#Empty Nest? This bird can *fly*.

[talvin-muircastle]

Their Great Adventure Begins!

Tomorrow, @chaos-and-cake heads off to college.

It's not like they are going to be across the country. They are going to be across the county. Just a few miles as the crow flies, bit longer when you take into account a river between us and the insanity that is Philly Traffic. But they are going to be living in the dorm, figuring out their own problems most of the time (though we are always right here!), and truly being an Adult.

Yeah, I'm normal: I fret and worry about how this is going to work out. The university overall seems a good one without any more than the usual number of little snafus and miscommunications that such always have.

And I ask myself: have I prepared them for this Great Adventure? Well, even before they were born, I kept close a copy of Robert A. Heinlein's famous quote, as spoken through his character Lazarus Long:

“A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.” - from Time Enough for Love

To my knowledge they have yet to change a diaper, but neither had I before they showed up, and they have at least the same degree of resourcefulness I have, if not greater. Plan an invasion? They have planned as staff for two weeks of LARP camp, and remember it's all logistics. Butcher a hog? I feel they could if they had to, given the appropriate text to hand, certainly they do well with butcher knives. Conn a ship? Kayaking serves, here, I think. Design a building? They are majoring in architecture. Write a sonnet, they could, but they'd probably hate it. :) Balance accounts, they do that. Build a wall? Master of the power tools, this one. Set a bone? Not realistic, but first aid training. Comfort the dying--yeah, had to. Take orders, Give orders, done both in multiple venues. Cooperate, Act Alone, does well with either. Solve equations, AP Calculus anyone? Analyze a new problem, this is where they excel. Pitch manure, well, had to deal with similarly nasty jobs. Program a computer, learned a bit, learning more. Cook a tasty meal? Since age eight. Fight efficiently, Die Gallantly, may they never need to, but I am confident they can if they must.

In short, I feel we have raised the beginnings of a competent adult, one who can spin their own yarn, knit their own socks, build their own bookshelves and other furniture, and research the hell out of anything if they set their mind to it, not to mention work with a room full of hyperactive middle schoolers and keep them as on task as you could expect. (Hey, that's hard!)

So I will turn to another author as I consider what comes next: Walt Whitman.

I am the teacher of athletes; He that by me spreads a wider breast than my own, proves the width of my own; He most honors my style who learns under it to destroy the teacher.

The boy I love, the same becomes a man, not through derived power, but in his own right, Wicked, rather than virtuous out of conformity or fear, Fond of his sweetheart, relishing well his steak, Unrequited love, or a slight, cutting him worse than sharp steel cuts, First-rate to ride, to fight, to hit the bull’s eye, to sail a skiff, to sing a song, or play on the banjo, Preferring scars, and the beard, and faces pitted with small-pox, over all latherers, And those well tann’d to those that keep out of the sun.

Good luck, o child of ours. You'll do fine...and we're right here if you need us.

#Empty Nest? This bird can *fly*.

[sp0o0kylights]

Part Two

Gareth Emerson had no clue what the hell Eddie was thinking. 

There was “adopting lost sheep” as he called it, and “being the nest baby birds needed before they fly” for some of the other poor, mid-year transfers, and all of Hellfire was used to both these adoptees. 

People showed up, always looking a little hesitant, always a little careful, and all of them were welcomed until they found their place in Hawkin’s High. 

This though? This was neither of those things.

No, what Eddie had done was taken a wolf, or a--fucking tiger, that had gotten hurt fighting other fucking tigers, and decided to keep it as a pet. 

Even if said pet was looking very pathetic, with a face full of bruises that apparently, Billy Hargrove caused.

That did not make sitting across from the fallen King and current senior, Steve Harrington, any easier. 

Judging by the rest of Hellfire’s constant uneasy glances and uncomfortable, awkward joking, no one else was comfortable with it either. 

Except of course, for Eddie. 

“Dude can we like, talk for a minute?” Gareth asked, motioning at Jeff and Grant to distract Harrington. Not that it was hard, the jock was too busy staring at his pathetic packed lunch to notice much. 

(The guy brought soup to school and was drinking it cold. What the fuck.) 

“Ga~ary.” Eddie sing-songed, but it was in warning. 

A warning very much ignored, as Gareth stood, and moved to tug Eddie up with him. 

“Now, Eddie.” He said, his own tone a manic, if suppressed version of his own warning.

Gareth was not known for keeping his temper, but he also wasn’t keen on getting his ass kicked this early in the day if Harrington took offense. 

And considering they had all finally caught a look at Hargrove, and the way he fucking stopped and turned on his heel the second he saw Harrington, there was no doubt in Gareth’s mind that Harrington could kick his ass. 

Even in his current, beaten to shit state. 

Eddie huffed a dramatic breath, making sure at least some of his hair moved with it, but stood nonetheless. 

“I’ll return shortly, friends!” He called jovially, before letting himself be dragged backwards several feet. 

Just fair enough away where they could still see the table, but not be heard. 

Particularly not by any invading jocks. 

“What were you thinking!?”  Gareth started, hands crossed over his chest tightly.  “You didn’t even talk to us first!”

“Garebear, look at him.” Eddie said, placing both hands on his friend's face, turning it to look at Steve’s hunched form. 

“Those big, sad, puppy-dog eyes.” Eddie continued, leaning in to whisper in Gareth’s ear. “The pathetic way he slouches.”

 Eddie leaned even closer, lips tickling Gareth’s ear and making the latter swat at him. 

He dropped his hands to Gareth’s shoulders, shaking him lightly. 

“His giant empty house we can use for Hellfire meetings.”

“Is that seriously why you dragged him over here?” Gareth demanded, a little louder than he’d meant too, if Eddie’s abruptly tight grip was anything to go by. 

“Of course not.” Eddie scoffed. “Rumor has it the guy throws money around for his friends and if we play our cards right, we can be the receiving end of that gravy train.” 

Eddie grinned theatrically while he said it, staring into Gareth’s eyes like his smile alone would convince him to play along. 

It was the fakest thing Gareth had ever seen on his best friends face. 

“Don’t bullshit me man.” He said quietly, eyes narrowed. “What’s the actual reason you decided to go against your own doctrine and adopt Steve Harrington, of all people?” 

Eddie’s eyes flicked to Harrington and back. “There’s no other--”

“Eddie.” Gareth snapped, a flash of his temper breaking through. “You’re my best friend. Don’t fucking lie to me like that.” 

“Has anyone told you you’ve been using the word ‘fuck’ a lot, Gare?” Eddie muttered, but it was more subdued, the playful mask falling from his face. 

As a matter of fact, Ms. Click had called him out on it that very morning, but Gareth knew better than to admit that and derail this conversation. 

“Edwin Dale Munson.” Gareth growled, enjoying the way Eddie flinched from his full, government name. 

“Sssh!” Eddie dropped his hands from Gareth’s shoulder to wave them in his face. “Fine, fine, look. Rumor has it he got cheated on, blew up his friendship with Hateful Hagan and Cocky Carol, and then took a beating from Hargrove. All in the same like, week.” 

Eddie tugged at his hair, the movement harsh. 

“I found him walking home in the dark the other day. Said something was wrong with his car, but Gareth.” Eddie paused, gnawing on his lower lip, before he stopped close once again, voice barely above a whisper. 

“I had to coax him in my car and when he got in he kept flinching.” 

“Flinching.” Gareth repeated. 

“Like I was gonna hit him or something.” Eddie explained. “Worse Harrington’s house was dark when I got home. I mentioned to Wayne it didn’t look like anybody lived there and he said he was surprised anyone did. He thought the Harrington’s moved.” 

“Okay.” Gareth said, not quiet following this part of the conversation. 

“He thought they moved because some coworker of his wife worked for them as a house keeper or some shit. Said they bought a place in Chicago. She helped them pack.” 

Another look, but this time Gareth had picked up on what was happening. 

The flinching. 

Not going with his parents.

Staying in Hawkins, when Harrington had a chance to get the hell out. 

It didn’t paint a pretty picture. 

“Shit.” Gareth said finally.

Eddie nodded. “Exactly.” 

Together, they turned to stare at Harrington, who had hunched further into himself now that Eddie was gone from the table. 

“If he turns on us I’m blaming you.” Gareth grumbled finally, and tried not to let the smile that broke out on Eddie’s face effect him. 

“Glad to hear you’re on board, Garebear.” Eddie said, patting his shoulder hard. 

“You’re a fucking teddy bear, you know that right?” Gareth continued as they turned to walk back to the table.

“Shut your mouth.” Eddie fired back. 

“I don't think I will. In fact, Harrington!” Gareth spoke the jock’s name loudly, making the dude jerk and spill some of his soup. 

Bruised eyes looked up at him and Gareth fired a smug right into Harrington’s face. “Wouldn’t you agree that Eddie here is a giant teddy bear?”

“Don’t answer that.” Eddie cut in, as Harrington blinked slowly, a puzzled look overtaking his face. “Gareth here has a big imagination.”

“Let the man give his own opinions. I’m sure he has some!” 

Steve looked between them. 

“I think I’ll plead the fifth.” He decided on. 

“Smart man.” Jeff muttered, causing the rest of the table to snicker.

For the first time since he sat down, Gareth witnessed a small smile appear on Harrington’s face. 

#hellfire adopts Steve #i just love the idea of steve being hellfires mean girl his senior year #like you cant look me in the eyes and tell me Eddie Munson wouldnt be argueing with himself constantly about #Sad Boy Hours Steve #steve harrington #steddie #eddie munson #stranger things #0o0 fanfics #steve x eddie #pre relationship #i just wanna see them in school together dammit #gareth emerson #i love him so much

[espion7971]

SkyWing tribe sheet!

my computer always fucks up colors in export for some reason and its really obvious with these guys :( i promise they're more saturated my computer just sucks

anyway i really liked doing these guys, skywings are fun and i think they have a lot of potential. enjoy!

Physical Appearance + Traits:

-SkyWings, as their name suggests, are dragons made for the wind and sky. They are better fliers than any other tribe, with enormous wings and several birdlike features. Some can fly for more than a day without landing, and even when they aren’t flying they make their homes at the peaks of mountains, with the entire world beneath them.

-They are quite large, taller than any other tribe, with long necks, long tails, and regal figures. They don’t have any obviously deadly weapons, but they have no clear weaknesses either; they are generally successful dragons.

-Their coloration consists of almost entirely warm colors, specifically red and orange. Yellows and golds are sometimes seen too, and more uncommonly, purples and browns. Their colors are bold and striking; they are one of the few Pyrrhian tribes that has no need for camouflage. 

-Young dragonets are hatched with a coating of feathers, particularly on their wings, necks and tails. Most dragons simply shed their feathers as they grow; some, though, carry a few into adulthood, usually lining their wings or making a thin ruff around their necks. These feathers are often even brighter than their scales.

-SkyWing horns are a mark of pride, and they continue to grow for as long as they live, meaning some of the oldest SkyWings have horns that resemble enormous and heavy antlers. Sometimes their horns are decorated with wires strung with jewels.

-SkyWing fire is the hottest and most powerful fire any tribe can produce. At its hottest it scorches through bone, and it can be used with accuracy from a long distance. It is their main weapon in combat, and quite a devastating one if their opponents don’t know how to properly fight it. They also use it for a number of other things, though. (More on this in the “society and culture” section.)

-Their wings are stronger than those of most tribes, allowing them to temporarily use them for balance rather than their front legs. This lets them hold and work on things more easily. (This headcanon belongs to @sidyashchiy-na-plakhe!! i saw your post and really liked it, hope you dont mind me adopting it)

-Not dissimilar to SandWings, they have darker streaks near their eyes to help with the glare of the sun when they’re flying, often facing the horizon directly.

Life Cycle:

-SkyWings are hatched in clutches between one and five, although four and five are a bit less common than one through three. SkyWing parents are not involved much with their dragonets. By tradition, they lay eggs in nests high in the mountain peaks, and return occasionally with food once they hatch. The rare unlucky SkyWing newborn may be snatched up by a large bird, but they’re big enough that it isn’t usually an issue. They are also hatched with disproportionately massive wings, big enough to make the fall less likely to be lethal if they fall before they learn to fly.

-Once the dragonets are large enough, though, or once they get hungry enough to search for their own food, they will leave the nest, often simply jumping out and letting the wind carry them, learning to properly fly quite quickly. Once parents notice that the nest is empty, they simply stop bringing food. They will never know who their dragonets are, but SkyWing superstition says all dragonets will eventually make their way to the kingdom, where they will be made a part of the tribe. And, truthfully, they almost always do.

-This practice, which some tribes find strange or even barbaric, is seen by Skywings as an important part of their life and tradition. Each of them took the same journey, and so did the generation before them, so they have faith that it will continue to work out well. It’s in their nature to leave their nest and find the kingdom, and it doesn’t result in enough casualties for them to try to halt the tradition. The only dragons this practice does not apply to is the royal family, for the sake of tracking bloodlines.

-By the time they are entered into the wider kingdom, dragonets usually know how to hunt and avoid danger, so all tribe life offers them is the ability to meet other dragons and find work. There isn’t much of an education system in place, with the exception of mentorships for some careers, such as metalworking, and military training. If they take part in work for the kingdom, they’ll have societal benefits and a secure place in the tribe, and most end up in that position eventually. But there are always a few SkyWings who simply live on the outskirts, uninterested in the larger tribe.

-They don’t form many close relationships, being fairly solitary dragons as soon as they leave their siblings. They do not very often form genuine romantic relationships, but marriage is fairly common simply as a formality or political maneuver. Royals in particular almost always get married, though they don’t usually form natural bonds with their spouses. The only responsibilities parents have is bringing food to their nest until the dragonets abandon it.

