake will NEVER, no matter what, ever live up to being just as good as the original. To me, this is going to be a welcome return, reimagined in the modern age, with far different gameplay and mechanics, so it may not be a masterpiece at the end of the day. (Maybe I'm wrong, I'd love to be proven wrong.). but it will be a very awesome and fun return to my favorite place in the world and from this new trailer and what i've seen, I think this is going to be an awesome time.

I just hope they fix a couple of things. They do need to make Angela look as detailed as other characters, for some reason she doesn't, maybe they're still working on that. They need to get rid of the red "i'm hurt" border, that shit is lame. Some of the physics sometimes look unnatural... Other than that, I'm fucking stoked.

People need to just stop shitting on things to shit on them, and if you've never played Silent Hill 2, and you like horror games, do not wait for this game. The original will always be a masterpiece, something absolutely fucking rare as all hell, and it is absolutely worth playing. There's no reason to NOT play it if you like games.

Like, I don't get these people waiting for the remake, never played the OG games by team silent and then being like "This looks like shit." It's like, it's because you never played the original and I feel like this game really is for the fans... Like, I get it, there's younger people who don't like older games or whatever, and they want modern gameplay but the game was never supposed to be a resident evil clone. the game was never about how good the combat is... so you don't get it. PLAY THE ORIGINAL. The graphics hold up, the story is a mindfuck amazing journey, the atmosphere is mind-blowing, it's not like other PS2 games where it's like if you're a bit younger you'd go "This is too dated, the graphics are too bad and I can't enjoy this." The game is a cinematic masterpiece, it's almost like the most interactive movie ever made at times. I don't know, I just don't get these kids not willing to play the original but waiting for the remake and then also shitting on things about it... half the time it's because they don't get where they're coming from with the source material. this shit isn't supposed to be RE, even though they could be considered video game horror cousins..

there's just all these salty people and I've been livid with Konami for so much and especially with things they've done with this IP, so I get the gripe at times but people just need to stop being SO salty, there are things worth being excited about IMO....

I personally love what I saw this time. I hope the community can rebound from being mostly toxic at times, and this IP finally gets a worthy installment of praise... We shall see.

[farharbour]

happy oc-tober everypony 💖 finally took the time to draw out my three main fallout characters! i was going to draw all of my ocs out before posting but i couldn't wait to share these i love them so so so much they are my besties truly i made them i live for them and i would and will die for them

some info about each of them under the cut:

jesse: sosu; you know him, you love him, i never shut up about him. early 30s. my vaguely self-insert projection character who's taken on a life of his own at this point (but in my heart he will always be an extension of me to some extent). anyway. science guy, pacifist-adjacent. pre-war he was a radiologist w/ a concentration in epidemiology and was one of the last researchers trying to cure the new plague. his story in-game is less about shaun and more about the question of whether or not he's a synth (he's not but he's manipulated into thinking he is for a long long time). works with the railroad but has a falling-out with them post-game and takes up post as a doctor in diamond city. soft-spoken but capable. has a few grey hairs because i think it's cute and no other reason (poliosis). he's bi and dating nick. also poly but that's not super important.

bec: lw; i drew her here as she looks at age 29, when she's hanging out in the commonwealth with jesse. i'm not a fan of fo3 so she's truly a fo4 npc who just so happens to have also been the protagonist of fo3. she was injured pretty badly while activating the purifier and suffered severe radiation burns on the right side of her body; it was bad enough that the bos, who took her in, had no other option than to amputate her right arm (she's left-handed). she was coerced into working with the bos in exchange for saving her life and giving her a fully-functioning prosthetic arm but eventually parted ways on less than stellar terms once maxson started worming his way into power. she made he way north on the trail of dr. li and her father, who she had discovered had close ties to the institute (and she herself had a bit of a stake in the synth equation because of how much the replicated man quest affected her). after coming up empty she decided to hunker down in an old red rocket outside of sanctuary hills and turned the garage there into her home. she's a mechanic and loves tinkering with old tech, power armor in particular. she's a lesbian and dating another npc of mine, peaches (aka the general of the minutemen in jess' story).

simon: c6; late-20s. chaotic neutral but not chaotic stupid. dumbass but not dumb. they're related to the chosen one (it's a long and complicated family history that i haven't completely fleshed out yet) and they grew up in arroyo. they were always eager for adventure and set out at a young age for new reno, taking whatever odd jobs they could find. they eventually settled on being a package courier, as it gave him the opportunity to see more of the wasteland they loved so much. they set up a trading post on the long 15 years later and weren't able to escape the blast when it was destroyed; they carry a long scar across the length of their back as a reminder. he's mainly out for himself, but he's also deeply loyal to those few he considers trustworthy. has a soft heart under his silly and slightly abrasive exterior. collects teddy bears and dyes their own hair with a dye they makes themself with a mixture of bleach, clay, and mutfruit. never one to hunker down, they basically vanish back west after hoover dam. unsure if anyone ever sees him again. he's gay and 'dating' arcade (it's very very very very very complicated).

[monstersinthecosmos]

this is such a silly question but... how old do you envision keith to be in ttsr!? i think about this fic all day every day to the point where i'm like filling in the gaps in my head and reconstructing his entire life before meeting shiro and whatnot so yeah just. wondering how old he actually is? (((also please know you are my favorite fic writer ever. and i'm the pickiest of picky readers, so it's like you've been inside my brain! IT'S EERIE! and i'm so grateful <3 <3 <3)))

sdgads oh my gosh thank you so much

look at this fucked up little baby i love him SO LIKE INSOFAR AS THEIR AGES IN CANON ARE A LITTLE FUZZY I think he's 19 in TTSR. I think I'm using the idea that in S1 Keith is 19ish and Shiro is 25ish, and I go with the idea that they met when Keith was 15ish and Shiro is 21ish. And maybe by the end of canon, with Keith's time skip, Shiro is 27ish and Keith is 23ish? I sometimes adjust that number in my mind, it's not a hill I'm gonna die on in general, but for this fic I think those are abouts the ages I'm working with. It makes the most sense to me to imagine that Shiro would be recruiting from high schools, and I was comparing to like ROTC and stuff and they typically don't accept kids under 17, but it seems like the Garrison has younger students and since it's a space exploration program and not strictly a military institution that we have some wiggle room to make up rules haha. So maybe they meet, he finishes 10th grade or whatever, then joins the Garrison? Even though they use very obvious visual language on the show in the flashbacks to tell us KEITH IS SMOL BBY, he's gotta at least be a high school student. I also want to leave him a little time to get to know Shiro. In chapter 4 I wrote like a lil bit of exposition just to like keep everyone on their toes and I thought it would be a fun pacing shift to just start talking about his childhood out of nowhere which is why I sketched out that overview of like his JOURNEY REALIZING HE'S GAY LOL, but in that chapter I mentioned that Shiro leaves for Kerberos when Keith is 17 and he gets kicked out of the Garrison at 18/19. It says this RE:Keith's sexual history lol: But at seventeen with an NCO and eighteen on Iverson’s desk and nineteen with some grad student from the bar, all he knows is that he doesn’t want to give up control.

I also really wanted to give weight to how different he would've looked to Shiro when Shiro comes back, especially leaving Earth off a breakup. And the breaking up is relevant because like, Keith has always just been this kid that he mentors and Shiro is in a committed relationship up until the very end right before his mission, so there's no reason why he'd ever see Keith as desirable. Not just that Shiro is too much of a cinnamon roll and I think he's so faithful & committed to Adam, but Keith is also so fucking immature and messy as a kid right?

When he leaves, Keith is his lil buddy that thirdwheels him & his boyfriend and sleeps on their couch sometimes, and when he comes back Keith is like this angry shell that regressed on all the lessons Shiro taught him. But he's grown and strong and violent !!!! And Shiro sees him as a grown man now! And it's surreal to him! And he feels weird about it sometimes! And when Keith is ready Shiro wants to be topped & dommed because he's so burnt out from making decisions and being in charge and being responsible for everyone's lives and it would be so nice if this violent alien-man would dick him down please!

Sorry I got off topic lol I mean, I think 19 is a nice age where like, there would be a visible difference, he'd be taller, broader shoulders, (if he were fully human maybe he'd be fully grown but I think his Galra genes are gonna keep going lol but Shiro doesnt know that)!

I don't always stick to these ages because canon is so fuzzy so I think like for all writers, readers, & enjoyers we have some space to adjust as needed when it fits the story we're trying to tell. But I think this mostly is the story I'm telling this time and like, if I haven't nailed it down explicitly in the text already you never know if I'll wiggle later or even retcon it LOL. So anyway, the basic TTSR timeline

They meet when Keith is 15

He joins the Garrison at 16

Shiro leaves when Keith is 17

Pilot error etc happens when Keith is 18

He gets kicked out of the Garrison at some point! Do I know when in this following year? idk I didn't decide. Bonus question: Does Keith even know? Does he know what month it is? Does he know how old he is? Pilot error happens and time stops existing for him.

Shiro comes back/canon S1/TTSR begins when he's 19. I also didn't nail a number down yet but I think he was 6 or 7 when his dad died in this. In the upcoming chapter that I haven't finished, there's an extended scene about him and his dad from when he's 5!!!!!!!!!! You didn't ask but, in general if this helps you imagine the TTSR timeline lol. :) :) BOY. I'm upset lol.

[i-write-hurt-not-comfort]

You probably get this question a lot, but what aspects of Kou’s character make you love him so much?

