#need to figure out a name for her species urg

[pika-blur]

an oc ref wha i never post them here ajhsdgsa

[kiwibirb1]

Crashing into You AU

Now that the mystery anon chaos has calmed down we have new AU! And I actually have. A lot of content for this one already kinda. Turns out I get incredibly productive after exams with nothing to do. So! Lets get into SPACE PIRATES AU WOOOO!

Disclaimer: This got really long so uh beware that read more. Might be scrolling for a bit.

Okay so just gonna post this the way I took notes on it so its not very organized lol. The first section it seems I entitled Marcy (+Anne) so take that as you will lol

OH WAIT I SHOULD DO LIKE. AN OVERVIEW FIRST. LOL. OKAY HERES THAT. its very skimpy but its really all you need to know immdeitily

Overview

Marcy and Sasha are space pirates together! As such, they are aliens. Anne is not an alien, she is but a simple human. Sasharcy is doing a thing that neither will acknowledge so they're doing absolutely great :). Marcanne is well... you'll see. Sashannarcy endgame ofc

Marcy (+Anne)

Marcy crashed into Earth, destroying her ship and getting pretty injured in the process. Of course, she is very smart, and leaves the ship in cloaking mode (invis) and hobbles her way out into the surrounding woodland to figure out where tf she crashed. Anne heard a loud noise in the woods next to her house, accompanied by a flash of light that looks suspiciously like fire. She of course goes out into the woods at night because no matter what she does these teenagers just will not learn proper fire safety. Anne finds no teenagers, but she does find an injured [insert animal. i haven't decided yet please give suggestions TwT]! Of course, since she is a good person and also educated, she takes this injured animal home and cares for it. Marcy hears footsteps approaching, so, of course, she does the only appropriate thing. Shapeshift into the first native creature she sees. Oh yeah btw Marcy's a shapeshifter. It seems she is now being cared for by a native species of this planet who goes by the name of "Anne". She supposes there are worse names than "Marshmallow" to be called.

Side note: Marcy does not know English and vice versa, there was a week of confusion on Marcy's side until she picked it up because she's just that smart. They normally have translators but y'know crash.

next section woo!

Sashaaaaaaaa~

She is extremely worried because her not-my-girlfriend-what-are-you-talking-about-grime went missing after her most recent solo mission! But look at this, they've managed to find where her ship crashed! Of course, Sasha goes down alone, because who knows what sort of dangers await them and she will not endanger anyone else. She quickly picks up Marcy's trail and soon finds Anne's house, where she sees Marcy chilling in a window living her best life. But Sasha does not know this and of course assumes Marcy has been kidnapped and is being held against her will by Anne. So Sasha stakes out the house for a week or so, waiting for her time to strike. This time comes in ✨The Confrontation✨.

✨The Confrontation✨

Marshmallow (Marcy but she doesnt know that) has finally healed! Anne has been caring for this strange little creature for roughly a month now, and it's time for the release process! Yadada conservation stuff about injured animals and non-releasable but Anne is hopeful that this little animal she's maybeee gotten attached too will be able to survive! So, test run time! She goes outside with Marshmallow, sets her on the grass, sits down, urges her forward. She notices that Marshmallow's attention seems to be stuck on something on the tree line. She looks up and OH MY GOD WHAT IS THAT AHH ITS COMING RIGHT FOR ME. (Its an angry sasha lol) She gets tackled to the ground by this thing, and is fighting for her life when Marshmallow starts chittering loudly. The thing stops, looking right at the little animal. It vocalizes back, and eventually gets off Anne, who is scrambling backwards frantically when she really takes in what attacked her. A giant, horned, seemingly humanoid alien, arguing with her [insert animal]. ALIEN! She screams again, and both creatures turn toward her. The bigger one steps forward menacingly, but it is stopped by Marshmallow, who suddenly has wings and ITS ANOTHER ALIEN OH DEAR LORD WHY IS HER [animal] AN ALIEN and Anne promptly faints.

Aftershocks

(aka real meeting)

Anne wakes up in her own bed with a splitting headache. She gets up, drearily noticing that Marshmallow isn't in her normal spot on the bed. She faintly remembers some dream where Marshmallow grew wings. Ha, wouldn't that be funny? She makes her way to the kitchen, ignoring the two aliens on her couch while she grabs an ibuprofen and downs it. Wait- she whirls around to face the two aliens on her couch, one smiling warmly and the other glaring at her. The angry one starts to talk, but she doesn't understand it, and is also in the middle of panicking so says the only thing she cant think of: "So that wasn't a dream." The angry one seems shocked, but the nicer one (the one that used to be Marshmallow, she realizes.) laughs. "Nope. Pleased to make your proper acquaintance, Anne. I'm Marcy, and this is Sasha." Sasha grunts and starts talking again but Marcy elbows her in the side. "Sasha! Be nice! And also she can't understand you, she doesn't have a translator. Here Anne, take this." Anne, who has now moved on to the stage of pure and utter shock and is currently processing that aliens are real takes the device, and follows Marsh- Marcy's instructions to put it on. The second she does, Sasha starts her spiel for the third time. "I'm going to kill you creature you kidnapped my Marcy and-" She doesn't get far before she is silenced by Marcy again. "Nope you are not doing this. Anne, lets get the basics down. Yes, we are not of your planet, I believe your language uses the term "alien." Yes, I am the same animal you have been caring for the past month, thank you for that by the way. Apoligies for not revealing my true nature, but it never seemed quite the right time." Anne nods, going along, waiting to wake up from this second dream.

OKAY WAIT THIS JUST TURNED INTO FANFIC AGAIN DANGIT okay but yeah thats the basics of this au! Anne eventaully joins Marcy and Sasha its a whole thing but this is what I have for now so yeah.

[duskyashe]

CAMP NANO DAY 5

[First] [Previous] [Next] [AO3]

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Phantom gestured her and Jason closer as he stood up from his spot midair. "First things first, I need to ask you both a few clarifying questions, and please answer as truthfully as possible without risking your alternate identities, I'm trying to figure out your species, not your names," he said, voice echoing slightly just like the last time she'd heard him.

"I thought you already knew what we were," she snarked before she could think better about it, her mask's modulator making her voice sound darker and more raspy while she ditched most of her natural Bowery accent, instead speaking with an accent more reminiscent of Bristol natives than anything else. She'd blame her friendship with Tim for that, but honestly, she got a kick out of learning and mimicking all the various Gotham accents, then throwing them at her victims after she got the drop on them.

Phantom just shook his head with a small smile. "I'm only about ninety-seven percent sure I'm correct about the two of you, which is a lot, but I want to be at least ninety-nine percent sure before we go any further. This is for both your safety and for my reputation. It can be really dangerous to treat one being like someone from a species not their own, dangerous for everyone involved, and it doesn't reflect well on me if I don't do my due diligence in making sure I'm teaching you the things that will actually help you grow and improve as the beings and entities you are. It also doesn't reflect well on the beings that taught me if I don't do my due diligence, and I really respect my tutors, and I really respect you guys, so I'm going to do my due diligence. Does that make sense?"

She and Jason shared a quick look, exchanging rapid quick signs just out of Phantom's view, before Jay responded. "Yes, that seems acceptable. Who would you like to question first?"

Steph had to admit, every time she heard Jay's Condor voice, she snickered slightly in her head. He'd very carefully designed Condor's vocal patterns and responses, as well as the voice modulator that he'd installed in his own mask, so that Condor was as audibly distinct from Jason's normal speech as possible without sounding outlandish, but hearing such highbrow vocabulary from Jason outside of dramatic readings of his favorite books would never not be funny to her. She did applaud his use of vocal layering technology, though, the effect was intense.

"I figured I'd start with Starling, if you don't mind?"

=============‹«⟨·•★•·⟩»›=============

"— and then he started asking his questions. Have I ever gotten a really horrible migraine that started dying down after I screamed? Have I ever screamed while working on a case and suddenly all the information clicked together? Have I ever met someone whose vibes just did not mesh with what I was expecting? Stuff like that. After a bunch of questions along that vein, Phantom just nodded thoughtfully before grinning and saying, I kid you not, "Congratulations, it's a banshee!" The kid is hilarious, I'm telling you," she finished with a grin.

Jay nodded and added his own two cents. "He then turned to me and started a similar Q&A, though the questions were very different. Have I ever died and mysteriously come back to life? Has my relationship with fire been different since I came back to life? Different how? Have I ever felt the urge to vocalize my emotions, and if so, did anyone within hearing range start to exhibit similar emotions? He concluded that with a triumphant smile and declared me a phoenix."

They were all sitting around the debrief table in the Batcave after everyone had returned for the night. B had started the nightly debrief like always, starting with Dick and working his way down the ages, but tonight he'd saved hers and Jason's reports for last. While her brain was feeling more than a little stuffed full with everything she'd learned by the rooftop shrine, both about herself and about Jason, she couldn't deny she was excited to share it all with her family, her clan.

Tim let out a small noise before leaning forward to rest his arms on the table. He looked back and forth between her and Jay for a quick moment before settling his gaze on their older brother. "Phoenixes in mythology are said to be immortal birds made of fire, is that true? How does that affect you?"

Jay nodded with a smirk. "Oh, that's actually kinda cool, so phoenixes have regular burning days that basically reset them back to their prime. Each Phoenix has a different burning day interval, some have five year intervals while others have ten, twelve, or even fifteen year intervals, but until they have their first burning day after their initial revival, most orphan phoenixes actually think they're something else, like maybe a hell hound, or even the apparently notorious phoenix mimics known simply as firebirds. If a phoenix gets injured severely enough between burning days, they can force an early burning day, though apparently those are more intense and take longer to physically recover from than the regular burning days. Any injuries, up to and including scars, that a phoenix acquires between burning days will be gone after the next burning day, too, so that's pretty awesome, too."

"Okay wait," Duke said, waving a hand slightly. "Hold on. One of the questions Phantom asked you was about your relationship with fire, could you explain more about that, please?"

Steph and Jay shared grins. "Fire doesn't burn me anymore. I technically have pyrokinesis, and eventually I'll be able to pull my little "appearing out of a fireball" shtick for real," he said.

"Yeah, and he can express and share his emotions through specific sounds that apparently sound like bird songs and calls. Apparently it's a key form of communication for phoenixes, and it can be damaging to their mental health to go for too long without doing so, so Phantom said to let everyone know to expect some random fluctuations in emotions while Jay gets used to actually following his instinctual need to connect with us in that way," Steph added, bumping shoulders with Jay in a show of support.

B nodded in thought before gazing knowingly at the two of them. "I notice a lot of emphasis has been placed on Jason's phoenix status, but what about your banshee status, Stephanie? What can you tell us about that?"

She grinned as Jason trilled in excitement. "Oh, can I explain this bit?" He asked her, and she waved him on. "Turns out a lot of myths and folklore about the fae, the Seelie and Unseelie courts, are wildly out of date. There's been peace between both courts for centuries now, their governing systems are both complex and extremely easy to understand, and they have agreements on how to deal with humans and others who have offended them in one way or another. Banshees, who have pretty much always been associated with the Unseelie court, are basically fae PIs. They have an instinctual knowledge of the beings and entities around them and can tell if someone is human or not based on their aura, or vibes as Phantom put it. They use their screams to magically obtain information on a person of interest, usually someone who's been declared wanted for questioning by one of the fae courts but sometimes it's someone wanted by human courts, from beyond the veil of morality, which they can then use to either track the person of interest down or to officially convict them."

"I thought a banshee's scream signaled someone's eminent death," Dick mused.

Steph shook her head. "In olden times, sure, but the death penalty isn't exactly used much anymore, so a banshee's scream doesn't immediately mean death. I don't even have to scream in front of the person I'm screaming about, I just have to know some kind of basic information about them. I also don't have to scream when I first get the urge to, I can hold it in so I can get to a more appropriate place to let it out." She shrugged. "Apparently, though, the longer I choke it back, the more painful it will become, until I just have to scream, which I'm sure none of us want to test too thoroughly."

Babs cringed and shook her head. "Definitely not, that sounds extremely unpleasant and almost entirely impractical. We'll have to do some testing for future reference, but not to the point you potentially injure yourself," the redhead said before changing the topic. "So are we in agreement? We're going to continue these tutoring sessions with Phantom?"

Steph watched B as he looked at each of them in turn, getting various forms of confirmation from them all, before turning back to Babs. "Yes, I think we will. Steph, Jaylad, if Phantom gave either of you homework, I ask that you keep up with it. Just one session with him has settled the two of you in a way I hadn't noticed you weren't until you got back. I don't want that progress lost, and I'm sure neither of you do, either."

She looked at Jason, who was looking at her, and she knew Bruce was more right than he could possibly know.

=============‹«⟨·•★•·⟩»›=============

Jazz looked up from her textbook when she felt Danny phase into their apartment at almost midnight. He popped into view with a beaming smile that caused some of the tension in her shoulders to relax. "I take it things went well?" Jazz asked as she set her pencil down and turned her whole attention to her little brother.

"Did it ever! Oh my ghost, Jazz, despite not having had his first burning day since reviving, Condor is already really in tune with his instincts. He's been struggling with explaining them to the others, he didn't have the vocabulary to explain them at the time, but he soaked up everything I taught him like a sponge! He took to vocalized emotional expression like a fish to water, and has already been dabbling with his pyrokinesis on his own!" Danny exclaimed, running a hand through his hair with a slightly hysterical laugh. "And Starling, Jazz, she's already had the five initial screams all banshees go through. She's been using her screams unintentionally for the past six months without even realizing it, she honestly thought she'd just been screaming in frustration and then having lightbulb moments of everything clicking together. Pandora said most banshees struggle with assimilating the information they gain from their screams that quickly until they've been screaming for years, but Starling's been doing it instinctually for months without problem!" Suddenly, he clenched his hair in both hands and tugged slightly. "Gah , I can't believe they've been left floundering like this for so long! Just from this first meeting, I can see the potential in all of them. If they're this good at what they do without knowing what they are and what they can do, I can't even begin to imagine how much more effective they'll be with that knowledge. But the kicker is, they could have been that good from the start if only they'd known sooner!"

"Hey," Jazz said as she got up and walked over to her little brother, gently grabbing his hands and working them free from his hair. "It'll be okay. They have you in their corner now. Sure, they should have known sooner, and it really sucks that they didn't, but they do now. Can you imagine how much worse it'd be if they never knew? I can, and honestly, it's kind of scary. You're doing the right thing, baby brother. Don't ever forget that, okay?"

Danny drew her into a tight hug. "Thank you for being here, for helping me keep my head on straight," he said into her shoulder.

Jazz smiled sadly into his hair. "I'll always be here for you, Danny. You don't need to worry about that," she replied as she tightened the hug. No matter what happens, I will never leave you, she thought fiercely.

=============‹«⟨·•★•·⟩»›=============

FIRST STEPH POV! AND FIRST JAZZ POV! PLUS LORE! ✧⁠\⁠(⁠>⁠o⁠<⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠✧ I hope y'all enjoyed lol I had a lot of fun with this one. I legit couldn't wait to write it and had to orally take notes via audio recording while I was driving around running errands ಡ⁠ ͜⁠ ⁠ʖ⁠ ⁠ಡ good news is I now have concrete plans for chapter three!

I would also like to say that my takes on all beings, creatures, and entities based on real myths and folklore are exactly that, my takes. I have cherry picked myths, folklore, and canon for the bits and pieces I find cool or interesting, and threw out the rest. If that offends you in any way, I apologize but respectfully ask that you just don't continue to read this series. I write primarily for mine and my mother's enjoyment, and what we enjoy is taking apart and piecing together things that realistically don't go together. I understand that my writing isn't for everyone, but I sincerely enjoy reading the comments of those who also enjoy my writing.

Also, I've finally figured out how to do the "keep reading" thing on mobile! Let me know if you guys like it or not, and if I should keep doing it or not, please? 乁⁠|⁠ ⁠･⁠ ⁠〰⁠ ⁠･⁠ ⁠|⁠ㄏ

Also also, I've decided that, since I'm modding the Patrol Partners event as well as doing Camp NaNoWriMo this month, I'm taking Sundays off from writing. I'll post fics on AO3 that haven't been posted yet, I'll answer replies, asks, and DMs, but I won't be doing any writing on Sundays. Therefore, there's no day 2 fic that y'all missed, I just didn't write one (⁠^⁠～⁠^⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ (I'm going to post this at the end of my author's note tomorrow as well so more of my readers see it, but I wanted to put it here now while I'm thinking about it)

[calmlyy-chaotiic]

Hello ockins/fictionkins

i need advice

(tw for mentions of fictional abuse, violence, and related trauma)

I'm trying to figure out if I'm an ockin or not, and I could use some input. This is gonna be a long post so check under the cut for the info.

So, the oc in question is Leona. She was originally created back when I was a teenager (a few years ago). She was made as an avatar/player character for the game Pokémon: Legends Arceus. At the start, she was basically just me, but cooler. Typical sona type thing. Fast forward a few months, and I start changing her story, eventually creating this whole dark au of the game and giving her a bunch of trauma and all that jazz.

I got... VERY attached to her, very quickly. Thinking about her all the time, coming up with new details, rambling about her. More characters joined her story, and she formed bonds with them.

I'm starting to realize that she might be a kintype of mine.

Since I've been writing her, I've gotten moments where it feels like I AM her. I know what she feels, how she views the other ocs in her story, how she reacts to her trauma, and I sort of... share those feelings. I'm terrible at explaining things, but it's more than just "getting to know the character" like I've seen other writers talk about.

As she's gotten attached to her friends and her family, so have I. It's like I see them as MY family, and not just because they're my ocs.

For example: there's a character named Ricochet that was originally going to be her best friend. Purely platonic. I was in one of my "Leona moods" where I was thinking like her, feeling like her, etc. That's when I started wondering if there were any romantic feelings towards Ricochet, and BAM. I could SEE her face, picture her voice and her laugh, and it felt like I was genuinely in love. However, I only feel like this when I "am" Leona.

It probably sounds stupid/weird, but I don't know how else to explain it.

Another thing that I think about a lot is this one time my mom was jokingly asking me questions and talking to me like I WAS Leona, and calling me Leona, and I got this HUGE dose of euphoria. I don't really get species euphoria, and normally I'd dislike being referred to by a feminine name, but it felt RIGHT

Now, onto the problems with her being a kintype.

Leona is a violent person who does bad violent things.

She has violent urges.

When I "am" her, I sort of get them too. It's a lot like what I imagine some predator therians deal with, like wanting to bite people or hunt things? (I'm a canine therian, but I've never gotten urges like these for any kintypes before Leona)

Also, Leona has a lot of trauma and mental problems (namely familial abuse and ptsd) that I don't have, and I feel like by "being" her I'm disrespecting people who actually struggle with those things

Another thing I feel like is weird is that she is a cis woman, and a lesbian, and I am neither of those things?? I'm a genderqueer guy, I prefer masc terms, and I'm omni, so??

Finally, outside of when I'm getting "shifts" for her (if that's even what these are), I don't act like her at all. We still have some similarities left over from her being a past sona of mine, but otherwise there's nothing.

So, ockins!! Fictionkins!! What're your opinion? Is it plausible that I'm an ockin? Do I just have something deeply wrong with me??

[dracocheesecake]

Mother and Child Reunion

One hundred and twenty years after Kai is banished, he meets someone else in the Spirit Realm. A reunion commences.

It was difficult to keep track of time in the Spirit Realm- there was no night or day, no moon or sun, no changing of seasons, only an eternal golden illuminance of the sky that never ceased. Yet Kai managed it: a soul-searing desire for vengeance would do that to you, and spite would make you more precise. According to his approximation, it had been about 120 years since Oogway had banished him, but the memory grew no less bitter with age. 

But he would have his vengeance. All that was needed was a little patience; something he usually only had in short supply, but growing a grudge required copious amounts to feed it. The tools were in his grasp, and the number of weapons in his arsenal steadily increasing. 

He smiled to himself and looked down at the three amulets hanging on his belt- soon, if this went well, to be four. The glowing green of his eyes cast down upon his current target. The figure on the rock island far below him didn't move, seeming transfixed on the weapon it held: a spear of some sort, though he was still too far away to make out the exact species or gender of the warrior- not that it mattered; a soldier was a soldier. 

Kai made his way down, using the detritus of floating rocks as a loose staircase. The approach was deliberate, cautious: already being dead, he had no actual fear of harm, though he had thus far kept his armor and the blades of his former double-bladed spear (all that remained of the weapon after the fight with his supposed "brother")- more as a habit of nostalgia than necessity, though they made taking his trophies a little easier; though if either became an inconvenience, he wouldn't hesitate to discard them- the armor, namely. It was heavy, and rubbed against his fur too much. 