Culture and Society:

-SkyWings are proud and solitary; these things combined have given them a reputation of being rude, aloof and uncharismatic. They are powerful fighters and fliers, but their strength is not in diplomacy. Their kingdom norms, though, which allow every dragon to simply utilize for the tribe whatever talents they may have, at their own leisure and for whatever profit might be available to them, suits them well and has made for an uncomplicated but successful society. (This is excluding a few periods such as the reign of Queen Scarlet, who reshaped the tribe into something more dictatorial.)

-They are generally quite matriarchal; every tribe has a queen, but SkyWings tend to have a more overall unbalanced system. Females are a bit larger than males and are usually in higher positions of command.

-Fire is extremely important to SkyWing culture - it produces light, warmth, and without it they would be much less deadly in combat. It has its place in almost every tradition and is used in almost every career path. 

-They are the most superstitious tribe in some ways, their lives dictated heavily by tradition and spirituality. The way dragonets are raised is one example; there are countless others, including funeral rites that involve burning, gladiator fights performed for glory, a general belief of night marking bad luck, and others. 

-Continuing on this note, SkyWings - though most would never admit it aloud - are almost universally afraid of the dark. The caves and caverns in which they live are always warm and well-lit, via torches lit by their own fire, and they are almost exclusively out by day. They worship the sun and daytime, believing it to chase away the shadows in its glory. NightWings, for similar reasons, tend to be unnerving to them.

-And to elaborate on gladiator fights: The arena near the palace was originally constructed for SkyWings to prove their prowess by fighting other SkyWings and completing various challenges. During these fights they would wear a special set of ceremonial armor, which they could then keep if they succeeded. (Scarlet, of course, transformed this arena into a convenient way to execute prisoners, and later Queen Ruby reinvented it completely by erecting a hospital where it had once stood.)

-In general, SkyWings are one of the only tribes to wear armor, and the only tribe that has used it for entire armies during war. A particular emphasis is placed on wing armor that allows for comfortable flight while still protecting the wing membranes, as a flightless SkyWing is considered as good as dead by its tribe.

-Jewelry almost always involves precious stones, particularly rubies, diamonds and citrine. It’s very common to have these jewels embedded in scales; some royals have done this with such excess that they appear to have crystals growing out of them.

Diet: Carnivorous. They eat birds, mountain goats, deer, and occasionally fish, rodents or whatever else they can catch. Sometimes raw, sometimes scorched. They don’t typically make full and elaborate meals like other tribes; the only common seasoning they use is salt. Other than the rare use of herbs for flavoring, they eat no plants at all.

#wings of fire #wof art #wof headcanons #skywings #my posts

[ataraxiaspainting]

Yan Phantom Troupe + Hisoka + Illumi / Darling Asking “What Am I To You?”.

Warnings: Yandere themes, stalking, kidnapping, implied violence, not SFW implications for Hisoka because he’s a creep (and a mention of M*lluki in Illumi’s section I’m sorry for your loss) and also for Nobunaga because he’s bleh, Nobunaga threatens to take out your teeth for biting him it's up to you whether or not to believe him, and manipulation.

Word Count: 4.5k. (literally how lmao)

*~*~*~*

Chrollo

“Hm…” The sound goes on for much longer than what you would have liked or at the very most could handle without sneering, the crescendo in his voice rising and rising like tulips sprouting from soil. “Hm…”

His tone was barely a whisper at first, but it soon evolved like some hideous, god-forsaken species outcasted to a deserted island or planet. If you did not have your forks and knives taken away for trying to pick and cut off the cuff and chain attached to your ankle, a consequence from last week’s horribly executed escape attempt, you would threaten to stab your eardrums if he didn’t actually answer your question. But part of you thinks that he would only find it funny, and simply hum for twice as long as he has already planned to. Or would he be petty about it, and a second cuff and chain will appear on your ankle along with having your only friend, a silver spoon, taken away? With Chrollo, you do not think you will ever be able to fully tell.

“Please answer me,” You decide on responding with a musical note of your own, a drone. It seems to be the safest option, all things considered. You stare at the soup in front of you instead of at him, playing with the idea of counting the precisely cut vegetables and small rings of pasta. You would have entertained the thought of throwing the boiling bowl at him, but you now know that his speed is beyond what you could ever hope to achieve. 

You would never get that far, would you?

You would have to wait until he is gone for the time being to even be able to step on the welcome rug by the door. You managed to convince him to finally buy you hairpins yesterday, and they are safely tucked away in the corner of the table next to your side of the bed, hidden underneath a pile of neatly folded silk pajamas until further notice. 

“Well, what do you think you are to me?” He asks, brushing his foot against yours underneath the dining table. It takes everything in you not to move your chair away. That would only make things worse, wouldn’t it? Or would this just further make him see you as an adorable little thing because he knows you would not get that far, not with the cuff and chain on your ankle and the several locks on the door and him here right in front of you? 

Again, you cannot tell. When can you ever? Could anyone ever read him, you wonder?

His porcelain dish is already empty, with but a few drops of red broth and a few herbs swirling about. He moves his chair forward and gently grabs your hand, his thumb massaging circles into your palm. You don’t know whether or not to answer his question.

This life is like a torturous game of chess, and you aren’t a player at all. It is up to Chrollo to decide whether or not you are worthy of being a pawn or queen or king, and where you go.

Is this all you will ever be?

His fingers rise to your cheek as he stands up, the touch so light it is hard to decipher the intentions of it. Comfort? Ownership? A statement?

Without thinking, you shut your eyes and lean into it. You coo. You coo like a dove, a baby bird, something so small and fragile in the face of a predator that wants nothing more than to take off its wings so it can never fly away. Perhaps the predator in question is the parent of the chick, never wanting it to leave the nest and explore the big, scary world.

Is this all you ever will be? A helpless, silly little thing stuck way up high with no way down, something cute and small that needs to be protected and cared for because they cannot take care of themselves? 

You finally look up at him and he leans in then. He coos back at you, and you want to go back to closing your eyes and trying to stop hearing whatever he will say as a response to your refusal to answer. But you can’t.

So, you think of an answer, something that would make him happy but also not have you speak too long because you don’t want to speak at all. You just want this to be over with, you just want Chrollo to for once respond to your question instead of rebutting with one of his own.

You don’t have a choice, as always.

“Something to possess,” Your voice is soft and hoarse because you never use it aside from when you cry. “Something… someone to keep for your pleasure and your pleasure alone.” He coos again. It is sweet and sticky and latching onto you like thick honey or candy. 

“You’re halfway there.” There is an unspoken praise in the air, one so nectarous it’s suffocating and you almost can't breathe. It is like Chrollo’s hands are on your throat, squeezing and squeezing until you pop like a balloon. There is no escape.

He turns and gets his fingers off your face, but the feeling of freedom is quickly taken away by the sound of Chrollo’s footsteps approaching you. 

“I suppose I see you as both above and below me at the same time.” He says. You want to run but he’ll catch you in no time before you could even execute the idea.

He is behind you now, grabbing your arms and tugging as your chair squeals and squeaks like a lamb cornered by one who will soon sell its tender meat. You want to scream like one because you too are cornered by someone who will never let you out of here alive.

One of his hands smoothly moves up like you are a violin, lightly pinching your chin and forcing you to look up at him. You just hope there is no encore after this. You hope that in the future there are no such things and that he will just answer your questions and be done with it, but that is so foolish of you, isn’t it?

“You are human and have humanity,” He murmurs, his eyes wider and more intense than you ever had seen them before. “And I would love nothing more than to steal that away.”

Nobunaga

“You’re so silly, you know that?” You recognize the rhetorical nature of the question and choose not to answer. This causes Nobunaga to toy with the thigh-high socks he insisted you wear after returning from another day of thievery.

Every time you tried to express yourself verbally, you were met with a laugh, a gentle touch, an embrace, a peck, or... something far more dreadful than any of those gestures. You preferred to steer clear of that type of affectionate act for as long as you could, even if it meant just a few days. It would be a noteworthy achievement. Of course, Nobunaga's libido would never wane, as he shows no mercy unintentionally to you and intentionally to anyone else in his life.

The way your food is placed on pink plastic plates with little sections of where to put vegetables and where to put a small dessert for a job well done of eating all the food, which is always raw or burnt to a crisp. The pastel frilly clothes you’re forced to wear always show too much skin. The threat to remove most of your teeth if you bite him again. The way he keeps touching your thighs, pinching and groaning and-

Nobunaga never answers your question, resuming to hand-feed you some severely undercooked cookies he baked himself. Well, you scooped the dough at least, and that’s the most you’ll ever do in the kitchen while you are held captive.

Still, raw cookie dough is better than burnt in your opinion.

Just like delusional Nobunaga is much, much better than angry, heartbroken Nobunaga.

Your broken pointer and middle fingers are proof of that.

Feitan

“...”

He blinks; once, twice, thrice… and then you stop counting. It’s pointless anyhow, he is most likely not going to answer your question yet again.

As anticipated, Feitan walks away wordlessly, descending to his basement without a single step on the stairs being audible.

Just as you believe he has vanished, he creeps up from behind, clutching an object in his palms, causing you to nearly shriek. He would find amusement in that if you did. Whenever you engage in any action he deems foolish, he chuckles. It is the closest semblance of happiness you have witnessed from him, his snickering. 

“...Here.”

With trembling hands, you accept the concealed object from his grasp.

“...Well?” Feitan asks, raising his eyebrow, his coat hiding what is most likely a smirk of some kind. “Like it?”

Huh? It's... a ring, from a fancy jewelry shop that you had been setting aside money for. This shop happened to be the priciest in the city you grew up in, with all of its items being highly sought after.

“I do.”

Happiness is like the rarest star in the universe to you now, and you will never let it go, now that you have it once again.

“...Glad.”

After a few moments of silence, Feitan is the one who speaks again as you stare at the jewel’s beauty.

“Do you want the finger that came with it?”

(machi, hisoka, phinks, shalnark, franklin, shizuku, pakunoda, bonolenov, uvogin, kortopi, and illumi under cut!)

Machi

Somehow, Machi’s posture becomes even more tense. But it does not stop her from still pouring the pot of instant ramen into your plate, though hers remains empty.

In silence, she puts some edamame, still cold from the fridge, on top, along with some spinach and carrots.

With her bare hand, she pulls out one of the soft-boiled eggs from the bowl of ice water, rolling it on the table until its shell cracks and she takes it off. She then, along with the egg and vegetables, puts some seaweed on top.

When you lean in closer to the utensil drawer, Machi opens it before you can.

She doesn’t ask you which chopsticks you want. She already knows your favorite one by now. The wooden ones with purple handles with white rabbits on them. Hers are plain.

She puts yours in one hand and your food in the other, walking to the kitchen table and putting both down. It’s winter now, and so she makes you drink tea nonstop and thus has a cup of it in front of your chair too.

“…Do you think I hate you?” Her voice, while still cold, has an emotion in it this time; worry. “I don’t, I really don’t. I promise you.” With that, she cracks the other boiled egg and puts it into her empty bowl. “I promise.”

You feel horrible for asking. You just wanted to know. You never know what she is thinking, that is why. But you feel horrible. Now she does too. Both of you, here, in silence, pondering whether or not the other despises you.

“I know, I just… wanted to make sure.” You don’t know if you are lying, and neither does she.

She takes good care of you. But she also ties you up when she has to leave, and one time she had to take out the syringes when you got too aggressive.

So what exactly are you to her?

Hisoka

Hisoka, still standing over your sitting form, puts his right hand on you, squeezing it just barely enough for it to sting.

“Aw, come on [First], lighten up.” If it were possible, with his words Hisoka grows twice as large as he was before he said anything. “I still have lots to teach you.” He chuckles as his long nails, sharp enough to be daggers or a ferocious beast’s teeth you think, dig further into your shoulder. The message is clear. You’ll never be rid of him, as much as you try to.

Even now, when you move to a secluded village on the other side of the country, for just the slightest chance he would leave you alone.

Your basket of berries and herbs is still next to you, a reward for all the foraging you did just before Hisoka showed up again.

“I did your leaf-in-water test already for you.” Just before you ran for the hills, you finally gave into Hisoka essentially begging you to test what kind of Nen user you are, claiming that you were now his pupil. “The water tasted sweet. I’m a Transmuter. That’s what you wanted to know. There is nothing else you can do for me, you know I am no fighter.”

Hisoka nods, and you think that this is it. Maybe he will finally leave you alone and you can go about your life without knowing anything else about Nen. But instead, Hisoka sits next to you on the grass.

He takes a berry from your basket and squeezes it between his fingers before it turns into a sticky mush.

It’s red.

“I know, but there are other things I can indeed teach you, can’t I?”

You don’t want to know what he means, you don’t want to know what he wants to do to you, but before you can stop him he is already on top of you, pushing you behind the bush you were picking rose petals from. You kick and scream at him to let go and cry, but he, as always, is so much stronger than you’ll ever be. 

“This will hurt for a bit, but I promise you’ll feel very good, and you’ll want more.”

Phinks

Phinks stops pressing the buttons on the remote and stops reading the little synopsis on each of the shows he was thinking about watching with you, or each of the movies. You were not paying attention, instead looking at your fingers and playing with the dry skin by each nail.

He sets it aside, placing a hand on the back of his head and gently scratching. His gaze falls to the floor, and you follow suit.

He exudes nervousness. This comes as no surprise, as Phinks has always been one to shy away from openly displaying his romantic desires, as odd as it were to you when you were first brought here.

“Uh. Why do you ask? Isn’t… it kinda obvious? Um… you know I’m not exactly cut out for all this sappy bullshit… I… I… Um. Just… just forget it, okay? Just know that I see you as my partner… Wait, oh God, that sounds so bad…”

He keeps stuttering as he tries to explain everything. But, as funny as it would have been if you had known him outside of being your stalker and now current captor, his words only make you feel more hopeless.

Shalnark

He puts down his phone and stands up from his armchair. You’re in your pajamas, the fluffy pastel pink ones, standing in the doorway to Shalnark’s office area, where there are many computers and such on the walls and his large desk.