(Tbh I didn’t pay much attention to him when I first got into DiaLovers but after reading your fics I really like his character a lot more lol.)

i have literally never gotten this question before so thank you. and thank you for reading my fics! i absolutely LOVE writing kou so much and i'm glad people like it. sometimes i worry i'm angsting him out too much and then i just remember his dark fate. he deserves all the love he can get ;;

i'm putting this under a cut because it's really long and has some tw

// mentions of suicide, CSA and drug abuse

His character design

starting off really basic but kou is really fucking pretty. i love his character design, his eyes are pretty, his hair is kinda dumb but cute, and he's so fruity?? the way he dresses and stands??? you can't tell me he's straight. he looks so good in all the art, he can pull of anything.

i recently got a BUNCH of kou merch on buyee for a really good price and i put it along my walls like this and damn

His voice

ryouhei kimura does such a good job with kou i think. he captures the way he can go from chirpy and happy to EXTREMELY angry in a split second. i gotta be honest i used to find kou's voice really annoying and it was like, the one thing that let me down. but then i listened to his more blood drama CD and damn. daaaaaamn. he's got such a range. honestly i love hearing kou angry lol. he's got such a sexy angry voice i can't take him seriously. and the way he says really simple things super over the top.

i also fucking love devil's spire with every part of me. i listen to it several times a day, every single day.

His humour

he's got a weird sense of humour, it's almost a bit morbid. like he talks about really serious things really jokingly. he calls yui silly nicknames and jokes with his brothers. some of the shit he says really makes me laugh even if it's not meant to. his drama CDs are great too, he's really overly dramatic and it's so funny.

His history with drug abuse

i don't think anyone wants to hear me talk about this any more because i've also written about it here and here but just know that the fact he did drugs in CANON makes me over the moon. i have such a fascination with drugs and writing characters as either recreational drug users or drug addicts is my favourite.

kou just fits it perfectly?? so far i've written him abusing heroin, cocaine, crack cocaine and MDMA, and i've hinted at him being an alcoholic in another fic. i can do so much with him. but it really draws me to his character. i wanna do drugs with kou so bad.

His further angst potential

like i said, kou's dark fate is a personal favourite. i think we see him at his lowest and most vulnerable. nothing broke me more than when ruki (you dick) breaks him apart from yui. and there's that flashback to him talking to karlheinz. and he's standing on the balcony, he says to himself "i can't see my blue sky anymore" then jumps off the fucking balcony. my guy tried to unalive because he was hurting so much.

not to mention his history of suicide attempts. i might be mistaken about this but i'm pretty sure kou is the only character who actively tried to commit suicide, and multiple times at that. his history with child assault too. we all know i'm a total slut for heavy, heavy angst. making kou severely unstable and on the verge of snapping all the time is really good if you want to write some dark shit.

he has such an unbelievable amount of trauma and it really shows. the fact he had to be given a magic eye in order to be able to simply trust someone because his trust was just that badly broken. i'll die on the hill that kou had borderline personality disorder too, i've written more about bpd here.

and that's not to mention seeing him having nightmares and stuff in more blood, and the struggles he has in lost eden.

one last thing which i don't think i've seen anyone say before, while i'm on the kou angst wagon - i know it's probably not this deep but. the implication that kou can't undo buttons himself because he was never the one undressing himself as a kid... ah...

The blue sky metaphor

kind of ties into the above point but the blue sky metaphor means a lot to me. essentially kou always thought it was something physical - like, the sky itself. but then karlheinz points out that it's something to live for. the blue sky thing is something to trust with everything, someone to live for. something always there - the fact he used drugs as a kid to find that first is pretty sad too. and then yeah, trying to leave this world when he can't see his blue sky, in which case it's yui.

uh, linking back to the previous point though, that's angst potential. he's very heavily co-dependent in a relationship.

I'm lowkey a kou-kinnie

i have a kou tattoo with the "you're my blue sky" quote and the lilies covering my arm for a reason. there's a lot of personal stuff i relate to - from seeking comfort in drugs to desperately searching for a reason to live, something to cling onto. there's a lot of thought cascades he shows which (correlate to BPD) i relate to, and kou does some pretty shitty things to yui when he doesn't know any better. i've said some nasty things similar to what kou has said although i unfortunately relate to laito on this front a lot more.

His relationship with Yui and Subaru

if we push aside the co-dependence part so i can say something positive and not sad for once, he forms relationships pretty well once he's gotten through the not-trusting stage. especially with the help of the eye. i keep going on about his dark fate but I Just Love His Dark Fate Okay. when he cries to yui telling her that she's his blue sky when they're reunited. when he tries so hard to learn to communicate and protect her and he even becomes quite good at apologising lol.

i don't have to explain why i love subakou. everyone knows i love them. but i really love them. look at the DEVELOPMENT from the first picture here to the second. i think about this so often.

i guess on that topic, i'm a huge softie for the mukami's brotherhood too. i'll always think back to the beginning of azusa's more blood when kou warns yui that azusa is the problem child. like, no, YOU'RE the problem child, kou. that's u.

there's probably more to say but goddamn i love him so much.

[cyarsk52-20]

It’s time to give the ladies of Hip-Hop their flowers! In honor of Women’s History Month, we’re celebrating female MCs whose powerful bars not only entertained the masses but also confronted misogyny head-on. From Queen Latifah to Nicki Minaj to Lil' Kim, the rap game was forever changed and consequently elevated the moment queens decided to spit on the mic. In an industry where women are often overlooked and counted out, these Hip-Hop icons influenced generations of women and shifted the culture with their unforgettable and impactful bars.

While there are plenty more women with equally powerful bars, here are a few from some of our favorite rappers.   WARNING: EXPLICIT LANGUAGE Doja Cat 

"I mean I could be the leader, head of all the states/I could smile and jiggle it 'til his pockets empty, I could be the CEO, just look at Robyn Fenty/And I'ma be there for you 'cause you on my team, girl, Don't ever think you ain't hella these n****s dream girl/They wanna pit us against each other, When we succeedin' for no reasons/They wanna see us end up like we Regina on Mean Girls" - Doja Cat "Woman" (2021) 

Latto

"Got my own bag, I don't need yours (Hell nah), Cinderella, red bottoms, no chores (Yeah)" - Latto "On God" (2020)  Megan Thee Stallion

"Got more milkshake than Kelis, Ain't met a n***a who can handle me/I think I should be in museums 'cause this body a masterpiece" - Megan Thee Stallion "Sex Talk" (2019) Cardi B

"Once a good girl, watch me turn diva/Here goes my heart, I put it on speaker" - Cardi B "Ring" (2018)  Remy Ma

"See the avenues is listening, the streets is watchin'/But I live by the code and I'mma die by the code/And can't nobody say that Remy ever told me nothin'" - Remy Ma "Gangsta B*tch" (2014) Nicki Minaj

“Cause we dope, girls we flawless, we the poster girls for all this” - Nicki Minaj "Feeling Myself" (2014) Lil' Kim

“I don’t bend easy, budge or break/ Trust me, you don’t want it with the female Scarface” - Lil Kim "I Know You See Me" (2005) Trina

“I’m representin’ for the b***hes/ All eyes on your riches” - Trina “Da Baddest Bitch” (1999)  Lauryn Hill

"Babygirl, respect is just a minimum, N****s f**ked up and you still defending them/Now Lauryn is only human, Don't think I haven't been through the same predicament/Let it sit inside your head like a million women in Philly, Penn., It's silly when girls sell their soul because it's in" - Lauryn Hill "Doo Wop (That Thing)" (1998) Queen Latifah & Monie Love 

"We are the ones that give birth/To the generations of prophets because it's ladies first" - Queen Latifah and Monie Lovie "Ladies' First" (1989)

Sent from my iPhone

[undiscovered-horizon]

Dating Matt Murdock

People always say “marry your best friend” and that’s exactly what your relationship is like

He’s whipped and it’s obvious to anyone with working eyesight and/or hearing

“Yeah, she has me wrapped around her finger and I’m completely content with that”

That dreamy face he has around you 24/7 is so sweet it makes people want to vomit tbh

Matt laughs at all of your jokes, no matter how terrible

You know each other so well, you can finish your sentences, which backfires during arguments because you know EXACTLY what the other person is thinking, even if they state otherwise

But arguments aren't common, mostly chill exchanges, HOWEVER that doesn't mean things didn't get serious once or twice

All because you're genuinely worried for his well-being and Matt seems pretty laid back about possibly suffering a gruesome death

Back hugs. So many back hugs.

Small kisses whenever you're passing by each other

You often just hang out, doing your own things and enjoying each other's presence

He likes to be the small spoon and I will die on this hill

You read your books out loud to him and sometimes give goofy voices to different characters

Whenever one of you is invited somewhere, people are bewildered the other didn't tag along

Random dancing/swaying in the kitchen

You and Foggy exchange dirt on Matt

When you want to trash talk someone, he's there

Brings you coffee/tea to bed

You insist on putting ointment on his scars so they heal better and although at first Matt was pretty indifferent, he quickly grew to like it

I mean, you're taking care of him !!! His heart HAS to melt, it's the law

And the fact that you're happily putting your hands all over him

He refuses to ask for help in serious matters and it's quite upsetting because you have made it clear a thousand times that you'll gladly help him and that there's only so much a human can carry

But he's a little hard-headed when he sets his mind on something and believes he should deal with the hard things himself

Matt is the king of brooding and whenever he’s bothered by something, it's basically written in red sharpie on his forehead

He's gonna be okay, just let him lay with his head on your stomach/lap for a while

Raising cats together because Matt is 200% a cat guy you can't change my mind

Inside jokes that have a too long and complex history to ever be explained to someone

Matt's the type to jokingly stick his tongue out at you when you tease him

But be prepared for a witty rebuttal

The two of you love to listen to podcasts with scary stories

Compliments you a lot and is very smug about his smooth flirting

He can only imagine what you look like but that has never stopped him from claiming you're the prettiest person ever

Nothing can convince him otherwise

Matt is your number 1 fan

You do crosswords together

He smiles when he's kissing you, can't help it

Showering together

Matt will go to Heaven simply for putting up with your silly antics

You: Hey, wanna know a secret?