He scratched under his breastplate, his other hoof tightening on the hilt of one of his knives. His eyes never once left the figure- a yak, female, it seemed, now that he was close enough to make the distinction. There was something else noticeable in the shape of her horns, though, and the deel she wore, her mane, the exact style of the silk knots that held her lamellar breastplate…

Kai was standing on the rock island she was on, now, watching her from the cover of a rock formation. Unwittingly, his knife had dropped from his hoof, falling back into its sheath, but he hardly noticed. He crept out from behind the rocks, just to get a closer look, just to confirm…

He knew her. 

One of her ears twitched. There was a split-second urge to hide, visceral, and run as far away as he could- or just run right to her- but then she turned, their eyes met, and he could do neither. He didn't breathe anymore, and yet his breath hitched. The grip his hoof had on the rock next to him loosened and slipped. 

"...Mother." There was that urge again, instinct without explanation: he wanted to run to her, to have her wrap him in her arms like he was still a calf- but he restrained himself…Barely, he restrained himself. He straightened, and then took a calm step forward. 

Khaltmaa didn't move. She continued to stare at him, her dark brown eyes looking him up and down, examining him like he was something she had plucked out of her hoof. 

"What did you do to your father's eyes?" She said, "Why have you ruined his horns?" 

Kai's shoulders slumped. Again there was no need, but he inhaled anyway, then straightened and approached her. But then he got close, so close he could reach out and touch her, and suddenly he had no idea what to say. His shoulders slumped again, though honestly, he couldn't say that he was ashamed. 

Khaltmaa eyed him again, and then made a soft snorting sound. She leaned on her spear. "We have much to discuss, I see." 

Kai released the unnecessary breath he had taken. "We do." 

"What are you doing here?" Khaltmaa asked, her voice somewhat softened. 

"What are you doing here?" He said instead. Not a wise choice; in other instances, this echo would have been beyond disrespectful; but then again, this wasn't another instance. 

Khaltmaa recognized what he meant by it, and was not fooled. She raised her brows slightly, but answered his question. 

"The blood I spilled was not innocent, but it was still blood." She said. 

Kai grinded his teeth slightly as a memory viciously recurred. "...You still don't deserve to be here." 

She shrugged, guessing his meaning. "The violent die violently. I've always known that." 

"But weren't you…?" Kai wasn't certain how he was trying to end that sentence; was he asking her if she felt bitter at all over her end, the way he did?- She should have been. 

Khaltmaa chuckled. "It came upon me suddenly, yes- but I was already old. I had lived my life." 

Kai grinded his teeth further. "...It wasn't fair. You should have fled-" 

"We didn't have time. They came upon us in the dead of the night, and we set no watches- I only realized what was happening when I awoke to our home in flames. I rushed outside with my spear, and then was struck down myself." 

She was examining that spear now, running a cleft over the sharp edge. That answered one or two questions he had had, but offered no closure; mostly, he realized, because of her nonchalant reaction. 

"...You were too old to be fighting." 

"And yet it took twelve of their spears before I fell." She glanced up from the blade of her weapon and smiled at him ever so slightly. 

Kai knew it was true: he had counted the spears himself. Still, her manner bothered him, and he wanted to be angry, but he couldn't help it. A smile tugged at the left corner of his mouth. "...I suppose you wouldn't have gone any other way." 

"Oh, of course not. Neither did you, I take it." 

They chuckled, briefly, though it didn't last. She tilted her head, a question in her eyes, but Kai pretended not to have seen it. 

"...Well," she said, shrugging and rolling her shoulders at the same time so that the joints popped and cracked, a sound as nostalgic to him as her voice. "I suppose now would be as good a time as ever to meet my grandcalves. It would mean much to me to see them, if any of them are here." 

Kai paused. His brow furrowed. "...Your what?" 

"My grandcalves," Khaltmaa said, "and their mothers, if they're here." 

Kai knew he didn't have a heart anymore, and yet there was a phantom sensation of pounding in his chest, which suddenly stopped. "...Um…?" 

Khaltmaa turned to look at him, smiling. "You know, your wives and concubines. Being Supreme Warlord of All of China, you must have had plenty.” She laughed. “Enough to have sired your own herd by now! So where are they?” 

He bit his lip. Carefully, he avoided her eyes, though the action condemned him. There was a slight change in the tension, and he sensed her realization, bracing himself for it. 

“...Kai.” 

He sighed again. “...Mother-” 

“Kai.”

“I-” 

“Kai Jayaatu-Wánchéng.” 

He grimaced. “Mom-” 

“Don’t tell me you actually-” 

“Mom, look-” 

“You died before giving me grandchildren?!” 

Now he winced. He reached up, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I meant to-” 

“I always knew you preferred men!” She said, “Or I should have, as soon as you refused to marry that heifer your father recommended - Lan Yu, or whatever her name was-” 

Kai ran a hoof down his face in exasperation. “Mom,” he sighed, “she couldn’t have cared less about me! I mean, her loss, but- I mean- besides, I had no time to-” 

“She was perfectly lovely! She would have given you plenty of calves. She was sturdy, with wide hips- but then again, I suppose if you wanted men-” 

“No, no, Mother, I-” 

“-You could have at least married a nice bull, or that turtle you were always gushing over in your letters, and adopted a grandchild for us-” 

“MOM!” 

That got her attention. She paused mid-sentence, looking up at him. Kai sighed. 

“...It’s…It’s a little late to admonish me over that, don’t you think?- It’s been 120 years since I had that chance. It didn’t happen. It’s not going to happen. Sorry.” He shrugged. Part of him regretted it, to this day; only a part of him. But then again, what sort of husband or father could he have ever made? 

Khaltmaa’s brow furrowed again. “...120 years? That long? How do you know?” 

“Spite’s a good time keeper,” he said. 

Khaltmaa narrowed her eyes at him again. Her grip tightened on her spear as she leaned towards him. “...What brought you here, son?” She asked, low. 

There it was. Kai couldn't equivocate anymore. Well, the conversation had been nice while it lasted. He inhaled slightly, sinking into a nonchalant expression and posture. 

"...You could say I've been getting stronger…Starting a collection…Righting a wrong or two." One of his hooves brushed against the amulets on his belt, making a soft clattering sound. Khaltmaa's eyes went to them, noticing them for the first time, realizing what they were, and then back on him. Her muzzle crinkled in disgust and horror. 

Kai had expected this, and yet it still stung. Immediately his wounded pride overpowered his respect and love for her, and caused him to jump to his own defense: 

"Is it any different from what you did?" He snapped, "Taking the life from your enemies-?" 

"I killed because there was no other choice. I never-" 

"I said, is it any different? We both-" 

"I protected the weak," she said, "I never crushed them under my heel to give myself an illusion of strength." 

"My strength is no illusion," he said, "nor were any of my opponents weak- weaker than me, obviously, but-" 

Khaltmaa glared at him. There was something in that stare- not anger, nor disappointment, though to an eye unfamiliar with her expressions it would have seemed so- but it was neither of those things. It silenced him. Kai closed his mouth and lowered his eyes, his shoulders slumping again, his ears drooping.

"...There was never enough of him in you," she said, and for the first time since the reunion, there was something sympathetic in her tone. "If there had been…well, things may have been different now." 

She made a soft sighing sound that hurt Kai more than any of her words ever could have, because he knew he had caused it. He glanced up at her, and their eyes met again for a brief moment. Hers were filled with tears. She looked away.

"Where is my father?" Kai asked. "He…He isn't here, is he?" 

Khaltmaa looked out over the many rock islands, the horizon that spanned into eternity, and the endless golden light that burned the eyes. 

"I hope he is not here," she said at last, "he least of all deserves it. My hope is that he is somewhere better." 

Kai moved a little closer to her, watching the oblivion with her. Again that urge came upon him, and his hooves itched, the clefts only a will away from reaching- but he suppressed it. 

"...Me, too," he said. 

"I can only imagine what he would think of you now." 

Kai closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, though there was no need for it anymore. He turned to go. 

"Goodbye, mother." 

But he was suddenly turned again, and then two familiar arms wrapped around him and held him close. His muzzle pressed inadvertently into her mane, smelling just the way he remembered: earthly, sweat and ginger, only tinged this time with smoke and blood, a faint reminisce of her last hour. The nostalgia struck him painfully, all of the anger and grief over how untimely her death had been came back again to haunt him. Tears welled in his eyes. 

"Goodbye, my son," Khaltmaa said, squeezing him tighter. They stayed that way for some time, a mother and her calf, and would have gone on that way forever if they were able- and perhaps, in the Spirit Realm's sense of time, it had been forever. 

But all things must end, even eternity. Khaltmaa pulled away, reaching up to cup his face in her hooves, a face so different from the one she used to know- but it was her son, all the same. Only the horns and eyes had changed; she prayed only the horns and eyes had changed. She wiped at the latter with her thumbs, brushing them clean of tears just as she used to do, back when she could still pick him up. 

He didn't want her to let go, and it hurt all the more because he knew she wouldn't. They truly would stay that way for all of eternity if one of them didn't move. The very idea tempted him…

Kai gathered his strength and pulled away. Khaltmaa's hooves stayed where they were for a moment, as if she hoped that he might take them- but he didn't. He bowed his head to her, once. 

"Goodbye, Mother," he said again, and then with another surge of strength turned and left. He didn't look back. 

Khaltmaa's hooves fell to her sides. She sighed and plucked her spear up from the ground before turning back onto her endless journey towards an elusive Nirvana. She didn't look back.

[wanderxdusk]

Who the heck is Shikoba?

Name: Shikoba Ofishotik

First name means “Feather” in Choctaw, and last name means “Sky Dog” in Chickasaw. These are references to the Above World, and the guardians of the Chickasaw tribe: the red-headed woodpecker and the celestial Large White Dog, Ofi’ Tohbi’ Ishto’.

Age: 21

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Species: Human

Occupation: Former Storyteller Apprentice (Kicked out), Former Ecology Student (Dropped out), currently an Apprentice Paranormal Investigator

Stand: Diamond Dogs (Reference images of her stand's forms coming soon!)

Can summon two large canine specters (one white and one yellow). These canines have stony, Southeastern-styled heads, star-speckled bodies, and collars with Choctaw diamond motifs. They can fight in her stead, often using relentless thrashing with massive, heavy jaws. They can also be used as shields against some projectile attacks. 

Another way of manifesting is morphing her arms as two large, toothed warclubs. These warclubs bear the same stone canine heads but have large teeth-like serrations along their bottom jaws”. She can strike them to the ground to create small-range earthquakes and as blunt-force weapons. 

Physical Description: Shikoba stands at five feet and two inches, and is of curvy figure.  She has a few tattoos: two fang-like marks on her cheeks, a Southeastern spiral armband on her left arm, and a tiny tribal sun on her left wrist.

Her fashion is an interesting mix of hippie, rock, and punk. She is never seen without her coyote tooth necklace, or her black jade knife necklace. The knife has a jaguar motif perched on the top of it, A braided leather bracelets with shells, stones, and silver charms (crescent moon and cow skull) is also one of her favorite accessories. (More detailed reference images coming soon!)

General appearance is seen below:

Personality: A wandering heart best describes Shikoba. She feels a persistent desire to escape the monotony of average life. There are several reasons as to why she feels that constant urge to venture on. One is the deep need to escape her past, the person she developed shame and hatred towards. Leaving that life to hopefully find a new identity she could feel peace with push her onward. 

The yearning to discover more about her culture and heritage and all connections to it also burns within her heart, it’s the one thing about herself that she feels pride in. As a storyteller apprentice, Shikoba seeks to share what she has learned with others, as well as gather other stories from across the world.  She adores wildlife and nature, particularly those of the tropical rainforests. She lights up at merely seeing any sort of animal. She finds joy in art, as well, especially drawing. Shikoba normally tries to keep a notebook and a few pencils on hand to draw what she finds or is inspired by during her excursions. 

Intelligent and observant, she will first attempt to gather information on the situation and environment before acting. Despite this, she is prone to panic during critical times and will hastily act to diffuse any confrontation. She tends to be a people-pleaser, especially towards those who choose her or claim to find value in her. She is annoyed by this weakness but the disconnect between her awareness and the emotional need for approval doesn’t stop her from falling back on it. She has some mistrust towards elders, and harbors deep anxiety about how her ancestors possibly view her.

While she doesn’t necessarily enjoy sexual intimacy, she enjoys the validation she gets out of it and has little inhibition with using sex to meet that desire. She struggles immensely with forming long-term commitments, especially if such could leave her vulnerable to another or harkens back to her deepest regrets. If a relationship goes beyond the physical, she will attempt to find ways to escape it.  Though introverted, Shikoba will leave her comfort zone to either share traditional stories, information about wildlife and ecology, or as a means to an end (usually flirting to get something out of other people).

Backstory: (Warning: This story contains abuse, mental illness, violence, and infidelity.) 

“They say ‘we are our ancestors’ prayers’. What happens if ya were never what they hoped for?” - Shikoba

Shikoba grew up in a small town in northern Mississippi. Her life hadn’t been too different from other children, though she often struggled with feelings of inadequacy as she couldn’t keep up with her friends during games.The concerns of being of less worth stemmed from her family life; though her parents loved her dearly, Shikoba’s grandparents were not as kind. The grandmother ruled the family with an iron fist, and viewed her daughter, Shikoba’s mother, as the scapegoat. This resentment escalated when Shikoba’s mother, Rose, went against her wishes and eloped with the man she loved. Though her grandmother didn’t view Shikoba as her own person, she had hoped the child would grow into an obedient agent for her will. An unwanted puppy was still cute and easy to control, after all. 

This put immense pressure on Rose, thus causing her to try coaching Shikoba on how to act around the family matriarch. Shikoba was meant to behave like a trained dog, and failure to yield to her grandmother’s unspoken demands led to the grandmother’s venomous rejection, Rose’s frustration, and Shikoba’s deepening sense of worthlessness. She had been called selfish, defective, broken, both by her grandmother and by Rose during her worst moments. 

 This belief of being broken extended to school. Because her school was very small, it relied heavily on the one sport it could take part in: Basketball. Unfortunately, Shikoba wasn’t built for athletics, and she quickly became the burden of the coach when she dared tried out for the team. Her humiliation in that failure discouraged her from trying any others until much later. She adopted the view of never being good enough for others, it festered into a deep self-hatred. As she grew older, her bitterness grew into depression. Though intelligent, she gave up on her grades. She would flee into the country, tucking herself within the cedar forests. Instead of studying or doing homework, she would wander as far as the limited wilderness could lead her. How she wished there were no fences, nor roads to remind her of where she was, and who she was: trapped, powerless, worthless. The only class where she kept up some effort was in art, or outside of school, learning the traditional stories from the elder storyteller. She always loved learned about her culture, as well cultures across the globe. She especially enjoyed learning how the world was seen by her ancestors, and hoped to continue their legacy by passing down the ancient stories.  Despite these small glimmers of joy, the frequent failures further irritated Shikoba’s grandmother, and she intensified her efforts in isolating and controlling Shikoba and her parents. 

Shikoba already struggled with fitting in with both her extended family and peers, as her inability to achieve in any athletics made people believe she was stupid and useless. Her interests in nature and mythology also seemed odd to the sheltered community. This only escalated when she started collecting crystals, animal skulls she found during her hikes, and darker clothing to hide her stout stature. Rumors of her wanting to be a witch (the Chickasaw term for “witch” isn’t the same as what’s seen in popular culture. It refers to one who practices bad medicine) began to float about, much to her dismay. The rumors led to the storyteller forbidding her to come for more apprenticeship lessons, deepening her sense of rejection from her people and by extension, her ancestors. All of these factors sparked the bullying, particularly from her rival: Destiny.  

When she reached her early teens, her father’s job required them to move frequently throughout the southeast. Shikoba relished the fantasy of escaping her life and creating a new, better identity, but found time and time again that it wasn’t given freely. Acceptance from classmates and teachers was always beyond her reach, as her awkward nature and fear of being cruelly tricked got in the way of her interactions. Her family struggled to make ends meet, as the frequent moves from rental home to rental home strained their already meager finances. All the uncertainty and weight of social rejection made Shikoba grow more fearful, angrier, and strengthened her desire to run from it all. The daydreams of traveling the world, never staying long enough for people to know her broken self, became temporary but necessary relief. Oftentimes she envied the feral dogs that wandered the lonely rural streets. They could go wherever they wanted, they didn’t have to be imprisoned by rejection and judgment. 

Though these new sources of stress loomed over Shikoba and her family, the shadows of their past would tear them back again. The annual stomp dance was about to occur in Shikoba’s hometown, and her grandmother demanded that they attend. So back she and her parents trudged, to the place that no longer seemed like home, if it ever did before. Though the central fire bathed the night in a warm amber glow, and the songs of the men echoed to the stars, Shikoba remained beyond the shadows. She hoped to remain unseen, but even that wouldn’t be granted to her. Destiny, her enemy, recognized Shikoba and strolled over. 

Their conversation quickly became heated, with Destiny laughing at Shikoba’s failures, reminding her of never being good enough. Shikoba was quick to throw back insults, stumbling over her anger and trembling voice. This only made Destiny scoff even more before giving one last retort. “No wonder you’re a witch.” This was the final straw for Shikoba. Pocket knives were drawn and the two brawled on sacred ground. The fight was intense but short-lived, as Destiny overpowered Shikoba and struck her in the leg. This sent the sobbing girl to the Emergency Room. As she sat in the cold, sterile waiting room, her parents on either side of her and staring blankly at the tile floor, her grandmother stormed in. Her grandmother spat vitriol at the three, saying how ashamed she was that her reject of a granddaughter would start a fight at a public event. The words cut through Shikoba like darts: “You’re the reason why your mother is so miserable! It would have been better if you weren’t born!” The teen’s parents jumped in then, with Rose tearfully screaming at her mother for her hateful words. Security was quickly called in to guide the grandmother away, but not before she said the last thing Shikoba would ever hear from her: “You’re dead to me!” 

At that point, Shikoba decided to never return to this town, nor claim belonging in this family besides her parents. 

Years pass by since they permanently left that town, and she and her parents lived in Texas. Though Shikoba was in her early twenties, the frequent moves and transfers between colleges led to her losing credits and still being stuck in undergraduate studies. She began her degree in ecology, and her desire to save endangered forests intensified. Shikoba had always wanted to save animals just like her childhood heroes on the nature channel, but now she felt there was a clear path to do just that. This would be how she could find her purpose, her worth, and finally become someone loveable. 

 Now that she lived on her own in Dallas hours away from her parents, she began seeing men on campus. She would sneak into apartments and dorms, having flings with those who expressed interest in her. She craved the illusion of being wanted, chosen, and cherished, if only for a few hours. But staying much longer than that meant them seeing how stupid or pathetic she really was, it meant giving them control, it meant they could hurt her. So she would quickly slip away and distance herself from those who have expressed more than mere desperation or lust. “It’s because I’m wild, a heartbreaker!” At least that was the comforting lie she told herself. 

Her frequent flirting finally led her into deep trouble as she crossed paths with a man who was already engaged. Shikoba knew he already promised marriage to another, and his fiance was an innocent woman; but the attention, the gentle touches along her body, the sweet fantasy of being desired led to her falling into temptation. Several times they had been intimate, and sickening guilt would gnaw at her stomach. Yet it wasn’t until he admitted having feelings for her did she realize the extent of her sin. She truly was selfish, evil, and worthless. Yet another innocent person had been hurt because of her, just like her parents and ancestors. Shikoba dropped out of college after that, and applied as field researcher aide for the Speedwagon Foundation’s Environmental Conservation Section. She unfortunately didn’t get the position due to her college education Shikoba dropped out of college after that, and applied as field researcher aide for the Speedwagon Foundation’s Environmental Conservation Section. She unfortunately didn’t get the position due to her college education being incomplete. Reeling from the sting of disappointment of not fulfilling her dream as a protector of wildlife, Shikoba grew desperate to run from it all.

She answered an ad for an "apprentice paranormal investigator", posted by a wealthy but emotionally immature man who sought to become the "most badass demon hunter". Though it seemed like he merely wanted an entourage for his self-centered adventures, she was willing to go along with it. It meant escaping her failures, the damage she caused to loved ones, and the country. She became like those stray dogs she envied, running away, yet not finding any happiness in doing so. 

