#not so much a permanent residence as just somewhere he keeps coming back

[doveshovel]

Saw something going around a while ago about where SSO OCs live, and it motivated me to do a background for once :')

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

W.D.Y.W.F.M [Prelude]

Jungkook could've adopted anybody else, really. He's gotten to know a lot of hybrids left and right during his time at the carecenter and foster homes- low maintenance ones, friendly ones, ones that are easy to be around. So why would he want you?

Tags/Warnings: Idol!Jungkook, Hybrid!Reader, Fox Hybrid!Reader, mentions of trauma, Reader isn't cute & cuddly in this at all, manhandling (not the spicy kind), sort of brat-tamer Jungkook but not in the kinky way if that makes sense? This is set about four years back when he didn't have any tattoos nor facial piercings since this is a prelude to the main story

Length: 3.4k words

THERE IS NO TAGLIST FOR THIS FIC!

A/N: so many were upset I'm not writing any more hybrid jk stories so yum yum the appetizer is served hope you're hungry

-> Masterlist

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Jeon Jungkook is stupid.

You don't like him, you don't like his staff running around, you don't like his managers eyeing you constantly like you're some serial killer waiting to strike. It's not like you've got any issue with him- you just don't like people like him, easy and simple. Idols have been at this shelter before, and all of them have simply taken some photos, played around with the toddlers or easy to handle hybrids, before they'd leave and take all the plus points for their image.

It's pretty much a running joke amongst more permanent residents like you are- because funnily enough, all Idols prior have all had some sort of scandal before they'd filmed here. From bullying allegations, to dating rumors or even drug scandals- you wonder what he's got caught up in to end here.

But honestly, what's it to you anyways.

You can see him look at you with his stupid round eyes, a caretaker next to him explaining something while motioning towards her neck. They're probably talking about your bright red collar that you have to wear whenever you've got visitors like him- a warning sign that'll hopefully keep him at distance from you, because you really don't want to deal with his shit at all. He's the first male Idol that's come here in a long time, so he might try and act tough- but god knows you won't let him have that.

You won't be used ever again.

Your look at him with an almost satisfied look when he's held back by the caretaker, his attempt at walking towards you denied by her as she shakes her head and leads him somewhere else. He's looking back at you, and there's an odd look on his face before he turns around and follows her presumably to the younger hybrids.

Good for him.

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Turns out there was no reason for him to be here except pure curiosity on his part.

He's been apparently searching for a hybrid to take in for a bit now, and has decided on his own to improve the shelters reputation by not only donating a huge shit ton of money to it, but also by filming his experience in a more VLog style format. You can see the microphone he has had on his shirt gone at this point, and you're not sure why.

Won't his managers want to listen in on what he says, so they can monitor him?

You're pretty sure he's got his eyes on one of the pretty cat hybrids. Yumi is her name, and you can see why he'd want her- she's incredibly pretty and comes originally from a good home- only given into government care because her owner had to undergo surgery and couldn't take care of her any longer. She's nice- a bit arrogant sometimes, out of touch with reality due to her rather expensive lifestyle, but maybe it'll fit him. He's living the same lavish life as well, after all.

Luxury isn't something you know.

You watch as some hybrids outside play tag, and you wish you could join in. But you can't- you always play too rough the caretakers complain, and most importantly, you're not allowed outside without a caretaker present anyways. So you just huff to yourself, and watch from your spot.

"Do you want something particular for lunch?" Someone asks, and you snap your head around, not having noticed him coming so close. He immediately backs off a step with palms open, an attempt at trying to soothe you. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle youm" He apologizes.

You don't answer.

"Miss Kim wanted to know what you wanted for lunch?" He asks again, and you shrug silently. You don't care what you're getting. You stopped caring long ago.

"Dont care." You say, and he's got the audacity to laugh.

"I don't think 'don't care' is on the menu today." He jokes.

You don't react. He doesn't seem fazed. His joke is lame. Does this shit work usually for him? Probably, but they only laugh because he's got the money.

He takes your silence as your conversation finished, and so he just nods respectfully, before leaving you be again.

And at lunch, you notice that you've got a bit more rice than usual in your bowl.

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Jungkook is loud.

He laughs a lot, plays with many hybrids without any sense of how he looks like, doesn't seem to be bothered by any of it. But he's also started to talk to you, and you honestly don't know if you like or hate it.

"Come on, everyone's got a favorite food." Jungkook laughs, having sat down with you today instead of the other hybrids. You're not sure why. The cameras aren't even running, he's not vlogging anything, no microphone attached to him. Or maybe that's exactly why he wants to interact with you now. Cause you're not pretty enough to be in one of his idol videos.

You shrug, not answering him. "..dunno." You mumble, before you look at one of the careworkers accepting the daily food delivery from a worker. "Chicken? Maybe.." You say, just so he can finally shut up and leave. But he doesn't.

He instead smiles, probably even fueled now that you've interacted with him. Well, fuck.

"Ah, I like chicken too." He agrees. "Very good choice. I think you're having Chicken for dinner today?" He wonders, and you nod, more or less to yourself, holding onto your tail. "How long have you been here?" He asks, and you shrug again.

"Dunno." You answer, yet again. "Long." You say.

"Never had been adopted?" He wonders, and you scoff.

"No one want's something like me." You say, picking at your tail. "Not when there's.. so many pretty cats and dogs around.. that don't tear up furniture n' stuff." You say with a pout, making him smile in sympathy.

The careworkers have already told him about you. Where you came from, how long you've been here, why you'll probably stay here- you came here very young from an exotic breeding program, stayed here because of severe behavioral issues. No one wants to deal with you- just like you said.

Jungkook himself however, feels different. You just seem a bit lost, out of place, unsure of everything. With a bit of work, a leading hand, and a good environment, you'd surely blossom into a lovely companion.

Though, hours later, he's confronted with what 'severe behavioral issues' can mean.

You're up in a tree.

It's by your own choice- you love being up here, where no one can do anything but watch as you're out of reach. It's a little moment of control you get, a tiny glimpse of choice- but of course, this stupid idol boy has to ruin that for you.

Most caretakers are either too old or too short to reach you- but Jungkook is neither of those things, as he grabs a small step ladder and reaches out to you. "Please come down, okay?" He says. "No one's mad-" he tries, but you don't let him.

"Bullshit." You scoff at him, moving your foot away from his reaching hand. "They're all pissed I'm up here." You huff angrily.

"No, they're all worried that you're up here." He corrects you. "We don't want you to fall down and hurt yourself-"

"I won't." You simply say. "I'm capable enough."

"I believe you." He says, making you falter a bit in your aggressive state. "But I also think that you should come down." He tells you.

"Well, and I think I'll stay up here." You deny, turning to climb even higher.

It's when his hand grabs your ankle.

"Hey!" You hiss, trying to pull away- but fuck, he's strong.

"I'm sorry, but you're not leaving me with much choice." He apologizes, before pulling, effectively getting you out of the short tree, pulling your body against his as he steps down from the ladder. He can feel something scratch his biceps- probably you, since you're actively trying as hard as you can to escape his grip. It's not the typical tamper tantrum a toddler would do- no. He knows this type of behavior.

It's fear.

So he makes sure to hold onto you even when back inside, making sure you don't just run off and possibly try and escape through the backyard again- caretakers closing the doors before he even thinks about letting go of you. It makes him think if you just simply aren't used to close physical contact at all- because you're trembling, while simultaneously frozen solid.

What happened to you to make you this way?

"I'm sorry, okay?" He tells you, but you don't answer- not that he'd expected you to. "Just wanted to let you know." He hums, before he loosens his grip, letting you instantly stumble away, hurrying out of everyone's sight and into one of the hiding tents set up for the more anti-social hybrids.

And he doesn't see you for the rest of the day.

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The next day, he's not even properly in yet, when he's already being talked to about what happened yesterday- mainly cause the careworker probably saw him search for you amongst the tired hybrids waking up from their naps.

"She refused to eat dinner after you left." The careworker tells him as he puts his bag down, and Jungkook lowers his brows in confusion.

"Why?" He wonders, unsure. You're not very attached to him, rarely interact openly with anybody let alone him- and he's realized it might simply be because you don't like him and his rather bubbly personality that much.

"I think it might be self-punishment for what happened yesterday." She sighs, pointing to the large bandaid covering his biceps- your scratch no longer hurting at all, the cover just on it for hygiene's sake. "She feels guilty."

"But it wasn't her fault?" He asks, not sure why you'd take the blame for things so far out of your control. "I knew what I'd potentially get myself into when I offered to bring her back inside- and she didn't get me that bad anyways." He shrugs, and the worker nods.

"Well, she certainly doesn't see it that way." She says, giving Jungkook his name tag and vest so he can start his last week, cameras at this point no longer really filming much since they've got plenty of content to work with. "You did great, honestly- handled her really well, but she might feel embarrassed now that you've witnessed her outbursts on yourself rather than just from afar." She explains, and he sighs to himself. He instantly searches for you amongst the hybrids, greeting almost everyone fleetingly as his eyes scan the environment.

He spots you sitting in a corner, observing rather than joining in- just like you always do.

"Hey-" he carefully squats down a respectful distance away from you, casually patting his bandaid once he spots you staring at it. "-all by yourself again?" He wonders, and you just shrug.

You don't answer him, crossing your arms instead.

"Heard you skipped dinner yesterday." He asks casually, sitting down now to engage in conversation. He knows that you get antsy when confronted like this- but you have to learn somehow. Everyone just wrapping you in cotton won't help you long term.

"Wasn't hungry." You mumble, avoiding eye contact. Why does he have to talk to you? This is stupid.

"Lie." He chuckles. "You were talking about how much you liked chicken to me yesterday." He calls you out, and you just pull your knees closer to yourself, tail wrapping around them as well. "You didn't hurt me much at all, you know?" He offers softly after some time of just observing you.

"…still." You argue quietly, shaking your head. "Yumi is looking-"

"But I'm talking to you right now." Jungkook disagrees amused, keeping his attention on you. "You're not a bad person." He tells you, and you grow angry suddenly. Not at him- but at yourself, because why are you such a crybaby that you're crying about a simple sentence like that? He probably doesn't even mean it, he just says it for his stupid media-stunt he's pulling. "You wanna go eat breakfast with me?" He wonders, and you shake your head. "Too bad." He chuckles, reaching out his hand to touch your wrist, simply tapping his fingers against it. "Come on, up up, I'm hungry." He says, getting up-

But you don't follow.

"I don't want to." You deny, and he sighs, leaving you be. It's fine like this- you don't need him to play some sort of Savior for you, not at all. He can show off his kindness to his fan base or whatever, you don't really care at all. He's living his life, while you'll live yours- no matter how bland it might be.

A bowl is placed at your feet, another plate with a lot of food placed down as well. "Didn't know what you wanted so-" he explains, before sitting down again in front of you. "-I just got whatever I myself eat." He shrugs casually, starting to grab the first bite.

"Your microphone isn't on." You comment, pointing to the front of his shirt where it would typically sit.

"I know." He simply answers nonchalantly, continuing to eat. You start to lift your hand to bite at your fingers, and he reaches out without fear to gently pull your wrist away from your face, before pointing to the food. "Eat. Or do you want something else?" He wonders, but you shake your head.

You are hungry.

"…'m sorry." You tell him with a crack in your voice, and he nods at you with a smile.

"I know." He answers truthfully, reaching out to tap one of your droopy ears. "But you don't have to be." He shrugs, unknowingly surprising a careworker watching from the sidelines. You're pretty jumpy with contact- you hate fast movements, loud noises, sudden things you're not prepared for. He himself notices as well- the way you flinch on instinct as he reaches out to you.

But you don't immediately try and defend yourself against him, and that's new.

Jungkook has, up until this point, simply never given you any reason to fear him. He's not very careful, very fidgety, and a little loud whenever he gets excited- but he's also gentle, and doesn't hold any bad intentions.

Though that doesn't mean that you trust him- at least not yet.

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"I don't wanna." You deny, as he holds out your bright red collar to you. "Go take Yumi." You huff, and he sighs, letting his head hang for a second before he picks himself up.

"I don't want to go out with Yumi, I wanna go out with you." He makes sure to emphasize, holding the collar out again. "So let's go outside." He offers.

"Outside is.." You look out the window. It's sunny, pretty warm, a light breeze. There's no reason to not go outside- except one. "I.. get too excited." You say quietly, shrinking in on yourself.

"That's what the collar is for." He gently tells you. "So we can track you if you get lost- though I'll keep my eye on you at all times." The idol tells you in a playfully warning tone, making you look at him.

"What if I bite you?" You ask, and he shrugs. "Or scratch you again-"

"Then that's on me." He says, putting the collar forwards again. "You're so scared of yourself, and I want you to see that there's no reason for it." He tells you.

"There's plenty of reasons." You start arguing.

"Okay, listen." His voice is suddenly holds a lot more.. authority, and it makes your ears stand up, whole body a bit tense. "Do you want to go outside, yes or no." He asks.

"I can-" You start, he shakes his head.

"Yes or no." He demands, and you look at him with ears down low now in clear submission.

"…yes." You answer, and he chuckles, not just because you're so cute, but because that small little thing he did with you pretty much tells him everything he needs to know about you. So he carefully reaches out and clips the collar around your neck, before he gets up to open the door, going outside with you.

And not even an hour in, he realizes what you meant with 'too excited'.

It's absolutely adorable.

You're chirping at the birds in the trees, ocassionally having to be reminded that no, you can't climb them, and other times you run off to hunt a stray squirrel or two- but you're not difficult to handle for him, really. Especially once he brings out a rubber ball to kick, you get absolutely hyper, running after it and kicking it back and forth with him, tail wagging and your laughter filling the garden.

But it's only after you both play tag, you running into him as you catch him, both of you lying in the grass with heavy breathing that he realizes that he's found what he'd been looking for. You're still so full of happy excitement that you probably don't even realize you're hugging him, clinging onto him with a wagging tail, and he's sure that yes-

you're the one.

You're perfect for him.

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"Huh?" You ask, completely caught off guard.

Sure, you've both gotten closer overall during the few weeks he's been here- going outside, even going shopping together as some sort of 'desensitization activity', eating together- and yeah, you've grown to like him, actually. But he's talking about fostering. And fostering is the first step towards permanent adoption.

Why would he want you?

"I want to take you home with me. See how you'll like it." He simply says, leaning on his hands behind his back, casually giving you the news. "I'll have some schedules, so it'll be pretty much exactly how it'd be if I was to permanently take you home- and I wanna see if you're cool with that." He explains.

"But.." You start, unsure. "What if I-" You start, and he dramatically lets himself fall onto the floor.

"I've got insurance for my home, if you break something we'll fix it or replace it, if you bite me I'll bite you back, if you scratch me I'll put a bandaid on it, if you run off I'll tag you with my phone app. Did I miss anything?" He asks, and you look at him with furrowed brows.

"You'll bite me back?" You ask confused, and he laughs.

"Yep!" He simply says. "So?" He wonders, and you shrug.

"I can't.. really tell you what to do." You mumble, again not looking at him.

"Hey." He suddenly says, pulling on the tip of your tail- something that he knows isn't something anyone can do without risking a reaction from you. "Look at me." He demands gently, and you do, though it's slightly awkward with him laying on the floor like that. Still, he manages to make you feel his dominance- not physically, but different. Mentally. "Do you want to come home with me, yes or no. You know the game at this point." He chuckles.

"…yes." You softly answer, and he grins at that.

Instantly getting up to get all the paperwork ready.

[mychlapci]

This woke me up last night in a cold sweat before I passed back out but here:

So off of that one mer!prowl ask about them cleaning his tank and putting him somewhere else, what if it was the Constructicons' tank? They seem to be in hibernation, just resting in a big pile of barely twitching fins and claws and Prowl, while a bitch, seems to leave other mers alone for the most part so long as he doesn't get a stick up his tail about something. For a temporary tank moving, it seems like it'll work!

What they didn't know is that it's not hibernation; it's reproductive torpor. Either they're like clownfish with only one carrier at a time (who was Scrapper that's missing/dead/etc) or they're a stud group for Megatron, but without their MegaMommy around, there's no activation to their rut, so torpor it is until the breeding season passes.

But then Prowl gets dumped into their tank, irritated and snappy and unintentionally acting like a bratty, interested carrier challenging them. So by the time the caretakers come back, first they think Prowl tank hopped somehow because they can't see him.

Then someone sees the frantically twitching edge of a doorwing/doorfin in the middle of the tight knot of the Constructicons and eventually they find the right angle to look at to see Prowl getting all the spike. Two shoved in his valve, one in his mouth, another each in both of his hands and the Constructicons have their hands all over him, fondling everywhere; especially his generously heavy titties. Mixmaster and Scavenger are even sucking on them greedily, biting and squeezing to get his milk, switching between the six titties to get them all leaking. Prowl's twitching and jerking but no one can tell if it's him fighting to get away, to get more or just muscle jerks in reaction to what's going on.

By the time they're done, he is Round. Prowl can't even move, just laying there on the bottom of the tank, limp and twitching with the occasional doorfin flutter as he stares upwards in stunned shock.

There's no removing him either. The Constructicons quickly move him into their cave nest and besides, it'd be so mean to take their new carrier away, wouldn't it?

And even after he delivers, he's immediately pregnant again; either because the Constructicons were on him the second the last egg/pup slipped out or they stuffed him so full and heavy with transfluid his body retained a near lifetime's supply's worth. So the second his tank's empty, his own body immediately refills it with the retained transfluid to start a fresh new pregnancy.

So that's now his life; fat and heavy with eggs and pups for the Constructicons.

hgrhh I remember that ask, yeah, I think I even mentioned that he gets put in with the constructicons. or someone else did. anyways, God, I need bitchy mer Prowl to get put in his place by big, strong studs. The Constructicons felt like Primus listened and sent them a cute little feisty carrier to interrupt their breeding season stupor. Finally, a tight little hole they can fill with their transfluid, and for how much Prowl threatens to bite, he's actually pretty docile once there's a spike inside of him. valve swallowing each pump of cum greedily <33

He definitely becomes a permanent resident of the tank... The staff has to leave him in there because the constructicons keep getting him pregnant over and over again and they don't want to separate him from his stud, not when Prowl gets too fat with pups that he cannot swim on his own. Letting five large mers manhandle him around the tank is actually very good for Prowl.

[kirkycurls]

You Jump, I Jump, Jack

When a gorgeous metalhead and his band move into town, your dreary summer pouring coffees is turned on its head—for the better.

*Set in some nondescript American town *Story Kirk is 88/89!Kirk (26/27) and MC is 24 *Not necessarily historically accurate band-wise and I'm not American so bear with me *5 chapters *Fairly sfw but theme of alcoholism *Happy ending!

Chapter One

CWs for this chapter: None.

It had been raining for weeks in your small town: industrial bins floating down the street; kids walking to school with silt up to their knees—the kind of June weather nobody saw coming but now nobody could stop talking about.

You didn’t mind it so much. Tucked away behind the counter of Yvette’s pouring coffees all day for mostly middle-aged men reading newspapers, you could stay dry and keep tabs on what was going on outside through the little chocolate box window out front. Spending your weekdays here since graduating college wasn’t what you’d expected, but since your parents had moved even further upstate you’d wanted to feel more financially secure, single as you were.

It was past 11 on Tuesday morning and the rain had slowed to a drizzle. The cafe was empty save for an older couple playing Yvette’s ancient game of mini chess by the radiator and her son Steve wiping down the table by the door. 