Matt: Sure

You: I like you

Matt, after being in a relationship with you for years: Color me surprised

You always have his back

"That's a stupidass idea, Matt... I'm right behind you."

He needs a little reassurance from time to time and you're more than willing to give it to him

You play with his hair when he lays on you

Sometimes, when he's gone all night, you sleep in his clothes, trying to at least pretend he's there with you

And when he comes back and catches you curled up in bed, wearing his shirt, it's so cute he might cry

Mornings are hard because neither of you wants to leave the bed

Giggly pillow talks

Sharing a tub of ice cream in the middle of the night and having intimate conversations

Cuddling!!! Once you give in, you're doomed. There's no escape. This is your life now.

Honestly, Matt wants to feel like he's bringing a positive change to the world, like his life matters, like he matters

You: You know, this world can't be hopeless. It sure does feel like it sometimes but it's not doomed. It can't be. Matt: Why? You: Because it has you.

____

@restingbitchsblog

[sugars-fluffy-escapes]

Ler!Eddie Munson Headcanons

Eddie Munson x Reader

Strictly SFW; fluffy, playful, and plenty of romantic + platonic sweetness all around, very self indulgent

Note: I. Have. Never. Ever. fallen in love with a character as fast as I fell in love with Eddie Munson. (First, this jerk <3 steals my heart platonically, and then BAM- steals my heart again and this time I want to kiss him-) Some of these hcs might diverge from the canon storyline, so do with that what you will <3 Major thanks to my tumblr moots for inspiring me and helping make these hcs happen. This is probably gonna be a long post 🥴 I have no regrets~

*Spoilers for Stranger Things 4 Volume 1 under the cut!*

Where... do I even begin... AHSJDJEJD- I suppose I'll start with this:

Eddie "The Ler" Munson. 🫢 EDDIE. "THE LER." MUNSON.

Eddie Munson is 100% a ler-leaning switch (unless he's around Steve 🫢 where he becomes the biggest lee a good 95% of their interactions). Yup. Absolutely a ler-leaning switch. I'd say that a good 80% of the time, he's the one tickling someone else to pieces.

This was a given- I mean, do you see how much he LOVES making people laugh??? (His whole cafeteria monologue had the Hellfire club giggling, the entire scene with Chrissy, his adorable little "still super jealous as hell by the way" moment with Steve 🥹)

So, if you happen to not only be ticklish, but you like being tickled... Eddie is going to have a field day, lemme tell you. He's familiar with the t-word quirk, he has the t-word quirk.

Either he knew he liked tickles long before he found out you like being tickled, or finding out that you like them was what made him realize it brought him as much joy as it brought you, which is a really cute concept and I can't get over it.

Eddie Munson is the scariest (<3) ler in the history of lers, and I will proudly die on that hill.

I say scariest, but Eddie would never ever want you to truly feel scared of him. He's an absolute sweetheart. An angel. A honeybun. However, he is playfully evil and a mischievous little shit (/p).

He never, EVER crosses your boundaries. He always asks for your consent before every affectionate gesture (hand holding, snuggles, platonic forehead or hand kisses or all those previous gestures in a romantic sense plus kisses on the lips if you're dating, and so on) and affectionate playful tickling is no different. Eddie Munson is strict af about consent.

What makes him scary is how invested he gets in the whole ler persona (You saw his theatrics in the cafeteria AND during the D&D scene? 💀 Yeah- I rest my case), his deadly good tickling skills, and the fact that he's very blunt about wanting to tickle you. It also doesn't help that he's absolutely FERAL.

For as often as he says so with a grin on his face or giggles leaving his lips, he will also say so very nonchalantly in the same manner he'd casually answer someone's question about what he had for breakfast- (🏃🏽‍♀️🏃🏽‍♀️🏃🏽‍♀️). However, Eddie will also say it in the most serious. tone. of voice. 

"Eddie... What's with that look on your face? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because, I want to tickle you."

*cue you just about short circuiting because this man is bold bold as a ler*

He's definitely. completely. unafraid to be the most secondhand-embarrassing with his tickling theatrics. Like, it's bad enough being flustered because of him, but then he pairs it with the WORST secondhand embarrassment and it's deadly. 

He makes the concept of "cringe" his bitch. Silly voices, ridiculous faces (The demon face he made at Jason ahsjsjdhf), the friggin finger wiggling that he's scarily skilled at since he plays guitar (bastard <3 /lh), doing a thing where he talks suuuper quietly and suddenly loudly evil cackles and you scream because he's jumpscared you AND is now tickling you at the same time.

Eddie is going to make up SEVERAL characters and use different voices as he sends you on the tickling version of the Hero's Journey. You know the whole "tickle monster" bit? Eddie Munson has created many, many versions of that bit.

Just to jump back to the demon face and devil horns thing he did. He will stand still and look at you with that exact same blank stare before suddenly pulling that face but instead of making devil horns, his fingers are wiggling and immediately after that he's chasing you. 🫢🫢🫢

He LIVES to fluster you or catch you off guard, so fully expect him to subtly, or maybe not subtly at all, teasingly wiggle his fingers in the air while he looks you dead in the eye.

Circling back to the whole "Eddie Munson has no issue vocally stating he wants to tickle you" thing, he also has a few looks he gives you that blatantly say:

"I am going to tickle the hell out of you at some point today and I'll leave it to you to decide when that's going to happen."

The smirk: An absolute classic, this one. If Eddie smirks at you, ha ha... you're in adorably ticklish danger.

The glare or the squint: Almost exclusively reserved for when you "piss him off." Sass him (especially during the Hellfire Club D&D campaigns) and see what happens.

The cheeky smile: A.K.A. Eddie can't stop admiring you and opts for tickling you because he lovesyour laugh and your smile and just wanted you to giggle. 👉🏾👈🏾

The puppy eyes: More so the "I can see you're feeling down and I really wanna make you feel better, please let me make you laugh for a little bit" kind of look. Like I said, Eddie is an absolute sweetheart and it hurts him to see you sad or upset in any way.

This absolute ass <3, sneaks tickling into the D&D campaign as often as possible. Whether it's the finger wiggle, giving you "the looks," saying the word out loud a few times in different context to make you squirm, describing something happening to your D&D character in a way that he KNOWS your brain will associate with being tickled (and he'll do the finger wiggle while he says it because he's an ass /lh /p)...

...or... if he's decided he's going to be very blatantly bold, your character actually encounters a tickle monster. AND... if he feels EXTRA bold, he's going to get up from his chair and tickle you if you don't roll enough hit points.

"Unfortunately, you did not roll high enough to make your attack~ The monster corners you, its hands lift, fingers wiggling... and it ATTACKS! With the most unbearable tickling you've ever endured in your time as a hero~"

He says it's for "immersion" but he knows what he's doing. Asshole <3

His favorite characters to act out are fantasy genre-related ones (of course they are! He's a D&D dungeon master) like an "evil overlord of tickling" who replenishes his mana from the sounds of your laughter.

He has custom dice with tickle spots on them, and dice with numbers for how many minutes he'll spend tickling that spot. T-word dice... HE HAS T-WORD DICE. And he makes YOU roll them-

"Y-You can't make 'me rolling a nat 20' the only way to get out of this!!!"

"Best hope luck is on your side, Y/N~"

*You do not roll the 20. OR. if you do, he cheats and turns it to a lower number. You're getting tickled either way*

You don't know this yet, but he has a BACKUP. SET. just in case you try to hide the dice from him. Good luck to you when you try hiding the dice and find out about the other set.

He will absolutely call you by your D&D character's name when he's tickling you during or after the Hellfire Club meetings.

I like to hc that there's a random beanbag chair off to the side somewhere in the room y'all hold the club meetings in. He's 100% going to drag you over to it at some point and place you on it before tickling you to pieces. It's the tickle chair- HE NAMED IT THAT.

Eddie Munson is not above chasing you down the hallway and out into the parking lot as soon as y'all are done with the club for the night. 

"There is nooo shame, in running~" AHSJSKDJDJJEJE- PFFFHEEEEEE

This jerk knows every type of teasing in the nonexistent "ler manual." 

I do mean EVERY TYPE.

Whether he uses them or not is entirely dependent on what you're comfortable with and your boundaries.

He LOVES using cutesy talk, but he will have zero complaints if you don't like it. If you don't like something, he won't do it, and that's final.

If you do like cutesy talk, Eddie is gonna be absolutely merciless with it-

His standard cutesy talk is this quieter, soft and sweet tone of voice and he's almost always smirking or grinning (unless he's been provoked into angry ler mode- I will elaborate on that in a bit 🫢)

"Why are you so giggly~? Huh~? You gonna tell me~?"

He is not above nuzzling your nose as he teasingly asks you why you're giggling like he doesn't know the damn answer.

If you're a person who's comfortable with full on babytalk/puppytalk kind of teases, it's your lucky day, because Eddie is also scarily good at those and manages to do so without sounding patronizing or like he's trying to be infantilizing.