(At this point her story is open-ended. Her job can take her anywhere in the world, wherever the RP will take place. )

[facks-stories]

Uh so I have a “story” where its just scenes and dialogue, while I was having my daily bonding time with my sister 11 at night, i talked about ai to her, and how when talking to my friends i jokily used ai to “write” a new chapter of my story [it made mimu a wizard 🥲] it was completely off plot because I could only ask it to “write” the next chapter of the latest chapter [due to word limit]

Anyway I told her that because it’s been two weeks since I wrote or even wanted to [hopefully I can post a new one soon] then I got the idea to do it again but with a different bot and we read it, this was the only version [only good and full one but the fail is there too] I could save

[I told my sister the real names and the whole plot prior to this so most of the reading was spent laughing about how wrong it was]

The point is that I’m going to post it here because it was entertaining 

What I wrote

What chat ai wrote

What ai chat wrote

(1) was walking with a book in his hand, finally getting to his house, the curtains were closed but they were a little see-through. He stopped on the sidewalk and looked if anyone was around, thankfully for him there wasn't, walking up to the window, just close enough to see somewhat silhouettes, he saw two people who seemed to be holding eachother, on the couch. He could see briefly what they looked like. With one man (2) looking like (1) did when he met him and the other man (3) looking like him before he did research. Suddenly the tv's noise stopped and one of the figures got up and started walking to the door.

(1) got back onto the sidewalk, he didn't realize that if he could see their silhouette they could see his too, he couldn't just run, that would look weird, and it was a open front yard so no place to hide. The man walked out and into about half of the yard, he was shorter then (1) but was still tall.

(2) - did you see anyone here?

(1) - uhm, sorry no I was reading

(1) wasn't panicking, but he felt his heart rate go up, and he felt happy. For the first time in years, shit he was only about 20 years old, if not more. But seeing him as when they first met made him jealous. His tail (if he hadn't cut it off) would probably give him away. Cutting his train of thought off the man said something about (1)'s hair

(2) - hey, are you ok? You look sick, and your hair is dark (color)

(1) - I- uhm..

(2) - my husband is a doctor, so I may not know whats going on but he could

(1) knew for sure (3) would know him. This world was in the book he was holding. He had to leave without bothering anything too much. But it was so nice to have (2) care for him. He felt terrible. He could have had this if he didn't test it onto himself. A (species 1) dna wasn't meant to be mixed with the kind nature of (species 2) he knew he couldn't blame his own experiments,his violent tendencies had to be just more then dna. And he doubted (4) or (3) were violent.

He needed help he was getting so nervous and he couldn't tell if it was because he thought (2) would find him out or if he just wanted (2) to himself. He knew it was just the world trying to fix things but it was making it painful to leave.

(1) - ah, no I'm ok,

(2) - alright,

All of a sudden (1) got such a urge to touch his face. without thinking for too long he started walking towards the man

(2) - excuse me

The man turned back around, quickly (1) made the excuse of 'theres something on your face' to wipe off nothing, trying to not stare he shook his hand after as a excuse to not tell him 'what was on his face'

The man said thanks and walked back inside while (1) felt great. He felt loved despite never loving anything before. When (2) walked back in he sat on the couch again, laying on his husband shoulder. With is husband patting the spot where (1) did.

(2) - why do you do that sometimes?

(3) - I just like touching your face,

(2) - It makes me feel closer to you. Plus, I think your face is incredibly soft and comforting to touch. It brings me a sense of peace and security. Does it bother you?

(3) - Not at all. In fact, I find it quite endearing. It's a simple way for me to show my affection and admiration for you. Your presence brings me so much joy and being close to you like this just feels right. Is there anything else you'd like to talk about?

[I didn’t like this one because who tells someone they find them touching their face to be “endearing”-?]

(1) couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy as he watched (2) and (3) interacting with such ease and affection. It reminded him of what he had lost, what he had sacrificed in his pursuit of knowledge and power. He couldn't undo the mistakes he had made, but maybe he could still find a way to make amends.

With a heavy heart, (1) retreated from the window and headed toward the nearby park. There, under the shade of a large oak tree, he began to reflect on his actions and the consequences they had brought upon him. He had to find a way to undo the damage and bring happiness back into his life.

As he sat there, lost in his thoughts, a stray cat wandered up to him and curled up next to his feet. Looking into the cat's eyes, he felt a strange connection, as if the cat understood his pain. It was a small glimmer of hope amidst the darkness.

Inspired by the cat's presence, (1) decided to embark on a journey to find the answers he sought. He would search for a solution that would allow him to reconcile the two worlds he had intertwined and restore balance to his own existence.

Days turned into weeks as (1) traveled far and wide, seeking out wise sages, ancient texts, and forgotten knowledge. Along the way, he honed his skills and learned new ways to tap into the power within himself.

Finally, after much toil and countless encounters, (1) stumbled upon an old, weathered book hidden deep within an abandoned temple. As he pored over its pages, he discovered a ritual—a long-lost ritual that had the potential to undo the fusion of the two worlds.

Fueled by a newfound sense of purpose, (1) returned to the place that had once been his home. With determination burning in his eyes, he prepared for the ritual, gathering the necessary ingredients and casting the spell in the very room where the fusion had first taken place.

As the final incantation left his lips, a surge of energy pulsed through the air. Time seemed to stand still as the barriers between the two worlds began to weaken, and (1) held his breath, waiting to see if his efforts had been in vain.

Suddenly, a brilliant light expanded from the center of the room, enveloping everything in its path. The light slowly faded, revealing a room no longer caught between two dimensions. It was as if the fusion had never occurred—a clean slate.

Overwhelmed by a mixture of relief and uncertainty, (1) cautiously stepped forward. And there, standing in front of him, were (2) and (3), just as he had seen them through the window. It was as if they had been transported back to their rightful place in this world.

As (2) and (3) looked at him with confusion and recognition in their eyes, (1) explained everything—the experiment, the fusion, and his quest to undo the damage. Expecting anger, mistrust, and rejection, (1) braced himself for the worst.

But to his surprise, (2) and (3) listened with open hearts and open minds. They understood the pain and regret that (1) had carried for so long, and they saw the sincerity in his eyes. Instead of casting him aside, they offered him forgiveness and a chance at redemption.

In the days that followed, (1) worked side by side with (2) and (3), helping to rebuild their lives without the shadows of their past. As they grew closer, (1) discovered that love and compassion were not reserved for those who were perfect, but for those who realized their mistakes and sought to make amends.

And so, (1) found his place in this newly restored world—a world where friendships were rekindled, love was shared, and second chances were cherished. It was a world he had longed for, and now, he would fight to protect it from any future threats or dark experiments.

With hope in his heart and a renewed sense of purpose, (1) vowed to use his knowledge and newfound redemption to better the lives of others. The past would always serve as a reminder of the consequences of greed and arrogance, but it would also push him forward, driving him to make a difference in the world he called home.

And so, the curtain closed on (1)'s dark chapter, and a new one began—one filled with hope, love, and the endless possibilities that life had to offer.

[Good mini plot, nothing like the character that (1) actually is but it made him a good person so good for him 🤷]

I wish I could’ve kept the first one because that was was so much more funny but it didn’t let me copy.

Also just putting this here, ai won’t replace anyones real writing, I did it for fun 🥲

[readingforsanity]

The Lost Apothecary | Sarah Penner | Published 2021 | *SPOILERS*

Hidden in the depths of 18th-century London, a secret apothecary shop caters to an unusual kind of clientele. Women across the city whisper of a mysterious figure named Nella who sells well-disguised poisons to use against the oppressive men in their lives. But the apothecary’s fate is jeopardized when her newest patron, a precocious 12-year-old, makes a fatal mistake, sparking a string of consequences that echo through the centuries. 

Meanwhile, in present-day London, aspiring historian Caroline Parcewell spends her 10th wedding anniversary alone, running from her own demons. When she stumbles upon a clue to the unsolved apothecary murders that haunted London 200 years ago, her life collides with the apothecary’s in a stunning twist of fate - an not everyone will survive. 

with crackling suspense, unforgettable characters and searing insight, The Lost Apothecary is a subversive and intoxicated debut novel of secrets, vengeance, and the remarkable ways women can save each other despite the barrier of time. 

Told in the POVs of three different women: Caroline, a late 20′s traveller to London, visiting from the United States; Nella, a middle-aged apothecary and Eliza, a 12-year-old girl. 

Caroline has traveled to London on what was supposed to be her 10-year anniversary trip with her husband James. However, a few days prior, she learned that he had been cheating on her with a colleague at his job. Wishing for some space, she took the trip alone at the urging of her best friend Rose. Caroline did as she was told, arriving in London. 

While searching for something to eat shortly after arriving, she meets Bachelor Alf, running a group of individuals who were mudlarking. Initially, Caroline declined the offer to join them but decided that her life needed a little adventure. Not thinking she’d find anything of value, she began her search and came up with a small blue vial with an etching of a small bear inside. Bachelor Alf recommended that she visit the British Library, telling her to ask for a woman named Gaynor in the Maps department. 

While Caroline’s adventure in the present-day is ongoing, we’re also learning of the events that took place within just a short span of time back in February of 1791. We are introduced to Nella, an apothecary for women’s maladies. But, also an apothecary of poisons that were meant to kill men. Harboring her own disgust of the male species, Nella began offering poisons only to those who knew to ask for it, simply supplying women of London with tinctures and the like for normal ladylike issues. 

Nella was requested to create a poison for a man, requested by his lady and her lady’s maid would be the one to pick it up. Nella is astounded to learn that it is a young girl, only the age of 12, named Eliza. She shares with Eliza some of her secrets, as she believes she would never see the young girl again. The plan to kill the master of the house goes without a hitch: Eliza made the eggs that the poison was placed into it, and within 12 hours, he was dead, nobody none the wiser of what had happened. 

Nella keeps a register of all of the woman she has served in her lifetime as an apothecary, the shop in which she works out of once belonging to her mother, though a little different. She had closed off one half of the room she was in, only keeping a grain of barley in the front where people could request their specific things with a time to return for it, and the other half hidden behind a secret wall that only a variety of people knew were there. 

Caroline, in the present-day, heads to the British library and finds Gaynor, who we learn is Bachelor Alf’s daughter. She is able to help in some ways, and gives her an idea of what she can do to find what she is looking for, though it could take a few days. They end up exchanging numbers with hopes that Gaynor’s research could warrant a little bit. Caroline returns to her hotel, and here she finds a vase of flowers that had not been there before. Her husband would be going coming to London to talk with her. 

Unable to sleep, she decides to find Bear Alley, which she was able to find in her research with Gaynor earlier that afternoon. At first light, she heads out into the London streets in order to locate this place she was looking for. She does find it, though it closed off to trespassers. A passersby says that it hasn’t been used in years, and is likely just a storage room for the buiding that surrounds it. This doesn’t deter Caroline, but only intrigues her more, but with James’ impending arrival, she heads back to her hotel. 

When he arrives, he quickly begins apologizing, though this is futile. Caroline still doesn’t want to spend any time with him, and tells him so. They don’t spend any time together at all. 

That evening, Caroline writes a note for James stating that she is going out for a late dinner, and would return soon. She heads back to the alley, hauling herself over the wall that keeps the alley and the door she saw earlier apart. She enters, finding in it what she can only describe as a back alley, hidden underneath the building. With time against her due to a failing phone battery, she ends up locating the inside of the apothecary room where Nella had worked two centuries before. She quickly snaps some photos, locates the register book and takes some photos of that as well, before returning to the hotel. 

James is now awake, and says he feels a cold coming on, likely because of the dry air in the plane. Caroline advises him to use some of the eucalyptus oil she has in her toiletry bag in the bathroom, and he does so, before heading out to do some sightseeing. Excited to see the photos she had taken the night before in her adventure, she gets very excited at his departure, only for him to return a short time later visibly sick. He believes it could be food poisoning, and he requests to be left alone for a while. 

Meanwhile, two centuries before, Eliza returns to Nella, as she hears that the ghost of her former master is now invading her body, as Eliza began her period the moment he had died. Eliza, however, is not aware that this is a very natural thing as nobody had told her this before. Nella won’t help her, instead giving her the directions to a magic shop nearby and tells her to seek what she is looking for there. 

In the meantime, Eliza reqursts that she stay with Nella, where she could be helpful to her during his mistresses departure to stay with family after her husband’s death. Nella initially doesn’t not want to allow this, but she was in the process of creating another poison, and the woman who requested it arrived shortly after Eliza. Eliza assists in welcoming here, and Nella begins to tell her the instructions in which the Lady would need in order to end her own husband’s life. 

But Lady Clarence tell sher that it is not he rhusband that she wishes to end, but that of his mistress, his own cousin. She wants to take revenge out on the woman he has cheating on her with. Nella refuses, as her tinctures and poisons are not meant to harm a woman, but help them. Lady Clarance and Nella fight over the vial, but Nella is able to dispose of it in the fire. Lady Clarence says that she will need more the following day, otherwise she will take the knowledge she has to the authorities to have Nella arrested. 

Unsure if this woman is to be believed or not, Eliza accompanies Nella on her journey to gather more ingredients for what she needs to create the concoction. The two of them share stories of their lives, including Nella’s own tragic one, where she had met a man named Frederick and had fallen in love with him after he had visited the shop for his sister. Nella ended up pregnant, and he seemed excited about it, but on the night he left to visit family, Nella ended up losing her baby. She realized it was because of Frederick that this happened, as he stole from her and created a concoction that pregnant woman should not have. The sister ended up being his wife, and the two of them came up with a plan to end his life. And so began her life as a secret serial killer. 

They end up making the concoction in time for Lady Clarence to return, and Eliza leaves to make her way to the magic shop, where the owner of the store gives her a book for free as he becomes quite taken with her. 

In the present, Caroline meets with Gaynor who has found her two articles that she has requested with the information that Caroline was seeking. The first is the notice of death for a Mister Clarance, the one and only, from 1791, and how there was a search for his killer. In the article is an imprint of the bear that is also on the vial that Caroline found in the River Thames. But before they are able to peruse the second article, James calls and tells Caroline that he needs the hospital, and she quickly leaves to return to the hotel. 

When she arrives, James is on the brink of death, having ingested the eucalyptus oil instead of rubbing it in skin. Paramedics arrive, and in her haste to help James, doesn’t realize that her notebook with research notes has fallen to the floor. While Caroline is able to ride in the ambulance with James, she is told that the police will be waiting at the hospital upon their arrival, as inside she had written some damning things regarding poisons. 

Caroline is questioned, and when the questioning is meant to be taken to the police station, she requests that Gaynor come to the hospital. When she arrives, Gaynor is confused as to what is going on, but tells the police that she works for the library, Caroline has been coming there and she has been helping in the research project. At this point, James is well enough to be seen, and the police escort Caroline to see him. He says that Caroline had nothing to do with poisoning him, and that they could leave. The police do so reluctantly. 

Caroline visits with James, and after a night in the hospital, she realizes that neither of them have been happy for a long time, and she intends to file for legal separation. It is here that we learn that James purposefully ingested the eucalyptus, assuming that Caroline would want to take care of him. This instead only causes her to get more upset, as she could have gone to jail since they suspected that she had done it. She leaves the hopsital with the promise to return the next day upon his discharge. 

Back in 1791, Nella realizes that one of the two vials left over from when her mother ran the shop is missing, Eliza having accidentally used that. With this damning information, along with the fact that Lord Clarence died instead of who it was intended for, causes Nella to begin looking for a way out. If they found the vial, with the address listed, would they find her shop despite it being hidden. Lady Clarence returns with the vial, and all is okay, until the next morning when Nella finds an article that shows that Lady Clarence’s lady’s maid had gone to the police with an impression of the bear on the vial, and they are now in search of his murderer. 

Nella begins packing up her shop, with the intent to leave it forever. However, Eliza is now been pulled back into the mess, and she tells her to return to her mistresses home and stay there. But, Eliza doesn’t listen. Instead, the two of them are cornered by three constables and they take off running. When they come to a bridge, Nella has every intention of throwing herself off of it, ending her life and therefore saving Eliza, but instead, Eliza, using an elixir she created herself, drinks it and throws herself off the bridge, effectively ending the hunt for Lord Clarence’s murderer. 

Nella, though young, has some sort of illness that is killing her. While she mourns young Eliza’s death, she knows her mistress will also mourn her, and she intends to leave her a note along with something to ail a broken heart. She writes her final entry in her register, that of Eliza, thinking that what she had drank was something that would have killed her before she hit the water. 

On the way to the Amswell’s household to leave the note and tincture, Nella is in bad shape. Barely making it to their doorstep, she begins visualizing seeing Eliza in the window, and she knows this is the end. But in truth, it was actually Eliza, in the flesh, giving her the same elixir she had taken the day before. 

In the present-day, James has left to return to the US, and Caroline ends yp solving the mystery. The young woman mentioned in the second article is Eliza Fanning, and the lost apothecary remains that way, as she no identity. Caroline has also started the process of her separation, and will soon return to the US to take care of unfinished business, including leaving her job at her family’s farm, and returning to the UK to attend grad school at Cambridge. 

Feeling satisfied that she had solved a 200-year-old mystery, Caroline is ready to start her new life. 

Discussion Questions 

1. The novel opens with Nella in her shop, preparing to dispense a poison meant to kill a man. Her work is sinister, and much about her character is dark and disturbing. When you first learned that Nella was a murderer, how did you view her? How did your feelings change over the course of the novel as more of her past was revealed? Did you believe she would eventually find redemption? In the end, did you see her as a hero, a villain, or something in between? Why? Nella went through something tragic at the hands of a man, so naturally she was always going to be hesitant around them. And I don’t blame her. To be betrayed in the way she was by the person you love is unimaginable. Honestly, I loved Nella’s character. She was tough, yet soft at the same time. I don’t think she needed redemption in the way other people in similar works do.  

2. At the beginning of Caroline’s story, she finds the apothecary vial while on a mudlarking tour. Had you heard of mudlarking prior to reading this book? Do you beleive that fate or coincidence led to her discovery? Have you ever stumbled on something that you consider to be fate? I had heard of mudlarking prior. It reminds me a bit of geocaching, which became really popular within the last decade or so. And, I think it was a coincidence. Anyone would have found that vial if it weren’t Caroline. It was just sitting out in the open like that, someone would have noticed it. 

3. Both Nella and Caroline have been betrayed by men in their lives. In what ways did the two women respond similarly to these betrayals? In what ways did they respond differently? Do you feel that one woman was more emotionally resilient than the other? I don’t think anything they did was similar in any way. Nella took her revenge with the help of her lover’s wife; Caroline ran from her problems in hopes that it would give her a clear head. The only time Nella ran was when her shop was compromised, or so she thought. I think Nella had a better handle on her emotions than Caroline did, and I believe it was because she had twenty years to dwell on it, whereas Caroline’s tragedy was fresh in her mind when she arrived in London. 

4. Nella and Eliza form an unlikely friendship early in the story, despite Nella’s resistance to having the young girl in her shop a second time. Why do you think Nella eventually softened her heart toward Eliza? What drew the two characters - one on the cusp of womanhood, the other toward the end of her life - toward one another? What kind of impact did Eliza have on Nella’s character? I think Nella saw in her the child that she had lost, and in an attempt to remaim close to that, she kept Eliza around despite her initial hesitance. This is even eluded to in the book, that if her child had been alive, she had wanted her to be just like Eliza. Eliza, in her way, was looking for a mother figure, having been sent away by her own at such a young age, despite there being good intentions behind it. 

5. The Lost Apothecary is sprinkled with mention of magick, and several events occur that could be considered either the work of magick or merely good luck. When you learned that Eliza survived after ingesting the Tincture to Reverse Bad Fortune, did you believe it the result of magick, or do you think she was a lucky survivor after jumping into the freezing river? After she was found alive, I thought it was because of the Elixir, but it could have simply been good luck, or she was a strong swimmer. I’m not entirely sure what I believe, especially since after ingesting it, Nella became well again and lived at least another decade that they’re aware of. 

6. When James feels a cold coming on, Caroline points him to the eucalyptus oil in the hotel bathroom, but she doesn’t tell him it’s for topical use only. Later, we learn that he ingested the toxic oil. While reading, did you consider the possibility that Caroline purposely didn’t tell him the oil was for topical use only? Do you think that, even subconsciously, this might have been a form of revenge? I never once thought that Caroline did it on purpose. They’d been married for ten years, and from the sounds of things, Caroline used essential oils quite a bit, so James would be familiar with his wife’s collection. He’s also a grown man, who can read. It is clear that he knew that the oil was toxic if ingested and we learned that he did it on purpose anyways. 