“Ste”, you managed, half-focused on the van that had just pulled up at the old Sunday school across the street. “Ste”, you tried again, louder this time.

“What?”, he asked, turning around. “I’m mid-wipe here, sweet. You can’t disrupt the magic man mid-wipe.” 

You laughed, “Spray’s topped up”. 

Gesturing at the bottle of cleaner you’d just refilled, you rolled your eyes with a smile as he approached the counter with a look of mock offence.

Still smiling to yourself, your eyes wandered past him to the dark-haired guy that had just jumped out of the van, his face screwed up in disgust as he looked down at the muddy water lapping round his ankles. Another guy appeared behind him and practically fell out of the vehicle laughing, only to get his jeans soaked to the knee as he tripped on a hidden drainage cover. 

Boys, you thought. 

The dark-haired guy said something to his amused friend and looked around, taking in the street and the flood, eyes roaming disinterestedly until they landed on the coffee shop with the faded name of the owner above the door, and, through the small front window… you.

You swallowed. Feeling a presence to your right, you blinked and turned to see Steve watching you with an indiscernible look on his face. 

“Earth to the dreamer”, he mocked, switching to his usual grinning state, pumping his eyebrows like a five-year-old with a secret. “Fancy a heavy metal concert?”

“What?”, you huffed with a laugh. 

“Those guys are setting up shop in there”, he said, pointing towards the steady stream of instruments and various studio pieces a taller third guy was now hauling out the back of the van. “Metallica. Heard of ‘em?”

You shook your head.

“Seems they’ve been getting more shows recently so they wanna set up a permanent residence somewhere local—a sort of HQ.”

That broke you out of your reverie. 

“Um, and you know this how?”, you scoffed. Steve wasn’t exactly the type to be up to date with the town gossip. He could usually be found on his girlfriend’s couch with his hand down his pants and a baseball game on the TV when he wasn’t on shift. He wasn’t stupid and he definitely wasn’t a bad guy, but by your standards, he was beyond help.

✵

Before he could answer, a sudden gust of warm air blew into the cafe, the bell above the door protesting loudly. The napkins you’d tidied an hour before were whipped into a flurry. 

With a sigh, you knelt down to retrieve the stray few floating to the ground at your feet, hearing the approach of heavy, squelching boots. 

“Sorry…didn’t mean to ruin your good work”, a boyish male voice chuckled from above you. Returning to your feet, brow furrowed in mild exasperation, you locked eyes with the culprit. 

Grinning at you with a set of perfectly imperfect teeth, shining chocolate-brown eyes, and a mane of dark, glossy curls, the first guy from the van stood leaning against the counter, one hand outstretched with the offer of returning the collected napkins to their tray.

Damn. White noise fizzed inside your head as you unsuccessfully attempted a reply. He’s cute.

Steve sniggered behind you. 

“This is Kirk”, he laughed. 

You turned, a look of mild confusion on your face. 

“Hammett”, the guy from the van added, dropping his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Kirk’s in Metallica”, Steve continued, still amused by your temporary muteness. 

“Lead guitar, right?” 

Kirk smiled and nodded. 

“He was in here last week with his friend James.”

“Oh right, hi…”, you managed, suddenly self-conscious.

You turned to the counter, smoothing the fallen napkins back into formation. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Kirk’s gaze lingering on your face. 

“Yeah, it’s me, James, Jason, and Lars”, he said, attention back on Steve.

You breathed an internal sigh of relief for being momentarily unobserved. 

Another few seconds of awkward napkin twiddling elapsed until you realised you hadn’t said anything and both Kirk and Steve were expecting you to speak…

Accepting that the obsessively flat paper couldn’t get any flatter, you took a breath; fixing your best customer service smile before diving into a string of questions…

First for Steve: What day did they visit the cafe last week? Did you make them lunch? Did you tell him about me?

And then Kirk: What’s the situation with redecorating the Sunday-school-turned-heavy-metal-headquarters? Don’t you think it’s funny that it’ll go from a religious building to a house of vice? Why are you so gorgeous…?

In the process, you learned that Kirk and James (the tall, muscular one you’d seen unloading gear) had headed over for a takeout order last Friday whilst finalising the rent on the new place. It was particularly busy that day—Fridays always were—and you didn’t remember seeing them. Kirk explained how the daughter of the now deceased man who’d owned the school was practically begging them to take it off her hands, so the band had bought it for next to nothing. Kirk and James had taken most of the old furnishings to the dump already; all that really needed taking care of now was repainting the place and positioning their stuff. 

While the three of you talked, a large party of customers entered the cafe; each now in various states of shaking out umbrellas and settling down to browse the lunchtime menu. You knew the conversation would have to end soon, as the 12 o’clock rush could get pretty hairy.

Before you had a chance to pipe up, Steve chimed in. 

“Oh we can help out with a few licks of paint easy”, he said to no-one in particular, straightening up and taking in the still increasing crowd. You could hear the son-of-the-manager gears clicking in his head, greasing up in preparation to make a few extra tips.

His hand landed on your shoulder.

“Why don’t you take tomorrow off and help the guys. Mom’s gonna be around anyway; I’m sure she’ll understand and we both know you’re artistic”, he winked, referencing the time he’d caught you making sickeningly girly latte art when you were supposed to be servicing the coffee machine. 

Your eyes flew to Kirk who was looking more than pleased with the idea.

“Would you?” 

You hesitated, then nodded; a little bewildered and not sure how you felt about being roped in on your own.

“That’d be awesome, thanks.” He leant over and gave a light bump to your arm. 

You tried to suppress a smile. Butterflies.

“Great”, Steve grinned.

“I’ll let you both figure out the details. But right now could you deal with that delivery out back? I forgot to sort it earlier.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Hey, relax. I’ll deal with this crowd so just take your time. Nice to see you again, Kirk.”

A nod from Kirk. “Yeah you too, man.”

Left alone, Kirk turned to you; a cheeky smile dancing on his lips as he rapped the counter and said, “So…”.

You let out a light laugh. “What?”

“Need any help?” 

“Oh, no…you don’t have to to do that”, you replied, making your way behind the counter to grab some supplies but secretly hoping he’d push the point.

“Ah it’s no bother, trust me”, Kirk continued, following you halfway. "There’ll be nothing going on over there today except Lars arguing with James about the feng shui and me and Jase trying to mediate.”

You laughed, feeling some of the tension melting from your body.

He was nice.

“Nah, I’m just kidding; I don’t think either of them know what feng shui is.”

That earned a belly laugh from you. 

You knelt down to the cupboard under the sink to locate a pen, calculator and packing knife; letting your hair cover your face to hide your shyness after letting out such an indiscrete sound. 

“So can I?” Kirk asked. “Help?”

Finding what you needed, you straightened, finding Kirk firmly planted a few feet in-front of you with no sign of backing down.

“Uh yeah, sure…why not. I’ll make us some coffee”, you smiled. “It’s just through that door and right ahead—you’ll find it”, you said, watching as he wandered off in the direction you’d given.

“Awesome”, he fired back, “can’t wait”.

You watched him leave, hands reaching up playfully to hit the door frame as he went. 

You smiled to yourself. This was definitely not how you’d imagined your day playing out: meeting a cute metalhead, making plans to help paint his band’s new headquarters and now pouring black coffee into takeout cups so the pair of you could sort a delivery together? No, this was not what you were picturing for this so-far dismal summer. 

Securing the lids to the drinks, you pocketed the stock supplies in your apron and headed out back, coffee for two in hand.

✵

Parting Yvette’s handmade beaded curtain with your right shoulder, the wind chime over your head sang as you emerged from the back porch, crossing the few steps to the centre of the stock area and setting the cups on one of the two piles of delivery boxes filling the compact space. The stock area wasn’t much; in fact it was literally just Yvette’s garden, as she lived upstairs—a quaint, currently gazebo-roofed yard with stone-walled raised flower beds set around the perimeter.

Kirk was inspecting some gnarly looking plants in the far corner when you arrived, turning as you placed the coffee down to make a joke about The Day of the Triffids. It was true Yvette hadn’t given as much care to the flora and fauna out here as she had to the cafe, which was her pride and joy. She’d been out of town a lot recently on various craft retreats and managerial workshops, so the place needed a little TLC. 

Kirk picked up the coffee nearest him, cheersing it with the air in thanks before taking a sip and carefully placing it back. 

“So what’s first?” He rubbed his hands together enthusiastically. 

You removed the packing knife from your apron and set it next to your own cup, then walked over to the other pile of boxes, hands on your hips as you considered the best way to start.

“I need to check the stock matches what’s listed on the invoices, so if you could maybe help stack them according to the package number that’d really help.”

“As you wish”, Kirk answered, shucking off his jacket and discarding it on the wall.

Five minutes or so passed as you stood back near the doorway watching Kirk shift the boxes. He was chatting away about his bandmates, giving you a colourful mental image of their individual personalities: James, the lead singer and a pretty wild partier; Lars, the Danish drummer, always with a cocky word to try and trip you up; and Jason, badass bassist who was all about working hard for the fans. 

You agreed to meet up outside their new place around nine the next morning, aware that you’d only been given one day off work thus far and impatient to see Kirk in his natural habitat. 

As you listened, offering him various strategic “mmm”s and “oh right”s, your eyes wandered not so innocently along his sweat-dampened neck and the straining muscles in his arms, down to the way his strong hands gripped the underside of the boxes… You noted how gently he set them down, heavy as they were. 

“What do you think then?” 

“Huh?” You snapped to as you realised Kirk had asked you a question, a slightly self-conscious look in his eye as if nervous for your response.  

You mentally traced back to what he’d been talking about while you were…gawping…and recalled him inviting you to pizza and beer that evening to meet the guys before everyone got to work tomorrow.

“Oh, yeah.” You exhaled a laugh. “Yeah of course, I’d love to.”

He looked relieved, and a bit excited, you thought.

“Ah great, I knew you’d be up for it”, he replied, back to his usual self. “I can show you around and you can finally tell me some more about you”, he joked, flicking some of the debris from the boxes at you. 

You both laughed, acknowledging that you hadn’t exactly been a chatty Cathy since he’d arrived. 

It was at that point you decided you actually liked this guy. He was relaxing to be around; interesting, kind, very attractive; and there was something in his eyes that made you feel a sense of kinship. He didn’t step on your toes but he didn’t shy away from trying to get closer either. 

Kirk took a step back to admire his handiwork. Very neat.

“That’ll do thanks, I can take it from here”, you smiled, peeling yourself away from the wall. 

“You sure?” He answered. 

“Yeah, honestly. This next bit’s pretty boring”, you chuckled. “Go and sit down—you’ve earned it.”

He looked relieved as he made his way back to his original spot, flinging himself down on his back on the wall with one hand gently pulling at a spray of pink carnations and the other hanging freely.

You turned back to the boxes with a smile, taking the calculator and pen from your apron pocket to start checking the invoices.

A minute or so of pleasant quiet fell as the conversation petered off. You busied yourself with the calculator, almost forgetting Kirk’s presence as you got into the details of the invoices taped to the side of each package.

Then, “I saw you last week you know.” 

You froze momentarily, pen between your teeth, glad you had your back to him so he wouldn’t see the slight blush tinging your cheekbones. It made you uncomfortable to know someone had perceived you without your noticing—especially him, with his big brown eyes and gorgeous curly hair you’d imagined running your fingers through more than a few times since your initial conversation inside.

“Is that okay?”, he interrupted the silence.

You turned around, pen dropping into your hand. 

“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” 

He didn’t respond. He’d changed positions since before; now leaning forwards with his elbows on his knees and fingers steepled, observing you with the ghost of a smile and the kindest eyes. You felt your heart swell and then catch as you became aware of the seconds ticking by. 

God, this guy, you thought. 

No-one had had this kind of effect on you since…well, ever. No past boyfriend had looked at you like he was looking right now. 

Move, then. Don’t just stand here like an idiot.

You stretched forward to grab the packing knife from the first pile of boxes, desperate to break the awkwardness that had descended out of nowhere, but as soon as you reached for the handle, the safety clicked, shooting the blade into the still-full takeout cups and landing warm coffee all over Kirk’s thighs. “Shxt!”, you cried, hands flying to your mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

Kirk jumped up, visibly stunned but recovering quickly. Meanwhile, you were garbling out a string of profuse “Sorry”s and standing fixed to the spot, completely unable to move. 

“Hey, hey…it’s fine, relax”, Kirk assured you. You pulled your hands from your eyes to see him laughing, clearly unbothered. 

“I’ve got dirt up to my knees from the damn flood out front; these jeans obviously weren’t meant for me.” 

Your panic eased as you realised he wasn’t mad. You laughed awkwardly, tucking your arms around yourself in an attempt to calm down. Without a word, Kirk jogged past you through the beaded curtain.

Crap, is that really how that’s gonna end? 

You needn’t have worried. A few seconds later he returned with a wad of napkins and bent down to mop up the spillage. 

“If you knew how many times I’ve had to clean up puke from the floor in my house after a night with the guys, you wouldn’t be so worried”, he winked. 

You exhaled with a smile, hitching your skirt up a little to kneel down and help him. 

If you hadn’t both been busy sharing sweet glances and bumping arms as you cleaned up your first drinks together, you would have noticed that the rain had stopped completely and the sun come out from behind the clouds for the first time in weeks. 

 .✵.

[watchingyoufromthestars]

I wanted to make a post outlining the Glennry Tangled AU. It is VERY long so it’s going under the cut. And when I say long I mean 3k+ words

The prophecy of the Unsung Hero is a bit different here. I haven’t written it out yet, but it involves the Doodler being released into a host, much like Scary in the Church but a permanent residence. The secret Cult of the Doodler from Neverwinter is now an Order within Oakvale’s palace, Barry the head of operations. He believes his child is the one prophesied to become this all powerful god’s human host. Also, Oakvale is pretty much just Corona, it’s not the commune like in DnDads.

Nearing the end of her pregnancy, Autumn falls ill, so then like the movie the hunt for the Sundrop flower begins. Willy has been guarding the flower for himself for who knows how long, determined to use its powers to live forever. And unfortunately like Gothel, the flower is ‘taken from him’ and whisked away to the palace.

Henry is born not too long after. Within the prophecy is something that alludes to Henry being kidnapped but one day returning ‘when the time is right’, so Barry essentially lets it happen. There’s some kind of dialogue between him and Willy. Barry conveys to him what he believes to be this stranger’s role in destiny but Willy’s like “I don’t give a shit about your stupid prophecy I just want the flower back”. But the flower is a part of Henry now, so his only option is to steal this baby.

He and Barry strike a deal. Willy can keep the ‘flower’ for now, but when the time comes Henry will return to the castle to become a vessel for the Doodler. They agree on sharing the power of the Doodler when it happens, both planning on betraying the other to keep it for themselves. For now it’s just these two slimy assholes that see this baby as something to protect and take care of but for all the wrong reasons. A means to an end with containing the Doodler in a manipulatable container and a source of magic to live forever. But not a child. Not a person.

So Henry grows up in the secluded tower with Willy. A false love, for the power inside him rather than the person who holds it, but it’s not like Henry knows that yet. I want him to still have Rapunzel’s love of painting here, which isn’t too important to the story, but he’s a painter here instead of geologist (which let’s be honest, how the hell would he do that while locked in a tower lol). Also before I forget to add it somewhere else, Pascal is Erin. There’s nothing really that different besides the name change .(idea from @/supremely-unsupervised tyyyy)

Enter Glenn: wanted thief going by a fake name but I don’t know what yet. Could just be Flynn Rider but idk if I can think of something different that ties back to DnDads. Anyways, Glenn is his Eugene, not the name on the wanted posters. The object he steals instead of the Lost Prince’s crown is some important relic, an ornate knife, that's to be used in the future Doodler Vessel ceremony. This will be important later on when they’re in Oakvale and meet Barry for the first time.

The plot follows the movie pretty closely for a while here. Henry asks to leave the tower, Willy says the outside world is too dangerous. Glenn is chased down by Darryl as Maximus (yes. Darryl is the horse). Glenn finds the tower and tries to hide out there, but Henry knocks him out with a frying pan. He attempts to show Glenn to Willy upon his return, wanting to prove he can handle himself in the outside world. Willy blows up and refuses to let Henry leave the tower. Henry instead asks for the paint made from white shells as a gift, which sends Willy on a three-day journey.

Henry strikes a deal with Glenn: the relic in exchange for taking him to see the lights. Here, the lights are a more a marker that one day the Lost Prince will return, rather than hope that he will. Thousands of lanterns in the night sky every year on his birthday, calling out to him that they’re awaiting his return. On the way, Glenn stops by the Snuggly Duckling (which I’ve been calling the Ugly Duckling on accident this whole time oops), run by his friend, Ron. This scene is less an attempt to scare Henry and more a trial run to interacting with society since Henry’s only had Willy before Glenn came along. Really, Glenn just wants to stop by and talk to Ron again. Henry is introduced to all of the regulars they hang out there as often as Glenn (all the characters from the digital scene, they aren’t replaced with DnDads characters). Henry’s very intimidated by them at first, but everyone is very nice which surprises him (so imagine all their softer sides they reveal during ‘I Have A Dream’ except they’re just like that from the start).

Meanwhile, Willy runs into Darryl. Quickly suspicious of why a palace horse would be out here, he runs back to the tower and finds Henry gone. Enraged, he thinks Barry betrayed him by taking Henry back early. He then finds the relic Glenn stole and forms a plan to use this as leverage against Barry to get Henry back and still hold the power over the Doodler in the end.

Cut back to the Snuggly Duckling. Ron, Glenn, and Henry talk for a while before the royal guard barges in looking for Glenn. Ron helps them quietly escape but Darryl continues to sniff them out like the bloodhound of a horse he is. Glenn and Henry are trying to run from the royal guard but are now trapped in a flooding cave. In what seems like their dying breaths, Glenn reveals that his actual name is Glenn Close. Which doesn’t make sense as a sentence but like. You know what I’m saying. Henry says he has magic hair that glows when he sings, and then he realizes he can use that to find their way out of the water, singing his tune just as the water closes over them completely. They narrowly escape the blocked up cave, heaving their way onto the riverbank.

Cut to them sitting by the fire. Henry heals Glenn’s hand from clawing their way out of the cave. He talks about how Willy told him that when he was little, people wanted his magic for themselves, so Willy hid him away where Henry would be safe. He then turns the conversation back to Glenn’s name reveal. Whatever the name is that Glenn was using beforehand, Flynn Rider or something else, it was a character he’d read about in a book as a kid. Same story as Eugene, this kid who had nothing and this character had everything. After they talk, Willy comes out from the trees and approaches Henry, warning him that he won’t like what he finds in Oakvale. Telling him that he should just come back home to their tower. Henry refuses, but Willy only came to start planting seeds of doubt in Henry that everyone else is out to get him and that Willy is all he can trust. This is where we start to diverge a lot from 1-1 with the Tangled plot. Unlike the movie, he doesn’t give Henry the relic. It’s too big of a leverage to practically hand back to Barry because Willy knows eventually Henry will meet with him if they go into Oakvale. He’s counting on Henry learning the truth about Barry and running back ‘home’ to him.

The next morning, Darryl tracks down Glenn and attempts to arrest him (as well as a horse can do that), but Henry calls for a birthday truce, which Darryl reluctantly agrees to. They enter Oakvale and participate in the festival held during the day before the lantern lightings. And now Henry gets his hair braided yayyy they don’t have to carry around all that hair anymore good lord. Alsoooooo maybe maybe might throw in some NPC kids to braid his hair but not Lark and Sparrow (I’ll have something else about them at the end). They’d be more visual easter eggs than the actual kids of the dads because only Ron here could logically be a father to one of them at this point. And Darryl is literally a horse.