If you don't like the babytalk/puppytalk, don't worry! Eddie understands 💙. (When I say that Eddie Munson has raised the bar from hell for me-)

He will however go so over the top with that kind of tease as a playful joke that makes you laugh because he sounds like a fucking idiot. He makes himself laugh with it several times because he cannot fucking take himself seriously.

Expect to hear him also jokingly use the most obvious teases that are most commonly associated with tickling. Like the classic "kitchy kitchy coo" type of teasing. He has a favorite one, though.👉🏾👈🏾 (I am too flustered to even type it out because it gives me the worst butterflies ever- so I have to copy paste it AGSHSHEJ)

"Goochie goochie goo~" Eddie LOVES annoying you with that one. (That fuckin phrase is my recently-discovered t-word KRYPTONITE- istg, it never flustered me before but then, the concept, of Eddie, teasingly singing that??? ⚰️ /lh)

He's an irritating little shit and it's cute. Eddie will annoy you with those joke teases and when you tell him off, well- further incentive to tickle you more. And he will justify it out loud to you.

"Maybe it wasn't the greatest idea to tell me to 'shut my pie-hole~' 

If those joke teases happen to ACTUALLY fluster you (me with that tease I had to copy x paste) and you don't mind hearing them, and EDDIE FINDS OUT YOU LIKE THE TEASES??? Prepare for the worst butterflies of your entire life while your face and ears get warmer than freshly baked muffins. Eddie, from that moment onward, takes those teases verrrrry seriously. 😈

This little fucker <3 will teasingly sing the word "tickle" over and over until you can't even look at him. And then he'll act like he doesn't know why you can't stop hiding your face.

If you love the banter-filled teases with playful insults, Eddie's so down for that. We've seen his banter. ("This is Hellfire Club. Not Babysitting Club.")

"Still think I'm all talk, you giggly little shit!??? Eddie 'all talk and no tickles' Munson, is very clearly tickling you! You knowww~ maybe I should start calling you Y/N 'no talk and all tickles' L/N, because I'm going to tickle you speechless."

He is not above calling you insult names affectionately if that's something you like and will insult him back. Butthead, dipshit, dumbass, numb nuts, jerk, shithead, etc. You two could affectionately banter back and forth all day if that's your love language. 🥹

Sweet nicknames are an Eddie Munson specialty too. If you don't mind being given a cutesy nickname, he'll call you a bunch. Lovebug, honeybun, giggles, cute stuff, sugar berry (this one is self indulgence to the maximum degree. Guilty. Oops 🥴🫢), sweetie.

You are the only person that Eddie calls "sweetheart." He deadass adores you as much as he adores his electric guitar, and that is A LOT of adoration and love right there. Whether you two are just best friends, or if you two are romantically together. That nickname is very high honor.

One of Eddie's favorite things to do is purposely "zone out" mid conversation, and you try to get his attention, only for his slow-wiggling fingers to suddenly come into your line of vision...

...and he will keep a deadpan expression on his face, as he keeps moving his hand closer and you eventually end up a squeaking flustered heap on the floor after your attempts to get away...

...then you've just tucked your arms by your sides and shriek when he kneels beside you and hovers his wiggling fingers closer again. His suppressed smile finally breaks onto his face because he's so. entertained. over how you're not even being tickled yet but you're THAT squirmy over what he's doing. 

"Why are you so giggly and nervous~?"

"B-Behehecahahause *hic* youhou're gonna... youhouhou're gohohonna..."

"Tickle you? Hm? Yeah, I am~ But you're gonna decide when I actually start~"

He loves being all soft and sweet-sounding with his voice in these moments.

"Why are you so giggly~? What's so funny~?"

"You're not gonna tell me what's making you laugh so much~? Do I have to tickle it out of you~?"

As mischievous and annoying but very adorable and sweet as he is, if you DO piss him off enough, I hope you're prepared for angry ler!Eddie. 🫢

He will whip his head around to look at you, and either glare, or smile, before he starts moving toward you as he tells you that you are in for the tickling of your life.

This is the point where you should run. It's not like he won't catch you though. If you don't run, he'll encourage you to, just because he likes the chase and it's adorable how you react when he catches you.

Eddie's teasing amplifies by a full 100. He is going to use EVERY tease that he knows flusters you and he will repeat them relentlessly.

You know the whole "mock sympathy" thing? Yeah. Eddie Munson is really good at the mock sympathy.

"Awwwww, I know it tickles like hell. That was the goal."

"Switch spots? Is it too bad~?"

*cue you nodding, only for Eddie to move one hand to another weak spot so he's tickling two at the same time and you're thrown back into laughter*

The man is ruthless AGSHDHDJR- To make it worse, he doesn't even act silly or laugh along. His face. Is so. Serious. Or there's the tiniest smirk on his face.

Oh my God- there are so many more hcs I have for angry ler!Eddie but I am flustered enough as it is. (Don't worry, I'm not done with angry ler!Eddie you'll see the concept explored in fics- AGSJDJRKE) So, let's talk about Eddie post-tickling you to tears.

Every time, after Eddie's tickled you, he holds up his hands with a giggle and assures you he's done. Eddie's an attentive guy, and he'll stop whenever you want him to. First thing he does after that is grab you water.

He asks if he can give you a hug or hold your hand or snuggle. Whatever form of affection you allow, Eddie is so sweet about it. What he says also depends on whether he was in a soft mood, mischievous mood, or a full on "you are done for" mood.

Eddie will dote on you all damn day after that if you let him. I'm not even kidding. 

Wanna watch a movie? You get to pick it. And if it turns out to be boring the two of you, he'll talk over the movie with his own lines and character voices or roast the characters in the film just to make you laugh.

Hungry? He'll grab whatever snack you like. You just want to hold his hand and snuggle? Okee dokee. Hell, he'll even play songs on his guitar for you (yes. Eddie Munson will play your favorites 🥹).

No matter how you spend the rest of your time together, you can count on Eddie Munson to be the sweetest friend (or boyfriend) ever. Be on the lookout though 👀 because you might soon once again see Eddie Munson's slowly wiggling fingers out of the corner of your eye~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm so effing flustered from writing this oh my sweet Jesus H. CHRIST- AHSJDJKDFM /lh

I hope these hcs were worth the wait 🥺 The in progress fics I was working on before I got sick are still on their way, but I think I need to let myself get back into the writing groove and let my brain write for the most currently active hyperfixation. There'll probably be a whole wave of Eddie content on the blog. Get ready for the ler!Eddie Munson renaissance ✨ /p

~ Ushu 💕

[funsize-cenobites]

Are we to a point where we can admit that while a lot of Creepypastas are formulaic and bland its just as valid and culturally relevant to internet history as Fanfiction and things like SCP? Can we admit yet that no matter how "Cringe" we began to see Creepypasta as a concept after the shortlived mainstream boom era, it has helped foster and nurture entire generations of horror writers and creatives by providing a first major creative outlet and consumer point?

And while we're at it can we also look at how that mainstream boom helped shape a lot of modern horror concepts, ideas, tools, tropes, and Gold Standards of Horror Story Telling both online and off? Can we please finally give Creepypasta creators of the Slenderman era ( EverymanHYBRID and Marble Hornets ) their flowers for taking the, at the time still fledgling and relatively unknown online artform: the ARG (Alternate Reality Game) and making genuinely compelling and completely original and stunning works???

I'd like it if people could stop looking at me like Im 12 when I mention a favorite story of mine is Tales From The Gas Station and that my personal favorite version is the original narrated by MrCreepyPasta. Because its no different than people enjoying and loving fanfiction or other online media like webseries' and webcomics. Its historically relevant whether you think its cringe or not. There are and always have been Creepypasta writers who blow the tits off established horror writers any day.

Borasca still lives rent fucking free in my head after all these years.

And I KNOW most of you motherfuckers were shit scared of BEN DROWNED and its ARG (if you were aware of it.)

I know its a silly hill to die on but its what started so many people's lifelong love of horror and a lot of horror media and pure creativity wouldn't be around if not for the humble Creepypasta.

[artianaiolanthe]

TLDR: I don’t like Billy Hargrove as portrayed by the fandom at large and said portrayal only makes me actively hate his character when on further reflection my biggest issue with him is wasted potential

I don’t hate Billy Hargrove as a character. 

I don’t believe he was irredeemable, I don’t believe he’s the worst/most evil person on the show, I don’t believe he deserved to die. Looking only at what is to be seen from the source material, I can actually say Billy was an interesting character with potential for development. At some point I could have said I was excited to see what would be done with him.

But when I say I hate Billy, I mean I hate what the fandom has done to him. I hate the shipping object who’s there because y’all want to shove Steve into a relationship with another “attractive” boy, I hate the pity sink that has no responsibility for any of his wrongs because of his abuse, I hate the woobified little meow meow I see time and time again that the stans can’t seem to separate from what was portrayed on screen and I hate Olympic level mental gymnastics people twist themselves into because they can’t acknowledge his flaws.

Billy doesn’t HAVE to be a good person, you know? You can like him warts and all. It doesn’t make you a bad person to like a shitty character, asshole characters can be fun and entertaining. David from Lost Boys has the same energy as Billy (minus my biggest criticism) and I adore him. Some of my favourite American Horror Story characters are utter abominations of human beings.Toffee from Star Vs. is probably the show’s best character. The only Silent Hill protagonist who’s got an argument for being a good person is Harry and he’s one of my least favourites. I’ll always love and miss Kali. It’s kind of sad if the only way you can enjoy a character is to ignore or absolve them of wrongdoings, it’s part of who they are, it’s what makes them unique.