7. James is a nuanced character. At different junctures in the story, he shows remorse and heartbreak, only to later lie again to his wife. What did you think of their relationship? Did you beleive he was truly sorry for his infidelity, or were his apologies to Caroline yet another form of manipulation? James simply didn’t want to lose out on the bigger picture. For someone like him, he needed the eye candy on his arm to feel satisfied and complete. For a time, that was Caroline, who was all too willing to give up her own dreams to follow his: of becoming a graduate student at Cambridge, of having a career in her chosen field, of having a baby. All of those things got pushed back because he was climbing the corporate ladder in his own career. But, he was manipulative, absolutely. Ingesting a toxic oil that nearly took his life in hopes of Caroline forgiving him is an ultimate betrayal. 

8. At the end of the story, when Eliza is an adult with children of her own, she says that Nella still counsels her to this very day. Do you interpret this as Nella having lived many more years, or is Eliza referring to Nella’s spirit? Why do you think the author might have left this purposefully vague? I think they want us to believe that the Elixir didn’t work, but I think she lived and counseled Eliza into her adult life, through her marriage and through the birth of her children. Just like Nella, Eliza ends up losing her loved one fairly young, and now she has two children to raise. But, she has the book shop that she had visited and eventually inherited. 

9. While alone in London, Caroline begins to consider how very different her life might have been if she’d not remained in the States with James. As you read about her unfulfilled dreams, did you find yourself thinking about how your life might look today if you’d chosen a different path long ago? What aspirations did you used to have that you might someday like to revisit or pursue? Absolutely. It is easy to consider the what if’s: what if I had gone to college earlier in my life and gotten a degree, would I have a career? What if I never met my husband 14 years ago? What would my life be like if we didn’t choose the house we did when looking almost 10 years ago? Life is full of these questions. I was given a second chance to go through my dreams, though the one I had when I was a kid is far from what I went to school for, haha. 

10. The Lost Apothecary explores the idea of female empowerment and rebelling against a man’s world. In what ways did Nella, Eliza and Caroline empower themselves? Do you consider the novel a feminist book? I wouldn’t necessarily consider it a feminist book, as it is clear that there are decent men within the book, like Bachelor Alf. But, the majority of the male characters within the story don’t have any redeeming qualities, like James or the constables from 1791. They all look down upon the women that they encounter. But, Nella empowered herself by becoming a murderer despite it eating away at her; Eliza became empowered by her ability to create magick in a way and Caroline empowered herself by taking the trip alone, doing things outside of her normal and finding what she truly wanted out of life. 

11. Which of the three characters - Nella, Eliza or Caroline - did you find the most compelling or enjoyable to read? Why? I enjoyed all three of them - we learned so much about the past, the apothecary shop and what had happened in both the past and present, that each particular POV was enjoyable to read. 

12. The theme of motherhood is explored throughout. Nella mourns her inability to have children, and while Caroline begins the story wishing she had a baby, this changes by the end of her narrative. What wisdom do you think Nella would impart to Caroline about the pursuit of motherhood, if the two women had the opportunity to sit down and talk? I think Nella would explain to her that eventually, the time will run out where a baby will be impossible. For Nella, that happened fairly early on due to what her lover did to her, and she was never given the chance to be a mother again until Eliza entered her world. But, the times were different for Nella than they are for Caroline. Having children was important back in 1791, to carry on legacies. In the present, having children is of less importance, and people even going so far as to not want any children at all. 

13. In the historical note, the author states that “in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the largest population of accused poisoners consisted of mothers, wives and female servants.” Did this statistic surprise you? Given that the science of toxicology didn’t yet exist in the late 18th century, do you think it’s possible that a shop like Nella’s might have actually existed? Which of the many potions and poisonours concotions did you find the most interesting or surprising? I will be honest and say I didn’t read the historical note, but seeing it here, I don’t think that much surprises me about the 18th century. It was an entirely different time, and I believe anything is possible, hence why I think that an apothecary shop like Nella’s could have absolutely existed. 

14. The Lost Apothecary is paced purposefully so that the truth about Nella’s fate is slowly revealed over the course of the story. What techniques or literary devices did the author use to drip-feed this information and maintain the book’s suspense? I’m not really on the up-and-up on literary techniques or devices. Normally, duelling timelines and multiple POVs makes it difficult for me to follow along to a story, but in this case, it was simple, since the present day timeline was perfectly aligning with that of the 1791 timeline, ensuring we all found out the fate of everything at the same time. 

15. Discuss the meaning of the title. In your opinion, which character is the real lost apothecary? The lost apothecary was Nella. For years, it was believed that Eliza was the culprit in murdering the men. Though she was just a child, anything was possible back then, just like children of the present day could be murderers as well. But, Nella was the one doing the work and it was basically eating away at her. Nobody ever learned of her secret, at least none that I could decipher. 

Questions provided by readinggroupguides.com, and can also be found in the last pages of this novel’s edition. 

I thoroughly enjoyed this story. I was happy that Caroline finally began following her dreams. Definitely one that I would recommend to those looking for something a little different. 4/5 stars! 

[m-underscore-anonymous]

Building a world (brainstorm) Part 1

Hello, passerby! Do you like stories? Do you write stories? Whether or not you do, I could use some help with a world I'm building. All you need to do is follow my brainstorming sessions, read my descriptions, see my sketches, and then let me know what you think. You don't even need to tell me, just listening as I get my thoughts out there is very helpful! Does that sound good? Thank you if so!

So, the world I'm building has two working titles right now One is "The Grand Narrative" and the other is "Metaphor." Let me explain why: the world I'm building is based in tropes, concepts, symbols, and commentaries. There is this species/people group called the Overseers. Within the Overseers, there is the royal family, consisting of Fate(they/them), Chance(per/per), and their daughter Prophecy(she/her). Fate and Chance love each other, but they quarrel quite a bit. Chance thinks Fate is overbearing, a control freak at times. Fate thinks Chance is reckless, barely thinking about consequences or responsibility. They argue frequently, which bothers their young daughter Prophecy. Prophecy doesn't understand things like control or responsibility, she just wants her family to be happy again. When her parents fight, she just tries to escape into her own imagination. She often steals the figurines and props that Fate uses to control the seven realms they're responsible for so she can play with them. Prophecy doesn't realize that this could have major ramifications-which it does, but we'll get to that later. One time (maybe as a prologue), Fate catches Prophecy playing with one of the blank figurines (think of one of those wooden art figure models) and dressing it up. Fate is originally going to get mad, but see that their daughter is simply exploring the creative urges that an Overseer normally gets as a child. Fate, both to encourage their daughter and to make up for the fighting, helps Prophecy bring the figurine to life as a being to put in one of the realms. They both agree on the name "Myriad" and Prophecy begs Fate to actually put Myriad in one of the realms, not knowing that the realms are cruel places. Prophecy pesters Fate until they agree, both knowing that when Fate agrees to something, they must uphold it. The first story begins when Fate places Myriad inside Luxuria, the first of the seven realms...

I'll post a part two where I back up and give some exposition soon but this got longer than I thought! Take care of yourself and I hope you return for my next post!

[theteasetwrites]

Soft Spot | Part 1

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 1 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: blood, injury, swearing ❧ Word Count: 4.5k

❧ Requested by @deathishereditary (this request—I swear you have the best ideas dude)

❧ Summary: Daryl finds his lady love injured in the woods after being separated, and everyone is surprised to find not only that Daryl has a girlfriend, but that he's very, very soft for her.

❧ A/N: Take a drink every time I come up with another pet name for Daryl/Reader. God, I love soft, protective Daryl. He's like a chocolate truffle—hard shell on the outside, soft, creamy filling on the inside (but all sweet!). We love our little chocolate truffle... Also, this fucking gif. Look at how cute he is. Look at him. He's so fucking cute. The face scrunch... I can't. I'm launching myself into outer space because of how cute this man is. Bye.

He emerged from the woods, your unconscious body draped limply over his shoulder as his feet hurried to get you to safety.

At this point, you were glad to be unconscious, lest you have to endure the pain of the bear trap’s spikes that had been embedded in your flesh. 

Upon impact, you had screamed, falling to your feet above the metal contraption that had sunk its teeth into your leg. An onslaught of violent, agonized tears intermingled with your terrified screams. It was the worst pain you’d ever felt in your life, which was saying something, since even the tiniest scratch was enough to bring you to tears.

This pain, though, was near catastrophic, almost sending you into an unconscious state to escape the agony of the sharp prongs carving jagged holes into your flesh.

Despite the urge to faint, it wasn’t the pain that knocked you out, it was the figure you saw running towards you, the man dropping his crossbow to the ground with a thud and nearly flinging himself beside you to free you from those jaws clamped around your leg.

“Dar-Daryl?” you sobbed, grasping onto his shirt collar and bringing him closer, trying to see if it was really him, your Daryl. Your man. “Daryl…”

You’d passed out before you could utter another word, but you weren’t sure if it was from the pain or the shock of seeing him. 

It’d been a week now since you had last seen him, when the safe zone in Atlanta was overrun and the last thing you remembered was his voice desperately calling your name amongst the crowd of panicked people that separated you until you couldn’t hear him anymore.

At least you knew he was with Merle, but for your part, you were terrified of being alone without him. He was the only person you trusted since the virus broke out, and the only person you needed. No one else could keep you safe like he could.

So you tried to find him, stumbling out into the woods on your own and somehow escaping unscathed from the grasp of the undead. You’d gone on autopilot after that, a terrified, defenseless creature just trying to survive.

Daryl had always compared you to a rabbit, even going so far to affectionately nickname you “bunny” for how easily scared you were. It was an apt comparison, as rabbits are known to have fatal heart attacks just at the first sign of threat. They’re a vulnerable species in the wild, always the prey of some predator higher up on the food chain, and you were no different. He knew that better than anyone, and now that he’d found you, he wasn’t going to let anyone touch you. Not in the slightest. 

“Outta my way,” he huffed, brushing past several members of his group he didn’t care to identify as his tunnel vision focused on the old Winnebago in the center of camp. 

“Dixon!” bellowed Shane, trying to match the serious man’s pace as he bee-lined to the trailer. “What the hell is goin’ on here? Who is this?”

Merle did Daryl’s talking for him, as usual. Despite his attempts to get his younger brother to forget about you, claiming you’d surely been trampled by the crowd or eaten alive by walkers, he couldn’t keep him from going out there everyday to find you.

“That goddamn woman,” he scoffed. “Thought we lost the stupid little bitch.”

“Shut the hell up!” barked Daryl, suddenly being bombarded with questions from the others as they surrounded him and the bleeding girl strewn over his broad shoulders. “She’s hurt!”

Merle scoffed again, hardly impressed by how you somehow managed to have a death grip on his heart even when you were unconscious. Two years of watching you “soften” his brother, turning him to jelly and making him beholden to your every beck and call, had turned Merle bitter towards you and your relationship. 

“Who is that?” asked Shane, watching Daryl hurriedly march up the steps to the Winnebago with Merle looking on, shaking his head in dismay. 

“His bitch,” he replied before spitting a glob of spit onto the dirt below, as if in disgust at the very idea of your existence.

Andrea seemed confused at the notion. “What?” she asked. Indeed, no one in the camp had any idea that Daryl was capable of affection, let alone love, since he’d never really shown it to anyone there in the week or so he’d been there, not even to his own brother, really. 

“His woman,” Merle clarified. “Girl’s got his brain and his dick in the palm of ‘er hand. Swear to God, never seen a man more whipped than that… Pussy will do that to ya.”

In the trailer, the questions didn’t cease as Dale and Glenn attempted to help Daryl unfurl you onto the bed, much to Daryl’s frustration.

“I got it!” he said, pushing Glenn away as he touched your leg. “Don’t touch ‘er!” He moved frantically once he’d gotten you on the bed, rummaging through the cabinets in an attempt to find first aid for your wound. “Where the hell’s your first aid kit, old man?!”

Dale looked wide-eyed at the prickly redneck, who’d only ever had wise-ass words to say to him and the other inhabitants of the camp, if he said any words at all.

“In the cabinet above the sink,” he said, exchanging dumbfounded looks with Glenn across the way. “You know, Jacqui knows stitches, I bet she can—”

“No one’s touchin’ her but me!” he bellowed, pointing towards himself as he glowered between the two men. “She’s my woman, my damn responsibility. No one touches her right now but me, you understand?”

Dale held his hands up in defense. “Just trying to help.”

Just then, Jacqui and Carol peered in through the door, worried as they gazed in the direction of the strange woman, sprawled out on the bed and bleeding into a towel wrapped around her leg. 

“Is she all right?” Carol asked. “Was she bit?”

Daryl scoffed as he hurriedly made his way over to you with the first aid kit and a handful of wet clothes to clean your wound. “She’s gonna be just fine,” he said rather aggressively despite the sentiment of his caring words. “Just got bit by a bear trap.”

He gently dabbed the wound with the wash cloth, wiping away the blood as it left diluted traces of crimson across your skin. He could see the wound better now, determining it wasn’t so bad. Of course, it must’ve hurt like hell, but he also knew just how sensitive you were, how little pain you could handle, and how your screams had alarmed him more than your actual wound. Still, you were here, breathing gently but steadily before him, tears staining your reddened cheeks as you lay there unconscious.

“Who is she?” asked Glenn, seemingly mystified by how devout the surly man was to you. Surely, you couldn’t have been a complete stranger, but it still seemed impossible for Daryl Dixon to care about anyone the way he obviously did as he cleaned your wound with the utmost tenderness. He’d referred to her as “my woman,” but it still seemed so improbable that such a sweet, frightened looking woman had love in her heart for such a standoffish, stoic man.

He didn’t answer for a while, only focusing on your leg between glances at your face, just to make sure you were really there. 

“‘Er name’s (Y/N),” he said quietly before turning to glower at the younger man. “You done askin’ me questions or what?”

Glenn swallowed hard and shrugged, still quite intimidated by Daryl despite his apparent affection for you, the unconscious woman who’d quickly become the talk of the camp.

Dale rested a hand on Glenn’s shoulder, guiding him back towards the door. “We’ll leave you alone,” he said. “Come on, son. Let’s check the radio again.”

Glenn shook his head in disbelief, while Dale shut the trailer door behind him with a deep breath before joining the others, who’d gathered around outside to discuss the strange event of your sudden appearance, and the stranger reaction from the surly archer.

“You’re not gonna get that boy to do a damn thing now that she’s here,” said Merle to Shane. “(Y/N)’s top priority now. Hell, she was already top priority. You think Daryl went into them woods just to bring back squirrels for you sorry sons of bitches? Nah, he went lookin’ for rabbits.” He gestured loosely towards the trailer. “That bitch has got to go, if you ask me.”

“Whoa, whoa,” said Dale. “What the hell are you talking about? We can’t just send an injured woman back out there, let alone Daryl’s, uh… girlfriend.”

Andrea huffed, still in shock. “Wow,” she said. “I can’t believe it.”

“Can’t believe what, blondie?” asked Merle in slight offense. “Can’t believe the Dixon’s got game? I’ll tell you what, it ain’t the fact he’s layin’ pipe, it’s just that he’s whipped. Kid’s got a dick but he ain’t got no damn balls.” He groped his crotch for emphasis. “Believe me, if my kid brother had a piece of tail like (Y/N) and left it at that, I wouldn’t have a problem. Nah, it’s ‘cause that pussy don’t let up, got this effect on him. Trust me, he’ll be in that trailer through nightfall till she wakes up ‘er pretty little head and starts cooin’ at him like he was a baby. Damn girl puts stars in his eyes.”

Jacqui scoffed, shaking her head at Merle’s disgusting words. “You’re a pig,” she said. 

Oh, how many times Merle had been called that. You’d thought it many times yourself, but you were too shy to say anything to his face, instead relaying to Daryl in private how uncomfortable he made you, in the most polite way possible, of course. 

“I’m just sayin’,” Merle replied. “Daryl’s better off without her, y’all are better off without her.”

“Now, look,” sighed Shane. “We ain’t kickin’ anyone out. Besides, you think Daryl would let us send her back out there anyway?”

“He won’t even let anyone touch her,” answered Glenn. “All but kicked us out of the trailer.”

Merle let out a scoff somewhere between indignation and amusement. “See? Already workin’ her magic, an’ she ain’t even conscious yet.”

Yet was the operative word. 

Indeed, you did awake several hours later, when the sun was just going down and outside the others prepared the nightly campfire, over which whatever squirrel Daryl had haphazardly dropped on the ground as he carried you out of the woods was being cooked in a somewhat passable stew. 

Your eyes fluttered hazily, and immediately the pain from your injury shot up through your leg, distracting you from any confusion you might’ve had, having somehow ended up inside an old trailer.

You hissed in pain, sitting up ever so slightly to assess the wound, but Daryl was quick to grasp your shoulders, sitting himself down beside you and softly guiding you back down to your pillow. 

“Daryl,” you sighed, wide-eyed and face contorted in an amalgam of confusion, pain, and utter overjoyment as you met his soft, sweet blue eyes. Oh, those eyes… Not long before you stumbled into that bear trap, you were thinking about how in all likelihood, you’d never see those beautiful eyes again. “What’s… What’s happening?” You felt his hand caress your cheek as you looked around, frantically trying to figure out where you were, as if there was any way you could recognize a place you’d never seen before in your life. “Am I dead?”

He furrowed his brow, studying your face for a few silent moments before breaking out into perhaps the biggest smile you’d ever seen on his face. He simply couldn’t help it—you had that effect on him. Even Daryl would admit Merle wasn’t entirely wrong. You did put stars in his eyes. That wasn’t up for debate.

“No, you ain’t dead,” he answered. His thumb tenderly petted the apple of your cheek while his eyes seemed to go a little hazy as he stared at you. With the sound of his voice confirming your waking state, you let yourself relax into his touch, always so soothing to you and your rather high-strung, fearful nature. “I found you.”

His other hand pinned your hair behind your ear just before you threw your arms around his shoulders, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck and rocking back and forth as you let out a muffled laugh, intermingled with sobs from your crying. It was mostly a happy cry, though you were also in the midst of a deep, searing pain. Still, you had your Daryl, and that was a more potent feeling than whatever contraption had plunged its spiky prongs into your flesh.

“Oh, Daryl,” you laughed (and cried), clutching to the back of his sleeveless flannel shirt you’d last seen him in. It was almost like you’d never been apart. “It’s you… It’s really you.”

To be held by you was an addiction of his, a vice that was strong enough to turn his insides to mush. Well, if that was his greatest vice, then he supposed he wasn’t too fucked up.

He shushed you, trying to calm your crying. You always were a crybaby. “Shhh, shhh… It’s me,” he said. “I’m right here, bunny. I got ya. You’re safe now.”

Unable to withstand another moment without the feeling of your lips on his, he turned his head to kiss you, his lips catching your tears as they fell down your cheek. It was a soft kiss, gentle and warm like always. You could never recall a time Daryl had kissed you with anything but the utmost sweetness in his heart. His softness for you was in everything he did, every movement he made around you, every touch he gave you, everything. 

You found yourself happily moaning into his kiss, smiling against his lips as his tongue hungrily massaged yours, still with as much tenderness as he could muster with how much he’d missed you. And, oh, how he missed you.

When his kiss finally relented, you peered over his shoulder to try to get a look at your leg again, but he grabbed your cheek, turning your gaze towards him. “Don’ look,” he drawled. “Jus’ look at me.”

He knew how much you hated the idea of being hurt, how even the smallest drop of blood could send you into a daze. Of course, you weren’t proud of that fact, and all throughout your life you’d tried to hide how sensitive you were, lest everyone ridicule you or accuse you of feigning your sensitivity for attention. Daryl, however, could never see you in such a way. He only saw a sweet, kind, beautiful woman who needed to be cared for more than other people, and he was ready to do that job. And boy, did he do his job well.

“It… It hurts, Daryl,” you said shakily.

He frowned, nodding his head in understanding. “I’ll get ya a painkiller,” he said. “Just gotta get to my tent real quick. I’ll be right—”

“No,” you said urgently, tugging him back towards you. “Please stay… I’ll be fine.” That was a lie, and he knew it, too. He could tell by the tears and the sniffles that you were in immense pain, but your need to have him beside you as much as possible at that moment was greater. “Just stay with me for now, please.”

He chewed his bottom lip, thinking for a moment. He wouldn’t leave, not a chance. You were clearly scared, and all you wanted was his presence. Surely, you’d want him to hold you like he always did, keep you safe in his arms as your body worked through the pain. 

He’d done it before, namely during your periods. Your cramps were always the most intense pain you’d ever experienced before this, often forcing you to stay home from work until they subsided. He’d drop everything to stay home with you, going to the store for emergency tampons, making you dinner as you were in too much pain to even get out of bed, rubbing your abdomen to soothe your cramps as best he could while he held you tight… Yeah, he knew how to take care of you better than anyone else.

“I won’t leave ya,” he said, then turned his head towards the window of the trailer to yell out his brother’s name. “Merle!” he bellowed. “Get me the aspirin, will ya?!”