Now the Cult of the Doodler and all knowledge of the prophecy regarding Henry is only known within the palace walls, and the common folk of the kingdom are under the impression Henry died shortly after birth. They see the lanterns as a way to honor the prince’s life. The festival during the day was never originally a part of the lantern lightings, but as time went on and people forgot it was originally a memorial, it became more about the lanterns as a holiday than anything to do with the prince.

They come across the large wall mosaic, that of what might be the king and queen of this place holding a newborn baby. Henry, curious about the portrait, asks a bystander about it. They explain that, although the festival has overpowered its original intent, each year on the prince’s birthday the entire kingdom lights lanterns. And Henry looks to the mosaic, and to all his surroundings, and something clicks about the crest he sees everywhere. The Sun plastered on every surface imaginable is the same Sun he’s been painting all over the walls back in the tower. Unsure of himself, afraid of a certain possibility, Henry asks how old the prince is. The villager answers that he passed away twenty years ago right after he was born. Shakily, Henry thanks her for her time and tugs at Glenn to follow him.

Once standing somewhere slightly more private, Henry voices his anxieties. He has the same birthday as the prince; not just the day but the years as well. He points out all the Suns hanging around them. And he points out that the man in the mosaic looks a lot like him. And in his ramble he confesses to Willy visiting the other night when Glenn had walked off, warning Henry “he might not like what he finds in Oakvale”. Unsure of how to comfort Henry in this moment, Glenn begins to speak— he’s cut short by a royal guard. Both of them panic, cornered, but the guard assures them neither have anything to worry about. He only comes to deliver a message: the King wishes to speak with them. And he addresses Henry by name, though it was never given to him. Hard cut to Barry watching from a lower tower, his eyes following Henry as he walks towards the castle.

They’re lead down a hallway filled with various portraits of previous rulers, all looking too much like Henry and ramping up his anxieties. He feels Glenn take his hand, a small comfort letting him know he’s not braving this alone. When they reach their intended room, the door open to the man from the mosaic.

“Welcome home, Henry.”

Lottttttttsssss of talk talk talk here. Barry explains that he knew Henry would return to him today. In fact, he’s been keeping watch since this morning. He’d instructed his guards to let them enjoy the festivities, after all it’s a party in his honor, whether the rest of the kingdom remembers that or not. He wanted to let Henry come to him, but if he did not realize on his own then his guards had permission to guide him once the sun started its descent. Enraged, confused, multiple emotions boiling over at once, Henry demands an explanation for whatever the hell this all is. Barry explains a bit about the prophecy to Henry. How Henry was to be taken away until he was old enough to play his part. Not outright saying that Willy stole him away, but Barry does bring up that Willy’s role was to guard and protect Henry all this time until fate saw fit he return. Henry asks what could possibly be so important, what fate, that his apparent birth father willingly gave him up for someone else to raise. Barry then starts on the Doodler. Insert full prophecy here and how all of it is coming to pass, and then Barry turns to Glenn. He asked for the knife. Seeing the confusion and worry on Glenn’s face, Barry explains that the relic he stole is to be used in the summoning of the Doodler. That a bond is to be broken not only by ripping a god into this dimension but a bond broken between they who spills the vessel’s blood. Barry believes Glenn to be the one who is supposed to cut Henry.

Glenn doesn’t have the knife. In a flicker that only Henry notices, Barry’s eye twitches. Barry repeats himself that they need the knife for the ceremony. Glenn insists he doesn’t have the knife, that it got left back at— he doesn’t say. All of this is bullshit and they don’t have to listen to Barry. He’s not going to participate in some crazy cult ritual and he’s certainly not going to hurt his friend. With a heavy sigh, Barry orders for Glenn and Henry to be taken away. Clearly the ceremony cannot commence but he’s not letting them leave before the knife gets back to them. Immediately Glenn throws a punch at the guard who moved to grab him and yells at Henry to run. The two scramble to make their way out of the room, run down the halls, and out of the castle to the crowded streets where all the lanterns are being prepared. Weaving in and out of the packed streets as guards chase them. Darryl sees them running, but also who they’re running from. Loyalties divided as a guard tries to mount him, he runs away in panic not knowing who to choose. A guard catches Glenn, who screams for Henry to keep running. With tears in his eyes, Henry keeps going.

By the time he’s reached the forest, he’s exhausted. Henry collapses at the edge of the woods, crying as the night sky lights up with lanterns. Yeah that’s right they don’t get their cute boat scene where they almost kiss. Unfortunate. Maybe I’ll rework some other scene in earlier where they almost kiss but idk where that would go.

From the shadows, Willy. The only person he can turn to and one of the only people he can trust, Henry lets his ‘father’ lead him back home.

Meanwhile, Glenn is being led to a cell he’ll be locked away in. Barry might have given him a pass had Glenn played his part, but the knife is missing and now so is Henry again so they’ll just put him in jail until he wants to talk and tell them where the knife and Henry are. Barry monologues a bit to him, and here Glenn learns more about Willy. He realizes that Willy was only using Henry too, but also that Willy knows about all the Doodler shit and the knife is back at the tower (as far as he knows, but all the same Willy has it and can use it).

And then the doors around them close. The slot opens and Ron speaks from the other side, asking for the password. Barry, seemingly calm as ever, demands for the door to be opened. This scene is pretty much the same in that all the characters from the Snuggly Duckling show up to help Glenn escape, led by Darryl who brought them all there. Riding Darryl, Glenn races back to the tower to save Henry from Willy.

Everything from here plays pretty much the same. Instead of realizing he’s the Lost Prince, Henry comes to the realization that Willy was using him too. That his whole life he’s been seen as nothing but an object to be handed back and forth. He just learned his actual father willingly abandoned him only hoping he’d return like cattle for slaughter. And then the whiplash of realizing this guy who’s raised him his whole life, the man he ran back to when there was nobody else to trust, that there was never any love at all. He’s seen Henry as an object from the beginning as well. Henry’s just that damned flower and Willy has been keeping him hidden in his cage.

And Henry sits there and realizes that nobody has ever seen him as himself. Maybe Glenn did, but he’s probably dead by now. And it’s all Henry’s fault but Glenn saw Henry for him.

So the only person Henry has to trust is himself. He refuses to let Willy use him any longer. He’s tired of it all. But Willy won’t take no for an answer. He talks about how he always planned to cross Barry in the end, but he never thought it’d be this easy. All the work was practically done for him. He stands in front of the window, blocking any exit Henry has to escape, and pulls out the ceremonial knife. They won’t do it here, not when people know where this tower is now (because as far as Willy knows, Glenn could’ve told Barry where the tower is) so it’s too risky to perform the ceremony here, but Willy insists they will be summoning the Doodler into Henry and that they’re leaving now.

The rest follows pretty close to the story again from here. Glenn gets to the tower, only to find Henry bound and gagged while Willy fatally stabs him from behind. Willy tries to drag Henry away and out of the tower, but Henry continues to fight against Willy. He insists he’ll never stop trying to get away from him, but if Willy lets him heal Glenn, he’ll go willingly. Willy reluctantly agrees to this. Henry rushes to Glenn’s side, but before he can heal him, Glenn cuts Henry’s hair with a shard from a mirror that broke in Henry and Willy’s earlier struggle. Horrified, Willy begins to age rapidly, trips, and falls from the tower, hitting the ground as a pile of dust.

As the magic dies alongside Glenn, tears begin to stream down Henry’s face. The last of the flower falls with it and onto Glenn, which heals him and saves his life.

I’m not sure how I’d wrap it up from here. Do they run away to another kingdom, far away from Barry and anything to do with the Doodler? Is Barry somehow thrown out of power and the Cult of the Doodler destroyed, leaving Henry to take over if he wishes? I don’t know. But what I do know is that these two get a happy ending. A soft, domestic life where they adopt two beautiful boys that they name Lark and Sparrow. Henry teaches them how to paint (favored more by Sparrow) and Glenn teaches them how to fight and defend themselves.

I don’t know how it happens but I would want Barry overthrown immensely. I want Henry to reunite with his mother who played no part in this. I want Darryl to be everyone’s friend who’s also a horse. I want the Snuggly Duckling to become a much frequented pub where they all hang out. I had a silly idea that Ron makes Darryl a special “horse beer” that’s just a wheatgrass juice.

Anyways I think that’s pretty much everything. This AU has been plaguing me since the idea first popped in my head. I’m glad I managed to outline at least one of my AUs entirely lol.

[ramble-bloo]

Realized I haven't gone into how Bitterbat reacts/gets revenge on Freebird…at least on this account SO lemme drop that here because he definitely has STRONG reactions to him.

Freebird is stationed in mainland America so he isn't a permanent resident of Decking City. He only really visits when there is hero business to take care of. But when there is word that Freebird is coming to the city, Bitterbat becomes way more territorial over Sweetheart.

He can read people's emotions like a book and Sweetheart has discomfort written all over her. She tells him she can deal with Freebird because yeah he's a pushy asshole but he isn't a complete monster and he eventually backs off but it's annoying every time.

And the guy has only become more assertive after Bitterbat showed up.

Bitterbat knows Sweetheart doesn't like missing a hero meeting but he tries to get her to call out when Freebird is in town. And if that doesn't work, he tries to figure ways to sneak in. And if that doesn't work, then he's always lurking somewhere nearby the place.

In the beginning, Sweetheart has def turned down having him accompany her because it's too risky but at a point she realizes how much anxiety she is beginning to get by just thinking about running into Freebird and she decides to pull the "Itty Bittybat in boobies" maneuver.

It works pretty well and helps her make it through the day when Freebird is around with the only draw back being how hard it is to keep Bitterbat from leaping out and attacking his face. It hasn't happened YET but the chances of Bitterbat snapping are low, never zero.

Her has certainly pulled a fair share of tricks on the bird man, like making him trip and fall or making something spill on him but it's always something to seem like a freak accident.

Another thing he does when Freebird is in town…and make sure Sweetheart leaves him with some "battlescars". Of course she makes sure to reel him back so he doesn't go hog wild but there's a bite here, a hickey there.

There's finer details I cannot get into because this is a sfw account but he makes sure she is absolutely covered in his scent so if she ever runs into Freebird, he might not know what it is he's sensing, but he def can tell something is "off" about her.

Because of how much more "aggressive" Bitterbat gets during battles when Freebird is in town, the two can lie and say it's just actual scars from them fighting. Speaking of their battles, they def get more risque.

It's nothing too explicit but those stolen kisses get a whole lot deeper. Like "Bitterbat makes sure the camera sees tongue" deeper It drives Freebird up a wall. Especially with how much Bitterbat loves to have his hands on Sweetheart during battles.

Of course, this leads to Freebird trying to talk Sweetheart into letting someone else handle Bitterbat because he claims that he seems to be "too much for her to handle" but Sweetheart stands firm that she is more than capable of dealing with him...because it's true tbh.

Does Bitterbat kick Freebird's ass at somepoint. AT LEAST twice with the first being him going easy on Freebird because he tried to step in during a battle between him and Sweetheart.

The way Decking works, heroes claim what villains are theirs. Heroes know their villains the best so they always are the ones sent or called when a villain they claimed pops up. The Decking Defense Force state it's because they are the most qualified to handle them...which is true.

Things are different in mainland America. Heroes tend to just deal with a villain they have run ins with but there's no paperwork to assign them, it's just "oh yeah that guy usually takes on that other guy".

And while it's not breaking the rules necessarily for a hero in Decking to jump into battle against an unassigned villain, it's often advised against if the designated hero doesn't have them marked down as "other capable heroes". So when Freebird tries to take Bitterbat, Bitterbat drops his weights and fucks him up JUST enough to make him know his place.

Bitterbat considers this fight to be his "warning" to Freebird because the guy could still walk away from it and he left his face quite in tact. Plus he was still going by the "script" he and Sweetheart vaguely have in their heads.

But the second fight they have…it's definitely an unscripted event. And while Freebird could walk away from the first battle with his tail between his legs-Bitterbat makes it his mission he crawls away from the second.

Sadly, Bitterbat cannot kill Freebird as he would basically be marked down as one of the biggest threats to America and that's a whole headache for Bitterbat and Sweetheart to deal with when they just wanna cuddle and kiss while binging movies. But maiming is def on the table.

[gifti3]

asmo x reader x priest AU rough outline

I had a nightmare I was being chased by a monster in a church and ended up coming up with this au because of the priest i saw in it! So I just wrote an outline cause I wanted to get it down I'm calling reader mc here (i use these two interchangeably in relation to obey me)

mentioning religion, i also mention sex like once or twice

------

i wanna say it's more of a modern setting cause it's easier to write but that lowkey doesn't make any sense so we are gonna just glaze over setting the time period (so its whatever makes sense in ur head)

asmo is asmo (so kinda unhinged at times especially in this AU)

mc i feel is one of those people who have had a lot of supernatural experiences their whole life

since they were young they would see and sense things other people usually wouldn't and i feel that's part of the reason asmo was attracted to them in the first place

one time mc offhandedly said that asmo isn't the first demon they've talked too but he is one of the nicer ones

this ability is an aspect of themselves they've accepted and even embraced at this point

but because of this, some people might be put off by them since they give off a "unique" vibe

i wanna describe the priest a little: -- he's an oc (i guess lol) cause he appeared in my nightmare for a moment -- he's probably in his 40s and could be considered a dilf to some people -- pale with dark hair and clothes (you know stereotypical broody, reclusive character) -- takes his position very seriously but lacks that warmth and approachability i feel a priest should have -- tldr: priest you would see in a horror game taking place in a church/cathedral

the story starts off with mc needing somewhere to reside for a few weeks until they can find a permanent place to stay -- they probably got kicked out of their home for various reasons related to their "gift"

i don't think the priest himself had the actual idea to bring in mc

instead it was one of the other cathedral hands who suggested it to help them out and whoever is in charge agreed to it (so i'm guessing the bishop??)

the thing about mc though is that they have a special friend no one else can see who likes to pop up time to time to spend time with them

(sometimes this friend can be sensed by people who are more sensitive to the environment which can freak them out)

this friend is Asmodeus, a demon who decided to keep coming back after meeting mc and ended up befriending them over time

they've known each other for 2-3 years at this point and would consider each other good friends

sometimes they toe the line of more than friends though -- they're interested in each other and there was no denying it since asmo could literally feel the moment when mc began feeling attracted to him (and of course he's attracted to them too, that aspect was there from the start for him)

however mc is worried to get intimately involved with asmo cause they think they have actual feelings for him and don't want become more emotionally attached to someone who doesn't like them just as much as they do (they are assuming this)

so sometimes they're kinda flirty but don't do anything past that

when asmo pops up to visit mc he's a bit shocked that they're just hanging out in a cathedral

i feel this demon has a bad rep with priests in general

its our boy asmo, i know he has been up to some nonsense in the past (and recently too)

he's probably been exorcised out of several facilities over the years for stuff that could have easily been avoided

and according to asmo, MAYBE he was trying to corrupt some religious figure's son or something but they didn't need to be so harsh~ -- we aren't gonna get too detailed we just know he has had bad experiences with religious folk

and even if he didn't have bad experiences, demons are usually code red level threats to humans involved in religion

anyways mc tells asmo they literally have nowhere else to go and they get a free room and food staying here as long as they help with chores, so he needs to just hold on tight until they find somewhere else to go

mc and the priest surprisingly kind of get along

I think mc themselves being somewhat (unwillingly) isolated from others and being used to putting people off made them kind of gravitate towards the priest

They aren't put off by his demeanor at all and treats him like any other person

asmo is whatever about it and is actively trying to stay away from the priest UNTIL he releases that the priest is starting to actively gain an interest in MC

And not in the ahah i have a small crush way

Like this is a I WANT you physically, mentally and emotionally type deal

I feel like the priest is so lame too trying to convert the mc behind the guise of him being a priest and that's what he does--save people's souls from possible damnation. when it's actually for very personal feelings

And mc is like nah its not really my thing (their current lifestyle would literally clash with this)

now asmo is a little worried

but he shouldn't be because hes asmo right?

he's beautiful and gets pretty much anyone he wants. mc is already interested in him too!

but part of him fears mc might fall for someone else one day

especially since mc always cuts things off before things get too spicy

also him being a demon and mc a human makes things kinda complicated for multiple reasons that i wont go into -- just know mc preferring a human partner is one of the things he worries about

So now he's like….i'm sabotaging and makes sure to actively monopolize mc's time so they won't seek out the priests company

no way is he losing his precious lamb to a PRIEST of all people

the priest has started expecting mc to show up like they always do to talk to him but they haven't in awhile so he goes looking for them

when he goes to their room mc is talking normally to asmo and the priest can hear them through the door

he knocks and mc is like oh shit and motions for asmo to get gone for a moment but asmo's being a brat and doesn't actually leave

so when MC opens the door, the priest is immediately like something is wrong

there's definitely something not of god in here

and mc is like huh what are you talking about but the priest is insistent and comes in to investigate

but there's not really anything obviously amiss since he can't see asmo and he fortunately leaves after

but after that he's paying more attention and starting notice weird things are happening around mc

sometimes for a split moment he'll see a shadow near them and sometimes even in mirrors (yes asmo is probably just moving casually about the building even though mc told him to be careful)

i'm thinking later on, he's passing by mc's room and thinks they're in there cause he hears humming and sees the shadow of feet passing by the door

but when he knocks and enters no one is there

and i feel that's when he does some shit to like purge evil spirits out of mc's room, cause he there's definitely something wrong and he's worried something has latched onto mc

so when asmo is like Okay time to go visit mc~! Nothing happens

he can't teleport like he usually does to them

and he's bitching and whining about it later after mc undoes whatever the hell the priest did

now i'm jumping to the last few days of mc staying in the cathedral

at some point, asmo and mc have a heart to heart and end up doing the devil's tango (out of all the places they can have sex it happens here SO cool of them lol. the priest may or may have not heard something going down. why is he always near mc's room hmmm 🤔)

the story is coming to a climax once mc is like yay i have found a new place to live and will be leaving soon and the priest is a bit surprised when he hears the news

he's gotten used to mc being in this place with him and he doesn't want them to leave (what will he do oooo~ i think he would suggests to the mc for them to stay and like join the church or something but mc is just like...no thanks)

asmo on the other hand is like I AM READY TO HIT THE BRICKS 🏃‍♂

he literally doesn't even have to be here, like go home dude but nah he wants to be with mc A LOT

he doesn't like the vibes of the place and honestly the priest is starting to annoy him with how he's always lurking around mc

i think this is around the time asmo and the priest have a proper confrontation

i don't exactly know what happened to make it get to this point but for some reason asmo shows himself to the priest

i'm not sure who even initiates it but asmo is just taunting the shit outta him for wanting mc in a worse way than asmo himself

in my head, the priest doesn't exactly see mc as a person with their own agency

they're more of someone he can hopefully mold into a more "god honoring person" (something like that)

someone he could be with long term without feeling like he's going against his own values

So it's ironic in a way having a demon being the better option of the two

and i bet asmo has like so much unresolved anger from past interactions he's had with religion, and then all of his feelings for mc and being in this place too often

just all these emotions mixed together just has him REALLY reckless

and he's projecting everything on to mr priest (regardless if all of it is his fault or not): "God you're so annoying! I wanna splatter your innards across the walls…" (Can demons use the lords name in vain idk lol)

So yea idk how this would end but I think at least one person should die fr AND i've decided i'm gonna talk about asmo dying cause of the angst:

He's already gone by the time they arrive. They quietly call out Asmo’s name, hoping he's just passed out or maybe even messing around. But the way he was laid upon the dirty floor wasn't right at all.