And ignoring these flaws that are fundamentally how they are shown to interact with the rest of the cast, in Billy’s case especially, is infuriating. You can’t look at Billy’s behaviour towards Lucas and say he isn’t racist; you can’t look at how he terrorized Max and say he never abused her, you can’t act like everything he’s done has been a silly little misunderstanding and isn’t seriously fucked up! I know it’s fandom, you want to draw and gif and write fic, I’m not saying to like Billy you have to have an itemized list of his sins and swear you do not agree with him, but the bare fucking minimum you need to do is acknowledge his wrongs and not argue with anyone about the fact that they happened.

What, do you write Billy as though he’s never done any of the things he’s called out for? That’s how you write him, not how the show portrays him. You can write and hc to your heart’s content any au you like but don’t treat it like canon, or like it should be the universal view of him.

And for the love of god if you really feel the need to defend him, stop and think of why. Why can’t he be racist or abusive? Why do you have to insist he’s not what he so clearly is. Goody Proctor isn’t going to point you out at the Black Sabbath for liking a fictional character, why can’t it be and instead of but or because? Billy can feel protective of Max and be abusive of her in the process, Billy can be a victim and perpetuate the abuse he suffers, most of all Billy can be deserving of sympathy AND have racist behaviours to unlearn. 

But do you want to have to reckon with that? Do you really feel like the only way you can like Billy is to ignore these very integral parts of him and completely rewrite his history? Or do you genuinely not see anything wrong with his behaviour? Cause if so, I wanna know what bandersnatch bullshit your netflix pulled to let you watch a different show. I hope you can bite your tongue whenever Billy comes up because you clearly aren’t acknowledging what everyone else is and you shouldn’t have a place in the argument if you’re going to ignore the facts. 

Again, I like Billy’s character as a concept. It would have been very interesting if the plot we got included some self reflection, some development, not a 180 into a saint but at least a complex Moral Greyness that would have made him an interesting part of the cast. I can see that his reaction to abuse was very different from Jonathan and Will’s and it should have made for a fascinating parallel. I don’t hate Billy because of the way his abuse has caused him to lash out.

I hate Billy because he chose to lash out in a racist manner and because he lashed out at his younger stepsister in a way where she was clearly scared of him in season two. I hate him because he, like much of Stranger Things, is a well of wasted potential. 

And most of all, I hate him because many of his fandom refuses to acknowledge his flaws and wants to pretend he’s not responsible for his bigotry and hatred.

Billy was never going to be the next Zuko or Steve’s soulmate. He is a victim and a tragic one of circumstances beyond his control. But he’s also an abusive and racist bully and it’s not exaggerating or reductive to say that. It’s just a facet of who he is in the grand scheme of hurt people hurting other people. Billy chose to punch down and in show will never have a chance to atone for it, and while a redemption fic would be nice to read I don’t think I could bring myself to because I’ve only been shown that people only care about the good parts of redemption (the rewards and the acceptance) and couldn’t care less about the work and the consequences. The Duffers may have killed Billy off in an unsatisfying and underwhelming manner, but in my eyes Billy never had a chance to thrive as a character because the majority of the fandom tried so hard to white out his flaws. In the show he’s a disappointment and in fandom for me he only inspires vitriol. Everything about Fandom Billy is a hollow vessel of fool’s gold and I fucking hate everything about it.

[thatsassyhufflepuff]

Hello!

It is currently past midnight. I decided to make a post where I’d put all my favorite Dramione quotes so I can look back on them and squeal. That’s all.

✨✨✨

1. “You love fighting with me just as I love fighting with you, that’s why we do it so well.” He smirked down at her and pressed a kiss to her lips. “This house is just as much yours as it is mine, I’m sorry I made you feel anything less than that.” His thumb traced the edges of her lips before she reached up and took his hand in hers.”

2. “Hey, hey, none of that.” He gently admonished, “Granger, I can’t tell you whether or not we moved in too soon. I can say that this feels right, waking up with you, going to bed with you, even cleaning up all the hair you shed in the shower- how are you not bald? I am convinced your hair has magical properties all on its own-'' He grunted when she smacked him in the side. “What I mean is Granger, I want you for a long time, longer than I’ve ever wanted anyone else if I’m being honest. I’d have been kidding myself if I thought falling in love with a swotty pain in the arse Gryffindor would’ve been easy.”

Transformation

happy_valley

—

1. “Expecting a challenge--some tired but emphatic refusal to take Muggle medicine--I braced myself for the inevitable argument. He turned his head to my hand resting on his shoulder, kissed a knuckle, and went back to sleep.

I didn't stop shaking until I reached the Boots.”

2. “and given how I feel about you, you'd think I'd do everything in my power to ruin your marriage. Having him believe it was you acting on his behalf, seizing an opportunity that was tailor-made for him will not get me what I want. Sadly, the opposite is also true. I know you don't believe me, but I actually thought making him happy would make you happy.”

3. “I am not most women," I pointed out. "Hence the slapping."

"No, I admit they broke the mold when they made you. That's why I'm absolutely madly in love with you. Head over heels. Dizzy with desire. Crazy--”

4. “He shrugged and his mouth flattened into a line. "It's been a grim few months. I'm only human. Have I told you that I love it when you're stern with me? Your mouth gets all prissy and adorable. Like you've eaten a sweet lemon. A silly metaphor but somehow apt." He pursed his lips”

5. “Someday I hope you'll look at me, and I won't see that half-second of disgust with which your gaze always greets me. Anyway, it's not true. I want you because I love you.”

6. “He kissed me on the forehead and then despite his previous admission, he wrapped me in an embrace, his breath hot against my ear. "I love you. I know you don't believe me, but I do. And aside from the fact you are beautiful and smart and articulate and sexy, most importantly, you're the only person I know who has the guts and determination to stop me from becoming my father."

The Politician's Wife

pir8fancier

—

1. “After what felt like a lifetime and at the same time a split second, they parted, gazing into one another’s eyes with the passion they both felt. Hermione’s eyes implored him to say what she wanted him to say – that this wasn’t the end, that they would have another chance, that he wouldn’t give up – but he couldn’t lie to her. He would never lie to her.”

2. “Hermione just stared at the floor, biting her lip and feeling as though every dream she had ever had had been crushed. Maybe it had. “I wanted to save you,” she whispered, finally meeting his gaze. “I wanted to save you.”

Draco stepped forward, taking one moment more to touch her face with the back of his hand and memorize the deep brown of her eyes. “You did,” he said simply.

And there was no more to be said”

3. “Draco didn’t let her finish. His hands cradled her head as he kissed her, softly as first just like the night before, and then harder, with more passion and intensity. She returned the kiss with everything in her might, trying to say what she wanted to say – “I love you” – without words”

4. “She wasn’t going to give up though. Hope was in front of her now, and she had almost been afraid that such a thing was lost to her forever. Draco may have given up on saving himself, but Hermione wasn’t about to do the same. She loved him – that she knew for sure – and she was going to make sure Draco got his second chance.

She’d die before she let anything tell her otherwise.”

5. “I’m not leaving without you,” she said firmly. He didn’t reply, just set his mouth in a firm line. She wished she could make him feel what she felt – a certainty that this wasn’t the end for him, that she was going to fight until her last breath to give him the freedom he had suffered for. She wanted to reach out and hold him, to cradle his face in her hands and tell him that they would make it to the end together.

“This is your time, Hermione,” he said, reaching out and taking one of her hands in both of his. “This is what you’ve been waiting for.”

“It’s your time, too,” she said, and she hoped she sounded as confident as she felt. “This is your second chance.”

6. “Draco gave her an imploring look, gripping her upper arms and forcing her to look right into his eyes. “Hermione, you know how I feel. I’ve never told you, but you must know. So when I tell you that dying for you and your cause and my cause is the closest I’ll ever get to being whole again, believe me.” He paused, reaching his hand up to push the straggling bangs out of Hermione’s eyes. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Hermione Granger, and I can never thank you enough. So just let me help you in the only way I know how.”

7. “Hermione could feel tears forming in her eyes, and she quickly reached up to pull Draco into her arms. He held onto her tightly, trying to memorize every detail of her for the last time. When they pulled away, Draco swallowed the lump in his throat as he looked into her warm brown eyes. There’s never enough time for us.”

8. “You may not have forgiven yourself,” Hermione whispered to him, laying her face against his shoulder as he shook with sobs. “But we already have. One day, you’ll learn to see yourself the way we do.”

Bittersweet and Strange

UndiscoveredQueen19

—

“Hermione, I love you." She didn't smile, she didn't say anything back either. She just kept looking up at him. He wondered she even heard him. He knew it was wrong to say it in this moment, but he didn't know if either of them would survive. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you until now. But I love you. So much." He kissed her forehead.”

A Future Uncertain

LightsWrites

—

“Suddenly, Draco laughed, a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you? Well, I guess it’s the least I owe you.”

He leaned closer to her, looking straight into her eyes, and she suddenly felt the urge to draw back and run away. She made herself sit still.

“I love you, Hermione. I think I have for a long time,”

Seven Years and a Day

Dark Rose

—

“She was half expecting him to just walk through the door but Draco surprised her when he suddenly turned around and returned to her side. She lifted an eyebrow but before she could say anything, Draco drew her into a hug.

“Goodnight.” His whisper tickled her ear.