“Aw!” He murmurs, then gently pinches your cheeks upon approaching. He playfully rubs his nose against yours. Trying to distance yourself, instantly regretting seeking an answer of any sort from him, yet as always, his overpowering strength prevents any escape.

“C-Come on, Shal…” The nickname sometimes works when you ask for some dessert or a game of some kind, so maybe it will work in a situation like this too. “I wanna go to bed.” You nearly whine as he stretches your cheeks out further. 

“But I still haven’t answered your question, sweetie!” He exclaims.

“F-Forget it.” You mutter, looking to the side. “It’s fine. Really. Get back to work.”

But he does not let go.

“Let me answer! Hmm… you’re so cute, like a kitten. You sure snuggle against me in bed like one!” Shalnark chuckles, and you can smell a mix of coffee and oranges in his breath. “So maybe… that’s the best analogy for it?” Some mint too. “Something to cuddle with? Something to keep safe.” He boops your nose. “Something too silly and adorable and airheaded to live on their own.”

You’re not sure if his words are supposed to hurt you or cheer you up.

“Yeah, I think something like that works!” After what seems like an endless amount of time, Shalnark releases his grasp on your face. “Just look at you.”

“O-Okay.” You murmur, turning away and attempting to make a beeline for the bedroom, regretting ever opening your mouth. “Sorry for asking. Good night-” Shalnark grabs your arm, making you stop moving before you even start. 

“Come on, cutie! Spend some time with me. We can even play Wild World together again!”

He points to your 3DS, a rose gold color, and then to his, which is dark violet and covered in stickers referencing popular memes he saw on the internet. At least he has never made you see some particularly gruesome scene in the horror games he plays late at night out of impulse.

Franklin

As your words hang in the air, a silence so profound that you begin to question if he even registered your message, you find yourself fixating on your unfinished meal. Contemplating the merits and drawbacks of broaching the topic once more versus letting it go, you suddenly hear him put his cup of coffee down with a clatter as he almost slams it by accident.

“Where did this come from?” He asks. His tone almost seems concerned, you think, concerned for how you think of him when he is always so quiet or concerned for how you think he thinks of you, that one day he will simply not come back and find someone else more willing.

Franklin does not seem angry, not that he ever was. He is trying to appear neutral, to not scare you, like you were some sort of stray cat who he has yet to earn the trust of.

Though you don’t bite or scratch, you do hide from him.

“I… just want to know why you did all… this.”

Your eyes go everywhere, from the pots of plants he brought you recently by the barred windows to the blinking light above the stairs he promised to fix soon to Frank Herbert’s Dune laid across the couch next to your blanket. 

“Franklin, since you claim to care about me… why can’t I go outside and be free?”

After a few more moments of silence, you look up at Franklin. He looks remorseful almost, from his visible frown to his eyes almost being closed to the way he does not look at you. Something akin to pity blooms in your chest.

“...Because unfortunately for both of us, I am… selfish, and you are too much for me to lose.”

Just like that, the pity dies similarly to the vase of flowers in the middle of the table.

Shizuku

You don’t know whether or not she will respond while knowing what you are and what she is. A captive. A captor. But you doubt it because every time she comes back she thinks you are here of your own volition and that you love her just as much as you know her.

Sometimes, you wish that you did, because whenever she sees you she looks at you like you were a gift that she had wanted for years.

Sometimes you wish that you did because that would make things oh so much easier for you. She sometimes forgets you are here, sometimes still goes to your actual home, and panics when she sees you are not there.

Shizuku merely chuckles, hugging you tighter. Perhaps she even forgot the slap she inflicted upon you earlier today for daring to say that you hate her, making you fly across the room.

“My love of course, silly!” Sometimes you hope that one day you will forget everything too because you envy Shizuku for never being cautious.

Pakunoda

“[First]...” Pakunoda’s eyes meet your own, one of her hands holding onto a chocolate-covered strawberry from the box she just got. Her other has a presence above one of your own, a presence so light you hardly recognize it is there.

She looks regretful and concerned.

The look fills you with so much guilt you immediately apologize and put the back of your head on her lap once again. It always works.

“You do know I care about you deeply, right, beloved?” Her long nails glide over your hair, making you close your eyes to calm yourself. You hope that look is gone because you aren’t sure how much longer you can take it before you break under its pressure fully. “I really do.”

You know she does, but it does not make the first days of your capture, which feels like an eternity ago, feel any less real, as much as Pakunoda denies the more horrifying parts of it all.

“I know, Paku.”

She smiles at the nickname.

The strawberry approaches your mouth, and you bite into it. Dark chocolate, you think this one is. Pakunoda loves her strawberries, but she loves parfaits just a little bit more. Maybe, to get her to forget your question, you can ask her to get some and feed them to her. 

Soon, you fall asleep. Pakunoda opens her book back up after closing the box of sweets. 

With one hand she caresses your hair, and in the other, she turns the pages of her novel. She loves evenings like this.

“I love you…” She murmurs, brushing some of your hair out of your face. “One day… you’ll love me too, fully, right?”

Half asleep, you agree without thinking. Once again, she smiles.

Bonolenov

With a sigh, he turns his head, momentarily interrupting your question. However, he quickly resumes dancing before you, delighting in your observation of his favorite pastime. Although you are unsure of the specific style of dance he is performing, you are confident that Bonolenov will soon enlighten you, taking the opportunity to boast about his expertise in this particular art form.

Listening to his animated explanations is always entertaining. His frequent rants make you feel as though he is a close friend rather than your captor if only that were true. Despite the circumstances, he treats you with kindness and respect. He believes that housing you in his home is an honor and privilege, a sentiment for which you hold some gratitude.

“A lover, because I do love you. You are simply wonderful to be around, after all.” In an alternate existence, were he not involved in criminal activities such as theft, kidnapping, stalking, and multiple murders, you might have developed an affection for him. This is due to your awareness of his deep affection for you and the kindness he exhibits towards you.

So you say such.

Bonolenov stays silent for a little while after that, along with the dancing that he often enjoys doing. Instead, he gazes through the windows, adorned with steel bars, and tenderly places small tokens that he knows bring you joy upon the table in the kitchen.

Uvogin

“Huh?”

Uvogin stops punching the claw machine, turning to you. It’s a mess, all because you said you wanted a corgi plush from it. But is it your fault, when you wanted to win it fair and square?

Maybe it’s not. Maybe it is. You know Uvogin is never one to have coins in his pockets. But, then again, he always seemed to have money when he was placing bets with Troupe members, especially with that Nobunaga person.

He seems confused, albeit he is hiding it behind a smirk. In one of his hands, covered in little shards of glass, is the stuffed animal you wanted.

“Come on, [First]!” He laughs, delusionally proud of himself. “I’m your boyfriend!” He wasn’t, but you would never voice that.

“...I-I know. But still… Do you like me?” You make an effort to convey your thoughts in the most diplomatic manner possible, being cautious not to provoke Uvogin's anger. Despite never having witnessed Uvogin's wrath, you remain steadfast in your desire to avoid it at all costs.

His smile widens.

“Of course I do!”

He presents you with the cuddly toy, having meticulously removed all the splinters of glass embedded within it.

“Do you really?” You ask, thinking of the time he threatened to break your legs if you ever attempted to run away from him again. He wasn’t even angry as he said the threat. 

At another one of your questions, Uvogin says yes. But does he really? Or are you just something to hoard?

Do you really want to find out, you wonder? 

Your heart tells you you don’t.

Kortopi

He turns his head, confused. It is one of the few expressions you can decipher from Kortopi because of the many strands of hair covering him. At the sight, you bow your head down.

He steps forward, and you step back.

He stops moving. So do you.

He retreats. You don’t speak for the rest of the day. You were used to it though. Kortopi hardly ever talks to you, but you don’t think he means it to be rude.

“Everything.” He mutters, standing above your bed. You sleep so peacefully, something you never were when you were awake. “You are everything.”

Illumi

Gently, he puts his teacup down with a little clatter of the saucer as he does so.

“Do you think I see you in a bad light, [First]?”

You simply look down at your teacup, smelling the lavender and chamomile to try to calm down a bit before answering Illumi.

The query has plagued your mind for an extended period. The exact duration remains elusive, as the days have merged into an indistinguishable blur. No matter your actions, pain will be inflicted upon you by someone, regardless of your conduct. Perhaps it will be Illumi's mother, administering a slightly sublethal, tasteless toxin with a syringe. Or it could be Illumi himself, subjecting you to days of confinement in a food and water-deprived closet. Regardless of your behavior, the inevitability of suffering looms. 

With the intent of prolonging your exposure to the morning birdsong and granting yourself additional time in the garden, you opt to respond.

“N-No.” You lie. “You… keep me around to be molded into your perfect spouse, I know that, it is just… just…”

His smile sends chills down your spine, surpassing even the terror of Illumi's younger brother once launching into a lewd tirade about you in your presence.

“That is all there is to it; nothing more, nothing less.”

You sip the tea finally, and the burning sensation in your throat does not bother you anymore.

#also known as machi/pakunoda/franklin trying their best while everyone else sucks </3 #i guess phinks/bonlenov/kortopi too....... #yandere hxh #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere feitan #yandere #aya abstractions #author aya #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere x reader #yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere feitan x reader #yandere feitan portor #yandere nobunaga #yandere nobunaga x reader #yandere nobunaga hazama #yandere nobunaga hazama x reader #yandere machi #yandere machi x reader #yandere hisoka #yandere hisoka x reader #yandere phinks #yandere phinks x reader #yandere shalnark #yandere shalnark x reader #yandere franklin #yandere franklin x reader #yandere shizuku #yandere shizuku x reader

[mukumukunomi]

Not Alone. Never Alone (part 2)

Luffy x Fem!Reader

cw: fluff, no smut, first love, implied semi-relationship, no manga spoilers, takes place just after East Blue's arc in live action, idiots in love, kisses

wc: 1,964

a/n: This is part two! I may open a few requests in the future, but we'll see if I'm able to with work loads. :D.

Part One (You)

❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦

He tosses and turns but sleep evades him. 

Something isn’t right, he thinks. 

Insomnia is a foreign feeling. He almost never has trouble with it. Sleep is normally a welcome respite from their adventure, because even in his dreams the adventure continues in some way. It usually consists of more meat than real life, but he’ll never complain about that.

But the feeling in his chest is different from the pains of hunger or lack of sleep. It drills into his being with every beat of his heart. It feels like something is missing. Like there’s an absence that-

That’s it!

The covers are thrown off himself as he approaches the small emergency exit inside the men’s quarters. It connects directly to your and Nami’s room, but is almost never used unless under attack. Otherwise, the girl’s space is completely forbidden. But for him, these escapades aren’t an unusual occurrence. He’s not exactly welcome, but Nami has never told him to leave if it’s in search of you.

He’s not quite sure when it started. Was it when Sanji began using a lock on the fridge? Or perhaps when he awoke you to see the first meteor shower on the Grand Line? He can’t exactly remember. Your presence is like the taste of a good steak. He craves it. Finds himself in search of it in odd hours of the night. 

He creaks open the little door and slips inside. Nami sleeps on the pullout cot next to the entrance, while your makeshift bed is the hammock that hangs from the ceiling. It’s mainly a collection of cushions and blankets, having been originally used for storage until you came along. Luffy likes to think of it like a bird's nest with the way you sleep in it.

Nami’s soft breathing fills the space as he pads across. Even though it’s totally dark, he knows the room well enough to avoid the small table in the center and catch himself from tripping on the rug. He can barely see the outline of the hammock as he approaches. Grasping the side of the net, he leans forward.

“Oi. Y/N.” 

Silence is his answer. He frowns, shaking the hammock roughly. “Y/N. Wake uuuuup.”

No reply.

“Are you mad at me?” He pouts, “I’ll share my snack if you help me open the fridge.”

His hand pulls back the covers. He expects your fist to come flying at him from the confines of the blanket as you always do when he exposes you to the chilly ocean air. Your form is probably curled around the pillow like a koala trying desperately to keep warm. The same pillow you often try to use to smother him when he’s being too loud. 

But the hammock is empty.

Items go flying as he pulls everything out and drops the bedding to the floor. Checking under and around proves fruitless as he’s left standing in the mess. He blinks and scratches his head.

“Luffy?” Nami’s sleepy voice asks, “What’s wrong?”

He’s already climbing the stairs that lead to the storage room and bathroom above them. Not bothering to knock, he peers into both spaces to find them also unoccupied. He rushes to the deck, peering out into the overcast night. The moon is hidden behind the clouds.

“Y/N!” He yells loudly. Loud enough that you should be able to hear it no matter where you are on the ship. 

The wind is his only reply. 

His confusion turns to concern as his gaze draws upwards towards the crow’s nest. Rearing back his arm, he stretches it to reach the railing and uses the leverage to slingshot himself into the sky. He lands on the nest’s railing with a thud, ignoring the cold whip of air on his cheeks. A palm holds the top of his hat to his head since the wind threatens to blow it away. Dark orbs scan what can be seen of the island. 

“Y/N!!” 

The timbre of his voice reverberates in the air. A few birds startle from their slumbering place perched on the ropes of the Going Merry’s main mast. 

“Why are you being so noisy!?” Usopp’s voice carries to him. 

He chances a glance downwards, noting the ship’s sniper shiver even with a blanket draped over his shoulders. There’s a noticeable tiredness and irritability in Usopp’s eyes. “Y/N is missin’!”

The crew member nods slowly and begins to look around as he returns his sights to the island in front of him. There’s a line of smoke that trails towards the sky coming from the fortress beyond the hill. It indicates to him that the place has an active fire even in the dead of night.

“Luffy!” Usopp calls again, “Look! The ladder’s down!”

Jumping off, he lands back onto the deck next to Usopp. Poking his head over the side, he can see the rope ladder swing in the breeze. The blocks of wooden footholds lightly bang against the hull. It suddenly clicks for him. 

You had gone by yourself.

The frown deepens on his face. Why had you gone alone? He said he’d go with you! 