A few beats of silence passed before Merle responded from somewhere outside the trailer: “Fuck you!”

“Get me the aspirin, dickhead!”

You were still entranced by Daryl when the pill bottle landed with a rattle beside your leg, causing you to look up at Merle, the bane of your existence. Despite your distaste for Daryl’s brother, you always put on a polite face, attempting to be cordial.

“Merle,” you breathed with a smile. “Thank God you’re all right, too.”

He scoffed, knowing you really hated him about as much as he was annoyed by you and your hold of his brother. “Thank God,” he repeated sarcastically. “See you already got your nurse workin’ ‘round the clock, hm? Tell ya the truth, we were just ‘bout ready to give up on you, sweetheart. Ain’t that right, little brother?”

“You bes’ shut the hell up,” replied Daryl, unscrewing the bottle of aspirin. “And you know that ain’t true, asshole.”

He turned towards you, holding out two pink pills and a glass of water. “Come on, sit up,” he instructed, then quietly spoke under his breath: “Gonna get you feelin’ better, sunshine.” 

You did as he said and took the glass and the pills from his hands, but not without noticing Merle’s obnoxious smirk. “Mhm, that’s right,” he drawled, licking his lips lasciviously. “Gotta get you all better so’s he can fuck you sideways again—”

“Goddamnit, Merle!” he yelled, tossing the pill bottle at his face. “Get the hell outta here ‘fore I beat your sorry ass!”

“Oh, yeah?” he laughed. “You and little miss Muffet? That’ll be the damn day. That bitch has got your balls locked up in a jewelry box, huh, baby brother? Thing is, I think you like it.”

“Get out!” he repeated, and with a few more choice words, which you didn’t care at this point to pay attention to, he retreated to his tent for the night, terribly annoyed by your presence, like you were some benign tumor on his brother’s heart. 

“Don’t listen to a word that comes out of that son of a bitch’s mouth,” Daryl said to you, lifting the bandage to inspect your wound (careful not to show it to you, of course). “I was lookin’ for you the moment I lost you up until the second I found you… Just wish this bear trap didn’t get ya ‘fore I did.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you thought about Merle’s words. “How does such a sweet, smart, selfless man have such a… pig for a brother?”

He raised an eyebrow, surprised by your usage of the word “pig.” You were usually much more vague about your criticisms of Merle. 

“You’re out there without me coddling ya for one week and you come back to me all feisty, huh, bunny?”

“I don’t have a feisty bone in my body,” you laughed. “I don’t even know how I made it out there without you.”

Indeed, he was wondering that, too. Of course, he knew you had a will to survive, that you weren’t entirely hopeless on your own, but in this world, people like you were easy prey, just like rabbits, and Daryl was more like a wolf. Well, a wolf who had developed a particularly soft spot for a rabbit, that is.

He scooted closer to you, raising his hand to your cheek once again, trailing the back of it slowly up and down your soft cheek. He just could never get enough of those adorable cheeks, especially when you smiled like you were now. 

“I just love ya so much,” he drawled, breaking into his own crooked smile at the end of his sentence. “I was never gonna stop lookin’ for ya, hope you know that.”

You nodded, holding his hand as he held your cheek. “I know, pumpkin,” you cooed, and he couldn’t even pretend to hate that little pet name you’d christened him with when you first started dating. “I was looking for you, too. I mean, I had no idea where to look, and I was just… running around, eating berries and mushrooms…”

“The ones I told you, right?” he asked seriously. 

You rolled your eyes, amused by his need to know you learned something from his “survival lessons.”

“Yes, Daryl,” you said. “Only the ones that aren’t poisonous. I’m just so glad you found me.”

He smiled before leaning forward to kiss you again, once on the lips, and several times on each cheek before you broke out into a giggle, tickled from the whiskers of his stubble. “Oh, hey, that tickles.”

“Mm,” he hummed against your cheek. “You like it, bunny… Hey, you must be hungry, huh? Let’s get some food in you.”

He didn’t leave room for argument as he carefully lifted you up by your arms, mindful of your injury. He shouldered your arm and helped you down the steps of the trailer, and immediately you felt more pairs of eyes on you than you had in what seemed like ages.

Daryl’s group was huddled around the fire, their voices dying down as they focused on you. They seemed dumbfounded, chewing on their squirrel while their eyes watched Daryl carefully lead you to the fire. In all honesty, he would’ve preferred to carry you, but he was already sure the group was questioning his “toughness.”

He sat you down on a folding chair, and moved frantically to find you a blanket, turning himself around and looking in every direction. “Anyone got a blanket?” he asked. 

“I-it’s fine, Daryl,” you laughed nervously. “I’m fine… Sit down.”

He huffed and sat himself down, leaning forward to serve you a bowl of soup. “Thank you,” you said, trying to ignore the stares you were still getting. 

“How are you?” Glenn asked, breaking the awkward silence meandering around the campfire. 

He was a stranger to you, as they all were except Daryl, but you answered nonetheless. “I’m okay,” you said. “I don’t think I’m gonna lose my foot, so that’s good.”

You laughed nervously, though the others still seemed utterly flabbergasted by your very existence. 

“I’m (Y/N), by the way.”

Everyone introduced themselves eventually, after the initial shock of your waking state seemed to subside ever so slightly. Still, even after dinner, and when it was only you and Daryl left at that bonfire, you could feel the stares and hear the whispers of the others from afar, watching the two of you.

Daryl didn’t seem to care, or notice, as he found himself tending to your dressing, cleaning your wound once again before holding you tight, brushing through your hair with his gentle fingers.

The only side of Daryl that you knew was his soft side, his tenderness he displayed towards you. You knew he had a temper, that he could be volatile and emotional, but in a way, he was just as sensitive as you were, he just showed it differently. In fact, he tried not to show it at all most of the time, for fear of making himself vulnerable. It was only around you he could be fully himself, and that was brought out in how he cared for you, doted on you. 

Whatever side he’d displayed to these people in the last week must’ve been starkly different, and indeed it was.

“This is fascinating,” said Dale to Glenn, sitting atop the trailer and sneaking glances at the couple’s embrace beside the fire. 

“It’s super weird,” agreed Glenn. “Wish I had a girlfriend.”

Shane and T-Dog made their rounds, stopping in brief disbelief at the display before them. “What the hell is a woman like that doin’ with a dumb redneck like Daryl Dixon?” asked Shane.

“She doesn’t seem to think he’s a dumb redneck,” replied T-Dog. “Maybe he’s not such a dumb redneck after all… Dumb redneck couldn’t get himself a lady like that.”

Carol and Lori ushered the children into their respective tents, and both women stared in wonderment at first, and then in a strange kind of envy. Not of you being with Daryl, but of the way he held you, the way he whispered in your ear and brushed through your hair, the way he held your hand and kissed your palm before nuzzling his nose against yours… Yeah, they wanted love like that.

All in all, the camp was in a state of confusion as conceptions about the younger Dixon brother seemed to be changing, all because one woman had come back into his life. Though for him, you’d never left. 

“Why’s everyone staring at me?” you asked, absentmindedly trailing your fingers along the collar of his shirt, dipping down every once in a while to feel his sparse chest hairs. “Ever since I came out here they look like they’ve never seen another human being before.”

He looked around, immediately catching the eye of Dale and Glenn, who quickly averted their gaze, terrified of the abrasive man. He narrowed his eyes at them and protectively pulled you closer before kissing your forehead, almost in a subconscious display of marking his territory. 

“Probably ‘cause you’re so beautiful,” he said, causing you to roll your eyes. “Guess I gotta watch my back… Make sure no one tries to steal ya from me.”

“I highly doubt anyone wants to steal me from you, Daryl,” you said. “Even if they did, there’s no way I’d ever leave you.”

“Mm,” he hummed, rubbing your back in appreciation for your words. “Good.”

Silence settled in comfortably before you spoke again, not convinced the camp was simply taken by your beauty. 

“I think they can’t believe I’m your girlfriend,” you said. “They’re surprised… You didn’t tell them about me?”

He swallowed hard, afraid you would be upset with him for failing to mention you. “Guess it just never came up,” he said. “‘Sides… Didn’t need them knowin’ I got a soft spot for ya.”

You raised an eyebrow as you giggled at his words. “Oh, well, I think they know now, pumpkin.”

Whatever effect you had on Daryl, it changed him for the better. At least, he thought so, and as soon as your leg healed, the others thought so, too. Maybe Merle was right—maybe you made him soft, but he didn’t care. In a world where softness was hard to come by, where the only beautiful thing left was you, he didn’t mind if he was just a little soft.

Well, just in one little spot.

~

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are always appreciated!

Masterlist Part 2

[tennessoui]

1 - Soulmate AU - Soulamtes share dreams to learn more about each other and to teach each other their local traditions if necessary. Obi-Wan learns the hardship his mate faces in slavery, their secret language, and how to help free slaves. Anakin gets taught about the Jedi, reading, writing, and how amazing his mate is.

ahhhh ok i really don't want to share this under this prompt because i wrote the ask down wrong in my notes so the prompt i wrote follows my poor notes that just say - 'soulmate sharing/learn about them before they meet' but this is amazing prompt wise and it would clear up a ton of misconceptions in the prequels obviously if they both got dreams of the other's early lives but this is.... not that but i hope you enjoy anyway <3 <3

1. Soulmates (and daemons) (2.0 k)

Obi-Wan doesn’t have a soulmate for sixteen years.

It’s just him and the animal representation of his own soul that had traveled to the Temple with him as a babe, a Vulptex kit. She’s named herself now and grown larger and stronger through the years, her coat growing out to perfect crystalline ends. From a distance, they look like razor-sharp spikes of ice. Or so other people have said.

Obi-Wan knows that’s not true. He knows that his soul isn’t cold or untouchable or unreachable. But he’s had no luck telling anyone else that, not when Avarie snaps at everyone who tries to touch her in a manner that’s quite un-Jedi like. She’s prickly and quick to bristle. He’s emotional and angry, even before he’s ten years old.

Look, it’s not easy living around people who all know they have soulmates, either because they’ve met them or because they’ve woken up to find that their own animal has disappeared only to be replaced with their mate’s soul representation.

Most of the time, that sort of switch happens when a person’s still a youngling. A very young youngling. Sometimes babies are taken to the Temple with their soulmate’s animal tucked between tiny arms. Those, in Obi-Wan’s opinion, are the luckiest ones. They never have to wonder if they even have a soulmate at all.

They just grow up knowing that they’ll be loved one day.

Obi-Wan grows up thinking maybe it’s just going to be him and his vulptex until the day he dies. It makes him angry at the injustice of it all.

He knows his own emotions probably keep him from a Padawanship, but he can’t help but think that Avarie’s own appearance and attitude certainly don’t help. They’re at odds with one another for two years, bound together but each ignoring the other. Obi-Wan’s never heard of this before, of fighting with your own soul’s animal.

But, he thinks, most people don’t spend as long with theirs as he has with Avarie.

Perhaps she is everything unlikable about himself, made apparent to everyone else. No one, master or soulmate, would ever want him. Not when everything about his soul screams keep your distance.

Master Jinn taking him as his Padawan is a surprise then, one that soothes over some of Obi-Wan’s soul-deep aches. The night he gets his padawan braid is the first night in years that Avarie curls up against him to sleep.

When he is sixteen and a few standard months old, he wakes up alone in his bed, Avarie nowhere in sight.

Well. Not alone, actually.

A ball of fur that he had originally thought to be a wrinkle in his bedspread whines pitifully and moves to follow him when he sits up.

He stares dumbly down at the strange little muzzle and unopen eyes. Half of its face is a pure white, and the other half a solid black, as if someone has taken it and held it against a fire until its fur was stained with smoke.

“Uh,” he says to his soulmate’s animal. The creature, some sort of canid, perks up at his voice and snuffles closer to him eagerly. “Yes, hello,” Obi-Wan grins, petting its tiny head with the tip of his thumb. It tries to prolong the touch by lifting its muzzle up and whining.

It’s so small.

His soulmate must be...must be just as young.

Obi-Wan is sixteen and a few months and his soulmate has just been born, most likely. But.

But he has a soulmate.

-----

Odyna grows fast, much faster than Obi-Wan had thought possible. It feels like he blinks once on the morning he wakes to see her, and then suddenly she’s at his knees. Her paws and ears are huge still, and Obi-Wan knows she’ll grow much, much bigger.

His master in particular is very interested in trying to figure out what species his soulmate’s animal is.

“She feels incredibly strong in the Force,” Qui-Gon says on more than one occasion. “And her markings--”

Odyna growls from where she’s laying splayed out in Obi-Wan’s lap as he brushes over her furry back. She instantly preens when he taps her gently on the nose.

Some days he thinks she’s the exact opposite of Avarie in every way possible, and has to wonder how his soulmate--who would be six now--is faring with Avarie. He hopes she’s at least letting them pet her.

Odyna relishes Obi-Wan’s attention always, though she scorns anyone else’s hands or affections in a way that reminds him of his own Vulptex.

The Jedi Council was unimpressed with Avarie’s aversion to touch and seems even more skeptical at Odyna’s. “A dangerous, possessive attachment, it will be,” Yoda has told Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan more than once.

Soulmate relationships in the Order are common and practically encouraged, seen as the will of the Force. But even then, possessive attachment is heavily forbidden. The Force animals of the Jedi will often allow other Jedi to touch them and greet them. It’s unbecoming of a Jedi’s soul, to close itself off from the touch of others.

And yet a part of Obi-Wan can’t stop himself from feeling smug about how overt Odyna’s claim over him is. She’s clingy, incredibly needy, and overprotective at turns.

A Jedi’s mission to Lothal brings back a trade deal and a name for Obi-Wan’s soulmate’s Force animal. “It looks just like a Loth-wolf,” she tells him. “But the ones on Lothal I saw were huge. Taller than a Wookie.”

Obi-Wan groans at this. His master is already so much taller than him. Now Odyna too? If his soulmate grows to tower over him as well, he’s going to have some choice words for the Force upon his death.

“You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?” He asks Odyna that night as she flops down onto his bed in her customary position of splayed everywhere. “My room is only so big.”

She grins at him and licks his face.

“Force, that’s so uncivilized,” Obi-Wan grouses, getting up out of bed again to go wash his face.

----

Surprisingly, Tatooine’s heat is not the first thing Obi-Wan notices about the planet. No, what he notices first and foremost is the way that Odyna, until this point relatively satisfied to lay curled around his chair (at nine, she’s big enough to come up to his shoulders when standing), seems to lose her damned mind as soon as the door is open and the hot air permeates the ship.

He was just going to look at the damage, but his soulmate’s Force animal seems to have other plans. Odyna bounds out onto the sand and nudges Obi-Wan forward, hard enough that he loses his balance.

She nudges him again, even as he tries to bat her away. “Odyna, stop it,” he demands, scrambling to his feet.

“Are they...alright?” One of Queen Amidala’s handmaidens asks.

Qui-Gon at least tries to hide his amusement, but Obi-Wan shoots him a dirty look anyway because he can hear the smile in his master’s voice when he says, “Oh yes. This is quite normal.”

It is not normal, thanks.

Odyna howls in agreement.

When Qui-Gon tells them that they’ll have to go into the nearest town to barter or buy the parts needed to fix the ship, Obi-Wan volunteers first. Maybe if he can let Odyna stretch her legs, she’ll calm down.

Instead, the closer they get to Mos Espa proper, the more antsy she becomes until, quite suddenly, she bolts through the streets. Obi-Wan has little choice but to take off after her. It’s almost impossible, of course, to lose a Loth-wolf when they’re that huge, but there’s a sort of strange tight pressure in his chest at having her out of his sight.

He leaves his master and the handmaiden behind without a second thought, but at least he doesn’t have to run far.

Outside a shop that looks as rundown as the other ones, Odyna has stopped and sat down, her tail wagging furiously behind her.

Obi-Wan has a fair few things in mind to yell at her, but all of that gets knocked out of his head when he sees the crystalline figure of a very familiar vulptex standing in the shadow of the loth-wolf.

His breath catches in his throat and he almost loses his balance again when Avarie turns to look at him with those intelligent black eyes, head cocked.

If she’s--if she’s here, then that means--that means--

He stumbles forward until he can kneel in front of his Force animal, hand outstretched.

Suddenly there’s commotion inside the shop and a little boy tears outside holding some sort of rusted pipe over his shoulder threateningly. “Don’t touch her!” the boy yells, brandishing the pipe. “She doesn’t like it, get gone or I’ll make you get gone!”

Obi-Wan blinks. His very first interaction with his soulmate after waiting twenty-five years, and the boy is threatening him.

“You’re mine,” he says dumbly, brain trying to process these impossible events.

It is, of course, the wrong thing to say. If anything, the boy puffs himself up even more. “I’m no one’s!” He yells indignantly. “I’m a person. My name is Anakin Skywalker!”

Obi-Wan holds up his hands in apology. “Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean--I meant that she’s mine. Avarie. She’s my soul.”

Anakin lowers his pipe with narrowed eyes. “How’d you know her name?” he asks suspiciously.

Obi-Wan fights the urge to roll his eyes. He’d never considered that he’d have to win over the trust of his soulmate. “She’s my soul,” he says again slowly, before gesturing to the black and white loth-wolf behind them, who has laid down in the dust, tongue hanging out in response to the heat. “As she is yours.”

“You’re my...soulmate?” Anakin drops the pipe as he looks over Obi-Wan in frank disbelief. “But you’re so….”

Obi-Wan raises a wry eyebrow and grins. He braces himself to hear old, or maybe even male.

But instead his soulmate shocks him again by saying, “....pretty! Are you sure you’re not an angel instead?”

Which, of course, corresponds to his master’s arrival. The maiden with him at least has the decency to cover her smile with her hand. Meanwhile, his master’s smirk is probably going to be burned into his memory forever.

“Yes, Anakin,” Obi-Wan responds. “I promise, I’m your soulmate.”

“Mine,” Anakin says in a wondrous tone. And then, a grin steals across his face and he grabs Obi-Wan's hand. “My soulmate.”

Obi-Wan hopes this isn’t the beginning of that dangerous possessiveness Yoda has spent years lecturing him about.

-----

“I’m going with him,” Anakin argues, stomping his foot in the Council chambers. Obi-Wan hides his face in his hand. “He’s my master.”

“Anakin, we’ve been over this. You’re much too young for this mission,” Obi-Wan explains gently, as if they don’t have a dozen interested eyes on them.

“I’m twelve!” Anakin will not be deterred. “That’s plenty old!”

“It’s too dangerous,” he tries instead.

“Then you shouldn’t go!”

Obi-Wan wonders if he should try arguing that he’s a twenty-eight year old Jedi Knight, who may go where he pleases. He doesn’t think that’ll go over well with his padawan.

Anakin, he says through their training bond. Do not do this in front of the Council.

Anakin turns to stare mulishly up at him. I want you to be safe.

I will have Odyna with me, Obi-Wan points out, tilting his head in reference to the loth-wolf spread out on the Council Chamber’s floor. And you will have Avarie with you. You will know I am safe. And I will know she is making you sleep and eat and bathe.

Anakin seems to consider this and then crosses his arms, but eventually nods. I don’t like it when she bites me until I go to bed, he grumbles, kicking his feet and glaring over at Avarie, who is dozing between Odyna’s paws.

Obi-Wan fights the urge to chuckle out loud. In truth, he’s a bit jealous that Avarie has figured out a way to get obedience from their soulmate. Half the time, Obi-Wan is still floundering to get simple acknowledgement of a command.

-----

Many years later, of course, when Anakin is a knight and Obi-Wan a master, he figures out the thing that never fails to get Anakin soft and pliant and relaxed.

It’s kisses.

More specifically, kisses from his soulmate while they’re lying in bed together, sheets tangled around their feet and both of their Force animals in the other room, keeping watch at the door.

[belphies-cuhm-sluht]

Love your dad! Series! Can I please have some good dad Satan? Angst is okay as long as Satan is ultimately good.

Engulfed (Dad!Satan x F!Reader)

A/N : Another Brothertiger song as the title... Whoo! yes it's kind of like a plug because his songs are really good Word Count : 2.2K TW: pregnancy ; maternity ; children ; babies ; child birth;

Children were never a topic of interest for him. They were loud, dirty, and obnoxious. They would ruin his books and he would never have time to read them, he would never have time for you. Why anyone would ever want a child was beyond him, but it was never a topic that he felt he had to bring up. What were the chances that a child would actually be created between the two of you? It was biologically impossible, you weren’t even the same species, it shouldn’t have even been a concern, and it wasn’t, it truly wasn’t… until now.