She could barely return his hug when Draco pulled away with an impish grin. She knew he knew she was going to think of him for the rest of the night. ‘Darn it. Bloody Draco Malfoy.”

A cornucopia of noncoincidences

muffin_reverie

—

“Draco..." She felt a little uneasy.

"I love you." He had said it before, but the words had never sounded so fierce. "I won't let him hurt you.”

Alternate History

Furare

—

“You’re beautiful and compassionate and funny and… I know you probably hear it all the time but you’re brilliant and I plan on telling you that every bloody day. You make me want to buy a shop and sell potions and make my own way in this world doing something I love and something I excel at, but it’s more than that it’s… it’s…”

She waited him out.

“It’s bells on a hill with you, Granger.”

Bells on a Hill

HeyJude19

—

1. “Draco opened the door the rest of the way and pulled her into his arms; he held her tightly as if he would never let her go, as if he could push all the hurt away. She could feel his heart beating and its constant rhythm soothed her, as did the steady rise and fall of his chest. Gradually her sobs slowed, then stopped. She pulled away from him, wiping her eyes.

"Do you want us to stay?" he asked quietly. She shook her head, and he tilted her chin so their gaze met. "Hermione, will you be okay today? Tell me the truth. I hate that we're leaving you alone today."

She looked into his eyes and saw deep concern and worry. "Yes," she said weakly. "Thank you."

Draco wrapped her in his arms again, then released her and leaned down and kissed her forehead. "See you soon." He turned and left her standing there before he lost the ability and the resolve to leave.”

2. “Harry scrunched his nose in distaste. "How can you watch that rubbish?"

"It's actually really good, Potter."

"Whatever." Harry studied Hermione. She looked so peaceful that it hurt him to think of what was ahead for her, for all of them, really. "She's beautiful."

Draco looked at her as well, and without thinking about what he was doing, said, "Yeah, she is.”

3. “Hermione scowled and continued to hit him, but stopped yelling. Draco carried her into the house, up the stairs, and into her room. He set her down on the bed. She tried to get up; he grabbed her wrists and held her down.

She struggled, but when she looked into Draco's eyes, she saw they were wet. She lay still, holding his gaze.

"Don't make me Immobilize you."

She nodded. He released her wrists and took one of her hands in his. "I promise to come back, if you promise to stay," he said softly.”

4. “He kissed her with everything he had, all the fear, longing, pain, and joy he felt. He kissed her because he was scared to die, and he too wanted to see where this would go. He kissed her because of the secrets he kept from her, willing her to trust him, to believe him, to know that he would tell her. He told her he loved her, he would do anything for her, would die for her, would even try to live for her.”

We Learned the Sea

floorcoaster

—

1. “You are mine, Hermione, I don’t want anyone mistaking you for single again or even thinking of trying to coax you away from me.” He laid his hand on her cheek, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. “Granger…Hermione…I love you.”

2. “The look of shock on her face matched his own. He hadn’t meant to say that, hadn’t even realized that he had those feelings for her, that he would recognize them as such. He was in unfamiliar waters and suddenly scared to death. He meant them, he loved her, and it terrified him because he had never loved anyone before.”

Something In the Way She Moves

Snapes_Godess

—

“Draco leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together and nuzzled her nose.

“Take it. Take my heart, and take the remainder of my soul as well. You can even filet my heart and crush my soul if you wish. It doesn’t matter, since in actuality, they’ve probably been already yours to break for a very long time.”

5 am, waking up

mysterious_intentions

—

“The deflated bits of his countenance inflated with her admission, until he felt as though he would float through the air. Moving his hands along the curves of her sides, he pulled her flush against his chest. "I love you, Hermione."

The admission left him in a single breath, causing Hermione to arch her back so that she could look him in the eye. She searched his depths, seemingly inspecting for any sign of deception. Finding none, a smile spread across her face. "I love you, too.”

I Carry Your Heart

TheMourningMadam

—

[sabraeal]

Born to Make History

A prequel to this prompt from an earlier collection! The short program I reference here it based very heavily off of Nathan Chen’s 2021 short program which you can find here

[Read on AO3]

Obiyuki AU Bingo 2021 Figure Skating AU

“I hope you weren’t expecting me to go easy on you this morning.” Garrack’s voice booms across the ice, loud enough that a few other skaters slow, craning their necks to see who the fabled Coach Gazelt would chew out next. “Your work is just beginning if you want to call this a comeback.”

A groan rumbles in the back of her throat, dying to be let out, but it’s impossible to miss the small figure sweeping the eyes, dark hair curling over his eyes. Ryuu’s here already, picking at some footwork-- his transitions are his weakest element if his scores are anything to go by, but he’s determined to make it his best. Shirayuki breathes in, six counts in and eight counts out, and lets her protest die on her tongue.

Shirayuki slides out, stomping her skates beneath her to get feeling back in her legs. “I know you better than that.”

Her muscles ache as she eases into a lap, letting the ice settle beneath her. When she was small, she could blast out into the rink like a cannon ball, running across it like it was just another bit of ground beneath her feet. But she left it, and silly as it sounds, the ice hasn’t forgiven her. Her blades don’t tremble like the used to, but a few days off the ice-- especially folded up on an Transatlantic flight-- leaves her with a drunken lurch, the whole world passing by too fast.

But it’s quick to even out, her body warming to the chill of the rink, to the way her legs have to bend to keep her moving. After a lap or two, control is easy as breathing, as easy as swimming to a fish. The ice may not have forgiven her, but it’s missed her too.

She glides to a stop right at Garrack’s toes, sending up a little spray. It earns her a smile, tight-lipped but approving. She’ll earn teeth once she gives it a medal to sink in to. “I think if you let up on me for a moment, I’d have to take you to a hospital.”

Her coach barks out a laugh, blonde hair ruffling out like a halo from her bun. “Oh, Shirayuki. You say the sweetest things.”

It might be cold in the rink, but it doesn’t do anything but make her cheeks burn hotter. She forgets, but these Americans-- they don’t really take ‘hard ass’ as a compliment.

Well, most wouldn’t. Garrack looks quite pleased, though.

“Aw, coach.” Hands catch at her shoulders, and she knows them even before a sandy head peeps over them. “Can’t you give her one easy day? She’s finally made senior!”

“Oh, Higata, really, there’s no need--”

“Sure.” Garrack bares her all her teeth in a smile Shirayuki’s willing to bet has been the last earthly sight of some of her students. “But if I give her a pass, you boys will have to pick up the slack.”

Already, Higata’s hands loosen their grip. “N-now, I didn’t say--”

It’s far, far too late for him to quibble over exactly what was and wasn’t said on the ice. “What do you think? Balance drills? Or we can see how far you’ve come with your flexibility for spins.” Garrack tilts back her head, giving him a speculative look. “Maybe even run through her routine once...?”

“Ah, Shirayuki!” He gives her a firm pat on the back, sliding away. “I did what I could! Viel Glück!”

Garrack watches him skate off with a satisfied grin lingering on her lips. “Nice boy, that Higata. Thick as a hockey puck, but nice.”

Shirayuki knows better than to posit her own opinion when Garrack’s in a punchy mood. “The usual warm up, then?”

Garrack levels her with another of her measuring glances. It’s the sort that could bring grown men to their knees-- she saw it happen once, outside of a rink in Wisconsin-- but Shirayuki is used to it now. Assessment is a tool, and Garrack Gazelt has made her career by being good at it.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” she asks instead. “You only got off a plane yesterday. That time change is easier the other way.”

She nods. “Really, I’m fine.”

Garrack sits back in her hips, one arm tucked under the other, and takes a long, thoughtful drag out of her thermos. Shirayuki shifts on her skates, trying to look-- awake. Ready to seize the day.

I’ll push you. Garrack had made no bones about that during their first lunch in Strasburg. She’d given her a similar look then too, assessing, trying to see that promising junior skater in a university student’s body. But you’re a professional. You say stop, we stop. You say go, we push on. You’re at the wheel for this one. I’m just your emergency brake.

“All right,” she sighs. “Keep it simple, though. Think easy, for once.”

“I said I was--”

Garrack flaps a gloved hand. “It’s not about you. I took a look at the books this morning, and Haruka’s right after us.”

Shirayuki blinks. Strange, he usually grabs the first slot. “Are you avoiding him?”

“Me?” She presses her thermos to her chest, scandalized. As if she and Haruka don’t skulk about the rink when they see each other, hissing like cats when necessity forced them onto the same practice time. “I don’t avoid anyone.”

A dubious hum goads her to tepidly add, “No more than he deserves.”

Shirayuki folds her arms across her chest.

“No more than usual,” Garrack promises. “But that’s not why we’re going to get off the ice.”

She lifts a brow. “And why is that?”

If Garrack weren’t in skates herself, she’d be bouncing on her toes. “I want to be in the seats when he sends his students out.”

Shirayuki’s mouth pulls thin. “The season just ended, and already you’re trying to--?”

“No, no. I’m not looking to poach, and I don’t care what routines he’s working on for next season.” She huffs, hair fluffing out in agitation. “And his aren’t better than mine anyway, he just has top tier skaters because him and Haruto like to rub--”

A polite cough breaks her concentration, enough for Shirayuki to sneak in, “Then what exactly do you need to see?”

Garrack’s mouth curls into a smile Zen has, on more than one occasion, called grinch-like. She leans in, voice dropping to a whisper, and says, “Haruka’s putting someone new on the ice.”

“A new student?’ Zen sputters, skates limp in his hands. “Haruka never said he was taking on a new student.”