His sandals hit landfall before he can even process that he’s moving. Usopp’s voice calls out to him as he quickly leaves the inlet and moves swiftly through the underbrush of the forest. He doesn’t even register the thin branches that slice his skin.

The hill looms ahead. He charges straight for it, mind set on climbing the imposing land mass. It’s the quickest path to the fortress on the other side. Either that or he can skirt around and enter that way. Perhaps he could even stretch his way to the top of the hill.

But all options are circumvented as the ground beneath his feet suddenly disappears.

He barely registers the secret metal trap door that’s swung wide open at the foot of the hill. Luckily, the fall into the passageway is relatively shallow. The tumble nearly has him face-planting into the stone. However, he twists at just the last second, bracing his hands for the impact before rolling off his shoulder into a crouched position. The movement successfully breaks his fall, but the sound reverberates through the long hallway. It’s not a quiet entrance, but he doesn’t hesitate. He’s bolting down the corridor the moment his feet make contact back with the ground. 

“Y/N!!” He doesn’t really care who hears him. As long as you hear him. “Where are you?!”

At some point he registers that he’s no longer underground but now in some lower portion of the fortress on the other side of the hill. The sounds of shocked voices and loud footsteps are everywhere. Movements are manic as he opens doors only to close them the moment he observes you’re not behind any. In turn, the enraged inhabitants begin to give him chase. It doesn’t matter who else may be inside. They aren’t you. And he wasn’t stopping until he found you.

A flying arrow whizzes by him. He veers, inhaling to let out another yell when a hand suddenly slaps across his mouth and pulls him sharply around the corner and into a wall. His fist clenches to deliver a punch but is stopped by a pair of familiar glaring orbs.

“Luffy!” You whisper through clenched teeth, “Why are you here? No, scratch that, what are you doing?”

He breathes a sigh of relief. Something about your presence has that kind of effect. “Imf waf woomfing fr yo!”

You roll your eyes at him, releasing your hand from over his mouth. “What?”

“I said I was looking-” His speech falters as his gaze travels across your face. 

There’s a shallow slice that cuts vertically across the expanse of your left cheek. Tracks of blood are dried to the side. You startle when his fingers brush against the bruise at your temple. “Did ya’ get hurt?”

You scoff and avoid his gaze. “A-a little, but it’s nothing. I got the thing we were looking for.”

He can tell in the way your voice shakes and your fingers absentmindedly wring themselves together. “It’s not nothing.”

Your lower lip juts out. “Just got into a scuffle. Ran into a familiar face and I…you should see how he looks now after I beat the snot outta him…”

But he sees through the excuse. “You’re scared of this place.”

Your sentence trails off to an almost childish-whisper. “Am not.”

It had been a steady but noticeable shift in your demeanor leading up to the arrival to this island. The mention of this locale made you act differently. Every time it was brought up you’d shy into him like the words burned. Your reply would be to simply smile as though everything was okay. And that was not okay. Not to him.

He can respect the privacy of your past. But your present and future is his priority. It's his responsibility. There’s nothing you can ever do to change his perspective of you.

There’s a waver in his voice as he feels anger well up. “Are too. Why didn’t you listen when I said we’d come together?”

“I…” You take a step back. “I just thought I could prove to you and the crew that I was strong enough to do it alone. That I was useful.”

“But you’re not alone,” His brows furrowed as he interrupts, “And ya’ never have to be alone. We are your crew. There’s nothing for you to prove.”

You take several long blinks, as though you’re seeing him for the first time. Stepping back into your bubble, he presses his forehead against yours. The voices and chaos around them seems to dissipate when it's just the two of you together. He finds you strangely gravitating in moments like this where you’re both a bit scuffed up and frazzled. He can’t help but lean forward and kiss you.

You’ve got a split lip, and his are chapped from the cold, but they mesh into something warm and soft that satisfies something aching in his soul. You both erupt into a fit of giggles. 

You taste like adventure.

“You still are terrible at being stealthy.”

“Are not.”

“Are too.”

The next retort is cut off as an unfamiliar face rounds the bend. An axe threatens to slice your head in two, but is cut off the moment his punch connects. The axe’s trajectory misses you by just an inch. 

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?”

You two are blurs of laughter and joy as you both weave your way back out the fortress and towards the Going Merry. The entire crew is already screaming at you both as the sounds of cannon fire fill the air. The ship has long left the harbor by the time you both finally tumble into your room from exhaustion. You're a mess of limbs squished into the small hammock against him. 

You both wrestle for a comfortable position, once again almost smothering him with that pillow before finally settling. Your head now rests comfortably on his chest. For several long moments, it's just the two of you in the room.

“Luffy?”

“Hm?” He hums with eyes closed, both hands behind his back and the straw hat over his face. Your finger draws lazy circles on his arm and he feels more at peace than ever.

He notes the head gear being lifted from his face. “Thank you for coming after me.”

He smiles and peeks an eye at you, moving said hat to sit on your head instead. He roves over the bandage on your cheek and adds, “Of course! We’re better when we’re together!”

With you, he knows he’ll be a better King of the Pirates. Simply because you’re there beside him.

#monkey d. luffy x reader #one piece #opla #monkey d. luffy #muku'sfics #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #one piece x reader

[larluce]

Merlin as Arthur's familiar/Arthur's shapeshifter falcon AU

@dsabian , @theroundbartable , @theplatanitosqueal , @stressed-but-chill , a little more of bird Merlin ^^ ❤️

LINK TO THE OTHER PARTS: PART 1 , PART2 , PART 3 (You're here) , PART 4

Morgana: (puting a red neckerchief with Camelot's simbol on Merlin's neck) There you go! Now everybody will know you're the prince's royal pet and no hunter will kill you by accident.

Merlin: (turns from his bird form to his human form) I'm not a pet! (Pouts) But I like it. I always felt my neck empty in my human form. (Plays with the neckerchief happily)

Arthur: How did the neckerchief get bigger? (To Merlin) Did you do that?

Morgana: It was me actually. I put a spell on it so it'll adapt to Merlin's shape and it won't fall off when he flies.

Merlin: Awww. Thank you, Morgana 😊.

Arthur: Wait. You did magic here?! 😨 Morgana that's dangerous!

Morgana: I was careful. Besides, how do you expect me to learn to control my magic if I don't practice?

Merlin: She does have a point (turns around and exclaims happily when he sees a merlin bird landing in the window) Claws! (Changes into his bird form to greet him and flies to land beside him)

Morgana: (confused) Claws?

Arthur: (annoyed) That's the bird's name.

Morgana: I thought birds didn't have names?

Arthur: Merlin put him that name.(exclaims when Claws pecks Merlin's feathers) What is he doing?! 😡

Morgana: He's just cleaning his feathers, relax. There's no need to be jealous.

Arthur: I'm not jealous! And Merlin's feathers are always clean. He's doing this on purpose. He wants to... to mate with him!

Morgana: Right (rolls her eyes). Oh, there’s something in Claws' claws. (Watches as Claws gives Merlin a dead sparrow) Awww he brought Merlin food.

Arthur: See!

Morgana: He's just being nice.

Arthur: (mutters to himself) Merlin prefers larks anyways.

Merlin: (flies to Arthur and changes into his human form and says excited) Claws wants to show me his nest!

Arthur: (fakes surprise) Oh, really? (Looks at Morgana significantly)

Merlin: Yeah, is not far. Can I go?

Arthur: Absolutly n-

Morgana: Of course, Merlin.

Merlin: Yay! 🤗 I'll be back soon. (Changes form and goes flying with Claws through the window)

Arthur: (looks at Morgana with crossed arms) 😑

Morgana: Okay. Maaaaybe he does have other intentions with Merlin. But what is it to you anyways?

Arthur: It's wrong!

Morgana: Because is a male?

Arthur: Because Merlin is not really a bird!

Morgana: But he thinks like one.

Arthur: He shouldn't! What if that bird forces or presses Merlin to mate with him? Merlin's not ready! He told me that himself, but I doubt these animals know anything about consent!

Morgana: Arthur, Merlin is literally one of the most powerful magic creatures that exist. He'll be fine. (Sighs) Why can't you just admit you have feelings for him?

Arthur: (sighs suddenly sad) It's... It's not right.

Morgana: Because he's a man?

Arthur: No! Morgana you said it yourself, he thinks like a bird most of the time. I'd be taking advantage of him. And what kind of relationship can I give him? A life of hide and fear by my side? If he even wants a relationship at all, he doesn't even understand what romantic love is.

Morgana: Well, he did ask you to mate with him.

Arthur: Yeah, how romantic. 😒

Morgana: Mating for birds is not just sex, it's partnership. He may not understand the concept of "romantic love", but that doesn't mean he can't feel it.

Arthur: How are you so sure about that?

Morgana: Let's put it like this. Despite thinking like a bird most of the time, Merlin hasn’t felt attracted or comfortable enough to mate with any of the birds he met. Yet he asked you, a human, if you could mate with him. Not a bird, YOU, because he felt comfortable with YOU and attracted to YOU. Don't you think that means something?

Arthur: (Blushes) He... he trusts me more than them. That's all.

Morgana: Yeah, keep telling yourself that.

#merlin bbc #bbc merlin #merlin #merthur #merlin fanfic #merlin fic #merlin prompt #merthur fic #arthur and merlin #merlin and arthur #merthur fanfic #merthur prompt #Merlin as Arthur's familiar/Arthur's shapeshifter falcon AU

[nothing-personal-posts]

"I'm The Crazy One?" (Batfam x Batsis) Final part

Summer: There is a saying. "Die a hero. Or live long enough to become the villain" You refuse to be both. No, you decided to be vengeance itself.

CW: Mental health issues, torture, stalking, violence, mentions of death, cursing, past trauma, mentions of self harm, underage drinking, bad ending

Tag list: @rosecentury @agent-nobody-knows

People call Superman, Batman and The Flash, hero's. While Joker, Luthor and Deathstroke are called, villains.

Rather simple to simple minded people.

But do you want to know the difference between these hero's and villains?

The Hero's have an unsaid code for no killing, a common moral honestly. Because thats not what heros do. Hero's protect, symbols for safety, peace and hope. So they take down the bad guys, and put them away.

While the Villains, they have no code, no morals. They simply want to control, spread chaos and dispare to whomever and whenever. They are killers. So when they are put away to prison or whatever, they brake out. And kill again, spread chaos and dispare to whomever and whenever, again.

And the hero's come to put them away. . . again.

It is a cycle, an unending loop that only stops for a second before starting up again.

But how do you end this cycle? This, usless and rather annoying cycle. Well, it's simple. Take down the Villains. Officially.

Now, some must be thinking. That the hero's can't do that, it was just mentioned that hero's don't kill!

Yes, the hero's can't kill. And simple minded people never really think of putting the Villain's to death due to the huge amount of reliance on the hero's.

So who has the guts to kill a villain, to willingly rid the world of a killer whilst becoming one themselves?

Luckly(and rather sadly), the answer to that question. Is Y/n.

A young girl who had suffered by Jokers schems. A young girl who prays for the night tarrors and panic attacks to stop.

A young girl who sees the man in her dreams, in the mirror, in the dark corner of her room at night. Hears the man's laugh when it gets far too quiet.

You wanted it to stop. To end it all. There were two options you had. End it yourself, or end it yourself.

You took the first option, which lead you to the top of a building. Half empty bottle of tequila you stole from the cellar and nearly dried blood staining your sleeves.

You stumble while aproching the edge. Humming and giggling at your scrambled thoughts.

Mumbling lyrics to a song you had forgotten the name of. None the matter, not like you needed the title of that name anytime soon.

You took one last gulp from the bottle in your hand, finally finishing it. You peeked over the edge.

"That. . . looks far." You hummed and dropped the empty bottle. Waiting till it crashed to the ground. Once you saw the bottle scatter into peices. You hummed and smiled drunkenly.

You stood on top of the edge. Spreading yoir arms open like a bird about to fly out of the nest. Before you even jumped.

You were tackled. Taken far away from the edge.

"Owwww! That hurt!" You pout and whined. You looked up to the person who had tackled you, and instantly smiled and started to giggle.

"Oh Du- ops. Bat signal! Hehe, you saved me~" You were about to say Duke's name. But reminded yourself that he was in his suit.

Duke took in your condition and frowns. He sighed and spoke "Batmans going to kill you." Duke can already hear Bruce's words of displeasure. God, Dick too.

You began to giggle "Silly~ Batman doesn't kill~" you started to giggle even more. Before slowly stopping ". . .batman doesn't kill. . . ."

"You know what I mean--" you blocked out Duke's words.

Because here, is where you relized that Batman- Bruce wouldn't kill Joker. Not for you. Not for anyone. Batman wouldn't permanently take down the one who had caused both you and Jason the worst event in your lives.

And it hurt you. Angered you. You weren't angry at Batman. Just angry that you relized no one could kill Joker. No one.

A few weeks of after that event. You were thinking. And thinking whilst in the condition you were in, wasn't really good.

You had decided to go for option two. End it yourself.

And to do that. You had to make sure that Bruce wouldn't be suspicious of you.

"I think. I need to go back to the mountins. . ." You gave Bruce a speach of how you know that you need help. Need to be alone with your thoughts and learn how to overcome them.

Bruce, of course agreed. He was proud that you made this decision yourself. And not having him painfully send you away unwillingly. You would of course had a tracker on you. Just in case.

You were saying your goodbyes. The last one being Damian. Whne you stopped at Damian. You couldn't help but to get emotional and hug him tight as you felt tears building up.

Damian was your little brother. Even with no blood relation, that is what you saw him as. You always wanted a younger sibling, the thought of spoiling them and protecting them was something you felt proud of.

And now, your leaving him. Knowing what your doing, you mostlikely will never see him after what you are going to do. Probably brake his small heart and trust after too.

But hey, this was for him. For all of them.

You got to the mountains. You took the tracking chip out of your arm and left it at the temple. Took out the tracking devices in your phone, cloths and other things you needed.