They kneel on the bloody ground. "S-Stop joking around Asmo." They gently shake the demon's rapidly cooling body. Realizing they will receive no response. They wouldn't hear his voice ever again.

A step sounds nearby and they sharply look up into an apathetic pale face. "Why?"

"Demons don't deserve mercy. It doesn't deserve your sorrow or tears."

"But he was my…" They trail off knowing it wouldn't be smart to finish.

"Even though you were…intimate with a demon. God is benevolent with his children." The priest reaches a hand out to them. "Repent and you shall be forgiven."

----

Mc would run away in this ending but i think its so sad they lost someone very important because they got too close to someone they thought was safe…

There can be other endings too tho! My favorite being mc and asmo leaving the church and being all happily ever after (well as happy as u can be after running off with a demon who attacked a priest in a cathedral and now you can never return to this town cause it's suspicious that you disappeared the day the priest was found dead/half-dead in the building)

Okay that's all! Thanks if you read this far. Hopefully some people liked it Heres a shoddy edit of asmo blocking someone's reflection in the mirror:

[leia-writes]

My Legionnaire

Eugene Choi x Reader

Chapter 1

Summary: You're a diplomat's daughter who travels the world, finding yourself in Joseon at the turn of the 19th century. Eugene Choi is a respected US Marine Corps officer struggling with being back in his native land. A story of two people learning the meaning of home. (Inspired by the song My Legionnaire by Brooke Waggoner.)

Notes: I've been thinking of writing something like this ever since the first time I finished watching Mr. Sunshine. I chose to ignore most of the main story, so I apologize if there are any inconsistencies. More to come after this chapter. Enjoy!

Tags: reader-insert, no use of y/n, fluff, blood and injury, pining, slow burn, not canon compliant

read on ao3

masterlist

The floor beneath you swayed gently as you walked along the edge of the ship. The sun was almost unbearably bright, and you had to shield your eyes from it as you looked towards the horizon. In the distance, you could see a landscape dappled with mountains. Slowly, you were making your way to your next place of residence, Joseon.

The sight of your final destination gave you great relief. You’d been on that ship for what felt like nearly forever, traveling all the way from Venice to New York City and now to Joseon. As usual, you accompanied your parents. Your father was a diplomat who brought you and your mother along on all of his travels. Ever since you were very young, you’d grown accustomed to that way of life. Always traveling, always experiencing something new. 

Though you enjoyed having the privilege to travel the world, you often longed for more permanence in your life. You loved your parents, but they were the only people you felt truly close to, having no siblings to share the experience with. Because you traveled so much, making friends or having relationships was incredibly difficult. You sent letters as much as you could, but with it being awfully slow and your location changing so much it was hard to keep relationships that way.

Eventually, you learned to grow accustomed to your emotional isolation. You focused your energy on studying language and culture, taking advantage of everywhere you’d traveled. As you got older, you worked as a translator at the many consulates, legations, and embassies you visited. However, your next destination, Joseon, is somewhere you’d never traveled before.

As a diplomat, your father was an expert at socializing with everyone, from the upper elite class to the servants. He thrived in political environments, creating connections between entire countries with tactful negotiation. His success in his work is exactly why he was tasked with visiting and creating meaningful connections with Joseon for your country. 

You were excited to visit a place you’d never been before. For the past few years you’d gone back and forth between the United States and Europe, and you were dying to go somewhere new, learn a new language, and experience a new culture. Luckily, you already had a friend, Kyle Moore, who you knew would be in Hanseong already. You’d met him from a previous visit to New York City when your father had you do some translating work for the US Marine Corps. Knowing you had a friend in this new place gave you some comfort, and you were excited to meet new people as well.

~~~

Eugene Choi sat at his desk at the American legation in Joseon, leisurely reading through various documents. The air was cold outside but he had a fresh cup of hot coffee, just as bitter but comforting still. He was grateful for little things that reminded him of home. His real home.

Being back in Joseon caused a great deal of conflict inside his mind and his heart. As he walked the streets, he was respected, but he didn’t belong. He never did. But did he even want to? Did he want to belong to a world that had rejected him from his very first breath?

He knew he didn’t. But, deep down inside, he just wanted to belong to something. He wanted something, somewhere, to truly feel like home. He worked hard for a good life in America, and it was the place he found his freedom. But there was always someone or something to remind him that he wasn’t like everyone else. 

Luckily, he had Kyle as his closest friend, always there to make him feel accepted and normal. If it weren’t for Kyle, who knows where Eugene would be at this point. Especially considering the fact he just got promoted for saving his life.

Just as he was thinking back to their last battle together, Kyle walked into Eugene’s office, his own cup of coffee in hand. Although it was getting late in the afternoon, they both had tons of paperwork to go through since arriving in Hanseong - their prestigious promotions being put to good use.

“Seems like you’ve also got a lot to work through there.” He motioned to the piles of documents on Eugene’s desk.

Eugene sighed. “Not exactly what I was expecting when we arrived here.”

Kyle softly chuckled. “Well, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but there’s a ship arriving from New York City today. If I remember correctly, I know someone on that boat who may be able to help us out.”

~~~

You walked through the entrance of the Glory Hotel with your parents, beyond exhausted. As your parents were getting your rooms, you looked around at what would be your home for the foreseeable future. The hotel was charming and comfortable. You looked into the dining area and noticed several American military men. As you scanned the room, you noticed Kyle Moore stand up and wave to you, excitedly calling out your name.

You gave a polite smile and walked towards him. “It’s good to see you again, Kyle.”

“How was your trip?”

“Exhausting, of course.” You scoffed playfully and noticed the man sitting next to him at the table. Instantly, you recognized him from a previous visit to New York. Though you hadn’t formally introduced yourselves, you had seen him in passing. His face was definitely not one to forget.

You gave him a soft smile and Kyle introduced him. “This is my friend, Eugene Choi.” He nodded politely towards you before Kyle continued. “You know, I was actually thinking today, are you looking for a job?”

You chuckled. “Well, we’ve just arrived, so I guess I haven’t gotten a job yet. Do you have something for me?”

“Absolutely. First thing tomorrow morning, come see us at the legation.”

The thought of waking early in the morning after your exhausting trip made your stomach drop. “Oh… first thing?”

Eugene chimed in. “Why don’t we give her some time to rest first?”

Kyle nodded. “I guess you’re right. We’ll give you a day to settle in, get used to your new surroundings.” 

“Alright. I’ll see you then.” You turned to Eugene. “Nice to meet you.” You were about to turn to leave before Eugene stood up and reached his hand out to shake yours. His hand was warm in yours, and he sat back down with Kyle, staying silent. A bit awkward, but it just made you want to know more about him.

~~~

You spent the next day relaxing and settling into your new home, and before you knew it found yourself at the American legation the following morning. Kyle and Eugene sat in Eugene’s office, casually going over some documents. The smell of coffee immediately flooded your senses and gave you comfort. Coffee was something you could count on being in almost every part of the world, and you were grateful you could find it here.

The two of them looked up as you entered the room, Kyle excitedly standing from the desk next to Eugene.

“Good morning! Have you settled in well since arriving?”

You smiled and nodded, “I have, I appreciate the day off yesterday.”

Kyle scoffed, “Oh, don’t worry about it. It’s definitely needed, seeing the work Eugene has for you.” He playfully raised his eyebrows and motioned to the mountain of papers on the desk he was sitting at.

Eugene sighed, his lips slightly turning at the ends. “It’s not that bad, Kyle. Just light translating work.”

“That’s practically an encyclopedia! You’re basically putting her through torture, you know that?”

You laughed as Eugene rolled his eyes, slowly perusing through the documents. They were in various languages, most of which you knew. You turned towards Eugene, pointing at his cup of coffee. 

“As long as you have one of those for me, this will be no problem,” you said, giving him a sweet smile. He playfully looked at Kyle, asking him to get you some coffee, but you were momentarily mesmerized by his face yet again and couldn’t even register what he was saying. You immediately questioned how easy this task would actually be.

You were pulled from your trance by Kyle repeating your name, probably for the third or fourth time.

“Hm?”

He softly chuckled, as if he knew exactly what was going through your mind. “How do you take your coffee?”

“Oh, just… just regular. How it comes,” you blurted out, embarrassed.

~~~

As time passed, you quickly settled into a routine, working for the legation most days doing translating work. Your parents were busy most of the time anyways, and even when you weren’t working, you found yourself spending time at the legation doing leisurely activities like reading. You also used this opportunity to learn Korean. Gwan-su helped you immensely, as you helped him with translating work as well. Eugene had also hired a young boy, named Do-mi, to do small tasks at the legation, which now included giving you lessons.

You found yourself in Eugene’s company often, as he was the one giving you documents to translate. And you even found him eavesdropping on your lessons. You quickly figured out he wasn’t able to read or write in Korean, which perplexed you. He was such a mystery to you most of the time, and it only made your curiosity blossom further. You were already entranced by his looks, and his personality didn’t help either.

You felt yourself developing romantic feelings for him, something you weren’t normally accustomed to. Making connections with others was difficult enough aside from falling for someone. Who knew when you’d have to be whisked away to another corner of the world, never to see him again? It made no sense to fall for Eugene when each day might be one of the last you’d spend with him.

It’s not that you’d never fallen for someone before, or even made a friend, but you always knew when to stop yourself. When the potential loss was just too great for you to risk. Keeping everyone at an arm’s length was simply protecting yourself.

But it didn’t make it all any less painful.

~~~

It was another day of translating at the legation when Eugene announced he was stepping out early for the day. You already knew what you needed to complete that day, so silently you were thankful you wouldn’t have to spend more time with him. It was becoming increasingly hard for you to keep your mind from wandering about him, especially when he was in the same room as you. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from wondering what he was really like behind closed doors, what his true likes and dislikes were… what he thought about you. You’d see him read books, play games of tennis with Kyle, listen to music occasionally, just go about his life like normal, and you craved to be a part of it all. You knew your lifestyle made you crave stability on some level, but with Eugene it was unlike anything else. Suddenly, your craving for a true home was the biggest problem in the world. The thought of leaving behind this little life you’d created, even if it was fleeting, was nothing short of devastating. 

So you tried your best to suppress those feelings that threatened to upend your life in every way, just like you always had. And Eugene leaving for the day was a small victory in achieving that.

After finishing your work, you walked the streets of Hanseong and decided to treat yourself to some candy from the bakery. Seeing some of the international sweets brought fun memories from places you’d been to in the past, and you ultimately decided on some of the peppermint candies. For a brief moment, you were reminded that maybe you were okay just by yourself.

On your way back to the legation, before heading to the hotel, you saw Eugene in the street. From afar everything seemed normal, but as you got closer you noticed a look of utter despair on his face. As you approached him, your heart was flooded with concern. He didn’t seem to notice you until you were right in front of him.

“Eugene? Are you okay?”

He seemed to be instantly pulled from his thoughts. He scanned your face briefly before clearing his throat. “Oh, uh… yeah. Yes, I’m fine. Thanks.” He was short with his words, his usual polite, positive tone of voice now devoid of emotion.

You eyed him suspiciously, noticing his swollen eyes. Clearly he’d been crying recently, but you didn’t exactly want to call him out on whatever happened if he didn’t want to talk about it. You slowly nodded.

“Alright, well… I just went to the bakery,” you looked down at the bag of candies, pulling one from the bag. “Want one?”

He stared at your hand for a second, then your face, looking bewildered. “No, that’s alright. Thank you though.”

You nodded again, feeling awkward and unsure. You wanted to console him but didn’t know what to say.

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow th-”

“Do you want to get a drink?” He suddenly said, anxiety clear in his tone of voice. He nodded towards the nearby bar.

It was your turn to be surprised. You looked around for a moment, saying, “Sure, I guess I’ve got nothing better to do.” You gave an awkward chuckle. 

Eugene gave you a soft smile and began walking towards the bar.

Unbeknownst to you, Eugene had similar feelings blossoming for you. He practically lived for the moment you’d walk into his office each morning, your sweet, cheerful face greeting him every time. He always made sure to have a cup of coffee for you ready, that way you two could enjoy it together and chat a little before getting to work. Romance and romantic feelings never came naturally to him, so he was surprised that you were on his mind so much lately.

But just like you, he struggled with the idea of home, a true home. Being back in Joseon was like psychological warfare. Everything from his past was being forced to come up to the surface, and he couldn’t suppress it like he usually could. Though it was painful, he had to try to reconcile and make peace with his past. He tried to do that today, in search of his parents grave, but his efforts were futile. Instead he has to grapple yet again with an unimaginable pain he’s lived with for as long as he can remember.

He knew he had feelings for you, and wanted nothing more than to pursue you, but how could he do that to you with all of the baggage he was carrying? In his mind, you didn’t deserve his problems. But today, he just couldn’t help himself, your smile a respite from his world all but crashing down around him.

The two of you walked into the bar and sat down, ordering a bottle of alcohol and grabbing a few cups. You’d never been to this bar before. There were a lot of American soldiers, as well as a few of Gu Dong-mae’s men, of whose reputation you were well aware of.

You quietly drank and settled into your seat, glancing at Eugene every so often to gauge his emotions. Clearly something devastating just happened to him and he just wanted to get his mind off of it.

“Do you go here often?” you asked.

Again, Eugene seemed to be pulled out of his thoughts. “Oh, sometimes… The soldiers like to come here a lot.” He gestured to everyone around you.

You nodded silently, unsure of what else to say.

Eugene eyed you for a moment. “Did you complete the rest of your tasks today?”

“Yes, all done. Just like normal,” you politely nodded and took a sip of your drink. You suddenly felt like you were talking to your boss rather than a friend.

Eugene nodded silently. At a table across the room, one of Gu Dong-mae’s men laughed out loud and leaned towards another at his table.

“I don’t think they’re on a date, I mean, if they are it definitely isn’t going well, just look at them!” 

You were confused for a moment. Were they talking about you and Eugene? You gave the man a confused, somewhat embarrassed look. The table just laughed to themselves and continued drinking.

You made small talk with Eugene for a bit, feeling awkward but happy to have more time to spend with him, despite your efforts to be emotionally detached earlier. He seemed to open up a little after drinking more, but you could tell he was hiding an immense pain.

He stood up to get another bottle, and one of Dong-mae’s men stood up and approached you.

“Are you really on a date with him?”

You looked at him, appalled. “Excuse me?”

One of the other men stood up and attempted to pull the man back to the table, to no avail.

“Let go of me, I’m just asking her a simple question.”

“Sit down and stop bothering people.”

The man became increasingly frustrated. He was clearly wasted, swaying back and forth. “I’m not bothering anyone! Let go!”

Eugene quickly approached the table and set the bottle down with a loud thud. “You need to leave, now.”

That angered the man even more. He attempted to yell something but ended up slurring his words, almost falling to the ground. His friend attempted to keep him up and pull him away, but the man just pushed him aside. He pulled out his sword in an attempt to intimidate Eugene, but ended up slashing your hand as he did so.

You cried out in pain, quickly standing up and clutching your hand to your chest. Eugene looked at you with pure shock and concern.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” You screamed and slapped the man, your pain quickly turning to anger. You weren’t a stranger to creepy, entitled men, and you’d trained yourself how to deal with them as best you could. The man looked confused, not even realizing what he did. Before anyone else could intervene, you clutched the man’s collar and shoved him to the ground. It wasn’t hard as he was already unsteady on his feet. Resting a foot on his chest, you quickly took hold of his sword and rested it on his neck. 

At this point you didn’t even register the blood rushing from your injured hand. Everyone looked at you in shock, not bothering to intervene.

“I should cut your hands off for that, shouldn’t I?” You glanced at Eugene, still looking at you in shock.

The man was just a blubbering mess beneath you, unable to form a complete sentence. You pressed on his chest further, the sword leaving a small cut on his neck. “Should I or should I not?”

He cried out. “No! Please, no!”

You looked at him with pure disgust, then around you. Everyone was watching you, watching this man beg beneath you. The social shaming he’d receive for this seemed sufficient enough for you, and you knew he’d already be punished by his own for his recklessness, so you slowly stepped off of him and dropped his sword.

“If I see your face again I won’t be so kind.”

You quickly stormed out of the bar without so much as a thought of where to go next. Eugene quickly followed behind and pulled you to a stop.

“Stop! Your hand.” He gently grabbed your hand and you looked down, finally noticing the large gash and blood smeared everywhere.

Suddenly the pain came rushing back into your senses, and you cried out. The wound was much deeper than you anticipated. Eugene quickly grabbed his handkerchief and wrapped it around your hand. The pressure stung but you knew you needed to stop the bleeding. Tears flowed down your face as the pain radiated up your arm.

“Come with me.” Eugene gently wrapped his arm around your shoulders, holding your hand in his, and quickly led you back to the legation where he knew he could tend to your wound. 

Silently, he chastised himself for not being there to protect you. He should’ve intervened before you got hurt. But nonetheless he was beyond impressed at how you handled the situation. He would’ve never expected you to be so confident in disarming that man. Though he was solely focused on helping you now, he couldn’t help but notice those familiar feelings for you blossoming to the surface once again, stronger than ever.

Once you reached the legation, you sat in his office clutching your hand as he got the necessary tools and medicines. The ointments stung and he tried his best to numb the area as he stitched you up, but the pain was almost unbearable. You were uncontrollably sobbing and crying out of pain, though you were trying your best to keep it in. You didn’t even register that Eugene was finished until he started softly wiping your face of tears and sweat.

You blinked through your tears and saw your hand entirely wrapped in bandages, the pressure somewhat subduing the pain now. Eugene looked disheveled, his sleeves rolled up, blood smeared on his arms and hands. He was looking at you with intense concern.

You took a deep breath in and grabbed the handkerchief he was using to wipe your face. You finished wiping yourself, feeling embarrassed now that you were feeling a bit better.

“Thank you. I’m sorry,” you softly scoffed to yourself, as if this was all just a big inconvenience for him.

He began to wipe his hands clean. “It’s not your fault. Don’t be sorry.”

You met eyes and lingered just a moment longer than usual, before you quickly stood up to gather yourself. It had been quite the day for both of you, and as much as you wanted to spend time with Eugene you felt your defenses come up yet again. If you looked at him for even another second, you felt you’d lose all control and cross the line you tried so hard to obey.

You were about to walk out of the room without saying another word before Kyle quickly stormed in.

“What happened? I heard there was a situation.”

Silently, you were relieved Kyle was there to break the tension you felt. “Oh, I just had a little cut from some drunk pulling out his sword at the bar.” You rolled your eyes as if it was nothing.

Eugene loudly scoffed. “It wasn’t just a little cut. I just gave her stitches.”

You sighed. “I’m fine. Thank you,” you said, still avoiding eye contact.

Kyle looked at you disapprovingly. “Well, I hope you’re heading back to the hotel to rest now. And not alone I presume?” He glanced at Eugene.

You quickly responded, “Actually, why don’t you walk me there?”

Kyle glanced again at Eugene, sensing the weird awkwardness between you two. You didn’t bother waiting for a response and continued your way out of the legation, Kyle eventually catching up to you.

Eugene sat alone, somewhat dumbfounded. He thought he should be offended at your quick exit, but sensed your embarrassment and let it go. You had done the same for him earlier, and he knew it was probably for the best.

As you and Kyle walked back to the hotel, Kyle eyed you warily. 

“Everything alright?”

Pulled from your thoughts, you perked up. “Hm? Of course. This should be healed in no time.”

He slowly nodded. “I’m sure it will. Eugene is very good at those kinds of things.”

You nodded back, staying silent, which further elevated Kyle’s curiosity into concern.

“Is everything… okay with you two?”

“What? Of course, why do you ask?” 

“You seemed like you needed any sort of excuse to get away from him earlier.”

You blinked, unsure what to say. It wasn’t exactly false but you weren’t about to divulge all of your complicated feelings to Kyle at that moment.

He furrowed his eyebrows. “You know you can tell me if anything is wrong. I’ve known Eugene for a long time and I trust him with my life, but if he did any-”

“Oh my god, no, he didn’t do anything wrong, if that’s what you’re asking! No, he’s great. Eugene is great. Please, don’t think anything like that.”

Kyle nodded slowly as the two of you approached the entrance of the Glory Hotel.

“If anything, that’s the problem,” you softly said, almost under your breath but enough that Kyle heard it.

He stopped walking as you entered the hotel, giving you a curious look. You were a bit embarrassed so you quickly said your goodbye and rushed to your room, exhausted for many different reasons.