“They aren’t on the roster.” Shirayuki’s shoulders hunch around her ears, as if that might keep her words between them. “And the other coaches don’t know anything either.”

Zen settles back against the bench. “We just got back from Worlds three days ago. How could he possibly have someone new that quickly?”

“Maybe it’s someone who just promoted from juniors.” She should be excited; a new student with that level of ability would be someone to watch, to learn from. But instead anxiety twists in her gut, a snake that slithers itself into tighter and tighter knots. “I saw your program, by the way. You did well.”

“I got fourth,” Zen grumbles, sliding his foot into a skate. “No wonder he already scouted a replacement.”

“Haruka would never replace you, and certainly not because you were a jump shy of bronze.” Or silver, which if he’d skated clean, he would have earned in spades. “Kiki placed second. It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s jumped to a coach with someone on the podium when they started competing at the senior level.”

“Sure,” he grumbles, “but usually it takes long than--”

“What are you two talking about over here?” Kiki drops her duffel unceremoniously between them, the bench warbling beneath it. “Gossiping, I hope?”

“Just our progress at Worlds,” Zen lies smoothly, sending her a secretive wink. She’s not sure why-- Haruka’s always favored Kiki; if anyone knew anything about this mystery student, it would be her. “Shirayuki was just saying how impressive it is to get so close to the podium, but I said--”

“Right.” Kiki casts her gaze over the ice; a few weeks ago there would have been nothing to that, just a casual glance, but Shirayuki knows her better now, enough to see the hopeful perk of her chin and the inquiring lift of her perfectly shaped eyebrows. She’s looking for someone; even when her gaze swings back to Shirayuki, she knows it’s not about her. “What were you two talking about?”

Zen squawks. “I said--”

“I know.” Her voice is even, logical. “But Shirayuki can’t lie.”

Shirayuki wants to protest-- she can, really, she’s done it before-- but takes one look at her and blurts out, “Haruka has a new student.”

Her skates clatter to the floor. “What was that?”

“Well,” Zen murmurs, mouth twitching. “I guess somebody isn’t the favorite after all.”

Garrack may be content to sit in the seats as Zen and Kiki take the ice, but Shirayuki leans on the barrier, letting the chill brush over her face. At this level, they’ve all been skating since they were old enough to fall and get back up. But unlike her, Zen and Kiki have never stopped, and the gap in skill has never been more apparent than now. They take to the rink like birds to air, winding around each other in complex circuits, slapping hands and turning circles around each other.

That’s the other thing: they’ve always had each other. Kiki’s hardly twenty, but there’s already rumors of Milan being her last Olympics, of what she might do once she’s over the hill-- and the first word on anyone’s lips is pairs. The second and third are Zen Wisteria, since there’s not a person alive who can imagine a competition without either of them on the ice.

Her fingers grip the rail’s rubber rim hard enough to leave crescents. They’d look good together-- they do look good together. It makes sense to go that route if Zen picks up a gold. It’s what his father did, years ago. For his mother.

The gate swings open, and they both glide to a stop. But then, to be fair, so does most of the rink.

There is no official size for a skater-- not like gymnastics, where smaller equals better and taller equals a very gentle nudge toward ballet-- but still, there is a trend to fall on the shorter size of average, at least in singles. Height might give more control on the ice, might give an extra spin or two, but when it came to jumps, the less bulk heaved from the ice the better. But Haruka’s student--

Well, he’s certainly not Mitsuhide’s height, but even with his slouch he’s taller than most men here. In his skates, he even looks down at Haruka-- though it’s not much of a feat; the man never comes onto the ice, just stands behind the barrier to shout his way through practice. Not that he needs to raise his voice to make his displeasure known; a single frown usually sends Zen and Kiki gliding back to him, heads bowed.

He’s outright glowering now, but his new student only rubs at his hair, a half-gloved hand riffling through black bristle. There’s something about him, something about the way he moves that seems familiar, if only she could catch his face--

But then the thrum of a guitar rolls over the ice, tinny on the rink’s speakers-- Zen’s song, his short program. The one that fell just short of the podium, because he put a hand down after a jump got away from him. Haruka’s student turns around, and even from where she stands, she recognizes the grin.

Oh no. No.

It should be Zen at the center of the ice, but this guy pushes out instead. His black clothes making him a stark contrast to the ice, to the barriers around him. Zen’s already halfway to the center, confused and a bit agitated, looking like he’s about to have words-- and then Haruka’s student glides out, Spanish guitars warbling in his wake.

He moves like water-- no, like a blade through water, each motion of his arms both flowing and sharp, carving through the air with a grace than even Zen would be hard pressed to copy. His hips swing, daring angles that should throw him off his footwork, that should leave him stumbling, but instead he’s mesmerizing, a flamenco dancer that does not need to touch the ground.

“Who is he?” Ryuu murmurs, shifting in the seat behind her.

“I wish I knew.” Jealousy drips thickly from Garrack’s voice. “Just where did Haruka dig up a gem like this?”

Tanbarun, Shirayuki nearly says, but she can’t speak, can’t do anything but watch this man skate Zen’s routine like he owns it, like it was made for him. She expects him to mark the jump sequence-- quad toe, triple toe loop-- but the moment he jumps, she knows-- it’s clean. No, more than clean, because this isn’t a joke, not a sly wink and smile to his new friends--

He’s come to compete.

“Can you believe that?” Zen normally floats like a cloud on the ice, but right now he looks like he could thunder and storm too as the song switches to the next on deck. “He did my whole routine.”

Kiki’s mouth cants, wry. “Better than you did.”

He snaps to her like a lightning crack. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“I would.” Garrack saunters up to the barrier with a barracuda’s smile, raising a brow. “If you’d gone that clean at Worlds, that would have placed you. Maybe would have brought home gold.”

Zen only glowers, and Shirayuki sends her coach a pleading glance. It’s a hopeless cause to wish she’d keep her mouth shut, but maybe Garrack might blunt her tongue.

She really should know better.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen someone move like that,” Garrack sighs, tapping her hand on the plastic. “Not since...”

Your brother, she doesn’t say; a small mercy. Zen’s grimace says he heard it anyway.

“Where’s he from?” Ryuu asks, appearing at her elbow. His brows are drawn, grave over his already serious eyes. “I haven’t seen him at any competition.”

Shirayuki bites her cheek to keep from saying, I have.

“That’s the question,” Garrack grumbles, looking greener by the second. “Where did he find an unknown that can skate like that? It can’t be--”

“Korea.”

The accent that says it is distinctly not that; oh no, there is a deeper rumble on the ‘r’, a harder ‘k’ at the start. A thicker accent than he’d sported when he loomed over her, gold eyes cold as coins, and asked, I think you get my point, da?

When she turns, there he is: her saboteur in the flesh.

“Well, well, devushka.” His grin stretches wide, elbowing in between Zen and Kiki. “Long time no see.”

[spruceplank]

I told you I was brave but I lied

AN: based on this post by @blocklasagna Or the AU from the time after Wilbur's death and before Tubbo's peaceful driven presidency can really begin because rebuilding has just started: The universe takes Tommy from Dreamsmp and asks the admin of Hermitcraft to help him heal. Cue Tommy now in Hermitcraft re-learning how to live again and not just survive because he deserves a chance to be a kid again.  ao3 || 1.7k words || First | Next

The End told him he had to go. It called to him and called to him until he could not put it off longer. When he tells Joe he's going to the Deep End, Joe doesn't ask questions, just wishes him a safe trip. He hopes it'll be a safe trip too. 

When he arrives in the Deep End the void sings to him. It calls and beckons him with an urgency he has not heard in a long time. He follows its call until he spots a figure curled on a small island floating in the middle of nowhere. The closer he gets the more confused he feels. Why is there a human, a human child, here? 

The End loves this child, it curls around them protectively like a guardian as he lands on the small island. Child is not quite the right term he finds, realizing the person in front of him is taller than most of his hermits and nearly as tall as him. What was the word again, a teenager? The End agrees before it comes to him and shows him a series of images he doesn't understand. The smell of fire and gunpowder. The sound of explosions, fireworks, and a mocking laughter. "It was never meant to be. It was never meant to be. If you want to be a hero then die like one." 

The End shows him these images and says, Hurt. Lost trust… Watch over him... Help him heal… until his father can come for him… 

The End blankets him in love and ruffles the child- teenager's hair, before slipping away back into the nothingness. This teenager must be very important to someone very powerful. For the End to be worried about this teenager who, as far as he could tell, had no End based origin - that was something new to him. 

Pulling off his helmet, he pulls up his code screens around him and sets to work on letting the teen into his world. So Hermitcraft would have a visitor for a while. He wonders how his hermits will react to that. Nothing but acceptance and compassion he premusses. Maybe a little chaos and silliness but Hermitcraft wouldn't be home without it. It takes a short amount of time to manipulate the code of the unknown teen into Hermitcraft. And really it only takes that long because he goes out of his way to not actually look at any of the details of the teenager in front of him. The End had told Xisuma that he, the teen, had been hurt by others, that he had lost trust in others. He was pretty sure that digging for personal info in someone's code was a violation of trust and privacy. Especially when he didn't even know the teen's name. Right, he should fix it to hide the name when he rejoins Hermitcraft with the teen. That's the kind of thing he'd rather reveal in a meeting and not have everyone in chat question when it appeared. Especially because Xisuma was planning on giving the teen his own communicator if he wanted one. But he'd have to get him back to Hermitcraft in the first place. 