You were back in Gotham. And suprise suprise. The Joker was out of prison.

You sighed in disappointment. In your new suit, watching over the city. Knowing you cant act now. No, you had to wait. Watch, and gain the information you need.

So you watched.

Observed every criminal related to Joker. Every gang, every dirt cop every think that you could know about the Joker. You did this for half a month before finally taking action.

You were in the Joker's hideout. Hiding in the shadows. Eyes never wavering off from him. You wanted to do it now. Kill him. Make him suffer. But you couldn't do that. Not yet.

Just a few more hours. A few more hours till he leaves and is unguarded.

Once the Joker was away from anuone else, out of his safe zone. You striked.

You landed on the ground near him. The Joker turned to see someone who was in a suit and mask. He couldn't identify the age nor gender of the person.

The Joker laughed at you. Started up witty comments about how you must be someone who admires the Batman.

You walked closer, fully engulfed by the dark of the night and the shade of another building that blocked the street lamp.

The eyes of your masked glowed a neon purple. You tilt your head, a clicking sound coming from your ask.

Without warning, you grabbed the green haired man by his face and smashed his head against the brick wall.

You assalted the man for a good minute before dragging him by the hair to a dark corner.

The last thing the Joker remembers before knocking out, is your glowing eyes and that clicking sound.

Phase one was to observe and gain info. Check.

Now, phase two. Stalk the Joker and his every move and attack him when he's alone and defenseless. Continue to do this till he doesn't feel safe in places he's supposed to be, with people who he trust.

Unknown to you, phase two was working after showing up to Joker three other times, he's been seeing those glowing eyes in the shadows when you weren't even there.

And when it got too quite. He would hear that clicking sound. It was driving him more crazy then he usually was.

You had fun. Your not ashamed to say it, that you enjoyed watching him show sighns of suffering from afar. Hurting him in unexpected ways that made you smile.

There were times when you would unexpectedly run into your family. Batman tried to take you in, but you escaped. Giving him no words but a head tilt and the clicking sound you make.

It wasn't long till the media took wind of you. Your actions and swiftness reminded others of an owl. So they so cleverly called you "The Owl"

You decided, that youve had your fun. And it was time to end the loop.

So, for your last visit to dear old Joker, you attacked him in his hideout. No one was there. Just him.

So you tied him up, dressed him in his most classic clown clothes. Added a little flower in his chest pocket for decoration.

You circle around him, making those same clicking noises. Watched him replace his fear with weak chuckles and empty threats that turned to bribes them back to threats again.

He was a mess.

He watched as your suite suddenly popped out claws. You hummed and got closer to the man. The look he had on his face made you chuckle. And for the first time, he heard your voice.

"Why so serious?"

You laughed after saying those words. Because, it was something the Joker himself used to say.

You got closer to his face, lifting your claws to the each end of his lips.

"Come on now. Give me a big smile~" Your claws dig deep into his pale skin, slowly tracing the red paint that formed a smile and forcing his lips to go upward as well.

"Ah! Look at that. Such a dazzaling smile. . . now, let's keep that smile there."

You pulled out a big needle and thread thick enough to go through skin.

You took your time sewing up the smile so it could stay still. You hummed to a melody that just stayed in your head. Happyily sewing like you were patching up a doll, blood trickling sowing the man's face, mising with his sweat and tears

You leaned away and smiled under your mask.

"All done!" You made your hands clap rabidly in an excited and hyped gester.

Something wasn't right. The air in Gotham has been stilled. Like the big crimes and crimanals hace been put on a pause.

And Bruce noticed this quickly. And it has something to do with this: Owl, person.

They showed up out of nowhere. Beating some of the criminals half to death, and drag said crimanals so they could, 'play' with them. The only reason Bruce got this information was because of Selena.

She watched one of Owl's attacls go down. And it was brutal.

Even Damian, at school. All the kids talked about was 'the Owl' and how cool they were. Besides from that, Damian found out a few rumors.

How the Owl might be female. And how the Owl might be conected to the Joker going missing.

Yes, missing. The Joker hasn't been active ever since you came into his life. But the public doesn't really know your the reaon why Joker has been inactive. So the assumed he had gone missing.

But, most of the big bad guys in Gotham know. . .they know why. They had many reasons not to interfere.

And now, they will never even think of it.

It was all over the news.

Joker found dead on the outskirts of Gotham

The details, were probably too much for a lot to take in on the condition of Jokers body. Or what was left.

It wasn't long till Bruce and the others found out it was the Owl who had done it. And saddly for them, took less time to find the now poorly hidden identity of the Owl, for the Owl had finished their main goal. And no longer cared.

You were on a balcony in the Wayne manor. Thw last place the others would think to find you. But Bruce did. It seemed like he always knew.

Dick and Jason were right behin Bruce as the three watched you stare up into the sky.

"Y/n." Bruce spoke. Your lips curled into a smile.

"Batman. . ."

Bruce frowns in your response. "Did you do it." His voice firm. You frown. Was that seriously the first thing dear old pops say to you?

You began to chuckle out of frustration.

"Do what?" You turned around and gave them an innocent look.

"Kill Joker!" Jason shouted. Dick was there to hold Jason back just in case. You leaned on the railing and crossed your arms.

". . . You mad Jay? Don't worry. Made him suffer before killing him." Yeah, like that would make the man any happy.

You began to chuckle to yourself. "You guys wanna know something funny" yoir chuckling slowly ecalated to loud laughing.

"He called me-- he called me Crazy!"

The three watched your laughong combined with small sobbing. It was sad, and deeply discerning.

"I'm the crazy one? After all the shit IM CRAZY!?"

It seemed like everything was hitting you all at once. Falling to your knees. Your laughter being overtaken by crying.

Bruce sighed and went over to embrace you in a hug.

This had them thinking. Maybe they were too late. Maybe they never truly saved you that day. The you that they knew, had already died without them knowing.

#batfam x batsis #batfam x reader #barbra gordon #bruce wayne #damian wayne #duke thomas #jason todd #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #platonic love #found family #angst #bad ending #death

[breannasfluff]

The next morning, it takes twice as long for Wild to pry himself out of the pile of birds. Even if there’s a rock digging into his knee, the instinct to burrow down and stay nearly outweighs it.

Let’s go, feathers up! Time’s call has the flock launching into the air and Wild is happy to fall in behind Legend. They won’t be flying for long before they have to land and walk to avoid battling the winds.

The sun is warm, offsetting the sharpening chill in the air. Four once again joins them at a lower altitude, despite having to flap more to stay aloft. Hyrule grumbles and shifts a little further away, but the rest of the morning passes with ease.

“Why do we have to walk over the mountains?” Sky holds his wings a little higher to avoid snagging feathers on the rocks. “It doesn’t feel windy.”

“True, but the locals said gusts can come up unexpectedly. It’s not safe for us to fly here. The raptors might be suited for it but…” he trails off with a glance at the passerines.

Wild sniffs and flaps a wing for balance as he climbs. Sure, some of them aren’t made for handling high winds, but they probably won’t be bashed into the rocks! Flying would be a lot faster.

“Time,” Wind wails, likely having the same idea. “My feet hurt! I keep having to pick my wings up!”

“My primaries are going to be ratty,” Warriors chips in, although he seems more resigned than upset.

The kite heaves a sigh, his own wings hunching closer to his ears. “It’s not ideal, I know. But we’ve walked before when we weren’t sure of the area or someone was injured. We can do it again.

“That’s not when we were walking uphill!”

“Farore’s glowing asshole, I thought you were heroes!”

“Legend! Language! Don’t teach Wind new swears!”

The vet hisses and clicks his teeth, following it up with a rude gesture Wind copies and aims at Sky. The frigatebird slaps his hand down and shoots Legend a dirty look.

Giving up on the group, Time turns to keep trudging up the winding hill.

It’s late afternoon and the rocky cliffs of the mountain pass rise sharply above them. The winds pick up the higher they go—one moment calm and the next catching feathers and trying to push them into walls.

Hyrule and Wild give up and huddle close to one edge of the path. Legend and the others determinedly battle the wind. Then it’s gone again.

“I guess I can see why no one flies in these conditions.” Twilight steadies Four, who’s off balance from the last gust. “A bird could get pretty hurt in conditions like this.”

Wild continues to scan the higher rocks, looking for…something. What, exactly, he’s not sure, but instinct urges him to keep his head on a swivel. It’s another five minutes along the path that he sees it.

A cave, higher up and set into the rocky cliff. Far enough from the ground not to worry about predators or monsters. High. Secluded. Possibly empty.

With a chirp of delight, the magpie launches into the air. As soon as he starts to rise the winds of the pass grab at his feathers, but he pushes through. A moment of awkward hovering shows the cave is empty and he dives in.

Flock, come, cuddle-nest!

Time’s screech is ignored as Hyrule, Legend, and finally Four flap their way up and into the cave. Well, Four is shoved in by a gust—he’s lucky not to catch and tear a feather.

Read the rest here!

#lu wing bois #lu wing au #lu triple threat #lu four #lu wild #lu legend #lu hyrule #lu wind #lu time #linked universe #linkeduniverse #breannasfluff #my writing

[angeart]

hhau rescue rambles - part I

>> hhau masterpost here << [cw besides the usual mess and violence: animal death mention]

It’s been months since the latest hermit got saved, and over a year since Hermitcraft imploded. There’s only two people to go: Scar and Grian. And they can’t seem to locate them at all. But they can’t stop looking. They can’t, they won’t. 

The rescue party is comprised of X (voidwalker), Doc (creeper), Ren (wolf), Impulse (partially demon), Cub (vex), Gem (deer), and Pearl (moth). Thanks to X knowing how to navigate and survive the void, they are able to get a void vessel (a sort of ship) to base in as they go around scanning different worlds and scouring for information. 

Until they come across a world that reads as permadeath, and somewhere in the world files, X flags Grian’s and Scar’s name. Not as players; there’s no list available here. What comes up is the wanted poster. It doesn’t have a date stamp. It could be months old, and they know Scar's track record with dying.

Still, they have to try.

They search for a place that seems to have good resources and Cub, Gem, and Pearl get dropped down. They’re equipped with bracelets that they can activate to send X a signal to teleport them back, and two extra for Grian and Scar, if they do find them, but they have to gather any other kind of equipment, including armour and weapons, on their own.

They quickly realise comms don’t work on this world, and as the player list is also non-existent or corrupted, they are going in blind.

Well… almost.

They use Cub’s vex bond with Scar to pick a direction to head in.

--

Grian and Scar, in the meanwhile, are not having a Good Time. 

Some awful things have happened prior to this, namely the ending of the Summer house arc. To quickly sum it up, Grian and Scar went up north, for as long as they could. Away, away, away from everyone. Until it felt like maybe they’re far away enough, and they tentatively set up a house. Which turned into a nest. Which turned into a semblance of permanence.

A lot of things went on here. Days turned into peaceful weeks and, tentatively, they started thinking that maybe they can start planning some kind of future here. They planted crops. Scar re-learned to glide with his torn wings. Grian unfurled his wings and re-learned the feeling of flying through the sky. And they found a bird friend! (A real, living bird in this world!)

The reality caught up to them eventually. 

Nobody’s really seen Scar or Grian for a while, but the avians in this world have dull wing patters, for survival reasons, and so Grian is really special. And the hunters don’t want to give that up. The reward on the wanted poster gets upped, and now the fever pitch to get this avian rises. The hunters go further. In bigger groups. Greedy and determined.

They find the nest house, empty at the time, and they burn it down. 

Scar and Grian come back to find it in flames, and to find themselves unsafe and hunted once again. All of a sudden, they have nothing again. The fire licks high, turning everything to ash, to a distant cheering and hollering of a party of hunters. There’s no sign of their bird friend.

(Grian finds him later. Dead, with wings cut off. The only creature that resembled him; the bird he befriended, the proof that a winged creature could exist here and survive. Ripped to pieces. Echoing the only fate that is bound to await Grian as well.) (It was a sun conure parrot, bright and beautiful.) 

The hunters are on their tail once they realise that Scar and Grian are here; that it wasn’t just some temporary base that’s now abandoned. With no remorse and still too much cheer, bloodthirsty and unstoppable, they go after them. 

Scar’s blood is absolutely boiling and he expects Grian to ground him. To talk him down. But Grian’s mind buzzes, looking at that bird, and— He’s as down to fight as Scar is. Because anger is easier than grief right now.

He’s so tired of grief. 

So instead, Grian goes angry and feral. (The other option is to fall apart, and he can’t.) 

They tear this particular hunting group apart, and it’s meant to make them feel better, but it doesn’t. It feels like a necessity; like just one more step towards survival. They loot what they can, and they continue moving, realising that stopping anywhere to do more than just survive is a moot point. They’re not going to outrun this. They'll never be allowed to stop. They’ll be hunted forever.

(Grian will be hunted forever—)

The word gets out, and more and more hunters arrive, wanting the trophy of violet wings and the wanted reward for themselves. It’s a sport to them. A way to get rich. Like a gold fever, they continue tracking Grian and Scar, relentlessly hounding them down.

There are times when things go worse in these encounters. Grian gets his wings grabbed and attacked, and it sends him spiraling back to never allowing anyone—including himself—to touch his feathers. (He was doing better and now it’s all gone.)

They internalise many horrible thoughts, during their run. It’s been a year-worth of culmination of awful events, a year worth of pain and fear and loss. 

For Scar, as a vex, he’s been expected to be a monster from the start. And all he wanted here was some peace. To be with Grian. He wasn’t allowed it, but now he finally got a glimpse at it—at what could’ve been; at who he wanted to be from the beginning (who he’s always been)—and it’s violently taken from him. So yeah, fuck it. If they want a monster, he’ll be a monster. 