~~~

After that day, things mostly went back to normal. You spent your days with Eugene at the legation, and were reminded of how he helped you that night often. The memories of his hands on yours, of him wiping your face clean, and the look of genuine concern for you flooded your mind constantly. And now that Kyle had suspicions of your feelings for Eugene, he decided to use it for his own personal entertainment.

Kyle had known Eugene for a very long time and knew he wasn’t the romantic type, but easily noticed how he was falling for you. He knew it was a complicated situation, but didn’t see harm in having a little fun with it. He’d often invite the two of you to have lunch or coffee with him, only to make up some excuse for him to attend to, leaving the two of you by yourselves.

You were often embarrassed by Kyle’s tactics, as was Eugene, but you were happy to spend time with Eugene, though it made your longing for him even stronger. As time passed, you became more and more anxious at the day when you’d have to leave, so you cherished any moment you could have.

Eugene also felt this anxiety, this increasing worry that eventually you’d have to leave Joseon. He was constantly torn between keeping a distance or taking advantage of any moment he had with you. It was like this constant push and pull, both of you wanting more from each other but too scared to risk what little you already had.

One day, while working in Eugene’s office, Gwan-su cheerfully walked in, carrying a large covered basket, and sat next to you. He looked at you with a devilish smile, as if he had a secret to tell you. He leaned in, whispering.

“I have a surprise for you. Don’t ask questions, just go along with it.”

You looked at him confused, about to ask what in the world he was talking about, before Kyle walked in.

“Gwan-su, you wanted to speak with me?”

He softly chuckled to himself. “Yes, come with me. You too.” He pointed to you as he walked to a nearby hallway.

You and Kyle looked at him curiously as he looked like he could barely contain his excitement.

“I know it’s been busy here at the legation lately, so I wanted to give you two a break.”

As you continued looking confused, Kyle questioned, “What do you mean?”

“Listen. Take the rest of the day off and walk down the path to the river. Take this, and have a nice picnic. You guys deserve it.”

He handed the basket to Kyle as the two of you were still puzzled.

“And why isn’t Eugene invited to this nice picnic you’ve planned for us?” Kyle asked.

Gwan-su smiled devilishly yet again. “I can see you’ve been trying to get some alone time,” he gestured towards you, “but Eugene is always there.”

Your face instantly turned red as Kyle stared at him incredulously, before laughing out loud. For a moment, you thought Gwan-su was serious. Did Kyle have feelings for you?

Kyle continued laughing, “Wait, is that what this is all about?”

Now it was Gwan-su’s turn to be confused. “Well, yes, I mean, I thought-”

“Gwan-su, you’re a great friend, you know that?’ Kyle could barely contain his laughter still. “But I’m not interested in her. In that way. We’re just friends!”

You breathed a sigh of relief. Gwan-su looked beyond embarrassed, and gave you an apologetic look. 

“My apologies, I guess I read the situation wrong. Uh, just keep the basket, I’ll be on my way now.” He quickly walked away to avoid further embarrassment.

You chuckled out of surprise as Kyle sighed. He handed you the basket. “He’s a funny one, isn’t he? You can take this, I have some things to work on.” As he was walking away, he turned back towards you. “And maybe you might have a better use for it?” he winked before leaving the building.

You stood in the hallway, holding the heavy basket, wondering what to do next. As you turned back towards Eugene’s office, you saw him standing in front of his office, curiosity clear on his face. He almost looked like he was… pouting?

“What was that all about?”

“Oh nothing, just Gwan-su trying to set up Kyle and I on a date, or something,” you chuckled to yourself.

Eugene’s face went slightly red, and he eyed the basket. You handed it to him as you walked back to your desk. “Take a look, I have no use for it.” You sat down and continued what you were working on before.

Eugene quickly looked through the basket, finding a blanket and tons of food to eat. He paused for a moment, then turned to you.

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“Hm? I guess so, what’s in there?”

“Oh, uh, a lot of things actually. You know, it’s a nice day out…”

You eyed him, wondering if he was really about to ask you what you thought he would. In Eugene’s mind, he simply couldn’t pass up this chance.

“Why don’t we go on that picnic?”

~~~

You sat on the blanket with Eugene, under the shade of a nearby tree with the river flowing calmly in front of you. The weather was perfectly warm, the sun bright but not too bright. It was completely idyllic. You were lazily eating some fruit as you and Eugene talked.

“You’ve really never been fishing?”

You giggled. “Nope, never.”

“Even with all the places around the world you’ve been too?” He looked at you incredulously.

“I really haven’t! I don’t even know how.”

Eugene scoffed. “You know how to disarm a man but not how to fish. How does that happen?”

You laughed. “I guess no one’s taught me before.”

He eyed you, as if he was plotting something. Your heart leapt.

He looked away, smirking. “I’ll just have to teach you then.”

“Well, you better be careful, I might be better at it than you.”

He laughed out loud. “That’s alright. I doubt it but,” he paused as you laughed. He couldn’t help but admire you. “That’s alright.”

You sighed, taking another bite and observing your surroundings. “It’s so beautiful here.”

“How does it compare to the rest of the world?”

“It’s definitely up there,” you said, smiling. You looked at him curiously. “It’s not like you haven’t been to a lot of different places too. What do you think?”

He sighed, looking away. “It’s fine.”

You watched him as his expression softened into something sadder, something melancholy. 

“Do you like being back here?” you asked. You never really pushed any serious subjects like this with Eugene, but this intimate space made it easier.

He looked down, and you almost changed the subject but he answered. “I don’t know. It’s strange. It’s where I was born but… I don’t feel like I belong. I never belonged here.”

“Do you feel that way in New York?”

He thought for a moment. “Sometimes. Only sometimes.”

You nodded. You knew that feeling all too well. “It’s difficult, isn’t it?”

“Hm?”

“Feeling like you don’t quite fully fit in somewhere. Never knowing where home really is.”

“Yeah… Do you feel that way a lot?”

You paused. “I do. I’m thankful I get to travel so much, but it’s hard to get close to anyone when I’m always going somewhere else. I don’t feel like I belong anywhere either.”

Eugene softly chuckled but stayed silent.

“What?” you asked, almost offended.

“Nothing. It’s just, it doesn’t seem that way at all.”

“Oh?”

“It seems like… It feels like you belong here. Like you could belong anywhere.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you laughed. “I wish that were true. You’re not making any sense, Eugene.”

He sighed. “I just mean that when you’re around, you belong. I’m sure you’re like that everywhere you go.”

You held his gaze, your face flushing and your heart going a mile a minute at this point. You couldn’t even think of anything to say.

Eugene knew he was being bold, but he couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t keep so much inside anymore. He knew if he didn’t have you around to keep him company, to make this place seem more beautiful than what he thought, it would be almost unbearable being there. Seeing you admire everything in awe, showing genuine interest in the culture, helped him see his birthplace in a different light. He was so used to feeling like an outsider because of where he came from. It didn’t fix everything in his heart but it gave him some solace, which was more than he could ever ask for.

“You make me think I can have things that I can’t have,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“As if… impossible things seem possible.”

“Like what?”

“Like I can move forward from all of this. Like I’m more than all of this.”

You scoffed, overwhelmed. You clearly used humor often as a coping mechanism to hide your true feelings.  “You’re giving me too much credit.”

He gave you a stern look. “You don’t give yourself enough.”

You held your breath at that look. That line you drew between you two, the line you tried so hard to keep yourself from crossing, was disintegrating in your mind. It excited and scared you at the same time.

“Eugene… you are more than this. You always have been.” In your mind, it was obvious.

He sighed, looking down, pausing for a few moments. “I hope you’re right about that.”

“I’m right about most things, but you knew that already.”

He laughed. It made your heart flutter a million times at once.

“And whatever you think you can’t have… you can have it.”

He looked at you, and you could see the swirl of emotions written all over his face. You were sure the same emotions were all over yours too, and somehow you sensed that he understood exactly what you meant and felt. In that moment, you felt you understood him completely too. And for the first time your heart didn’t ache at what was left unsaid. It was as if both of you already knew.

next chapter

[joysmercer]

what countries do you think the anubis residents live in post-grad? i keep seeing people saying all of them go to uni in america but that seems unrealistic.

mara, willow, and alfie would stay. i can't think of any reason why they'd leave except if they got a scholarship or something, and given the tor fiasco i doubt willow (or alfie) would qualify and mara's too practical for all that (expenses would still be A Lot) when oxbridge are right in her backyard.

kt and eddie would go home. neither have a real reason to stay in the uk and i think they'd both miss their family. although i can see kt taking on a job (photographer?) that allows her to travel so often that she doesn't really have a permanent place she actually lives in lol. eddie probably goes back to the uk on occasion with patricia.

patricia would go to the us. she doesn't seem particularly close with her family—at least enough to want to stay close to them for the next three years—and i think she'd like the adventure, plus eddie (and nina and amber, canonically, and kt) would be there too. she probably comes back for visits, though.

joy and jerome, as much as i would love for them to live next door to p/e as adults, they would probably stay in the uk, again because they have no real reason to leave. when they earn enough money via jerome becoming a big-shot businessman and/or joy repeatedly being invited to organize the met gala or something, they buy a second home near wherever patricia and eddie happen to be and plan their (business) trips around holidays whenever possible :)

mick, I think, would go to the us for uni on a full-ride D1 scholarship (I'm thinking UCLA for soccer). he qualifies for the olympics/fifa/world champs/whatever at some point during those four years. I can see him staying on after and having a successful college coaching career, but around his early-30s he'll make the move back home (either the uk or australia idk).

fabian would stay in the uk for uni. he studies abroad somewhere in new england for a semester (idk is that a thing in the uk?) or does a 1-year masters at an ivy or something just to see what the hype is about, but i don't see him moving permanently for the same reason as most of the others on this list.

nina is obviously in the us at the end of her senior year and i don't think she'll ever go back to the uk willingly, although she does find herself dragged there far too often (in her opinion) either by amber, a vengeful god, or her publicist (who doesn't understand why she's so averse to promoting her latest potentially-blockbuster movie in the country it's set in).

amber is also at fashion school in nyc during season 3, which she presumably continues in for uni, although maybe she drops out once her designs take off. I can see her moving to the us permanently (mostly because that's where nina is) but traveling around the world for work frequently. she and joy switch-off organizing anubis reunions every other year-ish, and she goes back home (with a somewhat-reluctant nina in tow) for those.

[echo-rambles]

canon compliant future au where the guys are like, in their mid 30's and while skz hasn't officially disbanded they haven't really done anything together in awhile and they all have their own careers and lives happening;

chan, han, and changbin have managed to create their own company under the 3racha label. it's still decently new, especially compared to a lot of the other labels out there, but they made enough of a name for themselves when they were full time idols that they're doing really good for themselves. chan tends to deal with a lot of international scouting, while changbin runs things at their seoul head quarters. han was originally meant to stick in seoul with changbin, but he relocated to tokyo a few years ago to help open and manage a japanese branch of 3racha entertainment.

seungmin stumbled his way into acting, and he ends up becoming a pretty big household name. after producing two solo albums, he decided to try acting for fun, and found a love for it. he still sings of course, and even provides original songs for the ost of each show he's been in. he started out cast in secondary roles, either as the second love interest or the main characters best friend. one memorable occasion he managed to land the role of a villain. it's only recently that he's venturing into lead roles, romantic or otherwise. seungmin really wants to try performing in some sort of musical at least once before the end of his career. he thinks it'd be fun.

lee know lives in japan, running a dance studio of his own. he also is the founder of an organization for re-homing stray cats or any other sort of cat in need. sometimes he'll post snippets of himself singing, on the social media account he still shares with han to this day. but dance was always his first and forever love. lee know posts mostly about the cats he's seen through his day or rare candid moments of han working in a studio.

felix, hyunjin, and jeongin have stuck with the fashion industry. it's something they all love, and possibly always will.

jeongin produced a few solo albums of his own, in various genres, and while he continues to be an ambassador for mcqueen, he's begun branching out into the world of fashion design on his own. he's always had a love for fashion and creating outfits, and now with his experience and resources, he wants to try his hand at creating his own clothing. he remembers the thrill he felt wearing clothing and jewelry that sported well known initials, and one day he hopes to instill that same feeling in someone else with his own YJ emblem.

felix has small projects of his own over the course of his career, and he sticks with louis vuitton the whole time, thankful that they allow him so much freedom in certain things. he doesn't necessarily like to be tied down to one thing, and enjoys speaking out for many organizations that hold his interest. I feel felix would be the type to travel and vlog about it when he could. living a quieter life than some of his friends but still a full and fun life. he'd settle down somewhere in europe, possibly somewhere in italy as he slowly learns the language over the years.

hyunjin has made his way from versace prince to versace king. he's at every one of the events, smiling and posing and overall being the model ambassador. there are many pictures of him arriving arm in arm with donatella herself. he is the face of versace. he absolutely has a house in italy or france, and while it might not be his permanent residence he spends a fair amount of time there. there's just something about the european seaside that keeps drawing him back in. he's excited to collab with jeongin and his up and coming fashion line, happily providing samples of his art. it's said that versace is very supportive of whatever hyunjin has planned.

[furashuban]

Awakening (Chapter 1: Those Who Try)

The first main story in my series in over a year! This is the first chapter of a 4-part story and will be updated every couple of weeks, hoping you all enjoy!

Words: 2.4k

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47759587/chapters/120392875

Summary:  Every 10 years on an early winter’s day, a Timaani wakes up from hibernation. If one were in the wilderness and looked yonder to find a dense forest atop a hill, chances were that that hill was a sleeping Timaani—and an ancient one no less, for miles of forestlands tend to grow on its back with every passing century it lives.

When Eliott Arrowwood finds out that hundreds of creatures now live in the forestland of a hibernating Timaani, he with the help of his friends in Kuluufia devise a plan to bring them to safety before the giant creature awakens soon.

Every 10 years on an early winter’s day, a Timaani wakes up from hibernation. If one were in the wilderness and looked yonder to find a dense forest atop a hill, chances were that that hill was a sleeping Timaani—and an ancient one no less, for miles of forestland tend to grow on its back with every passing century it lives. In other cases, that hill could’ve once been the same creature a long time ago, but has since departed, with all that remains of it now being permanently one with the soil and the wilderness.

But let’s say one was still alive, still hibernating, still very much a Timaani. Once it wakes up, the colossal beast of the north rises on all-fours and begins traversing the countryside as freely as it wants; a behemoth shadow darkening the outskirts of every tundra, lake or even village it crosses. While it’s always best to stay careful, take heart knowing that the Timaanit (plu. form of Timaani) are greatly aware of the earth below them, and will do their best to turn away from smaller creatures to keep them safe from itself. Finally, after an indefinite period of walking, it finds somewhere new and spacious to rest on for another slumberous decade.

Eliott Arrowwood had seen many of these giants walk throughout the 200 years he’d been alive for (give or take). In fact, he was there at the right place and time to safely witness a lone Timaani hibernate just a stretch off the borders of his home city of Kuluufia. He then kept track of the years since he first witnessed the gargantuan creature, and before the autumn season could reach its end on the 10th year, he ventured out to the Timaani’s forest to take a few strolls as to remember it by.

__________

Another chilly afternoon in the city. The trees on every sidewalk became more and more barren each day; the brown and orange leaves that once enveloped them were now piling on the streets for people and bicycles to trample on. Brick chimneys puffed veils of smoke all throughout the day, and through the windows of crowded restaurants and inns were patrons keeping warm with fresh servings of hot food and drinks.

Arrowwood was visiting the Kuluufia National Museum and Library—the KUNAMAL for short—wishing to spend time with the resident librarian and his best friend, Nelly Flanagan, or “Flannel” as he belovingly nicknamed. The pair sauntered around the grand and comfy library building as they conversed with one another. Flannel pushed along a cart of returned books whilst they listened to Arrowwood beside them, and there was enough space in the book cart for a common raven—the librarian’s Vikorppi* daughter, Ramona—to nestle beside the pile and take a joyride as the adults talked.

“So, the forest a week from now is going to…rise from the ground, you said?” Flannel turned to Arrowwood, no longer walking nor pushing the cart.

“That’s because it’s not actually a forest, but a whole living creature, and a big one at that!” Arrowwood clarified, “It’s been asleep for a decade now, but it will soon wake itself up now that winter is coming.” Flannel took a moment to absorb all the hints in Arrowwood’s explanation. “Voi… This whole time?” they whispered; eyebrows raised. They had never seen a Timaani up close like Arrowwood, but they were familiar with the creatures through the books they read as a child and even as an adult.

“Mhm,” Arrowwood nodded grinning, “It’s a rare sight, and since we’re the only ones to know about it as far as I’m concerned, I thought it would be nice to watch its migration together with the kid and Jarno, at a safe distance of course…” Arrowwood had been jubilant throughout most of their conversation, but slowly, an uneasy frown shaped under his beard. “There’s just one other thing, I’m afraid.”

“That being?” asked Flannel, the immortal wanderer’s sudden worry had rubbed off on them.

“I haven’t visited the Timaani’s forest since the year it began hibernating, and when I finally did yesterday, I noticed quite a slew of creatures have made it their home since then. Once the giant thing awakens, nothing will be ready for it.” Arrowwood took off his glasses while still facing the librarian; he tended to do this whenever he talked about something grave and uncertain.

“Just thinking about it now. Hundreds of creatures, mystical and ordinary, will all be displaced or even killed trying to flee from the tremors of a Timaani’s awakening,” he continued, “I have to trudge every corner of its forest and somehow get each and every one to safety, but I’d be lying if I said there was enough time to do that now,” he paused, needing to let out a crestfallen sigh. “Ten years have now passed, Flannel. I would never allow myself to let such a misfortune happen, yet I really, really should’ve prepared for this sooner.”

At that moment, the bearded man felt Flannel’s hand patting his shoulder gently. “Not to worry, Eli” the librarian comforted. “You’ll find a way, but definitely not alone. All we need is a plan, any plan at all using everything we know to get it done. That should be enough, right? If I have to help further by skipping a day from the library to venture into the Timaani’s forest with you, I will do just that, too.”

Arrowwood placed his own hand above Flannel’s, bringing back his smile to let them know he was thankful without having to say it. Flannel was one of the busiest people he knew. After all, they were still the librarian for the KUNAMAL and the loving parent of a mystical child, not to mention the author of a book they longed to finish since they first met. He never intended to ask for the young librarian’s help, but Flannel spoke as though deep down, they knew the bearded man desired their best friend to assist him.

“And you’re absolutely positive about wanting to help?”

“Tietysti, Eli, one-hundred percent.” Flannel grinned softly. Their work in the library was important to them, of course, but their best friend and the creatures he wished to save were even more so.

“Suppose it just begs one more question then,” Arrowwood put his glasses back on, “where can we start in helping a whole forest evacuate from calamity?”

Flannel leaned against their cart of books and began to think. When they came forward to help, they swore they already had something forming in their head, and it was just a matter of bringing that thought back. “Oh! I remember the title now; there’s a book around here that may give us an idea.”

“Lead the way, Nells.” Arrowwood clasps his hands together, hope continuing to build up in him through the librarian.

Flannel picked up Ramona from the book cart and perched her on their shoulder, and soon, the trio ambled to the Myths & Folklore section of the library. Flannel climbed up a ladder as they hovered their finger against a brown hardcover with gold embedded text, pulling it out and scaling back to the wood-paneled floor. On a bench table adjacent to the shelves, the librarian set the book down—it was a bulky publication, the title on the cover read Opas Tuntemattomiin Esineisiin—“The Guide to Objects of the Unknown”—and they browsed through the apparently plentiful pages of the table of contents.

Flannel let out a satisfied Aha before flipping through all the pages front-to back in swift succession. There it was, the page Flannel hoped could give them ideas for their plan. A title in large cursive lettering adorned the chapter. It read Horn of Summoning, and under it was an ink illustration of the artifact: an instrument reminiscent to an old Viking horn, but was much longer and bare from distinguishable designs.

“For as long as the wielder carries a lingering blow from the mouthpiece, the instrument would resonate a bellowing hum that can be heard from all reaches of the land,” Flannel read from the page, “no creature can resist the sound of the Horn, hence upon hearing it, it will curiously locate its source to the person playing the instrument.”

“Huh, I’ll be.” Arrowwood stroked his beard, “Not a bad idea, Flannel. How’d you think of—”

“Nothing but hard librarian knowledge, Eli.” Flannel threw in half-jokingly, tapping the sides of their black ushanka casing their head.

Ramona suddenly hopped off from her mother’s shoulder as she shifted from her raven self into her human form in the blink of an eye. She then leaned towards the edge of the bench to take a good look at the page. “It sort of looks like a tooth with cavities,” she remarked.

Flannel chuckled. “You’re pretty close about that,” they turned to the next page with illustrations of an animal with a pair of long tusks, accompanied with humans suiting floppy hats and robes lounging about. “Have a look at this page, kultaseni.”

“It says…The earliest known Horns were made from the tusks of woolly mammoths until…’mah-guess’?” the Vikorppi child squinted.

“’May-jess’.” Flannel corrected her in a gentle tone.

“Oh, right, sorry.” Ramona blushed, trying to pick up where she left off. “…Until mages learned to make ones using other materials like wood and clay,” she turned to her mother beaming. “Well, that’s nice! For the mammoths especially.”

“I know nothing about carving, so,” the librarian looked up at Arrowwood, “perhaps you can make one of these, Eli?”

“I’m afraid not,” Arrowwood sighed. “Crafting the shape alone is one thing, but an instrument of this sort requires unique precision and, well, a dash of enchantment to actually work,” his hand covered the area of his beard as he pondered. He knew finding a Horn of Summoning was, at this moment, the best way to rescue creatures from the Timaani’s wakefulness, but he also knew that the instrument was just as rare as the giant’s migration.

“We’re going to have to find a mage. Ever been to the Sinfonia Varasto, Flannel?” asked Arrowwood.

“I’m familiar with the place,” answered Flannel, “What are you proposing?”

“If there’s anyone I know who can help us look for a working Horn—perhaps even get her to make one for us—it’s the shopkeeper there, Enni Lampinen.”

Flannel and Ramona thought about the riveting implications Arrowwood had brought about. If this Enni person could help, was she a mage then? In Kuluufia no less? The city’s clocktower out in Pääkatu rung its bell from a distance, telling all Kuluufians that it was officially late in the afternoon. “Okay, the library closes in two hours,” said Flannel. “We can head to the store immediately after.”

__________

Almost an hour had passed since the librarian spoke with the immortal wanderer. Arrowwood decided he would pass the time reading books like everyone else in the building did, meanwhile Flannel continued their duties as the librarian, the plan to find a Horn of Summoning lingered in the back of their head as they worked. Ramona, back to her raven-form, stood on a perch on the front desk waiting for her mum to come back, which they eventually did carrying two books. Across them was a patron who had also waited patiently for the librarian to return with the recommendations he had asked for earlier. “Toivon, että ne auttavat sinua hyvin.” Flannel spoke in their usual kind tone, just with a pinch more friendliness as they wished the patron well in their reading. The patron left, gleefully replying kiitos— “thank you”—in return.

The Vikorppi changed back to her human form, remaining on the desk as she sat and swayed her legs about. “Um, hey mum?” Ramona called the librarian’s attention.

“Yes, dear?” Flannel acknowledged, jotting down the current date and the library books they gave into a log book.

“Are you really going to head out to the Timaani’s forest and save all those creatures with Arrowwood?”

Flannel was quiet for a moment. “I might. I feel like I want to, at least,” they answered, no longer writing. “Whenever Arrowwood finds himself in adventures that worry him more than excite him, I have to be there for him and help prove everything will work out. But thing is, I don’t know how I’ll be able to watch over you if I’m out there helping bring creatures to safety.”

“Well, if you’re going then, I want to go as well,” declared Ramona; both her fists clenched tightly with enthusiasm. Surprised by the child’s sudden offer, Flannel knelt down to the girl’s height.

“I’m afraid the adventure won’t be as laidback or as fun as what we’re used to having with Arrowwood, sweetheart,” they explained. Flannel knew, of course, that the worst possible scenario—being the Timaani waking up early on the day its forestland’s inhabitants were to be saved—would not naturally happen, but Ramona was not used to going on adventures with so much urgency in them; it was easy for the librarian to feel concerned for their daughter’s well-being. “Are you sure you want to?”

“Very sure…Well, I think…” she lowered her hands until they hid under her cloak; admittedly, she was doubtful that saving a forest from a slumbering giant was something she could do in real life, for the knowledge of the giant’s presence itself was enough to make her feel apprehensive. Flannel’s concerns were coming true, but nevertheless, the raven-child grunted and shook her head. “It’s just that, you’re going to be saving all sorts of creatures with just you and Arrowwood all by yourselves, anything can happen because of that,” she explained. “You always care for me when I need you the most, mum, and I want to care for you in return.”

A soft grin formed on Flannel’s face, warmth swelling in their chest. “That means the world to hear, Ramona,” they expressed. “As long as we’re both together out there, the two of us will be okay, I suppose.”

“Does that mean I get to go with you?” a toothy grin formed on Ramona’s face.

“It does, kuu pirakka.” Flannel leaned in to gently kiss the girl’s forehead. “Before we close, it’s best we let Arrowwood know about everything.”

“I can tell him right now!” Ramona hopped from the ground as she turned back to her raven form, flying above the library to head over to Arrowwood.

[just-your-average-tangerine]

I read somewhere that one way to deal with anxiety is to think about the best case scenario, worst case scenario, and most likely scenario, to kind of put it all in perspective. This isn't exactly the same type of anxiety that advice was meant for but I'm going to try it anyway.

Option 1: move back in with my parents out of state.

Pros:

-get away from my roommates bullshit, back to my parents bullshit which I'm used to, my bullshit comfort zone if you will

-a bit more stability

Cons:

-I'd have to temporarily (possibly permanently) stop my transition due to family stuff and lack of access to trans Healthcare in the area

- no ability to socialize because the area is unsafe for me as a trans person

Best case scenario: I work full time for a few years to save money/ gain in state residency then go back to school part time until I get my degree in theater and film and then start working towards a film career.

Worst case scenario: I work full time and cant afford to go back to school so I end up stuck with my parents working a minimum wage job forever.

Most likely scenario: I work full time for a few years until they convince me to give up on film and do something practical. I either go back to school for something other than film or just get a more "career type" job that doesn't require a degree. Eventually I move out of my parents house but still stuck in other ways.

Option 2: keep my current course

Pros:

-staying out of my parents house grants me a little more freedom, not much but...

-can continue hrt (no other aspects of transitioning but I have that at least)

- possibility of a social life, not likely but possible

Cons:

-roommate tries to indirectly control my life to meet his standards (i.e. ruined my last attempt at a romantic relationship because he saw me hug the guy and he doesn't like pda)

- if something goes wrong I have no back up plan, no support system. Constant anxiety that comes with that.

Best case scenario: I finish my associates degree and either find a way to pay to get a bachelor's or start a career in film

Worst case scenario: I stay stuck with my roommate, working a dead end job and not able to afford necessities much less the ability to enjoy things

Most likely scenario: I finish my associates and get a job doing something unrelated just to get by, eventually get enough money to afford a shitty apartment on my own or at least with a different roommate.

[maggicktouched]

@bokketo I have no good explanation for doing this instead of drafts. Too much fanfiction.