Things seemed the same… but they weren’t. There were slight differences that an average human wouldn’t have picked up on, but he could see it, he could sense it, he could feel it. “When was the last time you got your… period?” He asked, peaking over the top of his book to look at you, curled up on his bed as you scrolled through your phone. You probably didn’t even notice anything yet, maybe he was just reading into things, but there was nothing wrong with being certain. You groaned, rolling over to turn away from him. “I don’t know, Satan… I don’t want to talk… I’m bloated and I don’t feel good. I’ll probably get it soon… so leave me alone.” You grumbled, pulling the blanket up around yourself before continuing to scroll through your phone, leaving Satan confused and kind of irritated that you snapped at him like that for a simple question, but he was accrediting it to premenstrual symptoms, he was hoping that’s all it was. Days continued to pass and you had yet to get your period, and the differences that he saw in you were only growing more prominent. You were sleeping more, and you’d wake up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and he was starting to get worried. He wasn’t even sure how long it’s been since the two of you did anything, you’ve been so moody and tired lately that he’s been mainly avoiding you so you wouldn’t snap at him, but now he needed to know. “Satan…” You said his name quietly, peaking your head out of the bedroom door as he was on his way up. Maybe you had just gotten your period and he had nothing to worry about, but he could see the wetness around your eyes, the light from inside the room glinting off the streaks that ran down your cheeks. “Something’s wrong…” You mumbled once he got close enough, grabbing his hand and pulling him into the room. “My… My boobs hurt…” He eye’d you curiously, slowly moving his gaze down to your chest before looking back at your face. “Did you… sleep on them?” Surely that would explain it, right? Or maybe you were just having chest pains and saying it was your boobs. There were a lot of reasons for you to think they hurt. You shook your head no and he sighed, walking over to you and gently cupping your cheek, hoping that you wouldn’t bite his head off when he asks this time. “When was the last time you got your period?” Your eyes dropped to look down at your feet, slightly moving away from him as you pursed your lips. “Ten…” He didn’t understand. Days? Weeks? Ten what? He kept staring at you as he waited for you to give him a timeframe that he’d actually be able to understand. “Weeks… Nine weeks… I was counting… And I… I thought I was just a little late… I didn’t realize…” You fell back on the bed, hiding your face in your hands. “Dammit…” He mumbled, running his fingers through his hair as he tried to think of what to do. It wasn’t your fault, he knew that. He couldn’t get mad at you for it, he’d have to be mad at himself too. There was still the possibility though that you were just… off. He was holding onto that, it was like the last single strand of thread that he had to cling onto. “It’s alright… We’re not sure. We’ve got to be sure… And then we can think of something, alright?” He was trying to stay hopeful, not just for you, but for himself too. It was all he could do.

Going up to the human world was last on his list of things he wanted to do, but they’d know more about the human body than any demon would, and they’d have the tools necessary to figure it out faster. He was trying to stay calm, giving you soft smiles and temple kisses as you sat in the waiting room of the OBGYN, his hand held tightly in his own as you rested your head on his shoulder, waiting for your name to be called. “You’ll come back with me… right?” You asked nervously, swallowing thickly as your eyes flickered across the other woman in the room. He nodded slowly, patting your thigh to try to calm you down. “Of course… You’ll be fine. Everything’s gonna be okay…” At least he hoped it would be. He wasn’t really sure what he would do if you were… pregnant. All he knew was that he didn’t want to be a dad, he didn’t even know how to be a dad. Your name was called and he followed you back into the room, shoving his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the wall, listening to you answer all the questions that the doctor asked you. He already knew something was off though, not by the way you looked though, it was the way he felt. As he watched the doctor poke at your stomach, he had to fight the urge to growl, the strong need to throw the doctor across the room and keep them as far away from you as possible. “So is she pregnant or not?” He asked through gritted teeth, his fists clenched tightly in his pockets, his nails digging into his palms. “Well… By what she’s told me, she could be… But she could also just be very late, which can be caused by emotional changes or environmental changes. I’d like to do a sonogram, is that alright?” The doctor looked to you, and you nodded quickly. It would be the quickest way to find out, and you’d be able to see it yourself, and so would Satan.

You sat on the bed in his room back in the Devildom, the pictures still folded in your hands as you watched him. He was leaning against the wall, deep in thought as he chewed at his thumbnail. “Please say something…” You whispered. The nervousness you felt in the waiting room was nothing compared to how you felt right now. He hadn’t spoken at all since it had been confirmed and you didn’t know what he was feeling. “I’m… I’m sorry?” You weren’t sure what for, but hearing you say it had him dropping his hand from his mouth and walking over to you. “You don’t have to… It’s not… Don’t get worked up about it, okay? I’m gonna… I’ll be right back.” He swallowed thickly, leaning down to kiss the top of your head before leaving the room. You weren’t sure where he was going or what he was doing, but you sat there and you waited. You waited for him to come back, you waited for what felt like forever. There was never a call or a text, there was nothing, and the hours passed on and on until you finally got up from the bed and went to find him. There was no sign of him around though, and it even seemed like the brothers were trying to avoid you, their eyes averting whenever you entered the room, but you weren’t looking for any of them. You were looking for Satan who was nowhere to be found. “Do you know where he is? Did he go out?” The door to Lucifer’s office was half open, his fingers drumming across his desk as he stared at nothing in particular. It was clear that he knew something, and he knew something that he didn’t want you to know, or maybe you weren’t supposed to know. “Lucifer…? Where is he?” He sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing his hands over his face as he shook his head, pushing himself away from his desk to get up, walking over to you quickly. “He said he needed to go. I sent him up, he said he’d be back soon, but I know him. He told me what’s going on…” His eyes glanced down to your stomach and then back up to your face. “He told me to look after you, which was strange. He never asks me to do anything, so he must be pretty conflicted.” You were dumbfounded, to say the least… He had left. He had just up and left. Was it too much for him to handle? Did he not take into consideration how you might feel right now? How selfish could he possibly be? He needed to go? He had left you alone when you were the most vulnerable, when you needed him the most… he had left. You didn’t even know how to react, you didn’t know what to do. You surely couldn’t do this on your own. How long was he planning on even being gone? He said he’d be right back… How soon would that be? Days passed and they soon turned to weeks, then they turned to months. Lucifer had kept his promise of looking after you even though you knew he didn’t really want to. It wasn’t exactly for Satan, it was more so for you. He thought that what Satan did was immature, childish, and irresponsible. He never said it around you, but you could hear him complaining about it to his other brothers and it only made you feel worse. You tried to find any reason, any excuse for him, to explain away what he did and why he did it because you didn’t want to be upset with him, you didn’t want to doubt him.

You sat in your room, looking down at your daughter who was swaddled snugly in her blankets. You hadn’t been alone when you had her, but no matter who was in the room, it still felt empty. He wasn’t there, he still hadn’t returned. You had given up hope that he ever would, and you had shifted your focus onto the baby girl that depended on you, that needed you. The door to your bedroom creaked quietly, and you didn’t bother to look up. “Did I leave the sink running again? I’m sorry, Lucifer… I’m…” You were tired, running until the early hours of the morning with your daughter. You had no help, and you didn’t ask for the others to help, and even when they offered you’d decline. It wasn’t their job to fill in the blanks that Satan left, and you knew that you’d shortly adjust to doing things on your own. “I don’t think you did. Do you do it often?” Your head whipped up at the sound of his voice, his smile was sheepish and his eyes were soft as he looked at you. One of his hands was filled with pink, gold, and green gift bags, and the other hand had shiny pink balloons that bounced against the ceiling as he walked closer. He saw the way you eyed him, surely confused about how he even knew that you had given birth to a girl and he shook his head, sighing softly. “I kept in touch with Lucifer the whole time… I needed to know you were okay… He told me.” You let out an incredulous laugh, blinking a few times to really be sure that he was there. “You were gone…” You bit your lip, not wanting to lose your temper on him, not wanting to chase him away, but it wasn’t fair that he just got to show up at the end of everything. It wasn’t fair to you, not at all. “You were gone the whole time. You missed everything…” You whispered, taking a deep breath as you picked your daughter up and held her close to your chest. He took it as an opportunity to sit down, taking the spot where she once was, his eyes lighting up slightly when he saw her in your arms. “I’m sorry. I needed time to think and… I didn’t know what to do…” He reached his hand out to brush his thumb over her head, smiling softly when he felt the little bit of peach fuzz that was growing. “It was selfish… And it wasn’t okay for me to leave you.” He took a deep breath, moving his hand from her head to cup your cheek. “I’m here now… and I want to be here. I want to be here with you… and her…” He leaned in to kiss your forehead before resting his own against it, closing his eyes and seeming to finally relax. “I’ll never leave again… I love you... Will you forgive me?”

[teshamerkel]

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

Chapter 16 (18 Pages)

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Nia spends time with Xander’s team, learning more about aura in the process.

 -

Nia yawns, finally giving up on her book for today and slipping a furret bookmark that Maggie had given her between the pages. No matter how hard Nia tries to focus on the words about different types of Pokémon evolution, the sentences are starting to blur and jumble before her eyes, so she figures it’s time to give it a rest.

She looks up at the two Pokemon lying a few feet away on a mossy rug, comfortably sprawled out in Xander’s team quarters. The luxio and his wartortle partner are playing some sort of game with dice-like stones. Felix is clearly losing, his fluffy ears twitching as he grumbles under his breath. Xander’s cat-like face is smug with victory, his tail flicking side to side with lazy patience.

Avery is sitting at Nia’s side, the two of them relaxing back against the wooden wall on a bed of straw and moss. Nia doesn’t want to disrupt the kirlia’s concentration as they focus on their own book, but the atmosphere is so peaceful and relaxed, bathed in the warm evening sunlight coming through the lattice window, and she can’t help but feel comfortable enough to speak up.

“Can I ask you guys something?”

All three Pokemon look up, faces open and curious.

“‘Course,” Felix says.

Nia smiles, a little embarrassed. “I know your team is just as busy as ours, if not more so. How are you not, like...exhausted? Literally all the time?”

Xander looks back to the game, laughter in his voice as he responds, “Oh trust me, we are. It used to be worse, before we got used to the job and the demanding work hours.”

“Naps help a lot, when you can manage ‘em,” Felix adds, frowning as he rolls the dice. He’s had horrible luck this whole game. At least, that’s what he’s been saying. Nia still hasn’t quite picked up the rules from watching. “You feeling worn down?”

Nia leans back against the wood of the tree. The bark making up the architecture of the tree is smooth, and thanks to her fur it isn’t even uncomfortable to lean against. She closes her eyes and hums.

“Yeah, I guess.  I know I’ve been here a few weeks, but I think I’m just not used to everything yet.”

“I’ll never get used to waking up so early,” Felix grumbles. “Mornings are suffering.”

Nia laughs. “Actually, that part’s not too bad. It’s more the battling, I think. And just...I dunno, emotional stuff.”

“Mental exhaustion can take a big toll,” Avery says at her side, voice soft. They close their own book to turn their full attention to the conversation.

“I’d be exhausted too if I had Tobias for a partner,” Felix says. He’s clearly teasing, but Nia knows that on some level the wartortle actually means it. “I don’t know how you put up with him every day, Nia.”

Nia’s torn between a laugh and the urge to roll her eyes. She settles on a light tone to match the wartortle’s. “Come on, I told you we worked everything out the other day. He’s trying harder to be nice.”

Felix and Xander both make a doubtful noise.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Xander says.

“Well, I think it’s great that Tobias is trying to grow,” Avery says, giving Nia a soft smile.

Nia smiles back and leans forward to watch the boys’ game again, cupping her chin in her hands.

“He’s been really patient with all of my questions since we talked,” Nia says, feeling like she should defend her partner somehow. It’s clear that he’s been trying hard to reign in his temper and be more considerate the last few days, even if he still struggles with it. “When we cleaned out the guild’s food storage this morning, he didn’t even snap at me when I bumped into some shelves and buried us in rice.”

Xander snorts. “That’s called being a decent Pokémon, Nia. Don’t give him too much credit.”

“I’m not! I’m just saying he’s doing better, y’know?”

Felix gives Nia a grin, tilting his head in consideration. “You’re too sweet, ya know that?”

Nia doesn’t know what to say to that, so she blushes under her fur and makes a show of moving her book to her side with a quiet word of thanks.

“Yo! I’m back. Did Felix get whooped yet?”

Nia jumps and looks up to see that Kry has returned from her trip to the cafeteria to find a snack. The dinosaur-like pokemon is munching on an apple as she plops down next to Felix and Xander.

“Hey, I could still win,” Felix protests.

“Ha! Yeah, and bagon can fly.”

“You do know they can fly when they evolve, right?”

“Not anymore, genius! No evolution, no wings!”

Felix deflates and grumbles to himself as he goes back to the game. Nia tilts her head and leans closer to Avery.

“S-Sorry. Uh, what kind of Pokémon is Kry again?”

“A fraxure. Dragon type, middle evolution like the rest of us.”

Nia nods. Right. Fraxure. It certainly looks like the aggressive Pokémon could live up to her name and fracture some bones, from the brief interactions Nia’s seen. Kry’s a bit...rough around the edges. But it’s clear she fits right in with the rest of Xander’s team. Somehow.

“What have you been reading, if you don’t mind me asking?” Avery asks, polite as ever.

Nia shakes herself out of her thoughts. “No, of course I don’t mind!” She holds up the book. “It’s about different kinds of evolution? I still don’t exactly, uh. Get it. As a process. But it’s fascinating to learn about all the different ways it’s triggered.”

Avery tilts their head, looking at Nia with thoughtful consideration. “You don’t understand evolution?”

Nia’s ears flatten. “W-Well, uh, no, but—“

“Does evolution not happen to humans?”

It’s clear that Avery isn’t judging Nia’s confusion, just curious in return. Still, Nia is thankful that they keep their voice hushed.

“N-No, definitely not,” Nia says. “At least, not in the same way? I think? When Pokémon evolve, they change...suddenly, right? Like, Xander used to look like Luca and then he suddenly turned into a luxio?”

Avery hums. “More or less, yes.”

“Is...Is that...how Pokémon grow up, uh...physically? By evolving?”

The kirlia shakes their head, eyes softening into something almost sad. “No. If that were the case we’d all be in danger of dying out, with how Pokemon can no longer evolve. Don’t worry, you’re an adult by Pokémon standards, even as a riolu.”

Nia relaxes at the confirmation. With the way everyone has been treating her, she was pretty sure they’d been seeing her as the adult she felt she was in the human world, but it’s still nice to know for sure.

“Pokemon can stay unevolved forever,” Avery goes on. “They’ll grow larger than a child Pokémon of the same species, though, and physically mature. Their...statures would simply be smaller than if they evolved. Weaker.”

Nia nods. That...makes some sense, in a way. Even with humans, there were grown women who ended up much shorter than some teenage boys. Different statures among the same species.

“Humans don’t ever...change so radically. So suddenly. At least not naturally.”

Avery turns curious eyes onto Nia, so the riolu continues.

“We start out tiny, and then just grow gradually until we reach adulthood. We can change parts of ourselves, of course—darken our skin, cut our hair, change our clothes or our entire style. But...that’s not what evolution is for, right? Aesthetics, individuality? Comfort?”

The kirlia hums. “No. Evolution is typically for...strength, I suppose. Increased speed, strength, defense, sheer size.”

“So for battling?” Nia asks, confusion edging into her voice. She knew that Pokémon were more biologically geared towards fighting, with their toughened defense and incredible healing capabilities, but she also knows that most Pokémon don’t seem to prefer fighting aside from playful battles. At least, not anymore. Now they’re bakers, florists, carvers and artisans. A society.

Maybe Avery understands what Nia’s getting at, because the kirlia looks thoughtful. “There’s a reason so many Pokémon evolve through battling experience and so few from exposure to stones, or travel. Most Pokémon evolve by training themselves and growing stronger. Legends say that Pokémon used to be more...primitive. Less civilized. I believe it used to be less about strength and more about survival.”

Nia watches as Felix tries to creep his hand over the dice to cheat a turn of the stones. Xander, discussing strategies in-depth with Kry, doesn’t even look before batting the turtle’s hand away with a paw. Felix yelps, and Nia giggles.

“Maybe that’s why evolution stopped working?” Nia suggests. “Maybe Pokémon have just...evolved to the point that strength evolution isn’t necessary anymore. You’re a society now, after all. You didn’t need to be physically strong to have a lot of power or be successful in the human world. We have systems, laws, protectors. Technology and weapons. Maybe you’ve just reached a point in society where that changed enough for you guys, too.”

Avery suddenly laughs, tinkling and light. Nia isn’t sure whether to feel happy at the sound or embarrassed that she’d apparently said something stupid. She settles for staring at the kirlia with wide eyes and heated fur.

“Apologies,” Avery says, meeting Nia’s eyes, ruby to ruby. “It wasn’t a stupid thought at all. Fascinating, actually. I was just...struck. By finding such a kindred spirit in you. Xander’s the only one who even tries to humor my philosophical ramblings.”

Nia feels herself relax, and laughs as well. “Two curious souls, huh?”

Avery just smiles, warm and soft.

“What’re you two nerds laughing about?” Kry asks.

Nia looks up to see the other three Pokémon staring at them.

Avery waves their hand in a dismissive motion. “My usual ramblings, Kry. Don’t mind us.”

“Talking about evolution!” Nia adds.

At that, Xander and Felix go back to their game with amused smirks. Kry, however, rolls her eyes. “Why? We can’t evolve anyways.”

“But maybe it could be fixed?” Nia suggests. When Kry turns a doubtful look on her, the riolu shrinks back. “I-I mean, maybe not, but...”

“No harm in discussing it, right?” Avery says.

Kry snorts and goes back to the game. “Guess not.”

Nia relaxes. She knows there’s no reason for Kry to put her on edge, but she just has such a...strong personality. Nia’s become more used to Tobias’ sharp attitude, but Kry? Not so much.

“Would you evolve? If you could?”

Nia blinks and turns to Avery at the unexpected question. “W-What?”

"Would you like to evolve if it were possible?” Avery repeats. Maybe this is a normal question for most Pokémon. Or for their teammates and friends, at least.

“U-Um. I don’t know? Maybe?” Nia flicks her tail into her lap, trying to sound confident. “I mean, it doesn’t really matter much to me, since I’m going back to the human world as soon as I can find a way to return, s-so...”

Avery doesn’t respond aside from a soft sound that Nia can’t quite decipher. She’s too afraid to look at the kirlia’s expression, too scared of seeing the pity or doubt she might find there, so she deflects. “Besides, to evolve I’d have to form an affection, um...”

“Bond?”

“Yeah! An affection bond with someone. And from what I’ve read, that doesn’t seem to mean just a casual friendship.”

Avery nods, eyeing their teammates. “Correct. An affection bond that can lead to evolution only occurs between Pokemon who trust each other with anything. Who see each other as they truly are and would likely die for each other.”

Nia flicks her ear, nervously. “Th-That’s a bit, uh. Extreme.”

Avery laughs lightly under their breath. “Indeed. It’s simply how we tend to describe it. It’s...the deepest form of love, whether platonic or romantic.”

Nia nods, shifting uncomfortably. “Yeah, so...I mean, don’t get me wrong! I’m really glad I met you guys and Andyn’s group and Maggie and, uh, even Tobias, in a weird way. But...”

“You don’t think you’ll ever have that sort of bond with us,” Avery guesses.

Nia flinches. The psychic type’s words aren’t cold or insulted, but it still sounds...harsh.

“Yeah, I guess,” Nia rasps, pulling her knees up to her chest. “It’s just...I’m planning on leaving, you know? I don’t wanna get too close to anyone just to leave us both heartbroken when I go.”

Avery doesn’t answer, but the silence doesn’t feel heavy. Still, Nia rests her chin on her hands, sighing. She wants to go home, nice as it is here, but she still feels bad just leaving these people behind after their kindness.

She’ll miss them.

Maybe Avery picks up on Nia’s mood change, because they turn to the riolu with an encouraging smile. “Xander mentioned that you can read the aura of other Pokemon now. Would you like to try it on me, if it’s not too much strain?”

Nia recognizes the distraction technique, but can’t help feeling grateful for it. She lifts her head, blinking. “R-Really?”

“I’m a psychic type. I know how exciting it is to try out a new mental technique with someone willing.”

Nia straightens up and turns to the kirlia, feeling a smile edge at her lips. It’s not every day she gets to test her aura abilities on someone new! So far she’s only felt Val and Maggie’s auras, and Amani’s blossoming pink during a different training session. “O-Okay. You know it’s pretty, uh…personal, though, right? Like, I’m kind looking at your soul, I think?”

Avery nods with a smile. “I’m aware.”

“J-Just let me know if you want me to stop, okay? I’ll need your hand, though.”