(This leads him to thinking that he shouldn’t be trusted with soft things anymore, Grian’s feathers included, especially as Grian gets ground-bound again and starts pulling his wings tightly against his back and flinching at the mere implication of touch.) (It hurts to witness, after what Scar’s seen: Grian, freely gliding through the sky, violet feathers catching sunlight.) (He was allowed to preen them, tentatively, slowly, gradually, a couple of times.) (Not anymore. Not anymore.)

 Grian keeps thinking about the bird, and how they’re the same. He’s seen the brutal display, the way the wings were taken. He can’t quite stop thinking about it. 

But it’s more than that. He’s also thinking about [redacted]. About anything winged being doomed. About what happened with the vexes. It all spins and spins and spins until he can’t see himself as anything but harbinger of death.

The hunters wouldn’t care to go this far for one vex. They only go because of his goddamn feathers.

Naturally, this topples into him thinking that Scar will be safer and better off without him. They’ve been running on sleepless nights and exhaustion, trying to get away to no avail. They’re tired, and things are looking dire, and— Grian wants it to stop. He needs Scar to be taken out of this equation, separated from this fate. He needs him to be safe. (He can’t bring death to Scar.)

Grian can lead the hunters the other way. They only really care about him. ([redacted] already proved that point, after all.) 

So one night, Grian sneaks away.

He presses a soft kiss to Scar before he goes. (It’s a farewell kiss.) Scar is asleep, only kind of waking up to it—just that groggy, sleepy “mm?” Grian kisses his forehead again, oh so gently, and murmurs the quietest “Love you. Stay safe for me.” To Scar, it just feels like a dream, and he dozes off again, none the wiser.

The next morning, Scar wakes up to Grian gone.

For a while, he doesn’t even remember that hazy interaction from the night, but then he does remember, all of a sudden. An absolute vertigo slams into him, panic flooding his veins as he stares down the empty, quiet forest.

And this is when the Hermit Rescue Party finds him.

They only find Scar.

They only find Scar, and they instantly try to take him off world.

-- part II here

#hhau #ange rambles #ange writes #scarian #mmm link enabled me to be extra evil #so i'm splitting this up #(also just an excuse for me to take a break tbh) #(but wanted to give something) #OK here's the thing #they find scar right? #but #you need to realise #scar's panicked and frenzied #and he's covered in (old) blood #and he's not Safe or Sane #<3 #also they have no way to trace grian or to even know if he's alive at all #their priority is to grab scar and get him somewhere safe #which is #away from this world #(away from grian) #the redacted bit is for different rambles that come chronologically earlier #stuff we don't want to spoil :3 #will i remember to come back to this and edit it once those rambles are out? #pfsh surely not

[evolutionsvoid]

They wish for birth, but know not how to foster it. They wish for young, but have no want in raising them. Their kind seeks to continue, but this path is forged upon the backs of others. Their wants and dreams, congealed into reality, and left upon the doorsteps of others, so that they may unknowingly fulfill it for them. Fly forth, little ones, with eggs of dreamed futures and fancies of legacy. Seek those who await their own young, and leave this insidious seed in their place. For within them it will grow, and what is birthed will not truly be their own. The unwitting hosts may believe they see hope and legacy within this newest child, but the future that rests in their hearts is meant for another. For years, they shall wait and grow, feeding upon the care and love of this ignorant parent, until the day comes when they must take flight. One day, the bed will be empty, the house will be barren. They will search for their child, cry their name and tear through anything to find them. But it will be for naught, as this offspring was never their own, and it does not wish to return even if it could. It has finally made it to its real home, where it can join the many others and dream new futures into reality. 

-------------------------------------------

Week 2 of Funguary is "Demonic," and I chose the Bird's Nest Fungus for this one!

#funguary #art #drawing #fungus #monster #creature

[blackopals-world]

~You're so Beautiful~

Marine Biologist!femYuu x Azul

Yuu can't say she doesn't miss her old life. It was definitely different.

A home just off the rocky cliffs on the shore.

Albatross flying across the sky. A few Puffin colonies nested there.

Ma was always out at sea studying whale migrations. Pa was ornithologist who checked on his bird colonies. Yuu begged her parents to take her boat out to net fish for her studies.

Her family was good to her. Trips to coral reefs, scuba diving, and aquarium trips. They were always working and teaching so they did it as a family.

Yuu was over the moon when she could finally work as an assistant in the local aquarium. It was fun feeding dolphins and seal but Yuu true love was with octopi.

They were such tender and sweet little things to her. Smart too.

Yuu was smitten with them, even one that was brat who tossed shrimp at her after feeding.

After her arrival in her new world she believed she fit in perfectly with those from Octavinelle. Having no magic however but a damper on that and finding out residence of the dorm were all mer even more so.

Yuu befriended Floyd by accident while studying coral. She actually liked being called Shrimpy and talked on and on about how shrimp were cool.

"Pistol Shrimp are so pretty and their punch is the most powerful in the world!" Yuu said excitedly as she leaned closer.

Floyd and Jade admired her bravery because no amount of squeezing or taunting drove her away. Especially when she found out they were eels.

"Can I see your teeth please!" Yuu begged as she affectionately examined their mouths.

Carefully she examined the rows of needle sharp teeth and took note of gapes. She was disappointed by the lack of a pharyngeal jaw. Jade told her they only have it in their mer forms.

Yuu was sated for a time but a few days later she made an outrageous request.

"Floyd can you bite me?" Yuu asked late one afternoon when the lounge was almost empty.

Floyd agreed almost immediately when Yuu offered her arm.

When the eel was only centimeters away a voice interrupted.

"Floyd what are you doing?!" The voice was none other then the reclusive boss Azul Ashengrotto. He was agast at what appeared to be Floyd attacking a student.

Yuu had to explain it was her idea and she just wanted to see if Floyd's bite had a anticoagulant agent which would cause her blood not to clot afterwards. Saying that Yuu realized she sounded insane but she had seen her Mom do stuff like this before. It was for research.

Azul having heard this stared at her as though she was the stupidest person he had ever seen. He took a moment to take off his glasses so he could properly pinch the bridge of his nose to show his irritation.

Yuu could only look at the floor feeling a bit foolish. She had never met Azul before so this was the worst possible introduction.

Yuu could get past her embarrassment, but going back to Monstro lounge wasn't happening.

That is until the mess of Azul's overblot.

She had been trying to get the boys to not just destroy the contracts. The Tweels were her friends and she didn't want to cross them even in this situation.

When she saw Azul's overblot form her heart stopped. He was gorgeous. Of course he was handsome before but now he was magnificent.

She needed to see him again.

Following Azul's recovery Yuu followed him around asking him about his octo form. She pressed him with questions on his dexterity, his ink sack location, and his camouflage abilities.

When she asked about *ahem* his mateing practices he panicked and spit ink. His face turned red in embarrassment and shame as he realized that ink got in her skin.

He wanted to run but was frozen in place as she touched her cheek and when she pulled away it had drops of black ink.

"That's-"

Azul brased for her to yell at him for getting his disgusting ink on her.

"So amazing!!! So the ink sack is located in your throat or the back of your mouth?! That's so convenient." Yuu excitedly pryed his mouth open to get a view.

Azul tried to pull away knowing his mouth was filthy and his teeth were stained black with ink. Yuu however was probbing his mouth as she pulled his cheeks to get a good view.

The moment she let go Azul bolted.

A few days passed and Yuu couldn't find Azul again. He was either sick or avoiding her but Yuu's lack of boundaries meant she didn't care about it either. In fact both reasons where perfect for study.

When she asked Jade about Azul's whereabouts he wasn't forthcoming. Not until Yuu layed on the charm plying him by stroking his jaw and hair. She even agreed to clean his teeth like a good shrimp. He drove a hard bargain even in this relaxed state but he agreed to tell her. Azul is isolated in his room and wasn't seeing anyone.

Once again Yuu lacked boundaries and immediately started knocking on Azul's room.

"Azul? I can to see you~" Yuu said in in a singsong voice.

There was no reply.

"If you dont answer I'll just come in anyway."Yuu changed her tone to be more serious now.

She was actually worried about Azul. He was distressed before and disappeared so suddenly. She didn't understand why he was so fidgety and scared around her.

She thought it was natural at first because that's how all the octopi were when she started taking care of them. But she bonded with them and she was their favorite keeper. They always wrapped around her hand and played with her when she was in the tank. When other keepers came they would spray water on them because they wanted Yuu.

Yuu just wanted to show Azul that she was a friend and that he was safe with her. Why did he run away?

No answer came.

Yuu opened the door. It was surprisingly unlocked and looked around Azul's room. It was tidy and looked very nice, but there was no sign of her friend.

Expect there was a large pot of water near the corner. Yuu curiously tried take a look inside it. Octopi loved dark and cramped places to hide in so of course Azul whould be here.

Yuu was of course right when a silvery white head of hair peeked out of the pot.

"Stop. Just leave." Azul sounded defeated and tired as he tried weakly pushing her away. "I dont want to see you."

His hand was a bluished gray with black clawlike nails. Just like when he overblotted. He didn't look Yuu in the eyes.

"Why? Do you really dislike me? But...I tried to hard...I wanted to be your friend." The corners of her eyes stung. She just wanted to spend time with him, to know more about him. "I really...like you Azul..."

Yuu had wanted to give things the benefit of the doubt. That Azul was just shy and would warm up to her and they would be close. She had imagined a day in her head of he coming to the lounge to sit, eat and talk with Azul all night. That he'd smile and laugh with her and ask to see her again. And in the darkness of the night she dreamed that maybe he liked her as more then a friend.

"I just dont want you to see me like this." Azul stated firmly. Azul knew that she had some sort of rosey view of him and wanted to do anything to not show it to her. Her curiosity was too much, Yuu would see his disgusting form and hate him.

He knew she would hate him and leave. She'd never come to the lounge again or smile at him from across the room as she gleefully talked to Jade and Floyd. Azul selfishly got jealous of them being so open with them. It was clear she liked Floyd. She even caved in to his damands to bite her. Azul didn't buy her excuse for a minute. Who would risk marking up such beautiful skin.

"I dont care! I just want to see you! To know you're okay!" Yuu bent down on her knees to sit at eye level with him. "Please, look at me."

Azul hesitantly turn to look Yuu in the eyes. He felt butterflies in his stomach as he saw the earnest and kind gaze she gave him.

"Don't look at me like that." Azul almost whispered as she smiled back at him.

"Like what?"Yuu asked as she moved her hand to caress his cheek.

"Like that, soft and gentle." He chosed his eyes as his hand held hers and leaned into her warmth. He couldn't resist the urge to sigh content in her hold.

"It's what you deserve." Yuu continued to stroke his soft cheek.

"You don’t know what I deserve." If Azul was honest with himself he wanted many things, but he doubted if deserved it. His overblot still lingered in his mind.

"Azul, come out please." Yuu pulled away and stood up as she reached out to Azul.

Azul hesitated. He really didn't want her to see him like this but he couldn't deny her.

Not having legs made it hard to leave to comforting confines of his pot. Yuu however had no intention of letting him off when she reached in and picked him up. That's right, she just lifted him. He wasn't small or lightweight but she didnt even notice. Years of carrying seals and dolphins made her stronger then she looked.

Azul turned purple when she didn't just put him down but sat down on his bed with him on her lap. Frantically, Azul moved off her as Yuu laughed.

Azul wanted to cover himself immediately when her eyes saw his lower half.

Her hand reached out cautiously to touch one of his ink black tentacles. She gazed up to see if he was okay when her hand made contact and he shivered.

More assured she let her fingertips feel the smooth texture of the tentacle before letting it curl around her fingers.

Azul used his hands to cover his blushing face.

"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Its almost not fair." Yuu spoke softly as if she was talking to herself. She wasn't lying, she believed that Azul was the most gorgeous person to exist. Vil didn't hold a candle to Azul.

"You don't find me gross?" Azul didn't believe her because if she was right than all those bulies who made his life hell were wrong. If they were wrong then they mocked him for nothing, that they were just cruel and he suffered for nothing.

"Who could ever find you gross?" Yuu pressed a kiss to Azul's temple as her hand ran up and down his back.

Azul buried his face in her shoulder as she praised and worshipped the body he found so detestable. Yuu sofly nuzzled his shoulder and kissed his burning neck as he whispered her love. Yuu stayed with him all night as he larned how deep that devotion was.

In the morning things were different for him. While he was still insecure of how others viewed him, Azul knew that he could trust Yuu.

Sure, she was a bit "enthusiastic" about sea creatures but she meant well. It definitely didn't stop Azul from getting jealous of any mer getting close to her and gaining her intrest. She would have to be satisfied with him and adore only him.

Yuu was used to this octopi where territorial by nature.

#azul x yuu #azul ashengrotto x reader #twisted wonderland azul #azul ashengrotto #twst azul #jade leech #twst floyd #floyd leech #twst jade #twisted wonderland yuu #twisted wonderland #twst mc #twisted wonderland x reader #twst yuu #twst imagines #marine biologist!yuu

[writingquestionsanswered]

I have this problem that finally showed up after many years, I'm a few chapters away from completing my book. After almost 5 years writing this through happy times and sad times, I'm finally done! Yet, I can't move on. Instead of being happy to finally complete my passion project, I feel myself grieving the eventuality. I spent years building my world, story, characters etc... and now I don't want it to end, I don't want to complete it. Suffering from success if you will.

Do you have any tips on this fear of completion? My book is set up as a stand-alone, so making a sequel wouldn't work.

Have you ever had this "completion grief" and if so, how did you move on from it?

Thank you

Dealing with Creative Grief When Story is Done

It's normal to feel grief upon completion of a story, especially one that you've been working on a long time and/or has been emotionally demanding. Here are some things you can do to help work through this feeling:

1 - Be Proud of Your "Baby Bird" - Your baby bird has flown your now empty nest, but take a moment to recognize the beauty of this moment... this project you've worked so hard on is now complete and ready to fly away. You've done everything you can for it, so now it's time to let it spread its wings and live a life of its own. As much as it's sad, it's exciting, too. And it's a huge accomplishment!