~~~

Beck lifted the wooden latch and gripped the cool, dew-encrusted edge of the barn door. She rolled one back, just enough to squeeze between, and walked on into the pitch blackness. It was funny that after all these years she still knew it well enough to walk its lofty halls completely blind. Her hand trailed along the walls on the freshly painted stalls. Every now and again the smooth wood was interrupted by a cool plate of brass. She’d—begrudgingly—replaced all of the old ones. All of the names on those tags belonged to horses that had died years ago.

Her father had been born into power and politics. He’d been widely loved and celebrated by not only his own people, but those from other clans as well. His heart was with their people, not his own ambitions, and it was with animals too. Horses in particular. He and her grandfather had built the stable with their own hands before she was ever born. At one time, there hadn’t been a single empty stall in the place. Over fifty horses had once called this place their home. Mustangs, mostly. But her father had taken in anything that he thought needed a home. Elderly horses that were discarded like trash, the frightened and abused, the blind or sickly. He trained the ones that he could and sent them off to good homes to open up more space, but there were a handful of permanent residents. Some favorites, and some that had been hurt so horribly that her father had said they deserved a kind place to rest and as much care as they’d accept.

That’s what this place was. A place to rest. It’s what she needed now: somewhere to settle her wounded heart.

“Steady now.” She whispered. One of the only occupied stalls in the stables now belonged to Sugar. Grani couldn’t tolerate being confined; he stayed out in the fields or the woodlands or shifted into his hawk form to come into the house with her. It would have been cruel to keep a horse isolated and in pitch darkness—but Sugar wasn’t a horse. Not really. He looked quite like one from a distance. Greater Dream Reavers were horse shaped. They had most of the parts that horses did, but the horns on their faces, the line of scales growing down their backs, their long lion-like tails, and their luminous crimson eyes gave away their true nature up close. Sugar was enormous, even for what he was. Tall and slender and filled to the brim with general disdain for nearly everything that lived. 

He was kicking the wall to the stall, and intermittently letting out an ear piercing whinny that had been what had drawn her out of the house to come soothe him. It’d already woken up the children once.

“I don’t know why you don’t just let yourself out.” She sighed. “I know that you can.”

Sugar stopped his racket and stared at her. All she could see were his large, intelligent eyes glowing scarlet in the abyss. He snorted, shut those magnificent eyes, and she could hear his head bobbing up and down irritably. Beck undid the latch and let the stall door swing open. The hooves of the massive beast clattered on the stone aisleway as he stepped out. She dug into her pocket and produced a little tin with candied violets when he began to huff and snuffle at her hands. 

“Find him for me tonight.” It was a useless request. Sugar had gone off looking for his master nearly every night since he’d gone missing. Every morning he returned sweaty and quiet and alone. She’d feed and groom him and leave him be. He had always liked her well enough—but she wasn’t who he wanted.

Maybe one night they would both be lucky.

When it was clear that he wouldn’t be getting anymore treats, Sugar snorted and trotted down the aisle and into the distance, disappearing before he even reached the doors of the barn and leaving her alone. 

“I used to like being alone.” She whispered to herself. The urge to cry bubbled up in her chest, and she slumped down onto an overturned bucket by the stall. 

After Draco had disappeared she had done her best. For a while she carried on every day at the Manor. She did everything that was expected of a woman of her status in the position she was in. She spoke to the Aurors who had investigated the scene, she kept up the house and managed its affairs, she took care of their little girl, and she laid in an empty bed each evening and cried cold, quiet tears until she fell asleep. As the weeks dragged on, it wore her down further and further. The Manor had become a crypt—everything inside it reminded her of Draco. Everything taunted her in her loneliness.

When the morning sickness started, she knew she couldn’t stay at the Manor anymore. If she had to raise a child and birth another alone, then she had to do it her way. She couldn’t waste time worrying about houses and appearances and in-laws and what Draco would want if he were there. 

It’d been better since they moved to the ranch. Not easier. Not by a longshot. For the first month she had called in a favor with Karl of the Bear Clan and he had come with three of his sons to shield her from the vicious meltdown her brother had. He’d told her to come home in the wake of her husband’s disappearance, and it’d been tempting. After all, Fenris didn’t exactly live at the Tandy Estate, and she loved her grandmother, but staying there wasn’t much different than staying at the Manor. Too many eyes and opinions and people insisting she do this or judging her for doing that. Raising a mourning child and navigating a rocky pregnancy was enough stress.

Karl was a good man. Sometimes she regretted not taking up his offer to move into Winter’s Heart—and to marry into his family. The Bears had their own pitfalls, but they believed in community, and they wouldn’t have tried to tell her what she could or couldn’t do. They wouldn’t have looked down their nose or fear her for what she was. But she wasn’t a Bear. She wasn’t even just a Fox anymore. She was a Malfoy, and the father of her children was out there… somewhere. 

She never whispered a word to Narcissa about the offer. The elder witch hadn’t been happy when she moved out, and she’d been even less so when she found out that she had four strange men living with her for the first month. But she wasn’t sure what she’d have done without Karl. Karl who had what felt like a million children and more patience than anyone she’d ever met. Karl with his endlessly affable personality that had made her daughter smile when everything seemed hopeless and Beck was too exhausted to try.

The main house on the property had been destroyed after her father died. Likely by her grandfather in a fit of grief before shipping her grandmother back to Finland and fucking off forever. Beck had been glad for it though. She couldn’t have stomached seeing her and Fen’s old room, or what few things were left of her own father—who she had lost around the same time that Rán lost hers. 

Was it better that she’d lost her father quietly? In the span of a couple of days? Rán had not been made to sit in solemn, sterile rooms with dozens of healers that offered nothing but false hope and ways to preserve a dying man’s body. She hadn’t had to see her father reduced to a broken thing, hanging onto her for dear life.

No. It wasn’t any better. Because her father had fought to live for her and Rán’s had abandoned her. No amount of reassurance could convince her five year old brain otherwise.

In a month Karl had helped her fix up the old grist mill on the property into an actual home. He’d fussed at her endlessly for working in her “condition” (for all his strengths, he had some ideas about pregnant women she didn’t love), but between the five of them and her three best friends coming around to help out, they’d got it done in the blink of an eye. And it was stunning. A giant, ever-turning waterwheel at the back, mint-green on all sides except the one facing the water where they’d left the pale gray stone natural, white shutters on the windows and a royal blue dutch-style door. It wasn’t small like she’d wanted initially. The house came in two parts, one section was three floors, and the larger section of the house, counting the single room attic, was five. Even that had worked out, though. Nippy had come along with her and the extra room allowed the elf to have her own space. It left room for visitors, too, without being too grandiose. 

She loved it. It was completely and utterly hers. Built how she wanted from the ground up, and surrounded by wilderness like she’d always dreamed. Rán still squealed every time they saw deer or wild horses on the ridge in the distance. The house gave her some much needed relief. Which was good, because her pregnancy had taken a turn in the second trimester that kept her inside for weeks.

Another thing she’d never told Narcissa about. Or Fenris. Or Karl. Or her mormor. No one could know how miserable she was. They’d have dragged her back to polite society by her hair and forced her into a heeler’s cot kicking and screaming. It was only Yrsa, Karl’s wife, that she trusted. And Nippy. 

Her placenta had misplaced itself, leading to unbearable cramping and—to her absolute horror—bleeding. At first she thought she’d lost him. Nippy had found her on the floor in hysterics. The elf had probably been the only reason she hadn’t lost her sanity that night. She’d cleaned her up and helped her back into the bed and sought out the only person she trusted with such sensitive information. Yrsa had been able to help with the bleeding, but the pain had never stopped, and she’d told her the only option would be a c-section once the baby was old enough.

The preeclampsia had started soon after that. High blood pressure was not, as she initially thought, a compliment, but a horrible cosmic fate thrust upon her because the universe didn’t think she was having a hard enough time. It confined her to her bed nearly the whole last month of her pregnancy—which was already cut short. 

Twenty nine weeks. They’d taken her baby boy out at twenty nine weeks. She’d been born early too. She prayed that this wasn’t some sign that her children were doomed to follow in her footsteps. Nippy had broken the news when Yrsa took her to the hospital for the surgery. First to her mormor, then to the Malfoys, and then finally to Fen.

By the time anyone got there, they’d already started cutting her open.

She’d been afraid of a lot of things in her life, but the terror of laying awake on the table, watching over a partition as someone grabs a knife that disappears behind the curtain to split you in two—split open your womb where your barely formed baby is, that fear was indescribable. It hadn’t been good for her blood pressure, either. When she felt the dull pressure of hands retreat from her body and didn’t immediately hear her son cry, the panic had taken over and the world had become a blur. Her heart stopped.

Literally.

Yrsa had got it going again. Her brother had to be physically restrained by the guards and dragged away from the viewing window.

The world swam before her eyes, and the first thing she saw was Yrsa’s deeply concentrated face and her outstretched wand. Over her shoulder, looking on in mortification, was her mormor—face stained with tears. Beside her was a very uncomfortable Lucius but Narcissa was… she could hear a baby crying. Blessedly, blessedly crying, and then Narcissa floated into her periphery like an angel with a squalling baby in her arms.

A miserable delivery… and it was somehow still one of the happiest moments of her life. Because her son was alive. Narcissa had handed him over the second Yrsa stepped away. They closed her up and took her to a room to recover, and Lucius took Draco’s old place by scolding her. Only he went on for so long the baby finished his first feeding and fell asleep. A hell of a first lullaby. 

Nothing could trample the joy she felt. Not even the news that she’d be spending the next month of her life in a fucking hospital. Nothing except the fact that his father wasn’t here.

She had plenty of help, and plenty of people who just came around to nag. It came to the point where she told Narcissa she’d be forced to shut the portal between her home and the manor if Lucius came by one more fucking time to insist she throw a formal celebration of the new Malfoy heir.

Fuck Lucius Malfoy. 

She wasn’t having a party. She was raising two children and trying to keep her guts from spilling back out of her abdomen. It’d healed well enough, and Yrsa’s creams were helping it from scarring too badly, but her body felt strange for a long time after that.