After putting his helmet back on, he hoists the teen up and nearly drops him. The teen is much lighter than he had been expecting. Especially with how tall he is. That was worrying. He'll have to get Joe to do a health check and make sure nothing more was wrong than simply being too underfed. He starts his flight back home and the teen merely curls closer to him, muttering something he doesn't hear. Xisuma holds the teen a little tighter and hurries home. 

“A kid?” Joe asks, looking at him in disbelief. The poet and pseudo-admin had come over first thing when Xisuma had returned to Hermitcraft and had sent a vague message about needing medical help. 

“A teenager more like it, remember how mad Mumbo used to get when we called him a kid all the time?” Xisuma reminds his friend who looks over the teen with a careful eye and gentle touch as to not wake him. 

Joe hums in thought but doesn't answer. A moment of silence passes as Joe continues his examination. He's thankful to Joe for not asking more questions about the situation yet because to be honest he doesn't quite know how to fully explain it himself yet. The teen grumbles something and rolls over in his sleep, startling both him and Joe. The unaware teen continues to sleep even as Joe drapes a blanket over him and starts talking to Xisuma in hushed tones, "Well aside from the visible exhaustion and lack of sustainable food or nutrition he seems to be fine. There are a few healing scabs and scars that raise an eyebrow but there's not much I can do about those."

"What do you suggest?" He asks as Joe follows him out of the room and into the hallway, the door remaining slightly cracked open behind them. 

"Rest and a steady supply of proper meals. Smaller portions first, I don't think your new guest will be able to eat much at once when he wakes up." Joe supplies even as his focus seems to drift away from Xisuma and their conversation near the end of his answer.

"Any concerns?” He can’t help but ask Joe, “You look troubled my friend."

Joe looks back to the room they stand outside of and ushers Xisuma a little further down the hall. Joe looks at Xisuma in a way he knows means serious business when Joe says, "I know you want to explain it all to everyone at once later so I'll be frank with you here when I say this Xisuma. You showed up, three days ago, to tell me you'd be going to the Deep End. I know that is where you are originally from and it's where you grew up but this is a human child. How did you go to the Deep End and come back with a human teenager who looks like he's been through an actual war with the amount of scars he has?"

That catches him off guard, "I don't know…"

Joe turns on him with quiet furry he always forgets his kind friend has, "Xisumavoid - 

"Joe Hills please let me speak." He raises his voice slightly louder than Joe's and commands with his authority as admin. He gets why Joe is angry and he's sure whatever scars Joe noticed are not pretty. But he doesn't have the answers Joe wants. He can at least try to explain it though, "Thank you, as I was trying to say, I don't know. The End, the universe, and the void are all one in the same existence. They're connected in ways I do not understand nor think anyone understands. These separate yet connected entities that have been confused for one another time and time again. They are powerful in ways no one knows the scope of. At first when the End called me home I ignored it. It's not often but even I get homesick for the home I grew up with. But it got to the point where I could no longer ignore the End's call and I went without knowing why it was calling me. I didn't not know what I was going to find or what I was looking for until I found this teen alone in the middle of nowhere in the Deep End where no humans can reach on their own. I do not know his name or his story or his history but the void called me home and brought me to this child it loves. I have never seen the End love a human child this fiercely enough that it would use so much power to try and help. The universe could fall out of balance for a while solely because of what it did to bring this child to a place I could go and call me to bring him here. I do not know why or how this happened but the End told me to help him heal and watch over him until his father can come for him. Whoever is his father is a very powerful person indeed and is someone the End adores just as much as they adore him."

Joe takes a moment to process what he’s been told before it seems to dawn on him just how quickly this had all happened, "... Well that's not what I expected…"

"Welcome to the club my friend." Xisuma agrees with a tired nod.

"If you want this to work you're going to need everyone involved and informed of this." Joe says as he turns and heads further down the hall towards the door.

"You think so?" He asks because he had been thinking about getting a few people involved but he didn’t think that everyone needed to be involved. He realizes Joe is heading to leave, but thankfully Joe turns back to wait for him before he continues towards the base’s exit. 

Joe nods, "There's a human saying that goes, it takes a village. And based on physical health alone we're going to need all hands on deck in this village to follow what the End has asked of you."

He watches Joe put on his elytra as he contemplates what Joe had said. It takes a village huh? When Joe fastens his elytra on completely he has to ask, "What makes you say that?" 

Joe gives him a knowing smile, "I don't know Mr. Starved to death only two weeks ago now what makes you think I'd say that?" 

"Okay point taken." Xisuma says, waving Joe off towards the exit having understood the point.

Joe laughs but allows himself to be herded away. Just before taking off he turns to Xisuma and says, "So then, I'll tell everyone to meet tomorrow at noon." 

"Wait, Joe!" Xisuma calls out after Joe, but it's too late.

"I'll see you there Xisuma!" Joe calls back, already flying away. Good lord things were going to get even more chaotic around here now weren’t they? Still, he thinks, the best times in Hermitcraft were the craziest so perhaps that’s for the best.

[bookersebastien]

some spare immortal family halloween costume hcs for a poor soul? 🥺🥺🦇

HEGEL💕💕💕 asjddjfd I LOVE YOU

some inspo taken from @nilefreemans halloween party fic

First nile is the only one who has grown up with halloween, and as i’ve seen the way the united states does halloween is just so much MORE than in other countries, so the others probably haven’t celebrated it much in any kind of way

And nile LOVES halloween, grew up making costumes with her mom and brother and she loves the classic costumes, ghosts, witches, vampires, etc. and she is GOOD at making them and finding just the right things to make them

Except now nile has a resource she didn’t have previously, these ancient ass motherfuckers

She’s a HUGE fucking art/art history nerd, and now at her disposal are four immortals who have a combined over 8,000 years of life on this earth so her costume potential has just skyrocketed

Nile now has the opportunity to dress as any and all historical art figures she wants with COMPLETE accuracy (assuming at least some of the guard met that person - which they’ve definitely met lots of them)

Nicky and joe are absolute GIDDY with the idea of matching costumes, and a serious thank you to kayla for blessing us with the image of them wearing matching abba costumes

But also imagine nicky and joe doing the thing where one of them is an artist and the other goes as one of their works, like van gogh and his self portrait OR pls imagine joe going as michelangelo and nicky going as the david (because listen nicky was the inspiration behind it) or also alexandre cabanel and nicky as the painting of lucifer (it’s the EYES)

But also: decade costumes. They love to reminisce about old fashions and what the world was like and what they were doing at the time, and you know joe probably has several pieces of clothing from various eras tucked away somewhere so when they get the change they go FULL on with the costumes, down to the last detail

However i will die on the hill that nicky LOVES pun costumes, like imagine them as ‘ice ice baby’ with their cat (cattulus because i remember the cat hcs hegel lol) as the baby 

Also pls imagine them or andy and quynh as gomez and morticia addams

Quynh goes dramatic as hell, full on makeup and prosthetics. Like nile, she’s a halloween QUEEN, and loves the sexy scary route, vampires, ghostly warrior, zombies, etc. whatever it is she will KILL it. Loves the scary face makeup with the scratches and blood everywhere

She also probably loves the holiday and loves to scare the rest of the guard, so far she’s scared nicky the most though they now are teaming up to get booker

Loves anything that will make andy SPEECHLESS and anything where she can wear heels

Nile and quynh are a force to be reckoned with about halloween, they prepare MONTHS in advance, buying what they need and taking the time to make their costumes perfect and they WILL show you the fuck up at any party with their skill and beauty

Andy does like the holiday but she will only wear something where she can carry a weapon, bonus if the weapon is her axe but she’ll settle for a sword

Loves to do pirates or warriors, and like nile will occasionally take the historical route and go as joan or arc or artemisia or the like and gets quynh to go as Lady Triệu (which who is to say that wasn’t her in the first place)

Gets at least a little drunk wherever they go and will sword fight someone, too bad for the other person for not realizing her sword is real though

Quynh always helps her with her costume, but andy prefers a more relaxed approach and will sometimes just choose old armor she has and go with that

Booker is the wild card of the bunch

He’ll act like this is all silly but LOVES watching everyone dress up and have fun

Some years he’ll be lazy and throw on jeans and a cowboy hat and that’ll be it, one year he went a little wild and did a brown leather jacket and was indiana jones (which i’d love to see)

He’ll try many times to see what he can do with the clothes he has, instead of going for a whole costume - even going as james bond with a suit he had

A favorite of his is going as famous athletes, soccer or american football, HOCKEY (he’s fucking BUILT for it ok)

Also i firmly believe he went as batman one year in a full batsuit and he LOVED it

Lykon’s gonna be included too, but i think he’d be relatively laid back about his costume. Not going quite as lazy as booker, but he choose simple over the all the makeup and stuff. I think he’d love to do SUPER cheesy classic costumes, a sheet for a ghost, big fangs and a cloak for a vampire, etc. or sometimes as a surfer or something where he can wear hawaiian shirts because i think he would’ve loved them. He mostly just wants to have a good time with his family and focus more on that

now we can also talk group costumes in which i am extremely partial to them going as the scooby doo gang, because this is one of my fav fanarts and nicky going as scooby is the funniest shit ever 

Also you just KNOW they went as the avengers or star wars characters or some shit at least at one point in their lives (idk anything about star wars so)

For your consideration: quynh as black widow, andy as hulk, nicky as the winter soldier (the HAIR and the EYES), joe as nomad steve or falcon, booker as thor (they would all make so much fun of his wig because of course they’re gonna make him do the long hair look), and nile as the scarlett witch because she's that POWERFUL