2 - Find Closure with Celebration - Many creatives find celebration a helpful way to find closure when a project is finished. This can be something small, like ordering pizza or enjoying a glass of champagne, or it could be something bigger, like having a nice dinner out with friends, or even throwing a little party. Having any sort of event to mark the occasion can help it to feel more final, but in a way that is happy and comforting.

3 - Start a New Project - With one project finished and out in the world, you may find it helpful to start planning a new project, or at least start thinking about one. Throwing that leftover creative energy into something new helps with that sense of emptiness, distracts you from creative grief due to the finished project, and heals your heart with enthusiasm for a new world, new characters, and new plot.

4 - Schedule a Future Visit - Sometimes it helps to plan to revisit the completed project in some way at a future date. That could be reading it at some point, if you're able to read through finished projects and enjoy them. It could be creating a collection of mood boards for the story and characters and sharing them with your readers. It might be doing a reading of the first chapter on an Instagram live, or--hear me out on this--writing a companion story. Now, I don't mean writing a sequel or even a story that you'd share necessarily, but more something for yourself, kind of like fan-fiction of your own work, just as a way to get into your story and revisit the characters and world. And truth be told, if you plan to do this--say on the six-month anniversary of when your story was finished--it will give you a sense of the story living on that will help you get through your grief now, but by the time you get to that point, you probably won't need to do it anymore.

5 - Wait for It To Pass - Of course the hard thing about any kind of grief is there's not a whole lot you can do to make it go away. For the most part, you just have to acknowledge that it's there and give yourself the grace needed to get through it. Most of the time, it passes more quickly than you might expect, and you'll be onto something new in now time.

I hope that helps!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[caffeinetheif]

Farm Chores 

@drunk-on-lemonade​ you are so right and you need to say it louder. This idea is so funny and I had so much fun writing it!! Thank you for indulging me in my desire of going back home to my family farm lol.

Pairing: Lucifer x GN!Farmer!MC

Warnings: None, other than Luci beefing with a chicken lol

Lucifer had become curious about your homelife when you mentioned that you missed seeing your livestock. He had asked you questions about it and you revealed that your family owns a farm with beef cattle, chickens, and even a few acres of corn and soy bean fields.

On a whim, you invited him to come along with you up to the human world when your parents needed you to keep an eye on the farm. Much to your surprise, he agreed. He never seemed like one that would be interested in learning about rural living.

Which is how you got into the current situation of making Lucifer dress in grubby farm clothes.

“MC, why exactly are you having me put on... what did you call them?”

“They’re called muck boots, Lucifer,” you grin, “you’re coming to do chores with me, after all!”

“And what are these ‘chores’ that we’ll be doing?”

“We need to feed the cattle and give them hay, check for calves, and feed the chickens. We’ll also need to collect eggs. Since it isn’t planting or harvest time yet, we don’t need to worry about going to check on the crops.”

You slip on your own muck boots and tuck your pants into them to keep them clean. Lucifer follows your lead and tucks his own pants into his boots. You grab two pairs of leather working gloves and hand one to Lucifer before walking towards the chicken coop.

Lucifer admires the land that your family’s farm sits on. The wire fence that stretches over each wooden post that surprisingly contains the 50 head of cattle. The free-range chickens that carelessly wander the land without a worry. Lucifer can understand why you miss this aspect of your life so much.

His train of thought is broken when one of the beef cows bellows at the two of you. With her is a little black calf, practically a carbon copy of the mother, nursing and occasionally headbutting its mother.

“Lucifer?”

“What is it, MC?”

“Would you mind getting the eggs while I start putting hay out for the cows? There should be a wire basket outside the coop for the eggs.”

As much as his pride hates to be told what to do, he nods. He supposes it isn’t so bad if its you. He finds the basket you mentioned and opens the door to the coop. 

Lucifer is greeted by a cacophany of squaks, warbles, and clucking from the chickens in their nesting boxes. Several chickens flee from the coop, sending wood shavings and feathers flying through the air. Once the shavings and dust settle, Lucifer squats in front of the nesting boxes. He empties each nest one by one and gently places the eggs in the wire basket. As he reaches the last box, there is a hen stubbornly sitting in it. She glares daggers at him, feathers fluffed up and emmiting a bizarre croaking noise. 

He reaches towards her so he can move her out of the box, but yanks his hand back as she crows loudly and pecks at his hand.

“Pesky bird,” the demon grumbles, “I need to grab your eggs, now move.”

Again, his hand reaches for the eggs below her, but is met with a sharp beak once more. This happens for a few more attempts before he decides to take one of the leather gloves and use it as a blinder for the hen. Ever so slowly, he slips the open end of the glove over her head. She pecks at the glove a couple times, but her grumbling quiets down.

For the final time, Lucifer reaches under her and succesfully retrieves all the eggs that she was sitting on. He has never been so relieved that you weren’t next to him. He snatches back his glove and glares at the hen. If chickens could talk, he is sure she would be hurling curses at him.

When he finally exits the coop with the eggs in tow, you’re finishing up setting out hay for the herd of cows surrounding you. You turn to look at him when you hear the door shut.

Cheekily, you call out to him, “That took you a while! What happened?”

Crossing his arms, Lucifer grumbles, “A chicken wouldn’t move. She was in a rather sour mood, as well.”

You laugh, “Ha, that must’ve been Roberta! She’s probably broody.”

A fierce flush crawls up his cheeks as you laugh at him. Next time, you’re going to collect eggs.

#self indlugent #I originally wanted this to be more focused on the cows but I thought luci beefing with a chicken would be funny #farmer reader #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me imagines #obey me fic #obey me x reader #gender neutral fanfic #lucifer x reader #om lucifer

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

With Grace, Bow

Commissioned by @turbulentscrawl

Rated Mature (to be safe) | Warnings: Drunkenness, Student-Teacher dynamic, googled Italian (sorry in advance)

Ao3

Antonio Paganini, you have known him for a few years now being roommates and all. He is an interesting person, one with skeletons in his closet and a demon at the door. You were nervous around him at first, unsure how to start a conversation with him. It was upon the mutual interest in music that he started speaking with you, he was the one who approached you while you were trying to play the violin. It was the first time you had ever seen him look so at peace, his face always has sadness written all over it. 

In that moment you saw a man in love with his craft and willing to share it. The closer you became to him the more you found pieces of a man in need of succor. Something inside of that man is broken beyond repair, or maybe it was ripped out of him leaving a void of emptiness. Antonio Paganini is the greatest violinist to ever exist! Yet, he seems so very far away, somewhere dark with a ball and chain keeping him in that abyss. His melodies are sad if one listens carefully like the cries of a trapped bird with clipped wings.

Being gentle with him is an option, one you took but quickly learned he needed a firm hand against his backside at times. The dynamic between you both shifted one day when your mother had sought out her ‘lost child’... You were thrown out by your father when he found out his child wanted to go into the arts rather than business. You have a talent and you were firm about using it to enrich the world!

Your father called you delusional and kicked you with nothing but the shirt on your back.

When he was ‘dying’ he begged you to come home and got your mother involved to try to get you to come home. You sent to him one sentence in a letter: I will come home when you are cold in the grave. 

And well, he is very cold in the grave and you inherited half of the wealth from your other sibling (who is currently going to medical school, also against the shared father’s wishes). 

With the money you have, you are glad to pay the violinist his due! A better apartment, and a new violin (only to be used once you have progressed past using the novice one).

Yet, you know it is not enough for him to be comfortable to just teach you, he needs to be out there like a bird fresh from the nest… Only he… Maybe it is not your place to judge but he acts also pompous when you find him a place to perform.

You thought you were helping, helping get used to flying but all did was land you in the current position of being livid, the livid that is mixed with hurt and self-disappointment.

As you stand in front of the man playing, you do not watch and clap at his performance, no, you just feel sorry for the fool. Your fool, your teacher, someone you know not to look up to but admire. There are few people gathered around him watching in awe of his performance, few have even dropped a few coins or dollars in his violin case—the fact he can play while drunk is a testament to his skill and muscle memory.

Still, you are very cross with the sight. Has lost his mind to be a drunken fool in public!? Besides the possibility of being arrested for public drunkenness, he should be at that performance you were hoping to see him in.

“Antonio!” He stops as you stand in front of him, “What are you doing!?” Quickly stopping his arm from moving and pulling him out of wherever his mind was.

“My friend!” Throwing his arms open, you dodge the violin bow before he leans forward, drunkenly draping over you, “Where have you been?” His words are not as clear as he may think. He stands up suddenly with a smile wide on his face. “Join me! Oh, where is your violin?” Is this man serious!?

“In the hall wondering when you were taking the stage.” Crossing your arms and with furrowing brows, you are going to ignore that last question with a wave of your hand.

He shrinks a bit as your tone makes it crystal clear you are more than disappointed with him. With the group looking on at the potential unfolding drama, you grab his violin case, closing it. “Home. Now.” He can carry his violin on the way.

“Evening.” Curt as Antonio is dragged behind you as you take him by the hand, the crowd leaving with nonsense grumbling. “I can’t believe you would do this!” Say under your breath. The Violinist is rambling, you are not paying attention to him, then you stop when feel his weight getting heavier to pull. “Antonio?”

He drapes over you, his hair smooth against your face as laughs the way you hate, self-deprecating. You know Antonio can be a mean drunk, you have seen it at a pub one time a fight he was not in the wrong for but the viciousness he showed was not called for. Now he acting affectionate, needy like a cat, and you wish you could give it to him. But you are mad! You remind yourself that your teacher has fucked up because of his damn pride.

“It's cold.” His arm wrapped around you, his face rubbing against yours and you swear if he was not holding his treasured violin, you would push him into the snow!

“Of course it's cold!” Glancing behind you then realizing, “Where is your coat?” He only dressed in his performance coattail suit. The burn of your cheeks hidden by your scarf, he cold but you are not giving him anything! Stupid winter, stupid snow, you want to cry in frustration. Drunken idiot! Wintertime is the best time to get booked for performances! During the holidays everyone loves to see Christmas plays, musicals need musicians! And the orchestras always need the best of the best.

“I gave it to a poor lad I passed by,” Dragging out the last word, “Poor thing.” He has no idea that nothing he is saying makes sense.

“What am I going to do with you…” Exasperated.

The trek home was long because Antonio was comedically dramatic and you were worried about him falling over. At least the brisk way partly sobered up the man but God above you needed some patience. He stumbles inside first, you take his violin and gently place the poor thing on the table in the living room— You pray the instrument is not worn from being in the cold for so long. The case is placed next to it.

The violinist stumbles around talking about needing a brandy. You scowl before grabbing his arm and tossing him on the couch, he looks confused but remains in that spot as you take off your coat, scarf, and gloves then place them in the appropriate area. This gave you time to name the many reasons why you should not murder Paganini.

“Don’t be rough, alunno.” Being tall, he looks silly on the couch with one leg on the other cushion and his other leg stretched out on the floor. Antonio holds his head before slumping further until he lies completely out on the couch.

“Pride before the fall, maestro. Pride before the fucking fall!” He turns around slightly as you are going on one of the lectures. Yes, the dynamic between the two of you is teacher and student but feels more like an old married couple constantly bickering. 

“I'm sorry.” He sounds pitiful, not in a cute way, drunk and sad. Rare given he usually is the violent type. “Don't be upset with me.” His hand reaches out for you as you go to him. “Mi alunno.” You remove his shoes, each one drops to the floor. Antonio sits up to caress your cheek, “Scusami tanto.” Slipping into Italian knowing how charming it sounds to you.

Not now though.

“No. No, you messed up! I waited for you! Do you know how scared I was? Thinking how maybe something happened to you along the way! They demanded compensation for the embarrassment and I had to cover for you!”

Yes, you are yelling at him! Rightfully so.

“Scusami tanto.” Deeper his head is on your shoulder as the hand on your cheek moves to your neck, his thumb rubs against your throat, “You do so much for me.”

“I do… Happily.”  Because he is just an old bird who is struggling to fly and keeps falling but you are there to catch him no matter what. Love does that, makes people stupid and helpless.

“Alunno,” His breath is hot on the other side of your neck, “(Name).”

“Not while you are drunk, maestro.” You lay him down under before laying on top of him. The couch is small but it somehow works, “I'm still upset too.” Playing with his hair.

He holds you–No– He clings to you like a lifeline, his hands latching onto your body as he seeks both your warmth and comfort.

Tomorrow he will get a proper earful while recovering from a hangover, then he will have to make up for the performance he missed.

There is pride, he should have been paid better than the chump change they offered.

There is greed for he wants more and they do not deserve his skills.

There is wrath which in this case is the righteous anger you should have.

There is sloth, he is not lazy he just refuses to do more work than he needs to do for something like that performance (he wonders how well did you do? He did say you were ready to perform if you practiced more).

There is gluttony as he drank enough to have him act shamefully.

There is envy towards you that keeps him with a roof over his head, and food in his stomach, and you allow him to do what he loves and does best. He wishes he could give you more but his debt to you by now is far too great to ever repay you.

And finally, there is lust. The sin the demon feeds the most on while around you, his student. You love him, it is clear in all your actions. The one night you shared over too many glasses of wine, the messy kisses, and the way you would moan both his title and name had him struggling to hold back that demon edger to devour you.

He is a sinful man, flawed, broken; but even with all those things he has enough virtue to do right by you.

#reader insert #idv #idv violinist #idv antonio #identity v x reader #identity v #idv x you #idv x reader #antonio x reader #antonio x you #violinist x you #violinist x reader #antonio paganini #identity v x you #identity v violinist #ao3 fanfic #the violinist

[echo-goes-mmm]

Moonflower #6

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: dehumanization

The air held the barest hint of autumn. Kit liked autumn; with its pretty colors and good things to eat. But it always made him slightly nervous.

Kit put the thought of cold winds and nights behind him as Mistress led him out to the gardens. 