If raising a five year old on your own is hard, it’s nothing in comparison to raising a baby. Her friends helped, her family too, but it was her up at all hours of the night. Well, her and Nippy. She couldn’t count the number of nights the elf had left the quiet of her own rooms and come into the screaming madhouse where the baby wailed and child howled from being woken up and she cried because she felt like a complete and utter failure. On those nights, all they could do was divide and conquer. One would take the little girl, the other would take the baby, and once they’d settled the two they would both flop down on the couch, laughing from exhaustion.

Nothing was easy. Draco’s absence loomed over every part of her life. She wasn’t unhappy, not when there was enough company around or a task to set her teeth in. Her daughter was growing up rapidly, and growing up wild. No child had ever liked mud more than Rán, and every time she came stomping into the house covered in it, laughing like a fiend, a little part of her couldn’t help but think of the appalled face Draco would have made.

She refused to wear dresses. Sometimes she refused to wear anything. The only way to get her dressed was to let her choose every aspect of the outfit. To Narcissa’s utter horror, the child almost never matched.

“You dress her then.” She’d said on the morning of Rán’s sixth birthday. Narcissa had gotten there early as Beck was setting up for the party. The elder witch had swiftly handed her the baby back and walked off oh-so-proudly into Rán’s messy sanctuary. She had walked out much less proud, with a little girl in a pair of checkered shorts, green and purple rain boots, a birthday crown, and a shirt that she had ruined by sticken dozens of rubber ducks all over it the day that she’d learned her first sticking spell. 

“She’s impossible.” Narcissa snapped, with a heavy tone of accusation. 

Beck had only shrugged, tucked her baby boy into one arm, and continued levitating the birthday banner with her wand. “I’ve got bigger fish to fry meemaw.”

Narcissa had flinched and Beck knew she had won. Narcissa hated when she called her that. Which was good, because she only ever said it to rile the elder witch when Narcissa was being nasty to her.

It hadn’t been a good birthday. She’d bent over backward trying to force it to be one, trying as hard as she could to keep thoughts of Draco from her daughter’s mind. Rán had watched the door like a hawk all day. When they’d walked down the path to the temple for her ceremony, she’d looked all around, and when the time came for her to stand on the pedestal and make her first shift she had burst into tears and bolted.

Beck had kissed her head and rocked her and sang to her until she’d calmed down enough to try and talk.

“How come he didn’t come?” She had sniffled, shattering Beck’s heart. 

“He can’t, my love. He can’t.” She whispered into her hair, stroking it lovingly, willing that to be the truth. “But I know he’s trying. If I know anything it’s that he’s out there trying every day.”

After a long, tearful silence she asked. “But how come he left me?”

He wasn’t there for her sixth birthday. He wasn’t there for their son’s first steps or his first words. He wasn’t there to see the shock and irritation on Lucius’ face when he picked up his grandson, and grinning like a wolf the little boy rambled “ahpapapa”---his best attempt at saying “pappaw”, which is what she called Lucius just to annoy him. He wasn’t there when Rán finally mastered her fear and jumped into the cool water of the lake to learn to swim. He wasn’t there for their first family vacation or when Rán came back to the inn with a niffler in her arms after begging her uncle Jari to buy it for her. 

He wasn’t there… and god did she hate him for that. Almost as much as she missed him. Every sweet memory they made was soured by his absence. 

“Where the hell are you, you bastard?” She whispered, looking into the endless darkness of the stable. “Please be alive. Please don’t be hurt… Please come back.”

She stood on her feet and went back to the house.

~~~

“A letter for you.” Tippy said, stepping over the threshold and out of the Malfoy Manor into her home. Tippy was always kind enough to intercept her mail, because she didn’t trust her in-laws not to dig their noses into it. Narcissa was more restrained than Lucius, but if it was about Draco, Beck wouldn’t put it past her. Normally the letter would have been delivered by owl, but the wilds around her home kept her hidden, and that kept her safe. She wasn’t even risking owls. There was only one way to get to the property, one single road, and it ended on the gates. Jari and Professor Flintwick—one of the only wizards she actually spoke to anymore—had helped her ground foreign brooms and make apparation nearly impossible beyond the gates too. The only way to the house was to hoof it. There were two doors in the house that led to other places, one to the Tandy Estate, and one to the Manor, but those were the only points of entry. And you had to be added by blood to the wards to access any of them.

“Do y’know what it says?” She asked, looking at the front of it. She had been trying very hard to get better at reading. It was slow progress, but it felt like a necessary thing to do for her children. 

“No.” The elf replied, looking around. Probably for Nippy. 

“I think she’s out with Drizzle.” Beck said, still trying to parse the words on the paper.

“Drizzle?”

“Oh. Lemon Drizzle. She’s-”

“Moooom!” Rán cried from outside the open window.

“If you want to talk to me, come in here! I’m not having a shouting match with the river!” 

“WHAT?!”

“I said-” The timer to the oven began to ring and she huffed, tossing the letter on the table. She looked at Tippy and held up a finger, heading back to the kitchen to pull breakfast out of the oven. There was a boisterous bark and a scrambling of paws and suddenly a flash of fur was barreling toward the open door to the manor. The elf dove out of the way with a yelp.

“Finnigan! Bad do-”

“MOOOOOM!” 

She stuck her head out of the window and gave her daughter a stern look. “What is it?”

“I found a big frog!”

“Put it back! It’s time for-Finnigan please!--It’s time for breakfast!” Beck called, waving her hand. “Tell Nippy!”

The dog would not stop barking, and Beck turned around just in time to see why the rugged collie was losing its mind.

“Don’t let the niffler out!” She called, rushing toward the wide-eyed critter that was making a break for the shining surfaces of the Malfoy Manor. Finn hopped one way, the elf hopped the other, she nearly fell on her face, but she grabbed the little blighter’s foot just in time. It yelled in protest, but who wasn’t yelling at this point? Beck pulled the door shut firmly just as the other door swung open in the mud room.  

Nippy came in first, with her son holding onto her little hand. Even though he’d only seen her twenty minutes before, the boy squealed with glee and toddled over to her. Beck scooped him up and kissed his head. Nippy was removing a sun hat.

“We had a lovely ride in the cart, we did. Lemon Drizzle is a very good girl.” The elf said cheerily. “And Eri smiled the whole way. Told me what the goat says, he did.”

“Did you? What's that then? What does the goat say?" She cooed. Her son hmmed, kicked his feet, and let out a loud bleat that made her laugh.

"Bravo! There’s my sweet boy.” She sat Eirdanus in a highchair and handed him a sippy cup and some small bits of cut up fruit to keep him occupied while the eggs cooled. 

“The letter, miss.” Tippy reminded her.

“Oh right–where is Rán?” As if she’d summoned her, a blur zipped through the door at breakneck speed.

“Rán! Not in the house!” The girl squealed and tried to pull the broom up, Finnigan took off after her, barking and trying to herd her back to her mother, and Nippy snapped her fingers. The little girl was roughly dumped into the couch cushions, and the dog leaped onto her seconds later, licking her face as she laughed. Beck was not nearly as happy as she took the training broom in her hand.

“I have half a mind to snap this in two, young lady.” She scolded, bringing an abrupt end to the laughter.

“It was a gift from grandfather!” The girl argued. 

“I don’t care if it was a gift from the Minister for Magic, or the Pope, or the Queen of England, I told you not in the house and never when I’m not watching. It’s dangerous.”

“Grandmother enchanted my robes though!”

“Rán.” She said sternly, and the little girl pouted but muttered an apology. Beck sighed. “...But those were some impressive turns. If Nippy hadn’t gotten you, you’d have flown circles around the table.”

“I’m getting better!” She exclaimed, and Beck rolled her eyes.

“Sink. Table. Breakfast. Double time.” She chuckled. Then her eyes fell on the dog. “And you need to go running before you drive me barmy. Go on then. And take the niffler with you!”

“His name is Nirmal!” Rán exclaimed over the sound of running water. “I’m gonna make him my familiar.”

“Ancestors help us all.” Beck laughed, finally heading back to the table to look at the letter as she doled food out onto plates. 

“Are you staying for breakfast, Tippy?” She asked absentmindedly. Beck wasn’t sure how they did things at the Manor, but here they usually ate together. It must not have been the norm for him, because he hesitated before Nippy coaxed him into a chair.

Frustrated, she finally handed the letter over to Angrboda, who had been watching the regularly scheduled morning fiasco with great amusement from her perch atop the fridge. It floated in front of the feline’s face for a few seconds then back to her hand.

“It’s from Granger.” The cat said, but Beck was the only one that could hear her. Rán was getting better, but it’d be a while before her daughter could hear her familiar. 

“Hermione Granger?” She was pouring glasses of milk.

Angrboda didn’t answer that, and Beck honestly didn’t expect her to. Boda loathed to repeat herself or answer silly questions.

“Says she wants to speak with you privately. About Draco. Urgent news.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She’d been just about to sit down to eat herself, but stood right back to her feet. 

“Do me a favor and tell mormor I need her to come to the zoo for a bit.” She told the cat, sending her off in the direction of the door. “And don’t let the niffler out!”

“We’re going to the zoo?!” Rán said, bouncing up and down. 

“You are the zoo. Be good for mormor.” Beck ruffled her hair. “Nippy, can you watch them until my grandmother gets here?”

The elf nodded, and she practically ran for the door. 

~~~

She hadn’t seen Hermione Granger since the day she’d killed a man. The day the Death Eaters had descended on Hogwarts. She had still been covered in the blood of the Death Eater who had found her and her friends guarding some terrified first years out in the forest, and Granger had been—worse for wear. But alive. That was astounding, seeing as she was one of three people that Voldemort had wanted dead above all others.

That had been a decade ago.

“Mrs. Malfoy.” The Minister said, motioning with her hand to call Beck into her office. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice. I don’t get a lot of time, but I thought, given the high profile nature of the case, that I should talk to you personally.”

So that’s why she was here and not down the hall with the Aurors. The Malfoys were still a highly influential family. She was still a prominent member of the Wizarding World, and she would be as long as she carried the Malfoy name. Though she was certain there had been plenty of speculation and rumor in the paper after she’d left. It was a miracle they’d never opened an investigation into her whereabouts with how abruptly she’d evacuated the Wizarding World.

“Would you like some tea? Water?” Granger was stalling.

Was she Granger anymore? Beck wondered idly. It’d been a year and a half since she’d fled to the wilderness. Sometimes Nippy read the newspaper, but she never asked, so the elf never offered up any information. But a lot could change in a year and a half.

The nameplate on the desk started with G. 

“No, thank you. Look I don’t mean to be rude but I’ve got a six year old and a thirteen month old at the house with a niffler, a dog, and a training broom. If we spend too much time on pleasantries I might not have a house to come back to.”

“You had another kid?!” 

Beck didn’t think she meant to say that, because after she did her eyes went wide. It made sense though. She’d still never brought the baby where the wizarding paparazzi could see him. Draco wasn’t around to insist. She didn’t have to. Maybe it’d come around to bite her in the ass one day, but she had too much on her plate to worry about it.

“I left because I was pregnant.” She said with a shrug. “Well, that and Lucius got the house back.”

“He—he kicked you out?” Granger asked incredulously.

“Oh no. I’d have definitely dragged what was left of his reputation through the mud if he had. But would you want to be pregnant in a house with Lucius Malfoy?”

“I wouldn’t want to be in a house with Lucius Malfoy.”

Beck snorted. “Exactly.”

Granger blinked a handful of times and then took a deep breath.

“You might want to sit down.” 

Ice in her veins. Her stomach turned. No one ever told you to sit down for good news. Beck straightened her back and sank into a seat across from the Minister’s desk where Hermione was leaning.

“There’s no easy way to say this.” She started, and Beck focused on her breathing to try and keep from showing the rush of emotions she was experiencing. “It’s been a year and a half since Mal—Mr. Malfoy went missing. The case hasn’t had any new leads since it started and… And the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has decided to forego any further investigation and classify it as a cold case.”

Breathe. Breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Don’t cry. 

But her hands were shaking, and she could feel the sting of tears wet her eyes. They were going to stop looking. She was going to be sick. She was going to faint. Beck pressed a hand to her mouth and leaned forward to steady herself on her knees. They’d given up on him.

“I’m sorry, Beck.” She heard Granger said, and the pity in her tone broke the final bit of her resolve. Hot tears started to flow down her face. She hadn’t cried in months. She had shoved down the urge and forced herself to hope. Her breaths were ragged and the tears fell harder, refusing to stop now that she’d lost control of them.

They’d given up on him. And if they had given up on him, who was ever going to find him? She was never going to see him again. Her son would never see his father. Her daughter would always feel abandoned. 

“Bastard.” She snarled, furiously wiping her face and trying to control herself.

“I’m sorry?” This time it wasn’t pity, but confusion. 

“That miserable fucking bastard!” She snapped to no one in particular. 

“Beck are you ok?”

“Am I ok?!” The laugh that tore from her throat was practically hysterical. “No I’m not fucking ok you twat.”

She would feel bad about that insult later, but right now she had lost all control of her tongue.

“Am I ok? She asks. No, Granger I’m not fucking ok. I haven’t been for nearly two goddamn years.” She stood to her feet, and saw Hermione rest a hand on the pocket where her wand was, but Beck went past her to pace the room.

“I did everything I was supposed to! I played my part. Maybe not perfectly, but I didn’t fight. I didn’t argue. Fen said marry him, and I married him. A man who had never even spoken to me before his hairbrained fucking scheme with my brother. A man who stood for nearly everything I didn’t. But I did as I was told! I tried to make nice with him. I was patient. I didn’t run—fuck, fuck!---I didn’t run. I could have! But no, I gave him everything. My kindness, my affection, my body, my fucking last chance at freedom, and what does he do?! What does he do to me?!” She rambled, still unable to stop herself from crying. “He runs off rub elbows with lowlives and to play with forces he barely fucking understands!”

She made it back to the chair and collapsed, covering her face and crying. “Miserable. Miserable bastard. How do I tell my daughter he’s never coming home?”

Granger’s hand found her shoulder, but she didn’t say anything. 

It took another ten minutes for her to calm down, and another couple of hours wandering the streets of London for her to pluck up the courage and the emotional control to go home. She brushed off Nippy’s questions and her daughter’s curious eyes.

She couldn’t tell them. How could she ever tell them?

[blainesebastian]

coffee cart girl (pt5)

words: 3,418 ship: austin x female reader summary: you’re the coffee runner on the set of Elvis. Coffee deliveries run pretty easy, until Austin accidently spills coffee on you. notes: thank you so much for all the support! previous parts are under this tag, this part was inspired by this gifset  warnings: none tag list: under the cut! sorry if your username does not link up on the post if you requested to be put on the tag list (it’s getting hefty! :)), unsure how I could fix that. please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed. 

Despite everything changing, things stay the same—which is actually pretty comforting. You keep showing up on set, day-in-day-out, serve coffee, come back home and then wake up to do it all over again. You have to admit that you feel slightly lighter working your coffee deliveries and know it has everything to do with this relationship you’re building with Austin. Keeping things under wrap for right now feels like the best idea, just between the two of you, which is exactly what you both need right now. With Austin constantly working on Elvis, you have no interest in being in any sort of spotlight—at least not yet. Your script work is getting better but you’re still figuring out the steps that you’ll need to move forward, to get yourself out there—be noticed.

The last thing you want is for someone to assume you haven’t gotten somewhere by talent alone but because of who you know, or in this case, who you’re seeing.

Austin has always seemed like a very private guy anyways, he’s not very active on social media—he likes to keep his personal life exactly that, personal. It leaves you with this intimate bubble forms over you both, time to get to know one another and develop on shared feelings. It may not look like normal dating, and it might seem like sneaking around sometimes, but that doesn’t bother you.

In the end—what you have with Austin is no one’s business.

Except, you do want to tell Jillian.

Getting on set Thursday, you make a direct route to one of the makeup trailers that she works in. Climbing inside and closing the door, you make sure you’re alone with her before spilling the beans. You tell her everything, from start to finish, all the details you feel like are necessary to get you both on the same page.

It doesn’t take much—Jillian already thought that Austin liked you, so the conclusion jumping is a short distance once she has all the information.

Jillian’s face somehow looks like an emoji, a permanent heightened emotion that is hearteyes and shocked all at the same time. Her jaw may also be taking up a residence on the floor, she hasn’t closed her mouth since you began talking.

“I fucking knew it.” She laughs, “I’m so good at sensing chemistry—like, I should probably quit my job here and become a relationship guru,” You roll your eyes even though you’re smiling, “Or a tarot card reader.”

“You can’t tell anyone Jillian, I mean it.” You say after a moment, taking a step closer to your friend. “Austin and I don’t want our business out there.”

“Austin and I,” She repeats with a dreamy laugh, “Our,” She shakes her head, curls tied up in clip today, which is probably a good thing seeing as how she seems to be vibrating at a high frequency. “Does that feel weird to say—like, you’re dating a celebrity.”

You let out a slow breath, your stomach fluttering in a slightly nervous way that it does sometimes. It’d be obtuse not to acknowledge the elephant in the room that Austin is, in fact, a celebrity, that he is different than someone you met at a coffee shop or a bar. You two are very unique in that sense and are on distinct paths for your futures. But at the same time you find it important to remind yourself that Austin is human, he’s a regular guy that has normal emotions, needs and desires. You’re on the same page, you’re working together on this.

But that doesn’t mean that sometimes this whole thing doesn’t blow your mind because it does. It’s as if you’re worried you might wake up from a dream or something, harsh reality ready to grab you by the throat.

“Jillian,” You repeat, holding her gaze so you know she’s actually listening.

Jillian sighs, head tossed back towards the ceiling, “I hear you, promise. I won’t say a word to anyone.” And you do believe her otherwise you wouldn’t have said anything in the first place. Jillian might be a little eccentric but she’s trustworthy. “Are you going to go out on dates…or?”

You pause a moment, considering that…you actually hadn’t thought about it. So much of your interactions kinda stem on being on set together, you spend time between shoots, when you bring coffee or Austin lets you know when he’s taking food breaks but…

Eventually Elvis will come to an end and then what? There’s award shows and interviews and a very public eye. You’re pretty sure that even now if you two were to go out, someone would notice and put it out into the world—a fan, a pap, a gossip tabloid, too many different outcomes. One of the great things about set is that you can have privacy here.

“We’re figuring it out.” And it sounds like such a lame excuse right now but to be honest you don’t want to admit that it hasn’t crossed your mind.

Jillian just smiles before nodding, the door to the trailer opening up before any more questions can be asked. You’re secretly kind of thanking whoever’s listening for that—if your friend thinks you need to be a bit more planned about your future with Austin, she doesn’t comment.

Right now you think a day-to-day approach is best…but maybe a little bit more of a strategy wouldn’t hurt either.

--

The day is as busy as it always is, filled with running around on last minute rotations and add-ons mixed with your regular orders. Sal actually seems like she’s in a decent mood for once, which is always a nice surprise. You take your afternoon lull at the typical picnic bench, getting some serious editing done on your script as you slowly sip on a coffee. Second readthrough is done, now all that’s left is reading it outloud to catch any last mistakes before…letting a second pair of eyes actually look at it.

Speaking of—

You frown, picking up the clipboard nearby that had your morning and afternoon orders on it. Just as you thought, you don’t see Austin’s name anywhere. Time had been runnin’ so smoothly, you barely noticed that he hadn’t placed any coffee orders. Normally, you might not think that was odd but…after ending up on the same page, it’s usually a nice stolen few moments to see one another through a busy day.