Avery offers a delicate hand.

Nia takes it and closes her eyes, summoning her aura (it gets easier every time she does it!), pouring it down her arm and into her hand, brushing it against the kirlia’s skin to find their aura. When Avery’s silhouette sparks to life behind Nia’s eyes, she laughs. Even without looking deeper towards the core of Avery’s aura, Nia can feel the prickle of their curiosity.

“Your aura’s blue like mine!” Nia explains.

The kirlia laughs too, quietly. “Kindred spirits indeed.”

Nia nods. “Your aura is more of a...purpley-blue, though. Deeper. Kind of indigo.” It feels...serene. Filled with a boundless curiosity and something deeply wise. It’s a dusk sky just as stars begin to shine, a calm evening full of possibilities. It’s actually a little difficult to put her finger on, to interpret the color into a personality, more difficult than it has been so far. Before Nia can go on, Felix’s hushed voice breaks through her concentration.

“That’s so cool!”

Nia jumps, yanking her hand back as the tear drops at her head drop lightly to the collar of fur around her neck. Nia turns to find Xander, Felix, and even Kry sitting close to her and Avery and watching the whole ordeal with fascination.

“Ooh! Can you do me next?” Felix asks excitedly, scooting closer as if she won’t see him there, practically bouncing in his seat.

Xander gives Felix a reprimanding look. “Dude, chill, she might need to rest or something. You know how Avery gets when they’re overworked.”

Before Felix can deflate under the scolding, Nia smiles. “N-No, I can do it, don’t worry. Just give me a second. I’m still learning so it kind of wipes me out, but that’s why I need to practice. You don’t mind me reading your aura? It’s kind of, um. Personal.”

Felix grins at her with shining eyes. “Nah, I don’t mind if it’s not too exhausting for you.”

Nia exchanges an amused look with Avery, then turns her body to Felix. She closes her eyes, holds out her hand for him to take, and then repeats the process of finding her aura, and sending it to where she’s touching the wartortle’s skin.

Felix’s aura flares to life behind Nia’s eyes, and she feels her face drop slack in surprise as the color registers. “Oh. Felix, you’re green.”

The turtle sounds as surprised as his aura feels, the green energy jumping in intensity. “Really?”

“Yeah. Like...a calm, leafy sort of green.” Not calm in the typical sense because the wartortle is certainly not that, but…flexible, she supposes. Purposefully not anxious. Like the changing seasons and the trees that follow them, very go-with-the-flow and easygoing. As unexpectedly sturdy as an oak tree, too. Comforting. It does make sense for the wartortle, in a way, but she has to admit she’s surprised by how deep into his very being his instincts to comfort amuse stabilize go. Oh, he is a very kind soul. A very open, alive soul.

Kry snorts. “Calm. Sure. Clearly you’ve never seen him after being rejected by someone.”

“Hey!” Felix says, indignant.

Nia’s concentration is broken again, and Felix’s hand is yanked away. She blinks back into reality only to sees Kry and Felix play wrestling. Xander rolls his eyes at them, but then looks back at Nia, ears swiveling forward and his brow furrowing with concern. “You okay?”

Oh, she’s breathing harder as her powers take a toll on her. But she doesn’t feel nauseous yet, which must mean she’s getting better! She gives Xander a smile. “I’m fine. This is already leagues better than I was a few days ago! Want me to check your aura, too?”

Xander blinks, exchanging a glance with Avery. Just as Nia’s about to reassure him he doesn’t have to agree, he nods. “You sure you’re okay? I don’t want you to push yourself too hard.”

For a moment, Nia’s thrown by the obvious concern in the luxio’s voice, and her heart squeezes with something fond—

(She said she wasn’t going to make strong friendships here, she can’t, she’s leaving, but—)

—but then she just laughs it off, shaking her head. “N-No, I’m fine. Really.”

Xander looks at her face a moment longer, as if he’s worried she’s lying to him and about to pass out. But then he nods and lifts a paw for her to take.

Nia smiles and closes her eyes, curious despite herself. She’s only known Xander for a couple of weeks, but the more auras that Nia reads the more interesting they become, the more exciting it is to reconcile them with a person’s outward personality. So she reaches out eagerly with her aura, ignoring the strain that she’d just reassured she wasn’t feeling, and nearly recoils in surprise when Xander’s silhouette lights up in a very distinct color. It’s not a deep, protective blue, as she would have guessed, or really any color that she would have predicted.

It’s bright red.

Red, like blood pulsing from a wound, but it doesn’t bring to mind pain or aggression. It’s the blood of a beating heart, it’s the red of passion and emotion, almost too bright in its intensity, almost volatile, and oh, she never would have guessed that this was such an integral part of cool and collected Xander, that he would feel emotions so strongly they hurt. His aura is the blood of a fierce battle, of a pulse pounding away to act, to protect. It’s the red of a heart willing to bleed out before losing those close to him.

A surge of what Nia now recognizes as concern flows through his aura and slams into her like a tidal wave. Nia feels herself physically knocked back from the strength of it, pulling her hands away to catch herself. She snaps back to reality, breathing hard and loud in the quiet of the room, her heart pounding.

Xander is watching her with wide eyes, one paw lifted as if he’d reached out to help but then feared making things worse. Avery is watching her too. The sounds of Kry and Felix’s tussling have stopped.

“Nia? Are you all right?” Avery finally asks, voice soft and level.

Nia swallows hard, her own heart just starting to slow from the overwhelming intensity of Xander’s aura. She looks at the luxio again, and that’s what finally prompts her to pant, “I-I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Xander asks. “I didn’t hurt you?”

“Y-Yeah, no, sorry, that was just, uh. Unexpected? You’re red, by the way.” Just saying Xander’s aura is red is the understatement of the century, but how is she supposed to explain what she just felt?

“Red?” Xander echoes, his stiff posture finally starting to relax again. Kry and Felix move closer to listen.

Avery hums. “Interesting. And that means?”

Nia fiddles with the collar of fur around her neck, gaze flicking up to the sun-washed ceiling as she thinks. “W-Well...I’m not sure how good I am at explaining it...”

“Wait, but you said green meant calm, right?” Felix asks. “Isn’t there like...a color cheat sheet or something? Like a list of what each color means?”

“Your green is calm,” Nia corrects. “The colors sort of tell me about someone’s personality and who they are, but I don’t think there’s like...a strict color-code?”

Nia looks to Avery for help, but the kirlia only offers a sympathetic shrug. Oh. Apparently their psychic powers don’t work the same way.

“U-Um. Okay. So for example, my aura is sort of a turquoise blue, but Avery’s is more purple, like a royal blue or indigo. Their aura feels...calmer than mine does, I guess? And Felix, yours is green because you’re so adaptable, like the trees. Very go-with-the-flow, but still sturdy and reliable. Someone else’s aura might be green too but feel super different to me.”

There’s a moment of quiet as they all digest that information, and Nia cringes. “...At least, I think that’s how it works.”

“So what did my aura feel like?” Xander finally asks. “Mine seemed to…affect you differently than the others’ did.”

Nia hesitates, still fiddling with her fur. How does she describe this? “Yours is red, but it’s red like…passion, I guess would be the word. It’s just really emotional? Kind of intense, actually. I’ve never felt someone’s emotions as strongly as I did yours. They kind of swept me away and knocked me right out of my aura state.”

When Nia looks away from the ceiling to gauge the others’ reaction to that, her stomach drops. Xander is staring at her in something close to horror, his fur lifting like a startled cat. She catches Felix shooting Xander a worried look. Wait, what…what happened? She just described his aura to him. Why does he look so upset?

Before the silence can grow too tense, Kry snorts and crosses her arms, apparently tone-deaf to the sudden shift of the room’s mood. “That’s a load of crap. Xander’s the most level-headed one here. Do mine next.”

Nia opens her mouth to say no, watching Xander back away with a gaze like he isn’t totally here. Avery and Felix exchange a concerned look before the kirlia moves to follow the luxio, approaching him with soft words and a hand soothing the spiked fur along his spine.

“Well?” Kry grunts, shifting to cut into Nia’s line of sight.

“W-Wait, Xander—”

“You admittin’ you were wrong?” Kry says, almost like a challenge. “Too afraid to read mine?”

Nia focuses on the fraxure, huffing in irritation. She just upset Xander—and something in her recoils at that thought, already flooded with guilt—and Kry hasn’t even noticed? Fine, if reading Kry’s aura will get her to shut up and move so Nia can check on Xander, she’ll do it. Nia closes her eyes and touches Kry’s open palm. She shoots her aura down her arm and into her paw almost angrily, and Kry’s energy flares to life. Once again, the color that she finds there isn’t quite what she’s expecting.

“You’re…gold,” Nia says. It’s the gold shine of priceless treasure, something proud and hard-fought. But it’s also the gold of armor, of a shield, determined and immovable. Protective. She feels the fraxure’s emotions shift too rapidly for her to catch, but she doesn’t really care too much anyways, with what’s happening to Xander three feet away. Nia pulls back and opens her eyes, meeting Kry’s hard stare with her own.

“So what’s gold mean?”

Nia frowns. “It feels...determined. Proud, I guess. I dunno, I’m not very good at this yet.” Nia’s attention is elsewhere, and she leans past the dinosaur to see Xander, only to find that Xander and Avery have disappeared from the room entirely. Felix meets her panicked gaze with a sad, soothing smile.

“Sorry, Nia, Xander just…had to get some air. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.”

“Wait, what…what happened?” Nia rasps. “Is Xander okay? He looked...”

Felix and Kry exchange a meaningful look. The wartortle nods, and Kry moves to start cleaning up the game abandoned on the rug a few feet away, completely silent. It’s such a shift from her aggressive prodding moments before that Nia wonders if the fraxure wasn’t as oblivious to Xander’s sudden emotional turn as she thought.

Was Kry distracting her?

“Nia,” Felix says, catching her attention again. He gives her a small smile. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Just…accidentally brought up some unhappy memories for Xander.”

Nia wilts, her heart sinking in her chest. She really likes Xander—she didn’t mean to upset him! Why would learning about his aura have upset him so much? Is this what Val was warning her about, about using her powers responsibly? But she didn’t do it without asking. He wanted to know! Should she have not told him what she saw? But then she would have had to lie to him!

“I didn’t mean to upset him,” Nia whimpers.

Felix’s expression softens. “I know you didn’t. And he does too, don’t worry. But maybe for tonight you should head back to Maggie’s. C’mon, I’ll walk with you.”

Nia opens her mouth to protest—she doesn’t want to just leave without talking to Xander or at least apologizing to him! But Felix is already at the doorway to the hall, beckoning her with a twitch of his fluffy tail. He doesn’t seem angry with her, but it’s clear that he’s nudging her to leave for today. Feeling upset and a lot less proud of her aura abilities, Nia grabs her book and follows him out the door, shuffling up the guild’s stairs and hoping Maggie doesn’t ask her what’s wrong.

[x-childish-x]

The Forgotten 

Pairing: Loki Odinson x fem!reader

Fandom: Marvel

Warnings: violence, fighting, mentions of blood, anger, !Reader is given a default name of Angel based on appearance/species!

Word Count: 1,366

A/N: Hello everyone! While this isn't a request I really hope you enjoy this story. I've been doing a lot of research lately and this story is the result of that. Currently it stands majorly as a one shot, possibly a part two. However, I would be more than willing to turn this into a multi-chapter fic if you'd like. I hope that you all enjoy and remember feedback is always welcome and encouraged. (I'm sorry I couldn't get Bound for Error out on time, take this as a peace offering?)

Summary: A certain mischievous God lands on Sakaar, and you're called upon to show him to his room.

(gif not mine!)

Being summoned by the Grandmaster wasn't ever a happy deal. Normally, it meant imminent execution, a fight for your life, or being forced into yet another orgy. It was seldom that you would be summoned often only a handful of times every year. You'd lost track of the thousands of years you'd been there since your banishment, everything mushing into one long life you'd lost hope for.

Walking into his main hall, you watched with a smug smirk as the guards separated for you, allowing you to enter. Your eyes fell on a head of raven curly hair as you walked towards the Grandmaster. He sat casually in a guest chair, one that you or Scraper 142 would sit in when visiting the Grandmaster. He wasn't restrained or bound in any way, and it made you wonder who had brought him in. The older man smiled widely at you, clapping his hands together and dipping his head as you mocked his actions.

"Ah!" He cheered, "My sweet Angel, there's someone I'd like you to meet! This is Loki, King of Asgard! He came here off the Bifrost. I thought you might like to meet him!"

"I see where the nickname originates," A smooth, velvety voice filled the air as you turned around. His eyes followed not your body but the large, simmering, white wings that came from your back, "Given your wings and all. Truly, I've never seen a being like you, Angel."

A glare settled on your face as you sized up the man relaxing in one of the Grandmaster's guest chairs. Looking him over, you vaguely recognized him. Black hair, green and black leather with gold accents, of course, this was Odin's younger son. You remembered him vaguely, though he'd matured much more since you'd last seen him.

Sighing deeply, you spun back around, turning your back to the King as you spoke dully, "Of course you haven't, not with your father and such. I presume if you're King now, Odin's dead."

Your words seemed to strike Loki viciously, his face scrunching in slight pain at your bitter words. The Grandmaster seemed to notice your tension and immediately sucked in a loud, audible breath, followed by a short chuckle, "Ooohh! Right, right! Forgive me, Angel! I forgot what the dear Asgardians did to you!"

Your wings flexed outwards just slightly, teasing Loki, who was curious to their full size, "It's alright, Grandmaster."

"Well! Awkward," The Grandmaster laughed loudly, "Anyways! I wanted you to take him to his room while he stays here. I'm sure this new King of Ass-gard will be ever more kind than the last!"

"Asgard," Loki quickly corrected.

Reluctantly, with a swift nod at the Grandmaster, you set off, not wasting any time or sparing a glance at the King of Asgard. You grasped the key from one of the Grandmaster's many guards and gave them a harsh glare as they attempted to step closer to you. You walked away quickly, hearing muffled words being exchanged, before a rush of feet following after you. You brought your wings in closer to your back, resisting the urge to draw your sword and slit Loki's throat right then and there.

"So," The King started, a smirk sliding onto his face, "How'd you know my father? He appears to have done something terrible for you to hate him so."

"You'd surely love to know, wouldn't you, Loki?" You smiled sweetly before glaring at the man walking alongside you. You quickly decided you had no intentions of falling for the God of Mischief's tricks, "You've grown quite a bit, though I'd say I imagined you ending up bulkier. Well, what happened to your brother? Go on. I imagine you're dying to tell the story of how you became King, over him."

Loki was beyond shocked at your words. You appeared to know much more about him and his family than he would've liked and... you imagined him bigger?

"How have you seen me before, witch!?"

A laugh left your lips at Loki's grip on your arm and his dagger at your throat. It appeared the rumors were true. Odin had erased the Asgardian's memories of the Angels. You moved quickly, all too quick for Loki as you twisted lowly, swiping his feet out from underneath him and flipping over his falling body. Your hand slipped to grab his dagger as your dominant hand unsheathed your sword, aiming it at Loki's throat as your foot rest on his chest now.

Loki's wide eyes met yours as he gasped for breath, "What would your mother say of your rude manners, Friggason?"

"She's dead," Tears filled Loki's eyes as he muttered those two words, watching you carefully.

Your wings ruffled as you stepped back, a look of pain flashing through your eyes before you slipped your sword into your thigh scabbard. You dropped Loki's dagger and quickly began walking towards his room once more. Frigga was dead? How? Your heart ached slightly at the pain of knowing that the only Asgardian who was nice to you was gone, resting peacefully on Valhalla.

You heard Loki scramble around, groaning quietly at the pain from your swift moves before rushing to join you once more. Before the mischievous God could strike up another conversation, you arrived in his quarters. Wordlessly showing him how the key works, you slipped into his room, holding the door open and allowing him in. You watched as he looked around, assessing the area and determining if the place was fit enough for a King.

Tossing the key towards his bed, you turned to leave as Loki spoke up, "One last question."

Rolling your eyes, you paused, glancing over your shoulder with a raised eyebrow, "Go on."

"Suppose I wished to return to Asgard, how would I leave?"

A smile rose to your lips as you proceeded to walk out the room, "You don't."

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

"Valkyrie."

The younger girl nodded her head at you, a slight grimace on her face, "Angel."

"I suppose you've heard of your precious Asgardian that showed up."

Your voice was bitter, laced with anger and hatred, earning yourself a glare from the drunk girl as she spoke up, "I have. Though I hear he's a bit high maintenance."

Tilting your head at the girl as you leaned against a pillar, you couldn't fight off your mocking smile, "Aren't you all?"

Valkyrie huffed, moving on from the market booth she'd been at, "I swear, one day I will kill you."

"Can't tell you how many times I've heard that one."

You watched in satisfaction as the brunette-haired girl left, stumbling as she went. Slowly, your gaze shifted to the shop owner, who was currently throwing you an extremely dirty glare. You raised an eyebrow, sending yet another mocking smirk at the shop owner.

The man sighed, glaring at you as he dusted off some of the fruit, "Will you always sit here all day and scurry away my customers?"

"I can assure you I'll do my best to keep your earnings low, Bert."

A gentle, sardonic laugh fell from your lips as the bracelet around your wrist buzzed, shocking you ever so slightly. With a roll of your eyes, you leaped up in the air, your wings flapping elegantly as they propelled you upwards. Bert's now distant shouts were fading as you raced through the air towards the Grandmaster's palace. You zipped in, landing gracefully despite your speed.

"Angel! Gosh, I get chills every time you do that," The Grandmaster smiled, pretending to shiver, "Loki needs to be shown to the tailor and well, around our lovely town. I figure... you show him around, you skip a few of the tournaments. Win-win is all I see."

A frown fell upon your face, your hands twitching to draw your swords. As your glare intensified, you thought over how easy it would be. To remind the Grandmaster of who you were, what you were, of your past, and where you came from. Remind him that you could not be pushed around and would not be pushed around, but instead, you clenched your fists, letting out a sigh.

"I suppose I don't have a choice."

[miraculous786]

I vote Damian to be Mari's Persephone because it would be hilarious to see him making flowers bloom when his wife is happy and when she's sad he brings out the hawthorns on anyone that made his Queen cry.

Note: Thank you so much Nonnies and @loveswifi for the help with this! Hope you enjoy it! ❤️❤️

Masterlist

A Hidden Hades Hunting For (Hopefully) Her Husband

Damian is son to Talia al Ghul, the goddess of harvest, sacred law, and the cycle of life and death. There are rumours that beneath her sweet exterior is a woman of high authority and challenge, but none have been confirmed.

She is believed to have wooed Bruce (Zeus) into having her child, however it is more widely accepted that she used her magic and power over fertility to have his offspring without him knowing. His wife Selina refuses to believe that such a brooding yet faithful man would cheat on her after he rid of his playboy-persona millennia ago.

In this AU, Jason is Ares, Dick is Hermes, and Tim is Athena.

Only those who know her well are aware of her true bubbly personality. They’re mostly the deceased souls of those who’ve died.

Marinette is Hades - goddess of the Underworld. She took visits to Earth in order to experience what life was like for mortals years ago, except stopped when gossip flew about around her being dark, despicable, evil.

Marinette laughed. Her domain didn’t need any worshippers in order to prosper, but she didn’t tell Lila that. She only sat back and watched, a grin on her face as students with glowing eyes accused her of unspeakable acts. It was only when one that she viewed as a sibling of sorts - Adrien Agreste - did as well that she decided to do something.

What happened was that a class of teenagers she came back to frequently were put under the spell of Dolos, or Lila who she took the form of. She sensed Marinette’s ichor and threatened to turn her followers against her if she didn’t conform to her will.

It was only after all of their deaths that they learnt what happened.

With a flick of the wrist, a crack formed in the ground beneath Dolos, soon enlarging into a crater as limbs made of fire pulled her screaming form down into the depths of the Underworld. The class watched, stunned, but then a fog began to clear out of their minds. They seemed to wake up, apologies on the tips of their tongues, only to realise that Bridgette and Adrien weren't there anymore.

Dolos was doomed to having to solve an infinite puzzle, whilst Adrien was allowed to live as an equal to Marinette in hell. The class, now adults, are sentenced to be souls who help them in their duties. They aren’t mistreated, however. On the contrary, they’re viewed as friends to her.

Now, we skip to present day.

Damian is sitting on a bench in one of the gardens that he is confined to on the orders of his mother, when he suddenly hears what sounds like a bark. He turns around, only to be met with something shoving him to the ground.

He whips out a vine, wrapping it around the creature to inspect its species. That's when he realises that it's a dog. A very happy dog that starts to lick his face all over and leave its saliva everywhere.