He wasn’t sure what to expect from mortal gardens, but this wasn’t familiar at all.

It was… sad. Sure, the plants were healthy, but the bare space between the hedges and bushes was like an ugly bald spot of emptiness. Even the grass was uniform with no clover or moss; cut short and lain down in squares like tile.

Everything that wasn’t grass was organized into flowerbeds; square ones or circles.

Kit thought of the berry patches and meadows, the deep forests with wild thickets and tangling vines, where it was easy to find food and shade.

He often lay in the long grasses and poppies and just watched the butterflies and insects flying around, the rabbits and mice and birds hiding away in their nests. Like he was made for it.

Here it seemed the plants were for decorations, and not because they belonged to the earth as much as he did. 

“So, what do you think?” Iris smiled at him, and Kit managed a weak smile back.

“The gardeners must work very hard,” he said. It was the nicest thing he could manage, and she seemed to take it well.

“A word, your grace?” called someone from behind. Iris glanced over her shoulder.

“I’ll be right back,” she said.

Kit sat on the grass. He rubbed his hand over the rough, short stalks. He’d take what he could get.

He lay down, letting the sun warm him. It was nice enough. He yawned, nearly sleepy.

Then Kit noticed the nearest flower bed. The soil was dark and tempting.

He wasn’t quite hungry, but…

Kit licked his lips. 

The craving had become so prevalent it was nearly invisible, almost melting into the background of his other aches and pains. He stuck a finger into the dirt, and licked it off.

It wasn’t just earth that someone had dug up, but cultivated soil. Somebody had worked on it; put in nice things and turned it regularly. 

Kit could no more resist than if someone had given him a bottle of cream.

He bent over and began to shovel handfuls into his mouth.

It was good earth; warm and moist and wonderful. A part of him felt like a child again, eating dirt because he was too small to catch mice, but it was only a small part.

There was shouting in the distance, but he paid it no mind.

Kit kept eating, until the tip of a blade tapped him on the shoulder. He swallowed the bit of soil left in his mouth, and dropped the handful he held.

Kit held up his hands. He didn’t feel like getting stabbed.

“Turn around, please,” said the knight.

He turned, slowly. A lady knight and a furious man stood side-by-side. Kit lowered his eyes and ducked his head.

“There’s no need to be polite to that creature,” hissed the man. “It’s ruining my flower bed!”

“Calm down, Jeff,” said the knight. 

“Is there a problem here, Lady Jen?” the tips of Mistress’s shoes entered his vision, and Kit tensed.

“Not sure, your grace.”

“Of course there’s a problem! That thing is digging up my flowers!”

Kit held his tongue. It would do no good to speak up and get slapped for talking out of turn.

“Kit, is that true? Were you digging up plants?”

“No, Mistress.”

“Bullshit,” said Jeff. “What were you doing, then?”

“I-” Kit felt himself flush, the tips of his ears getting hot. “I was eating the dirt.”

“Is that… normal, Kit?” Iris tilted her head, concern on her face.

He wanted to crawl into a hollow tree and hide from pure shame. Apparently humans did not eat dirt.

“Only for children,” he admitted. Jeff pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry.”

“I think I can handle this from here, Jen. You can head back to your post.”

“Yes, your grace.” Jen bowed and left.

Iris turned to Jeff. “Well, now. No harm done, and I’m sure Kit will ask next time. Won’t you, Kit?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Jeff didn’t seem pleased.

“Look on the bright side,” she added. “A plant fae likes your mulch. And Kit’s a spring, so maybe he can help you out next year.”

“I suppose,” he said, pursing his lips. “As long as he doesn’t run wild.”

“Of course he won’t.” 

Jeff left, and Kit braced himself.

But Iris crouched next to him. “Why were you eating dirt? Were you hungry?”

Kit shook his head. “I just needed it.”

It was hard to explain, and he wasn’t really sure why either.

She sighed, and stood back up.

“Let’s go on a walk, hm?”

___________________

Iris let him keep some acorns he found on their walk, which was just as good to eat as the soil. The crunch was satisfying.

She said he could eat whenever he liked, which was generous. Even if it was just to make him look better for court, he was going to take advantage of it.

Iris showed him the pull-rope in the corner of his room. “If you need anything, pull this and one of the staff will come to help you,” she’d said.

Kit wasn’t sure he was ever going to use it. 

He watched the sunset from the balcony, and popped another acorn into his mouth. 

Court was tomorrow. He was supposed to join Iris; in front of all those people.

He wondered how many of them were like Jeff the Gardener, who only saw him as a loathsome creature.

Or how many were like Sir Brennan, who thought he was going to cause trouble.

Or even like Katie, who thought he was a dumb animal.

Kit crunched on another acorn, the last one left.

Of all the options, looking like a dumb animal was probably the best one. 

He went inside to look in the mirror in the bathroom.

He practiced his neutral expression, widening his eyes and trying to look like prey. 

If Kit played his cards right, and did very little, maybe people would get tired of him quickly. 

And if they really thought he was as stupid and harmless as a dog, he could listen in more like Iris wanted. Who would bother keeping their voice down in front of a dumb slave?

Kit knew from revels he attended that gentry tended to ignore people that were below them. Even Iris was a little dismissive of the castle staff, her eyes rolling right over the many maids in the halls.

She was nice if they asked her something, but otherwise they didn’t exist to her.

What he wouldn’t give for that lack of attention. 

Soon he found the perfect look. If he relaxed in just the right way, his ears shifted to tilt slightly lower, and his eyes looked just as empty as a lamb’s. A bit wide, and so unassuming.

Iris was going to be so pleased with him.

taglist: @paintedpigeon1

#theres that tricksy fae instincts. making himself look sooo innocent #i mean he IS but. still tricksy of him. preying on the hubris of the upper class #good for him #my writing #whump #moonflower series #slavery whump #fae whumpee #royal caretaker

[eoieopda]

“tomorrow’s ours” by lights follow for dearest joonie, please<3

-> 🔭

hope you like it, my sweet sweet 🔭🌸

listen here

i wanna pull you out and set you in the sunlight / i wanna tell you that your dreams are worth it / it’s all good, don’t give up / you’re gonna be all right

You’d had bad days before, but this one was for the birds.

It started at 2:31 AM with your apartment building’s fire alarms ripping you from sleep. You then spent over an hour outside on a windy city sidewalk, burrowing yourself into your boyfriend’s side — for warmth and for cover — as he miraculously slept while standing up.

Looking your worst with a bird’s nest where your bun should be; Pikachu slippers where your shoes should be; and Namjoon’s giant sweatshirt covering the bits where your pants should be.

The worst part about it all wasn’t your now-public appearance; it was that the fire department dealt with this same situation on a monthly basis. To wit: Your ancient neighbor, Min Ji-soo, and her inability — or, more likely, her outright refusal — to use her electric tea kettle responsibly.

At a reasonable hour.

Like a human being who lives in a society.

This unfortunate embarrassment and lack of rest would’ve been manageable if the universe felt inclined to stop there.

It, of course, did not.

The minimal sleep you got upon returning to your bed wouldn’t be enough to save you from the subsequent horrors.

When your actual alarm insisted, you excavated yourself from Namjoon’s perfectly cozy embrace. After he unconsciously replaced you with a pillow, he went right back to snoring. You showered without washing your hair because you had forgotten to replace the shampoo you emptied two days ago.

Then, because why the fuck not, the dry shampoo you relied on left a cruel and unmistakable white cast in your hair. No amount of aggressive brushing could force it to dissipate. Eventually, you gave up and left for work; frustrated and on the brink of tears.

It wasn’t until you reached your office that you noted the absence of your lunch: the leftovers you were so excited about, which you were sure could salvage this horror-show of a day.

Perhaps you were being a giant fucking baby about it, but picturing that lonely, half-full container of vegetarian lasagna broke your stupid little heart in two.

As a result, you were now crying at your desk like there was no tomorrow.

“Oh, shit.”

Your eyes are faucets when your boss’ voice swings the focus to your doorway.

Kang Ji-ah’s horrified expression doesn’t pair well with her high-end blouse and pencil skirt. It certainly clashes with your desire to fly under her radar; seen, if absolutely necessary, but not heard. The mere thought of disappointing her — the undisputed bad bitch of Gyeonggi — makes you want to curl up in a ball and wait for the sweet release of death.

She slinks into your office like she’s walking on eggshells. To both of your surprise, she crosses to you and places one awkward pat on your shoulder. She grimaces immediately, “That was weird, right? Vulnerability gives me hives.”

You, an idiot, can only blink up at her. There are still tears streaming down your face, sliding over your cheeks and swerving around your wobbling lips. You’d pray to shrink, but at this rate, the universe was more likely to quadruple your size.

“A bit,” you concede with a sniffle. At this, she laughs breezily, but you can’t bring yourself to join her. “Did you need something?”

Ji-ah’s gratitude for the change in subject is written all over her face. She nods once, then says, “I need the designs for the Lotte account.”

You furrow your brows. “I thought I sent them two weeks ago. Did you get my email?”

“I did,” she sucks in a breath through her teeth, priming herself to rip off a bandage on the exhale, “They — well, they passed on them. They want new options sent over by the end of the day.”

You wonder if she can hear in your restrained tone how badly you want to scream until you pass out.

“The first ones took a week.”

Another shoulder pat, another grimace.

“For what it’s worth, I thought they were incredible,” she confesses softly with a smile. You can tell she’s not used to comforting her subordinates; and you wonder if she regrets encountering you like this.

The horrified expression was less jarring than this unexpected validation.

You scrub your hands over your face and keep them there even after you rest your elbows onto your desktop. A sigh withers and dies at the tip of your tongue, so you simply mumble, “Guess I’ll get started, then.”

She can’t get away from you fast enough — for her own comfort, or yours. When she’s finally out of sight, you fish your cell phone out of your blazer pocket.

[To: Joon 🌱] Did I recently acquire a cursed amulet or something…?

There has to be an explanation for the cartoonish awfulness of your day so far. It defies all known laws of nature, leaving you only with hexes and cosmic interference left to consider.

[From: Joon 🌱] Not that I know of. Unless you’re moonlighting as an archaeologist without me. In which case, rude 😒

He follows up immediately with his trademark sweetness.

[From: Joon 🌱] You okay, petal?

What your reply lacks in words, it makes up for in emojis — nonsensical and, frankly, a bit ominous. If he saw your flurry of sad faces, knives, skulls, and bombs, he doesn’t say so. In fact, he says nothing.

You stew over his radio silence for the next several hours as you toil over round-two of digital sketches.

With as hard as you’ve been gripping your iPad’s pencil, it’s a wonder you hadn’t yet drilled the thing all the way through the tablet’s screen. The updated logos you pull out of your ass are nowhere near as cute as your first offerings. This was the sort of generic, soulless shit your corporate clients ate up.

No character, no lovingly-crafted theme to encapsulate the re-branding — just unimaginative content, the graphic design equivalent of a stock image. These will pass with flying colors, you think with a humorless laugh as you email the files to Ji-ah; and drag your dejected husk of a body out of your chair.

It takes twice as long as usual to shuffle home because your first instinct is to give up and drop face-first onto the sidewalk. As you walk, you ruminate on the thousand different ways this day let you down — up to and including the way Namjoon ghosted you.

That tiny pebble of bitterness digs further into your heel with every step.

Finally home, you unlock your door and attempt to push it open — only to find that Namjoon engaged the chain which now prevented you from entering.

Glowering at this last, unbearable obstacle, you’re once again on the brink of tears. You pound your fist once against the door and whine, “Namjoon-ah! If this is you breaking up with me, your request is denied! You’ll have to try again tomorrow.”

He shouts from somewhere on the other side of the door, “Shit! I’m sorry!”

Instantly, you hear rushed footsteps; then the urgent clatter of the chain being pushed aside. His eyes are wide with a combination of panic and guilt when he cracks the door open.

But he’s still blocking your entry.

“I had to make sure you didn’t walk in ahead of schedule,” he offers without actually explaining a thing. “Close your eyes!”

Instead, you roll them.

“Please, petal?” He begs in that rare, breathy, needy tone.

Oh, he’s bringing out the big guns. Namjoon means business.

You finally acquiesce and he’s beaming down at you. The door opens fully and it only takes a millisecond for his large hands to envelop your small ones. He cradles them gently in his palms, leading you carefully inside like you’re the one thing he’d never allow himself to break.

You’re sad when he eventually drops them, but the faint clinking of glass distracts you from your disappointment.

And what is that smell? It’s heavenly: some sweet perfume with too many intricate and complimentary notes making it impossible to identify the source. Floral, but amplified in a way that puzzles you.

“You can open them.”

You cry immediately without any time to process your response.

Your living room and adjoining kitchen are fully canvassed in flowers; every type you can name and many more that you can’t. A gentle, artful explosion of color so breathtaking that you can only whimper:

“Joonie, what is all this?”

He hands you a glass of wine with a sheepish smile, blushing pink like the tulips on display beside him. When you accept your glass, he raises his and says, “Your Today is Over party!”

Oh.

He hadn’t ghosted you; he’d been purchasing every single flower in the city. Running around like a madman to fix what was never his responsibility in the first place.

You set your wine glass down on the counter gracefully, but fling yourself at him more desperately than you ever have. He easily accepts the weight of your jumping body and the legs you subsequently knot around him.

You cup his face in your hands and kiss him deep, with everything you have. He’s soft, he’s warm, he’s the porch light left on to guide you home safely. Most of all, he’s the sun that inspires you to wake up tomorrow, and tomorrow’s tomorrow, and every stupid day that dares to follow.

You’re breathless when you finally break apart, but you say it with your whole chest, “I love you.” You pause, then you quirk an eyebrow with a giggle, “But Joon, how do we — you know — move around and all that?”

He laughs so hard his eyes crinkle. Smiling sheepishly, he glances around at every beautiful, fully occupied surface.

“Honestly, petal, I didn’t get that far in the planning stage.”

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