You chew on your lower lip—it’s probably just a hectic day for him but there’s also a small pit in your stomach that is slowly beginning to feel like a black hole for whatever reason. You put the script in your bag and decide to stretch your legs, dropping your things off where you usually keep them and take a long stroll around set.

In a not surprising turn of events, you end up outside Austin’s trailer. Glancing around for a moment, you take a sip of coffee and make your way up the steps—at the very least you can pretend you have a last-minute caffeine fix for him, should anyone ask. You knock on the door and wait, taking a step back to make room for the door to open.

It takes a few moments but when it finally does, you pause, unsure of what to say.

Despite still getting to know him, it’s very plain to see that he’s upset. He must be in-between scenes because he’s in his own clothes, jeans, a black shirt, his hair scrubbed free of gel from what looks like his hands going through it. His face is slightly pink, eyes red-rimmed and wet and it somehow makes the color seem even more blue. He works his jaw a moment, swallowing, seemingly trying to get ahold of himself.

You’re kinda dumbfounded because…you’ve obviously never seen him like this before.

Blinking, you realize that you should say something. “Hi,” You pause, taking a breath, “Do you—you want me to leave you alone?”

“No,” He says quickly, clearing his throat. His voice is twinged with emotion, slightly deeper than usual as he opens the door so you can walk over the threshold, “You can come in.”

You hesitate for a moment before wandering inside, the door closing behind you. Austin moves to lean against the kitchenette counter and you stand in front of him, putting your cup of coffee down near the sink. You give him a few moments to collect himself, watching as he runs a hand over his forehead, swallowing, the muscles in his jaw flexing again. Your gaze flutters over the rings he has on today, both gold, one on his middle finger while the other rests on his pinky.

Did something happen? You’re trying not to bombard him with questions…so you do the only thing you think you can in that moment, remembering how his hand had smoothed its way down your back during that migraine. One hand moves to settle along his arm, squeezing, while the other gently rests along his neck. Your fingers graze the bottom of his jawline, his pulse quick and skin warm where you’re touching. You feel, rather than see him, take a short breath in.

Whatever’s got him worked up, it’s at least good to know that he’s letting himself feel it rather than keep it buried underneath his ribcage. Some people are so concerned about strong emotions, never allowing themselves to give into them, feeling like they have to keep them hidden or tucked away. Austin’s not only allowing himself to feel, but he’s also letting you see him like this.

Neither of you say anything for a while, just stand there together, soaking one another in. You rub along his arm, sometimes your other hand moving to cup his cheek, stroking along his cheekbone. He sniffles, running one of his own hands underneath his eyes before letting out a slow breath,

“Sometimes it’s uh, it’s hard for me to take a step back from what I’m doin’.”

You nod and honestly, a lot of details aren’t necessary. You're sure the emotional toll is sometimes brutal, how hard it must be to separate his feelings out between what's reality and what's the film. You know that Austin gives absolutely everything to his work—it's obvious in the way he carries himself, how he speaks about his roles, in interviews you've seen and even in conversations you've shared with him.

He doesn’t need to explain himself.

It’s a bit crushing to see him like this—you wish you knew what to say. “Can I do anything?”

Austin shakes his head, giving you a small smile. Removing the hand that you have along his cheek, he presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist, “You’re doin’ it.”

You smile back, your stomach doing that ridiculous fluttering thing it sometimes does because of him. “I was wonderin’ why your coffee orders were missing from my clipboard.”

“Just been kinda nauseous all day,” Austin admits, running a hand through his hair, “Stomach’s in a knot.”

You’ve heard rumors that way before filming started Baz had organized for studio producers, crew, and the like to heckle Austin while he played some of his first Elvis songs. This wasn’t done without a purpose—much of Elvis’s first performances as an artist were similar. Regardless, you can’t imagine what it’d be like to experience something like that, especially if you’re already nervous about embodying such a role.

You wonder if today was something similar in the studio…or maybe it’s just a bad day. Not all of them can be perfect, even if Austin shows up ready to work as hard as he possibly can.

Taking a small breath in, you step back from him—you don’t have much time left on your own break before you’ll have to start taking late-night coffee orders. You’re sure he wants to spend a bit more on his own before he’s called to hair and makeup or wardrobe.

“I’ll see you later?” You offer, leaving it open just in case he wants to take the rest of the day to himself. You wouldn’t blame him, sometimes time alone is the best way to bounce back.

But Austin reaches for your wrist as you move to leave, squeezing gently, “I’ll find you.”

Giving him one last smile, you grab your cup of coffee and head out of his trailer.

--

Shooting stretches until two AM, which is not at all surprising. You end up leaving set around midnight, making a convenience run to grab a few things before making your way back to your favorite picnic bench outside the food tent. It’s a skeleton crew and luckily no one seems to bother to ask you why you’re still hanging out, walking past you with either a goodnight or no words at all.

Looking up as you hear footsteps approach, you smile when you see Austin, sliding off the table you’re sitting on to meet him halfway. He’s in his own set of clothes again but his hair is still styled to look like Elvis—the most important part, he looks a lot better than when you saw him this afternoon. Shoulders not as heavy looking, his eyes brighter,

“Hi,” Austin smiles down at you, “Fancy meetin’ you here.”

“I know,” You laugh lightly, “What a coincidence.” Throwing your bag over your shoulder, you walk with him towards his trailer. You don’t pass many people, which is comforting, before you finally make it to the destination. Austin heads up the steps first, opening the door for you to walk in.

Switching on the lights, the door closes behind you and you pause as you see that way back in the trailer…is in fact a bed. So it is true that some stars have legit places to sleep on set if they wish for late nights, naps between scenes. Though you’re not sure how that’d go—you always feel like such a zombie waking up from a nap. Can’t imagine that’s a good thing going from scene to scene.

So much for that being refreshing.

“Is that comfortable?” You ask, motioning to the bed as you put your bag down on the coffee table.

Austin looks up and in the direction of what you’re referring to, “Kinda, it has its moments when you’re really tired.”

“You gonna sleep there tonight?”

He purses his lips in thought, toeing his boots off near the couch. “Probably.”

And that…is totally not something to be thinking about right now. You shake your head as if to get rid of the imagery before clearing your throat, “I got you somethin’.”

He raises his eyebrows as you pass over the bag from the convenience store,

“Just my go-to’s when I’m feeling poorly.”

You smile, chewing on your lower lip as he pulls out a few essentials: a plastic container of Oreo’s, Ginger Ale, and mint tea.

“They didn’t have peanut butter.” Then quickly to clarify, “For the Oreo’s, I mean.”

Austin laughs softly, nodding, running his hand over the pack before smiling up at you. He reaches out to tug you close, placing a kiss on the bridge of your nose. “Thank you.”

You feel warmed from the inside out, blooming in your chest and sprouting outward. It’s not much and you’re not sure if his stomach is still upset but…you just wanted to be able to offer something to help. Sometimes a well-placed gesture is all you need.

Opening the pack of Oreo’s, he sets the bag on the coffee table to take a cookie out. Biting into it, he says, “I’ve never had Oreo’s with peanut butter before.”

You raise your eyebrows in mock outrage, “This is just unacceptable—don’t tell me you’re a cookies and milk kinda guy.”

He smiles a little guiltily—it’s cute. “You gonna take the cookies back if I say yes?”

You crinkle your nose, grabbing an Oreo for yourself. “Just please tell me you’re not a dunker.”

Austin shakes his head and well, good, at least you can work with that. Snagging a seat on the couch, you take your shoes off, crossing your legs up on the cushions. As you both eat through another sleeve of cookies, your mind wanders to this morning when you were talking with Jillian about…everything. The future, or at least what might happen when the filming of Elvis ends. You glance up at Austin, on the couch with you, one long leg folded up under himself, the other resting on the ground. His fingers hold one cookie while the other runs them along his lower lip, as if he’s in thought.

He touches his face a lot, you realize, especially when he seems to be considering something. After the emotive day he’s had, you’re not sure it’s the right time to really talk through what’s on your mind. There will be time for that.

Austin looks over at you as he takes an Oreo apart, which makes you scrunch your face a bit because you know he’s going straight for the icing. “How’s your script comin’?”

You take a soft breath into your chest, debating the words behind your teeth for a long few moments before, “Maybe end of the week you can look at it? If you’re not too busy.” No pressure, you can have Jillian read it over if he can’t.

“I’m not too busy for you.” Austin replies and he says it in such a way that has you believing it. Though, it’s a double-edged sword, you’re not quite sure how you’re going to handle him reading your script and…what if he thinks it’s absolutely awful? It’s just one opinion, sure, but you have to admit that it means a bit to you.

You shake out the nerves best you can and nod, determined, he’ll get that script by the end of the week.

Then you’ll go from there.

You stay on the couch for a while eating Oreos, easy conversation passing between the two of you. It kind of amazes you how simple it is that you can just…talk about anything. There’s topics that range from the serious (where do you see yourself in five years, who’s your biggest influence, book you could read over and over again) to the dramatic (zombie apocalypse—how fucked are you, favorite bird that you think has the biggest personality, drunk food go-to).

Another hour of time passes and it was already late to begin with, another yawn slipping past your lips,

“I think you should crash here,” Austin says, “That’s like your fifth one.”

You blink at the offer because no…while you know it’s late and he’s not wrong about you yawning a lot, the day catching up with you, you couldn’t possibly sleep here, right? On a few counts.

No…people would notice, wouldn’t they? While you like to think you blend into the background pretty easily, tomorrow would be the day for people to notice you coming out of Austin’s trailer, or in the same clothes you wore today. Way too risky, right?

And yet, for whatever reason that’s not what comes out of your mouth, “I think I got an extra pair of jeans in my car but—”

“I can grab you somethin’ from wardrobe.”

You raise your eyebrows, a scoff sneaking out. Oh really? “This couch is—”

“Let me worry about the couch, you’re takin’ the bed.”

Now you do laugh, “What you got an answer for everythin’?”

He grins, “Maybe.”

This is such a bad idea—the couch was comfortable enough to nap on when you had a migraine but getting a full night’s rest? Not even to mention, “Your legs are far too long for this thing.”

Now he’s amused, his eyes dancing warmly as he leans into your personal space. Your stomach flutters, gaze flickering down to his lips when he speaks, “You checkin’ me out Y/N?”

“You’re incorrigible.” You shake your head, gently poking at his chest.

Austin hums, “I’ve been told that’s my best quality.”

You don’t kiss him even though you really want to, a smile tugging the corners of your mouth—you realize within those few moments how much you like him, how your feelings for him are becoming more and more defined the longer you two figure this thing out together. At the same time, it’s a dangerous thing—you’re really falling for him.

You just hope it’s not too fast.

--

Once again, thanks so much for reading! I think I worked out that this series will be 10 parts total :)

Tag list:  @pearlparty, @theinvisiblecapricorn, @kittenlittle24, @andrewgarfields-girlfriend, @mirandastuckinthe80s, @nonsensical-nonce, @softlispoken, @dudinhahoff, @peterparke-r, @lottiee03, @little-diable, @therealwriter17, @bob-the-tomato, @bcofl0ve, @domaniquessidehoe, @matsbarzals, @rosequartzluvr, @callthedarknessdown, @laperceval, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @starry-night-20, @ahoyyharrington, @obsessedunicorn24, @lulu-recs, @queenotaku23, @embobemm, @milaa24, @medleyj, @myownparadise96, @butlersluvbot, @girlokwhatever, @pinkle-monade0103, @vintagebitc, @xcallmetaniax, @adoreyouusugar, @karamelcoveredolicity, @thisisntmeok, @kvcssghbjbcd, @mamaspresley, @jazmin2211

[shit-posts-and-fanfictions]

General Creepypasta Headcanons

Slenderman would live in a Manor, not a Mansion.

Manors: Manors are large homes surrounded by farm fields or forests, sometimes even fortified by a ditch or fence keeping it secluded from outside guests.

Mansions: In modern terms, mansion is just a fancy word for a big house. Mansions are more likely to be found on a hill overlooking a town or city below.

I don't think Slender would reside in a building so close to human society.

Speaking of which, none of the pasta's live at the Manor. Not only are there too many of them to fit inside, but realistically, they'd just try to kill each other.

Added on, Slenderman isn't human. I see him functioning more similarly to the fair folk (Faeries). He takes them in, they serve under him. It's merely a contract. Nothing more. He isn't a fatherly figure in the slightest-

Also considering Slenderman's abilities, the manor is not a regular house either. It is never in one location or another, it moves constantly between different realities. One moment it could be somewhere in Oregon, suddenly it's in Germany, and the next it's in Hell itself. But mainly I see it nestled somewhere deep within some corrupt form of purgatory.

So with that in mind, it would be incredibly difficult for the pasta's to even find the mansion much less live in it-

The Creepypastas though exist more like a black market. Residing in ghost towns or abandoned lodges and cabins. Some even staying in the shadows of cities, out of sight and out of mind.

I do see certain characters remaining in closely-knit groups, often staying in nearby areas, trading goods, or sharing information. But there are others who simply travel and live alone rarely coming to the populated ghost towns unless in desperate need of information or supplies.

Some ideas like this ^

I also don't think the Pasta's would refer to these places as a Mansion either. Isn't even close to being one.

The names I do think the Pasta's would call them: Outpost, The Underground, Shithole, Camp, Hell, Town, and even Garrison being in their vocabulary.

Some Pasta's definitely carry a bag with a few essential items and a couple personal belongings seeing as they travel regularly and don't have a home to stay personally.

Others have made themselves more than at home in the Outposts, building a house to live in and stay permanently. Finding new and creative ways to steal things like clothing, technology, mattresses, bedding, and furniture in general.

Sure some buildings might have some abandoned belongings, but it's likely they're broken, uncomfortable, moldy, or even rodent-infested.

So smuggling in a new sofa is always a show to witness with them.

could you imagine that police report-

"They broke in through the back door, butchered every family member, and stole a dresser"

"They what?? Repeat that last part"

"They... They stole a dresser sir. Jeff the Killer stole a dresser-"

Some are definitely better at it than others, and with the right deal or bribery, some pasta's have convinced others to get things for them while they're out.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | Liu Headcanons | Toby Headcanons

[plush-rabbit]

Guzma - Headcanons

A/N: There is no such thing as a basic ask here!! (guzma, my beloved, thank you for giving me a chance to indulge) i also have a headcanon that after the events of sun and moon, po town got cleaned up and team skull or ex team skull just reside there so that's mentioned briefly)

-

SFW:

Guzma is an intimidating man and a capable trainer but even the ex-gang leader has a soft spot. Unfamiliar with a loving touch, he will tense when you grab his hand. He won’t speak a word, only watch as you lift his hand and kiss his knuckles. Your lips will linger against his scarred hands, soft pecks against his calloused palm. He’ll hold his breath, waiting and watching as you kiss his hands, letting your breath tickle his hand. After a few painful moments of silence, he finally breathes. Tears will prick the corners of his eyes, stinging him for a second before he goes to curl his hand in yours.

He loves having you be close to him. No matter where you go, as long as you are near him, he’s always going to be touching you. Whether his hand is in yours or his arm is around your waist, he’s always willing and at times eager to just hold you. New to reciprocated romantic love and soft touches, he tries to be gentle with you. He’ll play with your hand, let his fingers run over yours, feeling every bump of your knuckles and wrinkles of your finger. He’s soft, testing every little action with care, watching for reaction and if you smile, a sense of pride washes over him.

If you were to sleep beside him- which has happened quite a few times- he’s either draping most of the blanket above you, a frail excuse for him to snuggle closer to you. During the times that you leave, he has the blanket that is faint with the perfume you use, always keeping it close to him during those dark nights. During times that you are out and if you give the hint that you are cold, he’ll drape his jacket over you even if it doesn’t provide much warmth. Despite that, it smells like him- a hint of tobacco and the smell of rain when it’s heavy in the air and beating against the rooftops. 

An odd mix of where he is both independent and dependent from you. He doesn’t need for you to be with him constantly nor does he need you to treat him like a child, but he is clingy, always pulling you for one last hug before you leave somewhere. He wants you to be with him, wants to depend on you for everything because he’s so broken by the system and from life and yet, he wants his privacy, he wants to be alone and prove that he can do things by himself without having to rely on you for the smallest praise even if it makes him breathless. He’ll cling to you and wish for you to not leave but in the same breath, turn around with squared shoulders and act as if everything is okay. 

Despite the mess of emotions that Guzma is, he wants you to be with him as much as you can. He’ll joke about having you move to Po Town, that the town can do some good for you- nice, cloudy weather and the rest of the ex-gang already like you well enough.  It’s a thinly veiled joke where he does want you to move in with him, where he wants you to be a part of his life without making the big, formal commitment, You already have you stuff at his place, you’ve already made yourself at home here- he wouldn’t mind for it to be permanent. 

NSFW:

As sweet as he can be, Guzma can be rather rough during sex. While he tries to work on his aggression in a healthy manner, there are times where he’ll pin you to the bed, your face buried into the mattress as his nails bite into your soft skin. He enjoys seeing the marks on your skin, how you have to cover them up to avoid having people look at you, how you’ll beg for him to mark you, holding his face down to your chest as he nips at your tender skin. He’ll rise with a smirk, his eyes narrowed and licking his lips. 

He can go for a while with you. While he does not have an unlimited stamina, he will continue until he is shooting blanks and his vision is starting to go black. As much as he enjoys the adrenaline of sex, the raw movement where you kiss him feverishly and he kisses you with just the same, there’s something about the slow, sloppy movement that makes him never want to stop. He’ll go until he’s panting out of sheer tiredness, pulling his cock out from your gushing sex, watch as his semen spills and ruins the bedsheets. He wants to feel you clinging onto him, his name nothing more than lost syllables that have you clinging to him as drool spills from your mouth and coats him in a thin, warm layer.

His sweet talk can go on forever. He knows what to say, he can be charismatic when he wants to be, lean close to you and kiss your neck and let his lips burn on your jawline. He’ll love you and sweet talk you until your heart is beating against your ribs and you're hiding your face into his broad shoulders. He wants to love you, to keep you close to him and whatever he tells you, it is all the truth, it comes from the heart. You mean so much to him that it’s terrifying and the only way he’ll ever tell you anything close to the poetry that rips in mind, is to have your bare body against his, your back arched in pleasure as he tells you how gorgeous you look under him.

The disgraced gang leader loves to please, to sit on his knees or lay on his stomach and give oral to you. A rather cheeky man, he loves to see the look on your face as you edge closer to your high, your hand knitting into his soft, white hair while you hold him close to your sex. His tongue will lap against your slit, twist on your pulsing sex and swallow your arousal as if it were a drink provided by something ethereal. He takes pride of knowing that he can get you to such a certain high with his tongue, to have you moan his name and hold him close. And, at the end, he’ll rise with a dazed look, cheeks pinched with red as spit and arousal drips down his chin, leaning to your touch when you tell him what a good boy he is.

Who would Guzma be if he wouldn’t want to have sex on his throne. He’ll have you sit above him, keeping your chest pressed against his as his hands wander to squeeze at your breasts, pinching at your pert nipples until you whine. He wants to face you, to watch your face pinch and your mouth to open in a silent scream, to hold you close as you move above him and chant his name like it’s the most important thing in the world. He wants nothing more than to hold you close in his home, to feel your body and see you in the most vulnerable state. His hands are over your body, feeling the pulse on your neck and the warmth breath on his thumb as he ghosts over your lips, only to meet you in a kiss where it’s consuming like fire and hands that claw on your body and leave his touch burning on you until water rushes past.