Despite his cold personality, Damian has a soft spot for nature and animals of any sort. He picks it up, stroking it gently and trying to fight off the urge to smile at the way it leans into his touch.

He's touch-starved himself, to put it simply.

Damian sits with what he realises to be a male dog for a few minutes more. He doesn’t bother to keep an eye out for Talia - he’s too busy creating vines that his new friend bats at with his paws. It explains why he doesn’t realise the person walking up to him until they put a hand on his shoulder.

A polite voice calls for him, asking if he found their pet.

He turns, only to be met with a beautiful face framed by a black hood. The woman smiles at him, then suddenly calls out, “Titus!” with a surprised expression.

The animal in his arms leaps forward, starting to lick her whilst jumping up and down happily. Her laughter causes Damian to freeze, since he starts to sense the magic surrounding her. She’s a diety, he realises. But how did she get in here?

That day is the day that a friendship blossomed between Damian and Marinette.

She convinces him that she’s a nymph of sorts, citing that the reason some plants wilt around her are because of a curse set upon her by Talia. It makes him cautious and understandably distrustful until she assures him that she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

They keep their meetings a secret for years, though it doesn't feel like that long because of their immortality. Titus is usually the communication between them, and leads Damian to where he needs to go within his mother's gardens to find Marinette.

She has earrings that preserve her identity and prevent nature around her dying - however, plants still wilt and weaken enough to be on the brink of death. They are brought back to life by Damian almost constantly when she is in his presence, meaning she can touch them without worry.

As time passes, the two become closer. Instead of words, they begin to trade flower crowns and daisy chains. They always have blushes on their cheeks when talking to one another, or even thinking about each other.

This doesn't go unnoticed by Talia.

She plans to figure out once and for all why her son's demeanor has changed, at least until she's called to Olympus by the higher-ups in order to discuss something. Something involving Damian.

This only makes it easier for the two to get away with their escapades.

One day, whilst her and Damian are sitting under a tree, Marinette pulls out a black ring. She shyly offers it to him, making him flustered as he slowly takes and slides it on his finger.

What he doesn't know is that there's magic laced within the jewellery.

They relax for a few minutes in silence, until she breaks it by calling his name. She takes a deep breath, preparing herself as she explains that she's not really a nymph - she's a diety. A diety that he wouldn't like if he found out about the domain that she ruled over.

A soft hand cups her tear-stained cheek. She looks up, only to hear Damian whisper, "I'm sure that's not true, Beloved."

That's all it takes for her to yank him forward into a kiss, which he returns full-force under the watchful gaze of her sibling Adrien in the shadows. It takes all of his will to not jump up and down from joy.

They officially become a couple that day.

Marinette returns to the Underworld in the evening with a dazed expression, causing Alya and her friends to grin and float up to her. She deals with their relentless teasing, trying to cover her face out of embarrassment whilst she hesitantly tells them all what happened.

Adrien is the first to suggest courting Damian, though she immediately shuts it down and expresses fear at being found out. Her reputation was tainted, after all - and maybe he would go back on his promise of still loving her true self.

He manages to convince her of his sincerity by reminding her of all their interactions (he may or may not have watched over them to keep watch and see his ship sail), and Marinette eventually comes to the decision to start courting.

As she prepares lavish gems to gift him in the future, she is unaware of what is happening in the skies way above.

She'd refused to give him up - saying that he was her pride and joy and the perfect soldier for them to use in battle against future enemies trying to overthrow them. That made him even more angry.

Bruce, after a long conversation with Selina and his many children, had decided to have a conversation with Talia about his youngest son not too long ago. He showed interest in wanting to have custody of Damian on Olympus instead of her having him on Earth, making Talia lose her sweet attitude and gain a scowl.

Lightning struck harsh that night, and the goddess of harvest had returned home with her tail between her legs and a newly-formed resentment towards Damian. He was too busy thinking about his 'nymph' friend to notice, however.

In Olympus at the current moment in time, Damian is kneeling before Bruce. The god tells him to stand, his sons and daughters at his side displaying various levels of shock as he begins to explain why he is there, and why he will be in the future.

Everyone had agreed that Talia wasn't a good fit for him, due to her revealed intentions for his birth. He doesn't have time to argue about the situation before he is whisked away into a room fit for a royal, high in the clouds and miles away from his girlfriend.

The next morning, a dinner is set up with all of the gods in Olympus, including Tim, Jason and Dick. Dick is enthusiastic, trying to make conversation with Damian as his brothers are eating (or drinking coffee...). However, he has none of it.

He's too busy thinking about Marinette. How she would think that he'd broken his promise, or had abandoned her, or forgotten about her. His demeanor switches to his defensive one - cold, cruel, uncaring.

Marinette returns to Earth with a crown in her hands the next day, which has a shining jewel in the centre and spikes with the finest of gems at their points. She looks around excitedly, smile on her face as she and Titus wait for Damian.

Hours pass.

Up in Olympus, said diety is being introduced to family friends and other gods, that all coo at him much to his displeasure. He growls under his breath after every new person he meets, only cementing in everyone that he is a child. A young one that needs to be watched over like a hawk lest he attempts to go back to his mother.

Just as he enters his room with a heavy heart, he senses something strange in the mortal world. Large fields of crops near to his old home had just been destroyed - their roots upended and ripped out. His eyes widen.

Damian rushes to Earth, taking a route that is unknown to most whilst trying to keep hidden from his new siblings. He reaches his destination in a matter of mere seconds, but it's too late. He only breathes out a shocked sigh as he gazes down at the crater in the ground.

There's a glint of something gold at the bottom of it, and he picks the item - the crown - up with almost invisible tears in his eyes. The ring on his finger burns as a reminder of Marinette's emotions.

Below him, a frantic Adrien is trying to calm her down, but it's no use. The goddess of the Underworld is hysteric, crying rivers of tears filled with betrayal as souls all around try to ease her too.

Damian spends the next centuries and millennia on Olympus, sometimes returning to Earth when he wants to remember Marinette.

He keeps her a secret from all of the gods except for one of his friends - Jon (Artemis) - though he only mentions that she was someone important that handed him the crown that is always on his head.

He reluctantly begins to view Tim, Jason and Dick as brothers when enough time has passed, but never admits it. Selina and Bruce, however, catch the glints of relief in his eyes when they're in his presence. He finally has someone to talk to without worrying about Talia, excluding Marinette all those years ago.

Speaking of which, she had slowly become closed off and harsher in her treatment of the dead in the Underworld. They see that she's spiraling, hiding her depressed state under a constant frown, but can do nothing about it. Even Adrien is unable to bring back her kind personality in the absence of Damian.

That is, until he catches word from the messenger, Dick, that he is up in the skies on Olympus.

It's a slip-up, of course, but he still manages to catch what Dick says and act like he didn't. He waits until he's gone before he rushes back to Marinette and tells her what he suspects.

A small smile spreads across her face. One that is cruel like the rumours say, yet happy like she once was. Of course he didn't want to leave her, she thinks. He was simply forced into doing so.

Damian is talking to Jon about another recent affair in the middle of a mortal forest, when suddenly, he freezes. He feels a familiar burn at the ring on his hand, along with fields full of nature dying in an instant miles away.

He uses a zeta portal to teleport to the area, leaving behind a confused Jon. He zips around, eyes wide as he senses the plants around wilting slightly, along with some of the nearby animals inching away from him.

Everything becomes quiet. That's when he catches a flash of black darting around in the corner of his vision. He turns there, his eyes widening in recognition when seeing a dog wagging its tail happily.

"Titus!"

Damian takes a step forward.

A large crack forms in the ground beneath him, revealing the depths of the Underworld in all of their glory. Just as he's about to fall down, a chariot of the darkest colours hovers below him, soon speeding off without a second to waste with him inside.

He tries to command vines to capture the person at the reigns of it, but can only muster enough energy to sag back. Strong magic fills the air around him, forcing him to stay seated on plush pillows.

The last thing he sees before his sight is shrouded with nothing is a glint of red at his kidnapper's ears.

~*~*~

More to come!

There will be a second part, which will include general headcannons and what happens after this. Feel free to send in an Ask if you have any suggestions of different legends in Greek mythology that could be included. :)

@northernbluetongue @moonystars14 @soupfilledboots @vixen-uchiha @starsshineandgivehope @professionalfangirl1738 @queen-in-a-flower-crown @pale-lady-dreamer

[whump-town]

Give and Take

This one's for you @genevievedarcygranger

I couldn't even tell you what this is about but it's something? Like about Hotch? I'm pretty sure there is no plot so just buckle in or whatever. I don't know, this is weird

The key to building a profile, to standing before someone and piecing together the important parts of their character, is to figure which parts of themselves they give to you and which parts they accidentally show. Most people are fairly easy to read (which is the optimal word, really. No one wants to be profiled but most people don’t mind a little reading on them. Makes them feel special, understood). The thing about secrets, about people, is that they always carry their burdens. It’s like any wound, you naturally lean to protect what hurts. And when once you figure out what hurts, when you can spot the source of the blood you’ll find no matter how advanced a species humans pretend to be, we still have the look of a wounded animal. A dog backed into the corner of an alley. A lame cat waiting to see if swift justice will rain down.

And the wound being protected speaks measures but more importantly…

It’s the reaction-- what happens when the wounds been found and what they anticipate the reaction will be to it.

But, hey, that’s all complicated nonsense. Take it with a grain of salt. Honestly, people always tell you everything that you need to know about them. Especially when they have something to hide.

The first time that Aaron Hotchner ever saw a dead body he was twelve.

The river is unforgiving. That May had brought treacherous storms. Drops of rain that fell so hard, so roughly they’d leave welts on exposed skin. Children still marched to school with the threat of their umbrellas being snapped out of small hands and the wind pushing back clothing, trying to disrobe them as they fought against its pushing hand.

Two days of hard rainfall had the river spewing over the bridge in town. Spitting up its murky water like a well-fed newborn, leaving the fallen limbs of trees and dead fish to rot in the sun. By the time the storm blew over the children were as unsettled as the river itself. Jittery with energy, begging for release. So, out they went. Mothers called from their front porches, father’s leveled threatening fingers-- stay away from the river.

It’ll suck you in and it’ll never let you go.

Johnny Martin was three years older than Hotch. He’d failed kindergarten, first grade, and the seventh grade and was generally regarded as a pointless child, someone to look over. Nobody worth a damn fails that many grades, you know? Nobody worth giving a second chance to let alone a third and a fourth. Except it wasn’t that Johnny was intellectually any different than the other kids. It was just as simple as his father was a nobody, a heavy drinker, and his mother was a weak, dreadful sight. So no one ever tried. His teachers didn’t pay him any attention. No one did, really.

That’s probably why he drowned.

He was bloated, Hotch didn’t even know what he was looking at for a moment. There was a cut across his face, the skin raised around the edges that nearly made it look like pursed lips. A panting mouth. Then he’d seen the eyes, bulging and red. He hadn’t screamed, wasn’t even afraid. No point in wasting the energy on something like that. The real things worth fearing lived at home.

He never told anyone about Johnny Martin.

They found his body a little while after Hotch did. A group of twenty-somethings trampling through the woods with their artfully rolled joints wedged in cigarette cartons and the cheapest beer they could afford. He climbed up a tree, watched them call the cops, and take Johnny Martin away.

For a week, he watched everyone pretend like they gave a shit about Johnny Martin. Heard his English teacher profess some make-believe story and saw the tears glimmer in her eyes. In death, Johnny Martin became a whole person. For the first time in Johnny Martin’s entire life, he wasn’t a ghost, he was a boy. A living thing for which people felt remorse, for which people mourned.

When they’d never looked at him before.

Hotch wanted to know if that’s all it took. Is death really all he needed to become a whole person? For someone to notice the cigarette burns on his arms or to look at him? To notice him? Is absence the only way to be known?

He’s only told the general outline of that story twice. Once while drunk at a college party, one of the few places that sort of talk is welcome. “What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever seen?” And they circle around to him. Expectant eyes filled with the reflection of the flames of the fire dancing. He’d been thinking about his father’s office. The sound of the gunshot filling the house. Walking slowly down the hall, still stepping around the weak points in the floor so that he wouldn’t make a sound. Standing there looking at the blood splattered on the roof.

They put heart attack on the official death certificate. Illegal, sure, but not as ugly as suicide. Besides, a man like Richard Hotchner’s reputation would be ruined by his final actions. That couldn’t happen. So he’d been given a hero’s goodbye. A veteran of the Korean war sent off to the sound of his widow’s sobs, his two sons standing like little soldiers.

But that sort of thing ruins the mood. Kills the vibe so artfully created by the warmth of the dying fire and the joints being passed around.

So he tells them about Johnny Martin.

They hang onto his every word.

When he tells Dave it’s a diversion.

He’s laying in a hospital bed, the morphine has him slurring a bit but he’s talking more than Dave’s ever heard out of him. The kid hardly makes a peep for the three months he’s been working with them and he gets tossed down a few sets of stairs and he’s suddenly impossible to shut up. Dave was just trying to fret over him, expressing some concern until Haley could get here to do the heavy lifting. He ends up with more than he bargained for.

“No, s’okay. I’ve seen dead bodies, sir. Promise.”

Hotch tells him about Johnny Martin, curates a similar story to the one he told that night around the fire.

He’s a good storyteller and, though Dave can tell which elements of the story have been shifted for his enjoyment there are truths in all lies. Dave wants to ask what Hotch means when he mumbles out that part about ghosts, he doesn’t catch the exact wording but the implication. His dismissiveness towards Johnny Martin “some people you never notice, they’re just ghosts and there’s nothing you can do to change, to be seen”. Dave doesn’t ask what Hotch means by that and he still manages to find his answer.

Hotch has this tendency to step back. All his manners and smiles are for flourish, Southern hospitality that allows him to nimbly work his way through a crowd. Secretly, he’s an introvert. He always finds his way to the corner of the room, back facing the wall and watching. It’s where he’s most relaxed, where he’s unnoticed.

A ghost.

But even ghosts can be found out.

Even ghosts give a little bump in the night.

Aaron Hotchner doesn’t actually believe in ghosts but for a week he thinks he might. It freaks him out so bad that he tells Derek but he’s lost so much sleep freaking out over this that he mostly just sounds a little crazy. The fact that he tells Derek speaks measures but before everyone else, Derek was who he relied on and Derek is who he falls back on.

There was a broken plate in the kitchen, a plate that he didn’t break because he’d only gone to the living room. He couldn’t tell what it was but there had been this strange scratching. Then the plate fell. Honestly, he tore off. Ran to his bedroom and to Haley and when she asked what that sound was he said he hadn’t heard anything. Though he didn’t tell Derek that part, he more or less crawled into Haley’s arms and laid there until he felt safe again. Until her half-conscious rubbing at his back lulled him back to sleep.

They didn’t die so at least it wasn’t a serial killer.

It’s a cat.

Hotch’s ghost is a cat.

An old mangy orange thing that Hotch reluctantly takes into the house, Haley names him Casper. Naturally, she can’t let it go. Her husband the bravely trained, frequently praised federal agent tucking and running because an elderly cat had managed to let itself into their home.

Derek asks her about it, the ghost, the next time they all go out for drinks and she makes him swear to secrecy but he tells the others.

Not that day, nearly a year or more later.

After New York.

Penelope Garcia stays up all night watching what she thinks is going to be her friend’s last hours. Watches Hotch get tossed like a rag doll by a car bomb, and land discarded out of the view of the cameras. Just gone and she’s torn between not wanting to know and knowing she has to look. No matter what she’s going to see, she has to go on. They sift through the recording, speeding up the time-lapse. She watches him slowly gain consciousness over a stretch of twenty minutes, all taking place in less than a minute for her. Sees him stumble as he tries to stand, sagging against a street lamp and gagging up nothing. His stomach was too empty.

He’s disoriented, limping around the road.

Then came Sam.

The kid who tried to kill Hotch standing over his shoulder, touching his arm, and so close, so dangerously close. She cries, sits there and cries as she urges Derek to be faster. What if he has to finish the job? Kate was moving around, they were both alive, but Hotch can’t protect her. He can hardly stand.

He screams himself hoarse.

As Derek runs up on them all he can smell is burning rubber and blood. He’s breathing oddly, too quickly and his ribs aren’t moving the right way but Derek can see Hotch. He’s right there coherently speaking, words clear. So it doesn’t matter, the blood-splattered out on the road and running down Hotch’s collar.

And then Sam…

And the ambulance.

And Kate.

Reid, Prentiss, and Rossi are waiting for Hotch when he steps away from Kate. Reid had seen how immobile Hotch’s right shoulder had been, how stiffly it had moved as Hotch struggled into his kevlar. Rossi had seen his poor coloring, the bruises under his eyes from his lack of sleep. The way the cuts looked against his face. Prentiss had been behind him. She always is, creepily just a step behind. She’d seen how awkwardly his right leg had taken his weight. She even rolled her eyes when she noticed he forced himself to stop limping once she saw.

But what they all knew, what they’d all seen was a clock.

Another timer dangerously close to zero.

You know what they say. The bigger the man, the harder the fall.

Emily can’t get the sound of his body hitting the ground out of her head.

Hotch gets a room, courtesy of the entire hospital still being cleared out, to sleep off the drugs they give him. Groggily he groans, wakes up enough to look around him and falls back to sleep.

JJ gets sick, it’s too early in the pregnancy to be morning sickness but they’ve all just had an awful night and she’s filled with this senseless guit. Can’t stop thinking about Hotch’s soft, sheepish congratulations. Why didn’t she just tell him? What did she think was going to happen?

9/11 left New York hypervigilant and even with the threat eliminated the team is asked to stay in one place. So they stay with Hotch, all crammed up on top of each other. Legs thrown over laps and blankets jerked like children, a group of adults afraid to fall asleep. It’s impossible to sleep so Derek tells them about Hotch’s ghost, filling the dark room with noise. Better than sitting here just watching Hotch breathe, waiting for each inhale. He exaggerates it, of course. Hotch is asleep and can't exactly defend himself. Not that there’s all that much he could say-- he spent three sleepless nights ghost-hunting a cat.

“He ever tell you about that ghost haunting him?”

The next morning, still groggy and his presence of mind making it impossible to not feel the pain but too heavy to really care, he doesn’t fight with Derek nearly as much as he should.

They take the case of The Angel Maker Part 2 and, for once, Hotch does what’s best for him. He takes time off, drives home to save his ears from the trouble of the jet climbing to proper altitude. He gets back on a Wednesday, the others are waiting (Garcia may or may not have tracked his phone). Climbs slowly out of the car, the shrapnel wound on his leg hasn’t healed yet, and doesn’t look nearly that scary standing in jeans he’s had to roll the bottoms of and a patchy beard.

Which is why he doesn’t wear jeans. Suit pants he can have tailored to fit both his waist and the length of his legs. The problem with Levi's or a pair of Wranglers is that one of those measurements is always wrong. So the waist is small enough but the length isn’t long enough. He has to compromise one of them and he typically caves in the length.

Garcia knits him a hat that winter. It’s black to match the rest of his clothes with a red little fuzzy ball at the top. He thinks he can accept the gift and forget it-- like the gloves Reid got him or the cigars from Rossi. That’s not the case. He wears the hat. In a mix-up, a crowd of suits, he’s much easier to catch with his little red fuzz ball sticking out over the crowd.

And he isn’t allowed to forget about Reid’s gloves. He’s guilted into those too and finds himself being ushered into cases where the weather will be chilly with his only access being that hat and a pair of gloves.

The parts of Aaron Hotchner that he gives without prompting aren’t necessarily not him. He is decently grumpy and a workaholic. The man can not take a compliment, a fact that Morgan and Prentiss love to exploit. He’s boring, repetitive. Anyone who has spent more than a week with him can testify to that. He just likes to eat the same foods over and over and isn’t too picky but he won’t touch uncooked cauliflower because it’s texture is weird. Like a bouncy ball. As far as spending time with him goes, another weird thing to learn is that he’s messy. Methodical, yes. Messy… at the same time. He does have a bookshelf and his books are organized but he’s also really bad for leaving his unfinished books out on tables like decorations.

The parts that don’t come readily, the parts that require reading or profiling or just generally bugging the shit out of him are decent too. He’s an optimist. He wants to believe everyone is good, redeemable. Partially because he needs himself to be and because he’s a hopeless romantic and an optimist and that’s an impossible thing to be in this line of work. But some people are just good and some people are worth a second chance (and a third and fourth). He thinks that one-day people will forget he exists-- what happens when the team doesn’t need him to be around? When there’s no reason he has to be invited out?

And then what?

Aaron Hotchner is afraid of becoming a ghost again.